Wild Trail

by A. M. Arthur

  Something dark flashed in Mack’s eyes. “It’s not money I live on. It’s something I was waiting to use the right way, and I think this is the right way.”

  Okay, so money was a sore spot best left alone for now. “Then you guys are going ahead with the restoration tourist attraction thing?”

  “Yes.” Mack’s expression lightened. “We are. Arthur gave me the go-ahead to get some contractors out here and look at the structures, see what everything will cost.”

  “You mean Colt can’t work his magic and do it all for cheap?”

  Mack chuckled. “Colt’s good with his hands, but he’s not a magician.”

  “Good with his hands, huh?” Wes couldn’t let that remark slide. “You know this firsthand?”

  “Maybe. Jealous?”

  “Nah. You don’t want him.” He leaned in and pitched his voice low so he didn’t scandalize Blizzard. “You’re too busy imagining what it’s going to feel like when you get your dick in my ass.”

  Mack’s nostrils flared. “You aren’t wrong about that.” He pitched his already deep voice even lower. “Gonna fuck you so hard you’ll walk bowlegged for a week, just like a real cowboy. Rode hard and put away wet.”

  Blood pulsed into Wes’s cock, and he very blatantly adjusted himself. “Your mouth’s writing a lot of checks, cowboy.”

  “My mouth does a lot more than write checks.”

  The bruise on Wes’s back tingled. “Oh, daddy, I know it. I loved your mouth on my mouth, and I loved your mouth on my ass. But you know what I’d love even more?”

  Mack blinked once, his lips twisting into a feral grin. He opened his mouth, hopefully to answer with “around your cock,” but—

  “Garrett!”

  They jumped apart at the shouted word. A cowboy whose name Wes didn’t know was standing at the far end of the barn with a saddle in his hands.

  “What?” Mack yelled back.

  “Carl just dropped off the repaired saddle. You wanna inspect before I sign off on the work order?”

  Mack pressed his lips tight, probably at war with himself. Duty versus pleasure. “Be right there!” To Wes, he said, “Come over tonight. Eight. I’ll make sure we’re alone for a while.”

  Wes’s heart fluttered. “You have stuff?”

  “Yes.”

  Jesus, he’s seriously inviting me to his cabin to fuck. Why am I hesitating?

  Mack tilted his head. “We can do what we did last night. No pressure.”

  “Oh no. No pressure needed, believe me.” Wes winked. “You fucking me was always a matter of when, not if. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Yeah.” Mack stroked his beard once. “Try not to hurt yourself between now and then.”

  Wes laughed. The cut on his ankle hadn’t bothered him all day, despite knowing the good doc who’d stitched him up probably wouldn’t be happy to know he’d been swimming. “I’ll do my best.”

  * * *

  He kept his word and did his very best not to injure himself again, but by dinnertime, Wes was starting to rethink his dip in the lake. He’d taken the opportunity to ride Blizzard again that afternoon, and as he swung down out of the saddle, his ankle had given a mighty twinge. When he hobbled into the guesthouse at the dinner bell, it was actually throbbing. A peek under the bandage showed the wound red and irritated.

  Patrice shooed him into the downstairs bathroom so she could pour peroxide over the wound. Wes bit back a sharp hiss at the way it frothed up. After fussing at him for swimming with an open cut, she gave him more aspirin and suggested another trip into town tomorrow to see Dr. Weaver.

  The whole thing left Wes in a grumpy mood at dinner. He played a few rounds of poker with Conrad, Derrick and Liam, before abandoning it. Wandered upstairs to lie on his bunk for a little while...only to wake up to a dark room. Shit.

  He cast about for his phone, which was about ten minutes away from dying. Eight forty-five. Shit, Mack probably thought he’d stood him up. His ankle was stiff and sore, but goddamn it, he wasn’t missing out on this chance. He passed Miles on the stairs.

  “You feeling okay?” Miles asked.

  “Guess I needed that nap,” Wes replied. “I’m, uh, going to take a walk. Loosen up a bit.”

  “Want some company?”

  “Nah, I’m good. Thanks. Alone time is good for everyone.”

  Miles frowned. “You can just say you’re meeting Mack again, you know.”

