by BA Tortuga
“I’m bored. Deal. Invite me to supper?”
Gianni shook his head. “No. I’m not supposed to know you.”
“Dammit. No fair. I should have asked for a house job.” Jesus Christ, Colt actually stomped his foot.
“You should have. Got the better of yourself.” Gianni rose. “I need to go see what Maria can cook to freak out two roughstock boys.”
“Oh, squid. Octopus. Anything with tentacles.”
“We’ll see what she can get.” Gianni winked. He wanted exactly what Colt had said, or a whole fish or sopa de mar….
Something that would send Bonner running. The Micah kid might just surprise him, based on Colt’s intel. He was a beach baby. Friendly blow jobs. Decent money on the circuit. Big blowup with his latest boyfriend.
He might have seen a variety of seafood. Not as many types as Gianni, natch.
Bonner hadn’t even had a fish taco before the first time they met. The look on that kid’s face when he’d seen tacos with fried fish in them….
God, Bonner did it for him, down to the bone. Still. Those wide blue eyes made him feel worldly and wicked. If Colt’s intel was right, Gianni still did it for Bonner too.
He could stand that. Distraction or no, he could totally stand that.
“Yeah, totally taking video.”
“Leaving now.” He waved at Colt on the way out. Maria next, and then he would have to dress for dinner. It might take some time.
Something that showed everything off, something that would keep Bonner off his game.
He did like to keep people on uneven ground. Even people he wanted to be very nice to. Maybe especially them.
Chapter Thirteen
“WE’RE REALLY going to have dinner with Mr. Stud?” Micah tugged on Bonner’s second best starched shirt.
“He asked.” Bonner was wearing the first-best, because… well, because if he wasn’t memorable for being good, he sure didn’t want to be memorable for being a fuckup.
“Well, I got to say, I usually don’t have supper with the fancy types. Did he get that Speedo wet?”
“Hell, me either, and yeah. It was clear see through. I damn near died.”
“Is Bri coming with?”
“She’s in town buying cupcakes.”
“Oh. We gonna tag team him?” Micah asked.
“No!” It popped out too loud, and Bonner knew it.
“Oh, honey. You still got it for him, huh? Damn.”
“No. No, I can’t. He doesn’t even remember me.” He straightened his shirt collar. “I just—it threw me today. Seeing him like that. I could remember every line of that dick, Micah.”
Micah stared at him, then came and gave him a hug. “Damn, dude.”
“I know.” He sighed, then patted Micah on the back. “Is my hair okay?”
“You need a trim, but it’s too late. Come on.”
“Okay. Okay. Should we bring something? Should you? A six-pack?” Bonner hated to go empty-handed.
“No. No, we should… I dunno. What do we have?” Maybe they should take beer. That way they’d have something to drink. “PBR and bananas. Bri’s eaten everything.”
“Well, if the PBR is all there, let’s take it.” Micah looked very young.
“Yeah. We’ll tell him it’s from you, right?”
“I will.” Micah nodded firmly. “That way if it’s a fuckup, it don’t look bad on you.”
“Well, and you’re the guest, so that’s a thing.”
“Right.” Micah went to grab the beer out of the fridge. “All right, get your hat.”
Bonner clapped it on his head. “On it.” They walked up to the main house, and before they even knocked, the pool boy from earlier opened the door.
“Come on in, guys. Boss is in the drawing room.”
Micah damn near squeaked.
The pool boy flexed. Well, he wasn’t a boy. Jesus.
They followed him into a huge room that looked like something out of one of those movies his mom liked so much. Costume dramas, she called them. Lord, how many people were coming to supper?
“Ah, here they are.” Gianni came forward, hands outstretched. To Bonner’s ever-loving surprise, Gianni grabbed him and pulled him close to kiss his cheeks each in turn. “And this must be Micah.”
“I, uh, yessir. Micah, Mr. Cesare.” The kisses burned like tiny coals.
“Pleasure, Micah.” Gianni shook hands. “Ah, Greg, can you take the beer, please. Grazie, Micah. I thank you.”
“Surely. Thanks for the invite. I’ve been having a ball visiting with Bonner.”
