Cowboy: The Mathesons Book 2

by Declan Rhodes

  “Oh, wow. Was he married to a man or a woman?”

  Simon was nosy. He didn’t like to think of it that way. If pushed, he insisted that he was only trying to get an appropriate lay of the land. I said, “A man, but before you go there, he’s not interested in me. We’re only friends.”

  “I wasn’t trying to pry.”

  I knew better. Simon was trying to pry. Our server reappeared. She said, “I assumed and brought two forks.”

  “That was a good assumption. This is the cowboy’s favorite.”

  I watched Simon take the first bite of pie with a small dollop of the ice cream. He closed his eyes as the dessert slid down his throat. The soft moan of, “Mmm,” had a sexy edge, and it made my cock stiffen in my satin Zorro pants.

  Simon held the next forkful of pie out for me. I said, “I’ve got my own fork.”

  “You shared my germs many times before, and it didn’t kill you. This is a gesture, Tate.”

  He was right about the pie. It was delicious. It was perfectly warm, and the cold, smooth creaminess of the ice cream balanced it in texture and sensation.

  As we continued to devour the pie, my curiosity got the best of me. “And what about Hamish?”

  “What about Hamish?” Simon took another bite of the pie and closed his eyes briefly while he waited for my answer.

  “He’s always been after you.”

  “And he still is. Some people take years to understand ‘no’ as an answer.”

  “That is the answer?”

  I saw frustration materialize across Simon’s face. “C’mon, Tate, if you seriously think I would go for Hamish, maybe you should take me back to the party. I’ll find somebody else who wants to flirt with the lonesome cowboy.”

  Simon didn’t give me a full answer explaining Hamish, but I sensed that I shouldn’t push any harder. Perhaps they were friends. Shaking my head, I said, “I’m sorry. I recognize a predator when I see one, and I have that protective instinct. It runs in the family. Mason is worse than me. Why do you think we all spread out across the country?” I suppressed a chuckle. “I suppose that means that you’re unattached?”

  “Solo. Completely.”

  I grinned, and I pushed the plate with a final bite closer to Simon. “Finish the pie for us, cowboy.”

  “You won’t need to twist my arm.”

  Simon finished the pie, and I glanced out the plate glass windows fronting the diner. “It looks like the rain is over.”

  “Just a flash summer storm.” Simon sipped his coffee. “Are you okay with Mason hiring me? I had some mixed feelings, and I can still walk away.”

  I appreciated his concern for my feelings. “At first, I wanted to throw you both up against the wall, but then reason took over. You need the job. We need your expertise. I hope you wear jeans to work every day that you’re in the office…”

  Simon laughed. “You still know how to put me on the spot, but I’m happy that you like what you see. That helps deal with one corner of my insecurity.”

  “And your two moms? How are they?”

  “Well, since you asked,” said Simon. “I’ve done something that I hope I don’t regret. It’s nearly impossible for me to say no.”

  My eyebrows furrowed together. “Something involving your moms? Mom Missy and Mom Tina are so sweet. Don’t tell me you’ve done something awful to them.”

  “It’s more what they did to me.”

  “It sounds like there’s a good story here.”

  “I posed for Mom Tina’s sculptures.”

  I understood Simon’s nagging feelings of regret. “The naked glass ones?”

  He nodded, and a pink blush spread across his face.

  “Where can I get one?”

  “You can’t afford them.”

  I rolled my head back and laughed. It was a little too loud, and the cluster of other customers in the diner turned their heads. “You’re probably right.”

  “Speaking of the moms, this has been an awesome night, but I’d better be getting home. They do worry. Fortunately, that will soon be over.”

  If someone was sick with a life-threatening illness, I knew that he’d have mentioned that up front. I asked the next logical question. “Are you moving out?”

  “At last. They are great, and I treasure my moms, but I need to be on my own again.”

  “The last time you moved out, you weren’t on your own.”

  Simon didn’t respond. Instead, he adopted a matter-of-fact tone as the extra color faded from his cheeks. “Did you take the subway here?”

