The Tracker Claims the Cutie [Rescue for Hire West 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)

by Bellann Summer

  Once Santos had finished pulling off his own clothes, he stood there, proud and studly. Tristen had a hard time not staring at his huge half-hard cock.

  “After we are married, my amor, there will be rules,” Santos stated.

  Tristen blinked and began biting on his lower lip, trying to figure out what was going on. He didn’t get very far because Santos started talking again as he sat on the end of the bed.

  “It is a rule that you will call me if you are going somewhere.”

  Okay, now Tristen was getting pissed off. He didn’t do rules. It was time to go on the offence. He crawled across the bed and slid onto Santos’s lap. The skin-on-skin contact might have felt good, but before they could get to the good stuff, he was taking charge of this conversation. His way.

  “Honey,” he said in his most diva voice, “I accept your proposal of marriage. I wonder how many people we should invite to the wedding. Are you going to wear white?”

  Santos froze, but the man’s recovery was quick. “We are going to Vegas.”

  “Really?” Tristen sniffed. “Well, I’ll have to see if my new boss Sabastian will let me get off. From what I saw today, the store has a lot of male customers.” Yeah, he emphasizes the word male. Of course the store was a men’s clothing store, but Santos didn’t need to know about that, yet.

  “You will get off,” Santos stated. “And while we are in Las Vegas, you will be getting my name tattooed on your forehead.”

  “Oh how lovely, honey,” Tristen purred before taking Santos’s prominent nipple between his fingers. “A gold ring will look so good amid all the color of your tattoos.”

  Santos flipped Tristen onto his back and followed him down. “Have you heard a word that I have said?” Frustration laced every word.

  Tristen dropped the diva act and looked up into Santos’s dark eyes. “Of course,” he said. “We love each other and are getting married.”

  Santos’s dark eyes warmed, and a huge smile lit up his face. Tristen was mesmerized by the sight and reached up and put his palm against Santos’s soft beard.

  “You are right, my amor.”

  Santos took him with a kiss that had his toes curling. Tristen lifted his free hand and cupped the other side of Santos’s face as a tongue invaded and conquered his mouth.

  Tristen was so involved in tangling tongues with Santos that he jumped when a large hand cupped his ass cheek and fingers slid into his crack. Santos didn’t waste any time and began rubbing his hole, loosening the muscles.

  When it came to Santos and sex, Tristen was no fool. Reaching under the pillow, he grabbed the bottle of lube. Flipping the cap open with his thumb, he bumped the bottle against Santos’s shoulder.

  The big man never broke their kiss. In fact he deepened it more while he raised his hand and let Tristen squeeze some slick on it. Tristen dropped the bottle and put his arms around Santos’s shoulders and let his lover take him away from reality.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tristen braced his hands on the Vegas hotel’s wall and pushed out, letting Santos’s enormous cock inch farther into him. He admired the gorgeous thick silver ring on his left hand ring finger. It matched the gold ring looped through Santos’s right nipple.

  “You feel so good, my husband,” Santos said, brushing his lips against Tristen’s ear.

  “I love you,” Tristen said when Santos bottomed out with his balls pressing against Tristen’s ass. He gritted his teeth, and his fingernails scratched at the wall when Santos pulled his cock out so slowly it lit up the nerves in his ass.

  “I love you, anjinho,” Santos said.

  Tristen screamed when Santos plunged his cock back in and nailed his prostate. That ignited Santos’s primitive side, and the man grabbed Tristen’s hips and lifted him until his feet left the hotel room’s thick carpet.

  Santos began to pounding into Tristen so good that pre-cum streamed from his cock onto the floor. Tristen was helpless to do anything but take Santos’s loving.

  “Squeeze me tight, meu amor,” Santos demanded.

  Tristen did as his husband asked and squeezed his ass muscles as Santos plowed into him. The feeling was too much, and an orgasm rolled through him, making his hair stand on end and goose bumps race over his skin. Cum burst from him in thick ropes.

  Hot cum gushed into his ass, filling him full. They had been tested before coming to Vegas and had decided condoms were a thing of the past. The heat and sensations of Santos’s bare cock slick with lube and cum rubbing his insides had another round of cum painting the wall in front of him.

  The men landed on the carpeted floor in a tangle of limbs. Tristen wasn’t surprised his fall was softened by Santos’s body. The big man always took care of him.

  As Tristen lay there in Santos’s arms and struggled to catch his breath, he looked down at their left arms lying side by side. Both contained thick chain links tattooed about three inches above their wrists. Santos’s tattoo contained a T and an S in between the links on the top. And Tristen’s contained an S and then a T.