“I’m glad. I think the ranch is a fine place to relax. Would you like a beer? I also have wine and campari and soda.”
“What’s campari?” Micah asked, saving him the trouble.
“An aperitif, made of herbs. It’s a bitters of a sort.”
“Beer, thanks.” Micah shot him a look.
Yeah, he knew. Sounded like hell in a glass. “I’m fine with beer.”
Gianni moved over to the wall and pulled a rope. Lord have mercy, that was one of those bell pull things. His mom had told him all about that. Greg whisked back into the room, two beers and two cold glasses on a tray. Wow. This was the weirdest thing since… he’d walked into this house and discovered Gianni Cesare.
Gianni poured himself a glass of this red alcohol and something sparkly. Soda water, maybe, though it looked like a champagne bottle. “Campari and prosecco. Italy’s version of champagne.” Gianni toasted them with the glass. “Come, sit. Has Bonner let you tour the ranch, Micah?”
“He’s showed me all around, yeah. It’s a faboo place.”
“It is. I need to ride out with you, Bonner, and have a look at everything. My aunt has made improvements even I have not seen.” Those dark brown eyes bored into his. God, his heart was rattling against his rib cage.
“Yes, sir. You just give the word.”
He’d send Gianni with one of the others.
“I will. Really, sit, please.” Gianni sprawled in an armchair, legs spread so his tight gray pants showed off… everything.
Micah sat, Bonner perched, and they all determinedly didn’t look at what they wanted to.
They all sorta… well, it was weird. Then Miz Jerilyn swept in. “Someone get me a drink, stat.”
Bonner stood up, automatically holding out one hand. “Ma’am?”
“Ah, hello, Bonner. How’s it hanging?”
He burst out with a little laugh. “Uh, good.”
“What do you want to drink, Zia?” Gianni stood too, heading to the wet bar.
“Whatever you’re having, dear boy. So long as it’s strong.”
“Campari and prosecco. I can add a little shot of something.” Gianni and his aunt together were even more of a force of nature.
Micah looked a little panicked, so he shot the man a wink. They were cool. No sweat.
“And who is this lovely boy?” Miz Jerilyn asked, making a beeline for Micah.
Micah stood and introduced himself, suddenly easier in his skin. They got meet and greets and fans, didn’t they?
Jerilyn shook Micah’s hand, then took her drink from Gianni, who was very close suddenly. “So you’re a roper, are you? You must know horses.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She led him away, and suddenly Bonner was standing there with Gianni, so close.
“She’ll talk horses until Maria calls us in, at least.” Gianni smiled at him, and he damn near melted.
“She loves her mounts, yessir.”
“She does.” That laugh sent chills down his spine. The touch that slipped down to brush his ass damn near made him die.
Gianni leaned close. “Your shirt is very nice, Bonner.”
“Th-thank you.” Jesus Christ. Gianni smelled like heaven. Like hot male heaven.
“Mm-hmm. You are more than welcome, caro.”
“Uh.” He was about to turn tail and run like the coward he was when someone cleared their throat.
“Dinner, f
olks.” That was Greg. He had a shirt on now.
“Excellent.” Jerilyn had Micah by the arm. “He’ll be my dinner partner, Gianni.”
“Bene, bene.” Gianni walked with Bonner and somehow steered him right to the right-hand seat at the head of the table.
Wait. No. No way. He… he sat. Eat, be polite, leave.
Gianni beamed at him, but there was mischief there, sparkling in those eyes. Did he remember? Did he know? “Did you have a good swim today, sir?”
“I did. I do love that pool.” Gianni put a napkin on his lap.
“It’s mighty fine. Not as big as the ocean, but cleaner.”
“The sea has many things to recommend it, though. You meet the most interesting people there.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you most certainly do.” He ached, he was so hard.
“I think so.” Gianni sat back when they were each served a bowl of soup.
It was all filled with mussels and clams and shrimps; he’d never eaten soup with shells in it. He knew how to pry the meat out, but where did he—
The lady set a plate down by him, so he figured he was supposed to put the shells aside.