  “Yes, and you?”

  “Yep. We can grab it and ride through the first couple of stops together before I need to switch.”

  “Let’s go then. We’ll get out there before the rain starts again.”

  We left an extra-large tip, and our server called after us, “Stay dry you two!”

  As we strolled down the street, we put our hats back on, and I asked Simon, “Does the cowboy have a pocket so that he can hang onto my mask until the subway stop?”

  He took the mask from my hand and dropped it inside the breast pocket of his Western shirt.

  Simon elicited a few appreciative nods from men who passed traveling in the opposite direction. I wasn’t the only one turned on by his cowboy costume.

  We rambled down the steps together, and I listened to the subway trains thundering elsewhere in the station. As we waited on the platform, I asked, “Do you have any plans yet for the offices? I’m curious.”

  “It’s all rolling around in my head so far. I haven’t put anything down on the computer, but I have a vague idea. I’ll put together three options to present to you. I suggested to Mason that we patch him into the meetings via video.”

  “I bet he loved the idea. He can’t stand anyone leaving him out of the loop.”

  “He said that he’d already thought about that. He was glad we were both on the same page.”

  Simon looked both ways along the tracks.

  I said, “The sign says three more minutes.”

  “I”m always impatient. You know that.”

  I asked, “And the offices?”

  “I’m thinking bright, lively colors in a modernist style.”

  “Nothing too garish, please. I don’t want to wear sunglasses to work each morning.”

  Simon chuckled, “Tate doesn’t want to wear shades. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The subway car was half empty as we stepped inside. We opted to remain standing. Our time together for the evening was running short. I didn’t want it to end so quickly. A thought welled up inside, and I blurted it out, “Come home with me.”

  Simon turned his head. I read the expression on his face, and he didn’t know what to say. I saw the corners of his mouth trying to smile, but they fought with the furrow of confusion on his forehead. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we both know what happened before.”

  “And we both wish it didn’t. Am I right about that?”

  The moment that Simon decided to throw caution to the wind was written across his face. He said, “Okay, I’ll come along, but promise me one thing.”

  “You’ve got it. Anything.”

  “You’ll be gentle with my heart.”

  10

  Simon

  A few things were different in Tate’s apartment, but what caught my attention most was that so little changed in the years since we broke up. I roamed around checking it out while Tate used the bathroom. The cowboy sculpture was still there, but he didn’t wear any holiday decorations. When I lived with Tate, I gave him a Christmas tinsel necklace, Mardi Gras beads, and a tiny red, white, and blue bandana around his neck for the 4th of July.

  The posters for 50s Hollywood musicals remained on the wall—Singin’ In the Rain, An American In Paris, and The Band Wagon. I opened my eyes wider when I saw they had new company. Breaking up the theme of old classics, Tate added a Hamilton poster to the wall.

  I did
n’t notice him walking up behind me until I felt the familiar sensation of those muscular arms wrapping around my midsection. I bit my lip when he rested his chin on my shoulder. In a low, rumbling voice, Tate said, “I think my little cowboy is happy to see the real cowboy back again.”

  I gripped his forearms with my hands. “I’m hardly a real cowboy.”

  “To me you are, and that’s all that counts.”

  I turned around to face him placing my hands on his firm chest. “You know, my stomach is tied up in knots. I still can’t resist you, but I don’t know if this is wise. It feels like I’m Alice trying to decide whether to slide down the rabbit hole.”

  “I get it. I’d like to say that I can guarantee that I’ve changed, and I’ve reformed. That wouldn’t be true, but I do know and understand most of what I did wrong, at least I think I do. That’s the first step to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t all you. I like to think I’ve learned a few things, too.”

  Tate placed an index finger against my lips. “Can we stop talking about this? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be with me. Right here and right now. This is our moment. We’ll deal with reality tomorrow.”