  Wes glanced around them, but no one was nearby to eavesdrop. “Fine, I’m meeting Mack again. Happy?”

  “Whatever. Just be safe.”

  “Always am.”

  “I don’t mean condoms.”

  Wes crossed his arms, confused by the conversation now. “What are you talking about, then?”

  “I mean be safe with your heart, Wes. I’ve never seen you look at a guy the way you look at Mack.”

  His chest tightened. “How do I look at him?”

  “Like you’d walk through five miles of horse shit just to fall at his feet and get a smile.”

  “Please. I wouldn’t walk through two inches of horse shit for any guy.”

  Miles tilted his head to the side, but didn’t say anything else.

  “I gotta go, I’m late,” Wes said. “See you later.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Wes tried not to sprint across the big downstairs room to the front door, or across the porch and the main yard. Once he hit the well-trodden path to the cabins, though, he bolted. The lights were on in Mack’s cabin. Wes banged his fist on the door hard enough to hurt, his pulse racing—not with desire, but actual anxiety. He didn’t want Mack to think he’d been stood up.

  The door opened, spilling out light and the broad shape of Mack, staring blankly at him with an open beer bottle in his hand. They stood there a long moment, neither of them blinking, and Wes’s heart fell to his feet when Mack didn’t invite him inside.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I fell asleep,” Wes said. Probably the lamest thing he’d ever said in his life, but so very true. And it filled the awkward silence hanging between them.

  Mack squinted at him, then stepped back, indicating he could enter. “Fresh air and sunshine will do that to you.”

  “I’m sorry.” Wes tried to hide his limp but totally failed, because the instant Mack shut the door, his hand was on Wes’s elbow.

  “Your ankle?”

  “Yeah. I probably shouldn’t have gone swimming today.”

  “Probably not.” Mack steered him toward one of the upholstered chairs and directed him to sit. “Want a drink?”

  “Water, please.”

  Mack fetched the bottle, unscrewing the cap for him like before. Wes sipped at the cold liquid, once again grateful for the prop, because this totally wasn’t how he’d imagined this date starting. Maybe sex was a sure thing, but he’d wanted to answer the door with a seductive grin, maybe tease Mack a little, not limp inside on a painful ankle.

  “You let Patrice take a look at your ankle?” Mack asked as he sat in the matching chair. The little sitting area was cozy, like Wes imagined a real mountain cabin would be.

  “Yes. She suggested I ride into town tomorrow so the doctor can look at it again, but I figured I’d wait and see how it feels in the morning. I’d hate to have to admit I forgot to take the antibiotics until today.”

  “Keep a good eye on it. We’ve never known a guest to get a staph infection from that lake, but there’s a first time for everything.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Wes fiddled with his bottle’s cap for a few seconds, thrown off by Mack’s calm exterior. He didn’t seem annoyed at all by Wes being nearly an hour late, and he also didn’t seem overjoyed that Wes had actually shown. Never one to beat around the damned bush, he blurted out, “So did I totally blow this, or are we still going to fu
ck?”

  Mack surprised him by barking laughter. “You are an easy one to wind up.”

  “What?”

  “Relax a little, Wes, this isn’t a nuclear arms treaty we’re negotiating here. If you hadn’t shown, I figured no hard feelings, you changed your mind. But damn, you were so high-strung when you got here, I couldn’t help myself.”

  If Wes had been standing, it would have been the perfect time to plant his hands on his hips. All he could do to show his irritation was to slam his water down on the table, sloshing his fist with the liquid. “Asshole. I’m taking the tongue stud out.”

  Mack growled, and then he was in Wes’s personal space, kneeling in front of him with his big hands on Wes’s thighs. “Don’t you dare.”

  “You gonna stop me?”

  “Don’t make me tie you up, boss.”

  Wes shivered, and not in the fun way. Mack must have noticed something in his expression, because his entire body relaxed. His hands massaged Wes’s thighs in gentle circles.

  “Not a fan of being tied up?” Mack asked.

  “No.” The older man’s spot-on perception did funny things to Wes’s insides. He wasn’t used to people reading him so easily, not even Sophie. “Back in college, I hooked up with a guy who wanted to tie me to the headboard. We were both high at the time, and the asshole passed out before he could untie me. I was stuck in his bed for six hours, with him drooling on my stomach.”