“Cioppino?” Micah asked. “My mom makes this.”
“Sopa del mar,” Jerilyn said. “Close, but a little more Gulf.”
“Rock on. It smells great.”
He looked at Micah. Traitor. Okay, you have sucked crawdad head; you can do this.
Bonner spooned up a chunk of some kind of fish and bit it gingerly off the utensil. That was tasty enough. He couldn’t help but think of all the men he knew who wouldn’t even eat catfish, though, much less mystery fish.
Maria was a good cook. He had to trust her. He had a shrimp, listening as everyone talked around him. Every time he glanced up, Gianni was watching him, a tiny smile on his lips.
He wanted to just holler “What?” But he couldn’t and he knew it.
So he bent his head to the fish soup, working around what looked like a crab claw. That freaked him right out. How was that hygienic? Shells in the soup.
When the next course came, which was just a Caesar salad, he was so fucking relieved. He could totally cope with this. In fact, croutons were proof God loved him. He could just live on crunchy bread.
Yum.
The dressing was super tangy, making his tongue tingle. Luckily someone had whisked away his leftover soup. “You approve more of the salad, eh?” Gianni asked, and he shook his head.
“No. No, it was all good.”
“Maria loves it when we let her work with seafood.”
“It was great.” Fab. Wonderful. Let me eat my salad. What if the main course had tentacles? Gianni shut up to eat, and all he had to do was listen to Miz Jerilyn and Micah babble. He snuck a look at Gianni, because he had to. God, so gorgeous. Those long black lashes fanned out around deep brown eyes with laugh lines already etched there. Those lips… oh, he could write poetry.
Yeah, that was him. Cowboy poet extraordinaire. Maybe knock-knock jokes.
He chuckled, and Micah looked at him across the table, eyebrows raised. He just shrugged. Bonner would tell him later. Micah grinned at him, then turned back to Miz Jerilyn, flirting outrageously.
Lord have mercy.
Did he think she needed a rent boy? He snorted at that too. Micah loved ladies to talk to.
“You spend a lot of time in your own mind, sì?” Gianni asked.
“Oh, I’m just… listening.”
“I think you worry too much.” Gianni touched the back of his hand, just for a moment.
He knew he did. Hell, he worried all the time, these days. “Just trying to make this work out.”
“You will, I’m sure.” Gianni sounded certain.
“Yessir. I’m sure I will.” He had to. Bri was counting on him.
“So formal.” Thank God he was done with his salad, because Maria whisked the plate away seconds later.
He’d never had a meal with so many moving parts. Please, let the next bit be something good.
Bonner shut his eyes when the plate landed in front of him, then sighed with relief when he opened them. Steak and shrimp and a baked potato. Surf and turf. Praise Jesus.
Micah hooted, sounding just like the little Cajun on tour, Judas Maccabee. “Ooeee! Cow!”
There was a second of shocked silence, and then they all started laughing.
“What?” Micah winked. “You live high on the hog, Bonner.”
He shot Micah a look. “They’re awful kind folks to invite you to supper. Mr. Cesare wants to know about the rodeo from you.”
“Oh?” Micah paused, utensils poised over the steak. “Like what?”
“Have you always been a roper, or were you with the… how do you say, Zia? The cattle?”
“Roughstock,” Bonner offered.
“Like Bonner, no?” Gianni winked at him.
“Yes. Like me.” He hadn’t been setting the world on fire, but he had been making his money.
“Bonner is like the bronc whisperer. The bulls treat him bad, but the equine set adores him,” Micah said.
“Which is one reason he got the job,” Jerilyn put in. “The Webb horses are important.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m committed to them.”
“Good lad.” She beamed at him, and he relaxed a bit. At least until Gianni’s knee brushed his. Then one hand curled around his thigh, encouraging him to spread.
He choked, his body expelling every bit of air he’d taken in. Gianni stood up, patting him on the back as he gasped and wheezed. “Are you well? Do you need to retire for a moment?” Before he could answer, Gianni had him up out of his chair and had whisked him out of the room.
Oh God. Seriously? He sucked air, trying to calm down.