  Turning his head, he admired his name tattooed over Santos’s left pec. Tristen’s new husband had melted his heart into a puddle of goo when he had stated in his usual no-nonsense way that Tristen was now where he belonged, always next to his heart.

  Santos hugged Tristen and whispered, “I love you.”

  Tristen winced but whispered back, “I love you.”

  When Santos had hugged him, he had accidently bumped Tristen’s other tattoo. Somehow the big man had convinced Tristen to have Santos’s name tattooed in script on his left ass cheek. That was one tattoo his brother Jimmy was never finding out about. He could just imagine the endless comments that loud mouth pain would give him.

  Epilogue

  Garrett opened the oven door and checked the three pans of lasagna bubbling with delicious goodness. Rich smells from the variety of melted cheeses mixed in with spicy tomatoes filled the kitchen. Thick slabs of buttery garlic toast would soon be joining the riot of aromas.

  As Garrett closed the oven door he thought back to the night Tristen had snuck into the hacienda. When the big Brazilian had taken Tristen away, relief had filled him. He was not the one for Tristen and wouldn’t have wanted to hurt the small man for anything in the world. Garrett believed to his very soul that somewhere out there was the love of his life. He just had to be patient.

  * * * *

  Tolliver Holiday took a sip of his brandy old-fashioned and continued to enjoy the view on the other side of the room. The county sheriff, Steve Titan, along with his brother, Dean, and Cade Miller, were sitting together at a table drinking beer and discussing something that had them all throwing back their heads with laughter. Goosebumps covered Tolliver’s arms at the vision of all those massive muscles rippling under law enforcement uniforms and thin T-shirts.

  After a long day working the first shift under sweltering conditions at the local plastic packaging factory, Tolliver was ready to enjoy some man candy.

  “How’s your drink?”

  Dragging his gaze away from tonight’s jackoff material, Tolliver looked across the shiny woodgrain bar to find Tim Schmidt standing in front of him drying a shot glass.

  The bartender was the son of one of Tolliver’s coworkers. Tolliver had first seen Tim when he was a bratty teenager trying to act cool at a summer company picnic. He had been pleasantly surprised when Tim had matured into an enjoyable young man.

  “It’s good. You’ve been practicing,” Tolliver answered with a smile. When Tim had started working at the hotel, his first attempts at making Tolliver’s favorite drink had curled Tolliver’s toes, and not in a good way.

  “My beer was great too,” Roy Smeet teased before setting his empty bottle of Bud Lite on the bar.

  Roy had spent the last ten minutes sitting next to Tolliver and having a texting conversation with a woman who was not his wife. Tolliver found it best not to ask any questions. What he didn’t know let him sleep easier at night. Pissed off wives, calling him
in the early morning hours to find out what was going on with their husbands, sucked. And that had happened to Tolliver with Roy’s wife number one and two.

  “The wife will have supper waiting, so I’d better go.” Roy stood before touching two fingers to his brow, saluting Tolliver. “See you tomorrow at work, Toll. Good luck with the lawn mower.”

  “Sounds good,” Tolliver answered. “See you tomorrow.”

  Tolliver’s ten-year-old lawn mower had bit the dust last week, and after pricing brand new models, he had started searching the want ads for a used one. After finding a few mowers that sounded promising, he had called and set up a couple of appointments to see them later that evening.

  Cade Miller’s big body slid onto the stool Roy just vacated. “Hello, Tolliver, how are things going with you?” Cade asked flashing a smile that made Tolliver’s heart speed up.

  “Hey, Cade,” Tolliver answered making sure he sounded cool and calm. “Things are good.”

  Cade Miller owned a company whose employees specialized in rescuing people. Those team members were so gorgeous and carried such an irresistible air of danger that Tolliver’s head spun from lack of oxygen whenever he was around them. There was no way he could concentrate on breathing when all the blood in his body was rushing to his prick. “The last time I saw you, you had just kicked that asswipe, Bert Clark, to the curb.” Cade’s frown made the man look fierce. “He was begging pretty hard for you to take him back. Tell me you didn’t.”

  “No,” Tolliver answered with a bitter chuckle. “He’s out there somewhere cheating on someone else.”

  “Good.” Cade’s frown cleared. “You deserve better than that.”

  “Well, if you happen to see someone halfway decent, you let me know,” Tolliver joked. Well, maybe in his heart he was serious.