  Something dangerous glinted in Mack’s eyes, and it made Wes’s belly quiver. “Sorry, boss.”

  “It’s fine. Everyone has limits, right. Tell me one of yours.”

  “Can’t say that I’m into any of the hard-core stuff. My ex liked me to handcuff him to the headboard once in a while, but I hear you on not liking that. A few smacks on my ass, sure, but I’m not much into receiving pain.”

  “Got it.” Wes clanked the stud against his teeth. “Good thing I like getting my ass smacked.”

  “Good thing.” Mack’s hands slid higher up Wes’s thighs until his fingertips brushed the edges of Wes’s cock. “I seem to remember a demand from earlier. Something about my mouth being somewhere.”

  Oh hell yes.

  Wes spread his knees wider. “Yes, please, and thank you.”

  Mack chuckled. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “Preemptive strike. I know what your mouth is capable of.”

  “Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

  “Possibly,” Wes said, perfectly deadpan. “I was adopted as an infant, you know, so anything is possible.”

  Mack’s expression softened. “Sorry. Guess I shouldn’t joke about that stuff.”

  “It’s fine, it doesn’t offend me. I was lucky to be adopted by some pretty amazing parents. I may not know my genetic background, but I know I’m loved. Gay or straight, success or failure, my parents love me.”

  “It’s great you have that.”

  Wes studied Mack’s expression, liking that he could pick up on the subtle emotional tics Mack made. He didn’t normally have these sort of emotional chats before a hookup—although this felt less like a hookup, and more like a real date—but he liked learning things about Mack. “You didn’t have that?”

  Mack shrugged. “Yes and no. Growing up, my parents were supportive of me and my brothers. They were both in law enforcement, and it was sort of expected we’d all follow in the tradition, so I joined the police academy, worked my way up to SWAT, which was probably the proudest my father has ever been of me.”

  The wistfulness in Mack’s voice hinted at an upcoming plot twist. “What happened?”

  “I got outed. For all of my accomplishments and spotless career record, being gay shot that all to hell. Still talk to them on holidays and birthdays, so we’re cordial, but ever since then...it’s not the same. There’s no pride, it’s all silent disapproval.”

  “I’m sorry.” Wes hated that he’d pried into a painful part of Mack’s past, but it also helped him understand the man better. “But you found acceptance here at the ranch, right? With your grandfather?”

  “Definitely. Hell, I didn’t even know I had a living grandfather until my late twenties. I guess Arthur had a falling out with my father a long time ago, and they stopped communicating. I’m so grateful I found this place. I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

  “Good.” Wes leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, getting the faintest taste of beer. “Ick. Beer breath.”

  Mack laughed out loud. “Lord, you are a funny one. You’ll swallow my tongue after I’ve just licked your ass for twenty minutes, but you can’t stand a little beer breath?”

  Wes huffed. “I like ass. I do not like beer.”

  “Fine, fine.” Mack took another long pull of the beer on his way to the bathroom. Wes remained seated, amused at the gurgling sound that followed. Mack returned to the sitting area with a funny look on his face. “Now you’ve done it. Now you’ve gotta reconcile peppermint-flavored beer breath.”

  Before Wes could respond, Mack hauled him to his feet and into his arms. Wes fell against his broad chest, surrendering to the hard press of lips against his, and to the tongue insistently licking inside. Yeah, minty beer wasn’t great, but with it came the strong, addictive flavor of Mack. Wes fisted the fabric of Mack’s shirt, wishing they were skin on skin so he could pet the hair on Mack’s chest.

  Mack seemed to be on the same page, because he made quick work of Wes’s shirt, followed by his own. Before Mack could capture his mouth again, Wes bent to suck on one of Mack’s nipples, nipping at the bud while tweaking the other with his fingers. Mack was undoing Wes’s shorts, shoving them down along with his underwear.

  They were going happy places fast. Mack pulled Wes’s head away from his nipples, then sank to his knees in front of Wes. Wes’s cock pulsed with need, but Mack, the big jerk, helped him out of his sneakers first, leaving Wes totally naked while Mack still wore a pair of sweatpants. Very tented sweatpants.