“Shhh. It’s fine.” Slinging an arm around him, Gianni rubbed his back.
“I’m sorry. Honestly.” Please, don’t stop.
“No need to be sorry.” Gianni crowded him back into a powder room.
When Gianni locked the door behind them, he looked up, shocked. Shocked. Hard as a rock. Aching.
“Hush, now.” Gianni turned him so his back was to the door, then pressed against him.
He cried out, managing to muffle his sound with one hand.
“Mmm. God, you smell good.” Gianni bent to his neck, inhaling deep. “Leather and soap and need.”
His prick was battering against his zipper, and his breathing hadn’t really recovered. His chest was still tight, the air hitching.
Then Gianni kissed him, and he thought he might come in his jeans.
Gianni’s hands burned through the denim covering his butt, Gianni dragging them close together. The kiss went nuclear hot, about to burn him alive. Gianni squeezed his ass, humping against him. Christ. He was going to scream.
Not that he had the oxygen. No, all he could do was hold on and rock back and forth, feeling damn near stoned.
They broke for breath, staring at each other for a long moment. Then Gianni lunged at him again, taking him right back to that dizzying place. Gianni tore at his buckle, and he nodded, rolling up, moaning low in his throat.
Fuck yes.
A hard, callused hand closed around his cock before even the air could touch it. Yes. He needed that more than another breath.
He knew this touch, remembered it. Fantasized about it. Now it was on his flesh again, and this was no damn dream. This was a real man, one who had made him sweat and moan and beg. Yeah, he’d begged.
Bonner drove into Gianni’s touch, his body refusing to act like this was a fluke, that this hadn’t happened.
No, this was a repeat performance. Gianni stroked him, pulling and tugging until his toes curled in his boots.
“Come for me, caro. Give it up. I know you need it.” Gianni bit his earlobe, making it sting. “Then you can get down on your knees and suck me like you want to so bad.”
That was all he could take, more than he could bear. He shot in long, desperate pulses, painting Gianni’s hand with his need.
&nb
sp; “That’s it, Bonner. Perfetto.” Gianni was watching him like a hawk, those eyes almost black.
“Oh sweet Jesus.” He stared, trying to remember how to breathe again.
“Mmm-hmmm. Heavenly, for sure.” The hard hand not covered in his spunk landed on his shoulder, pushing him down. “Now me.”
“Yeah.” He probably shouldn’t be so eager, but he was. He wanted it. He had been dreaming of that cock for years. He opened the fancy-assed slacks, grinning at the sight of the banana sling Gianni wore. Lord have mercy.
Those undies looked like something out of that man catalog his mom got twice a year. Didn’t stop him from pulling them out of the way so that stiff cock sprang out.
Oh sweet fuck, he remembered how Gianni smelled. He groaned softly, licking a line up along the throbbing shaft.
“Uhn.” Gianni grabbed his shoulders, thrusting back and forth gently. Not fucking his face, not yet. Just hinting at it.
He wrapped his lips around the tip, flicking the slit, trying to make Gianni need him, force Gianni to feel.
The low groan that sounded told him he was on point. Gianni liked things a little hard, a little dirty.
A little perverse.
He worked the tip, letting himself relax, need it. The drops of hot liquid that slid over his tongue made him moan, and he pulled harder, desperate for more, for another taste and another.
“Soon, caro.” Gianni’s accent got all weird, his voice damn near guttural. One hard hand wrapped around the back of his head, and he leaned into the touch, crying out as he sucked. That little bit of forcefulness was so fucking hot, and he moved all the way down, lips sealing around the base. Gianni began to fuck his lips, driving into him, pushing hard, and he took every inch.
After three or four more deep thrusts, Gianni stilled, then slammed against him, filling him with hot spurts. He swallowed, taking Gianni in deep. Needing every bit of what he got.
Gianni dragged him back up for one last kiss, one that made his head spin. He took it, his eyes rolling back in his head.
A soft knock on the door made them separate, staring at each other. “Gianni? Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine, Zia. We just need to wash up.”
“Bad boy. I’m taking the cowboy on a walk. Use Lysol.”