  A shiver raced through my body. Caution was a trait both Tate and I shared in the past. It was exciting to have him push it aside. Concern about the future and the bottom line was the main reason he worked such long, hard hours. It drove me to be demanding. I knew that I couldn’t let my heart fly if I worried about the wisdom of the leap.

  I whispered, “I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  Tate smirked. “Every single person who knows me figured that out from my end. I love you, too.”

  I started to say something else, but he smothered the words with a kiss. My knees turned to rubber, and I actually thought I might fall to the floor. Fortunately, Tate’s strong arms wrapped tight around my waist and held me close.

  He tasted slightly of apple pie. When our tongues touched, it was electric. Any shred of resistance was gone. I was Tate’s again, at least until the morning. Every fiber of my body wanted us to be together for good. My brain’s efforts to catch up shut down and focused instead on sensations—both mine and the ones that I knew would make Tate feel good.

  Pulling back slightly from the kiss, Tate swept his fingers up into my hair. “To the bedroom? It’s more comfortable than here.”

  My mouth was dry, and my cock throbbed in my jeans. I couldn’t put the words together, so I just nodded yes. I couldn’t decide whether it was the act of a gentleman or a predatory gesture leading me to my doom, but either way, I willingly followed as Tate took my hand and led me down the hallway of his apartment.

  I tried to lighten the mood for a moment. “I still say a poster of the Captain over the bed would be a nice addition.”

  Tate poked at my chest. “The only two people who should be in my bedroom are you and me turning it back into our bedroom.”

  I shivered. Tate made his motivation clear. He wanted to be back together for the long term. I wanted that, too. I missed him so damned much. So many times over the past eighteen months I tried to get him out of my mind and set everything behind, but it never worked.

  I’d see something walking down the street in the city, and it would remind me of Tate. I wanted to point and say, “Remember when we ducked in there to see if that old-fashioned hardware store sold croquet sets?” As I raised my arm, I’d turn my head and see that nobody was there.

  I couldn’t eat a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs at Zarzanetti’s without remembering the meal when Tate sent it back twice, and on their third try, he called the server over. It was a young guy, and he was nearly fed up. He scowled as Tate began to talk.

  Forgetting to lower his booming voice, Tate said, “This isn’t what I wanted, but it’s amazing! I don’t know what they did this time, but it’s the best-damned bowl of spaghetti and meatballs I’ve ever eaten.”

  Tate’s large hands kneading at my chest brought me back to the present. He gripped the collar of my red Western shirt and whispered, “Are you ready?”

  I grinned. He was talking about the snaps. They were the best thing about Western shirts. I always thought dress shirts should be made the same way. As I nodded, he pulled the shirt wide open with one mighty tug. With one continuous movement, he pushed his hands up under the shirt where it still hung on my shoulders and knocked it back letting it fall to the floor.

  The loud, booming Tate voice was back. “Damn! How’d I ever let you walk out the door? I should have nailed boards across it and dug a moat outside furnished with alligators just in case.”

  I gasped when he inclined his head downward and kissed an already firm nipple. My head rolled back with my mouth open when Tate reached for my belt. He swept a mighty hand up the back of my head and stared into my eyes. “Is everything good?”

  “Good? Fuck, let’s go for astounding. Oh, damn, I’m so horny. I’m not thinking about good, bad, or otherwise. I need you.”

  Tate’s Zorro costume consisted mostly of shiny black satin. It was a thin, slick layer between my fingers and his skin. He wore laces across the chest holding the shirt slightly closed. While we stared into each other’s eyes, I swiftly untied the laces, and the shirt hung loosely on his body revealing even more of his muscular chest.

  Tate growled, “Any clothes right now are too much. I want you and me naked.”

  He tugged the satin shirt off over his head and stepped out of the pants. Soon, Tate was naked, and it took my breath away. He’d spent more time in the gym since we broke up. Maybe he was trying to work away his frustrations. Tate was always a big, strong man, and now the muscles took on the appearance of classical sculpture. I grinned thinking that he could be the work of Michelangelo—or maybe Rodin. I hoped he’d still find me attractive once the cowboy duds were gone.