  Not fair, but totally hot.

  Mack stroked Wes’s cock with one hand—and yes, that was a very welcome touch—while his other snaked up Wes’s abdomen and chest to pinch a nipple. Wes grunted at the sharp burst of pleasure-pain that raced down his spine. Mack soothed the hurt with gentle circling motions, as his hand kept a steady stroke on his dick. Too steady and too damned light.

  “Your mouth looks bored,” Wes said.

  “It does, huh?” Mack nipped the sensitive skin where Wes’s thigh and hip met. “Better?”

  “A little. But you need to move a few inches to the right.”

  “Do I? Maybe I should flip you around and suck another bruise onto your back?”

  Wes shivered. “Later.”

  “Hmm.” Mack released his cock, and before Wes could voice an objection, Mack shocked the shit out of him by taking Wes’s cock into his mouth, all the way to the root. He didn’t gag, simply swallowed, and Wes nearly shot out of his skin at the unexpected, awesome pressure and heat.

  “Jesus!” Wes grabbed Mack’s shoulders so he didn’t fall over. Mack pulled back, then did the whole thing a second time. Wes’s legs trembled with need, because holy damn, Mack was good at this.

  A blow job from Mack Garrett was nothing to joke about, and Wes was a panting, swearing mess as Mack worked him with his mouth and tongue. Up and down his length, alternating taking him deep with pulling back to suck on just the head. Rolling Wes’s balls and rubbing his taint.

  Mack gathered some spit on his fingers, then pressed them against Wes’s hole, rubbing without trying to breach him yet. Wes wanted to pull his cheeks apart and give Mack more room, but he was pretty sure if he let go of Mack’s shoulders, he’d fall over. And Mack was really fucking good at this, because too soon Wes felt the warning signs of his impending release.

  “Getting close,” Wes said.

  After an
other trip to the back of Mack’s throat, Mack released him. “Can you get hard again before I fuck you?”

  It had been a few years since Wes had tried to get it up twice in one night, but he also never backed down from a challenge. “Yes.” Even if he didn’t, he was not leaving this cabin without having Mack’s dick inside of him.

  “Hmm.” Instead of getting Wes off, Mack stood. “I’ll take that chance another time.”

  Mack was anticipating a third date; that pleased Wes all over the place. Wes lazily stroked his own erection and eyeballed the front of Mack’s pants. “Uh-huh,” Wes said. “Anything you want right now?”

  “My beer.”

  Wes squawked.

  * * *

  Mack couldn’t hold back another belly laugh. Winding Wes up was becoming his new favorite thing. Even though getting that tongue stud against his dick was a top priority, he couldn’t avoid the tease. Besides, Mack was the one suffering from the weird mint/beer combo in his mouth.

  Wes crossed his arms and adopted that adorable pout Mack kind of loved. “Just for that, I’m not sucking your dick tonight.”

  “That’s just fine, boss.” Mack stroked himself through his sweats. “Just means I’ll be balls deep in your ass a lot longer.”

  “You seem to think a lot of your own stamina. Do I need to get an outside opinion?”

  “You’ll be able to form your own opinion in a bit. Now get that fine ass on my bed.”

  Wes shivered, responding to the direct order. He walked slowly, though, wiggling his ass in a way that made Mack want to smack it once or twice. Wes knew how to use his body to seduce, and Mack couldn’t wait to use it a little himself. He wanted to wind Wes up, get him desperate for Mack’s cock, and then make them both come like rockets.

  Instead of simply sitting, Wes crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees, presenting that ass in a way that made Mack’s dick pulse. Desperate need to get inside of that ass and fuck Wes senseless—but first, he wanted to have a little fun.

  Mack retrieved a condom and lube packet from his clubbing stash, then tossed them onto the bed by Wes’s hands. Shoved his sweatpants down and stepped out of them, mostly to mess with Wes’s head. He wasn’t ready for the main event yet. Mack knelt behind Wes, taking a moment to admire the big bruise he’d put on Wes’s lower back yesterday. Remembering how incredibly nuts Wes had gotten over that spot.