  “You never know, I just might do that,” Cade teased back. Tolliver started sinking into the man’s blue eyed gaze, but at the last second looked away. He concentrated on the ring tattooed on Cade’s finger that announced he belonged to someone else. That worked, sort of.

  Tolliver finished the last of his drink and stood. “I’m on my way to look at a new lawn mower. If I let the grass get any longer, the owner of the house I rent will be knocking on my door complaining.”

  Cade laughed, freezing Tolliver in place with his magnificence. Cade began talking, but Tolliver never heard one word he said. He just kept staring at Cade and wishing. How he longed for a big man in his life,—one who could set his body on fire. Tolliver ached to feel hard muscles and warm skin next to his.

  Years ago, when Tolliver was in his twenties, more than one person had called him a twink. At the time, he had been insulted. Now, in his late thirties, he was used to a body that still didn’t look much different than a small, scrawny teenager. Fine lines next to his eyes were the only sign that gave away his age of thirty-eight. He was at a point in his life where if he didn’t find any gray peppering his light brown hair he was a proud man.

  Tolliver’s biggest weakness was large men with muscles who knew what they were doing with what they had. He turned into the tongue-tied teenager he looked like when he first met someone who fit those criteria.

  Blinking, Tolliver pulled himself together. Cade’s blue eyes twinkled with amusement, and a wide smile graced his face. Tolliver decided to retreat before he made any more of a fool out of himself. He gave Cade a small wave, said good-bye, and left.

  Fifteen minutes later, he walked into his small rented bungalow and accepted a round of happy yips and licks from a bouncing Bentley. The little brown Chihuahua owned Tolliver’s heart and knew it.

  After letting Bentley out to do his business, Tolliver made sure the tiny dog had fresh water and food. Tolliver found that tiny Bentley did better if he fed the dog twice a day. Tolliver picked up a sheet of paper lying on the counter. Before leaving for work earlier that day, he’d managed to print off a list of lawnmowers he’d wanted to look at. It wasn’t easy, as his computer had been acting up lately.

  Beside each mower, he’d written the name, telephone number, and address of each owner. On a separate piece of paper he had scribbled the directions to the addresses he’d googled. While he glanced over the directions to the first address on the list, he quickly let Bentley back in and grabbed his keys. He hated being late for anything, and the forty-five minute drive would be cutting it close to the time of his appointment.

  Minutes later he was pulling into his neighbor’s driveway and had Andy’s trailer hooked up to his Honda Pilot. The night before he had called Andy and asked if he could borrow it. If Tolliver was lucky enough to find a lawn mower that he liked at the right price, he was paying for it and taking it home right away.

  Movement caught Tolliver’s eye and he saw Andy standing before his living room picture window with his hand raised in greeting. Tolliver waved back before driving away.

  Forty-three minutes later, Tolliver was forced to take his time bumping along the overgrown, winding, dirt driveway. He became concerned as the decrepit, once-upon-a-time, white farmhouse came into view. His chances of finding a lawn mower at this place were fading fast.

  After parking his vehicle in front of the weathered, gray house, Tolliver made his way through waist-high, tangled weeds and grass to the door. Long ago there might have been a porch or a deck attached to the house to welcome guests, but now there was only a patch of dirt that the weeds hadn’t claimed. The place was eerily quiet except for the steady swish of the breeze through the trees scattered around the front yard.

  Tolliver almost turned around and left. He hadn’t had these kinds of heebie-jeebies since he was ten and his brother had dared him to walk to the end of their block and back at midnight. He’d ended up running back the whole way as if the hounds of hell were after him.

  A chill skittered up Tolliver’s spine. He raised his hand to knock on the paint-chipped wooden door when the clink of keys had him turning around.

  Tolliver had time to only raise his arm before a swinging bat connected with his arm and the side of his head. He heard a thunk, but felt no pain. Tolliver knew no more until he woke up tied to a bed.

  THE END

  WWW.AUTHORBELLANNSUMMER.BLOGSPOT.COM

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Bellann Summer lives in the middle of nowhere with her husband and children, surrounded by lakes and woods. In the summer Bellann enjoys fishing, camping, gardening, and growing flowers. Autumn is spent in the woods exploring the beautiful colors and nature at its finest. In the winter there is ice fishing, snowmobiling, and sitting in front of the wood fireplace. She has always loved to read, and any free time is spent with a book in her hand. When major life changes occurred, she decided to try writing what she liked to read. And it worked.

  For all titles by Bellann Summer, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/bellann-summer

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

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