  It didn’t take long to find out. I watched as his eyes explored every inch of my body. The sparks crackling in the air caused my cock to rise to fully erect. Tate sat on the edge of the bed and pounded his hand on the mattress. “Sit here.”

  Fuck! He still knows how to drive me crazy.

  I followed his instructions and sat on the edge of the bed with my cock pressed hard up against my belly. Tate slid off the edge and lowered himself to the floor. I never understood how such a large man could kneel on a hard floor supporting his weight for half an hour at a time, but Tate could do it.

  Positioning himself between my legs, Tate gripped the base of my cock with one hand and cradled my balls with the other. He stared up into my face. “Your body drives me wild, Simon. Honestly, like no other. I’ve never seen a more handsome man naked—in real life, TV, or the movies.” I heard a growl under his breath, and it made my cock pulse.

  I swallowed hard. “I guess that’s a mutual observation. Fuck, Tate. No one’s ever gone down on me like you.”

  “And edged you right after? Then—if there’s energy left—the fuck.”

  “Oh, damn, no.”

  I leaned back, braced myself with my hands pressed hard into the mattress and gasped, desperately sucking air when Tate wrapped his lips tight around the head of my cock. My hands dug deep into the bed when his tongue flitted like a butterfly’s wings across my head.

  My moans turned into desperate grunts when Tate started to slowly rock his head up and down taking my cock deeper into his mouth with each motion. My body wanted him to go faster, but my mind wanted him to go for hours. I knew that it wasn’t my choice. My hips arched upward trying to urge him on.

  Tate pulled his mouth off my cock and stroked slowly with his hand while he looked into my eyes. “You know how I like to take it slow and how I like to tease.”

  Breathing hard, I said, “And nobody does it better than you. Nobody—never.”

  His lips wrapped tightly again, and my cock drove deep into Tate’s throat almost to the hilt. He coughed slightly, but he didn’t pull back. The strategy shifted, and he bobbed his head up and down qu
ickly. The sensation drove me close to the edge.

  “Oh, fuck, Tate…you’re gonna make me come.”

  Seconds later, he pulled off again, and a massive grin filled his face. “Not so quick. You know what’s next.”

  I did know what was next. Tate pulled his mouth back and let his hands take over. He stroked hand over hand staring into my eyes. When I closed them or tried to look away, he barked, “Look at me, Simon. Open your eyes,” and I obeyed.

  Tate knew me well enough to read the body language and understand when I was right at the edge ready to explode. Then he pulled back and left me moaning and gasping for breath. Being left on the edge became so unbearable that I tried to reach for my cock, but Tate pushed my hands away.

  In the sexiest of growls, he said, “Lay back on the bed.”

  I propelled myself back on the bed and lay my head on the pillow. Tate pushed my legs wide and climbed between them. I knew the most excruciating was on the way.

  Raising my arms over my head, I swallowed hard when Tate reached out with one hand and pinned my wrists to the pillow. Then his other hand took over expertly stroking my desperate cock.

  I writhed under him, “Oh fuck, please, I’ve got to come.”

  He responded by gripping both of our cocks together and growling, “Maybe I should come first. Is that what you want, Simon?”

  Fuck! When he put it that way, I didn’t know what I wanted. Tate launching a load against my chest was one of the hottest things in the world, but I was desperate. My balls churned, and I wanted to explode.

  It didn’t take a lot of stimulation for Tate to come which made us a perfect match at the moment. He asked, “Ready?” and nodded his head to encourage the proper answer.

  “So fucking, unbelievably ready.” I squirmed and stared at those rippling muscles in his biceps. Then I focused on his handsome face again.

  His perfect touch took me right to the edge. After a pause of a few short seconds, Tate stroked us both together. I was so close that the contact was enough. I thrashed against the bed as I shot hard. It was the most powerful orgasm I’d experienced since before we broke up. It left me breathless.