Saddle Up 'n Ride!

by Remmy Duchene

  Published by Phaze Books

  This is an explicit and erotic novel

  intended for the enjoyment

  of adult readers. Please keep

  out of the hands of children.

  www.Phaze.com

  Saddle Up ‘N Ride!

  A novella of homoerotic romance by

  REMMY DUCHENE

  Saddle Up ‘N Ride! copyright 2009 by Remmy Duchene

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A Phaze Production

  Phaze Books

  6470A Glenway Avenue, #109

  Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222

  Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.

  To order additional copies of this book, contact:

  books@phaze.com

  www.Phaze.com

  Cover art © 2009 Debi Lewis

  Edited by Jade Falconer

  eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-050-8

  First Edition – Arpil, 2009

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Thunder scraped across the sky and lightning lit up the bedroom as rancher Rusty Hunter held his lover down against the bed. Sitting astride Jack’s body, Rusty’s tongue left a wet trail down Jack’s neck. Slowly, torturously, he teased Jack’s pulse with his tongue. He drew circles around Jack’s Adam’s apple, nipping the flesh there. He released Jack’s hand just so he could brace against Jack. Jack’s heartbeat slammed against Rusty’s palm. Rusty took utter pleasure in teasing Jack, in making Jack’s body shiver.

  A soft sound left Rusty’s body and he continued down Jack’s body until finally the other man was at Jack’s nipples. Jack tried to wiggle away so Rusty gripped his wrists again. With both his hands holding Jack’s hands above his head, Rusty feasted on the tiny nubs. He licked at them, pulled at them, trapping them between his teeth. When Jack growled and squirmed, Rusty simply picked up the suction on one nipple until Jack cried out. Then, and only then, Rusty proceeded to the next nipple and torture it as he had done the other. Jack kept right on fighting against Rusty, who only smiled and reached for his belt. He then used it to restrain Jack’s hands against the headboard, and sat up to smile at his lover.

  “Do ya wanna get away, Jack?” Rusty drawled huskily. He looked down into Jack Malone’s eyes and saw a spark there, but didn’t want to assume anything. If Jack wanted out, he would let Jack go.

  “No,” Jack moaned and gyrated his hard cock up against Rusty’s jeans-clad ass.

  Taking that as his answer, Rusty lifted his body from Jack’s naked form and smiled. Rusty stuck one finger in his mouth and sucked against it while locking eyes with Jack. Rusty added a second finger and swirled his tongue over them. Jack’s body bucked upward, almost throwing Rusty, but Rusty was a rider. Rusty locked his knees against Jack’s side and added a third finger. Removing the fingers from his mouth, he trailed one finger over Jack’s lips before bending forward. He stuck his long tongue out and licked from Jack’s pulse upward, over his chin, then plunged his tongue into Jack’s mouth.

  The kiss ripped a strangled cry from Jack’s body and Rusty’s breath left him in pants. He ravished Jack’s mouth roughly. When he pulled back, he looked down into Jack’s eyes. Jack’s body writhed beneath his as his pink tongue flowed over his lips. Rusty watched the tongue and moaned.

  Jack was hard and standing at full attention. His large cock shook beneath Rusty’s gaze. With his mouth watering, Rusty leaned forward and licked at the top of Jack’s cock. The heated pre-cum tasted delicious as it puddle against Rusty’s tongue. Slowly, Rusty sucked against the head—just the head. Jack’s hips shot upward hard. A profanity escaped Jack’s lips and Rusty released the cock. When he looked down, the hard pole jerked. The veins throbbed and for some reason, Rusty took great pleasure in that. Perhaps it was the thought that he had made Jack that horny, that hard.

  Leaning in, Rusty bathed Jack’s penis with saliva before pulling it into his mouth again. He heard a hiss and looked up to see that Jack’s eyes had rolled back into his head. Smiling, Rusty figured he might as well do something to make Jack crazy. Then he sucked Jack’s hard, tender cock, down his throat.

  “Rusty!” Jack cried out slamming his hips forward, further down Rusty’s throat. Rusty was accustomed to his lover’s size and continued sucking against Jack while using his tongue to bathe the shaft. Pulling back, Rusty licked the tender head and sucked against it, then grazed it gently with his teeth. There was a loud banging sound and Rusty looked up to see Jack trying to get free by tugging at his restraints. Rusty didn’t release him. Instead, Rusty reached up with both hands to pinch Jack’s nipples while sucking his cock once again.

  “You’re more tender than I remembered,” Rusty managed around the pole in his mouth. He pinched harder.

  “Rusty! Oh please!” Jack begged, but still Rusty paid him no attention. Rusty was busy tasting Jack’s deliciously hot pre-cum against his tongue. A growl left his throat and Rusty felt as though his cock would bust out the front of his pants. He stood back and stripped fully. His cock thanked him by dripping a large drop of pre-cum against the ground. Wiping a finger over the head of his cock, Rusty brought it up to Jack’s mouth.

  “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

  “Like hell,” Jack countered cheekily.

  “Open your mouth, please,” Rusty had danger dancing within his eyes. It was the kind of danger that would turn a lover on and make him beg.

  “Be a good boy, Jack.”

  Still Jack resisted.

  With a smirk, Rusty reached a hand down and pinched one of Jack’s nipples. When the man opened his mouth to scream his pleasure, Rusty stuck his come covered finger into his lover’s mouth. Jack’s tongue danced over the digit.

  “Ya like that Jack?”

  Jack didn’t answer; not in words anyway. Jack growled and grunted his reply. His chest was heaving, his cock leaking and his mouth was sucking on Rusty’s finger like it was a lollipop made out of the fountain of youth. Rusty smiled and moved down Jack’s body again. Once more, he gobbled up Jack’s dick, causing a whimper to leave Jack’s lips.

  When Jack screamed that he was about to come and that he shouldn’t stop, Rusty stopped and climbed up Jack’s body.

  Sitting astride Jack’s chest, Rusty pressed his large, cock into his lover’s mouth. His back arched and his long black hair fell down his back over the large eagle tattoo that was there. A low growl escaped from Rusty’s throat as Jack licked the head of his cock before he began feeding from it.

  “You are so good at that,” Rusty licked his lips and lowered a large hand behind him to stroke Jack’s cock.

  Rusty was in so much pleasure that he couldn’t yell. All he could do was lift his left index finger between his teeth and bite down. When pain seared him, he sucked the pain away then twirled the wet finger around one of his own nipples.

  “Lick the head. Yes…slow, that’s right.”

  When Jack did as he ordered, “Jack!�
� he shivered and pressed his cock forward to the back of Jack’s throat. But Rusty couldn’t wait to be inside of Jack. He allowed Jack to suck him until he felt as though he would turn inside out, before he pulled his pulsating meat from Jack’s mouth. Weakly, he turned his body back down between Jack’s legs. Bowing, Rusty lifted Jack’s legs and spread them.

  “Rusty...blow on it before you lick it,” Jack pleaded.

  His body was shaking when Rusty blew against the puckered hole before him. Then he let his wet tongue flick against the hole, over and over, before diving inside. Jack began tugging again—harder than before. Rusty pressed his legs apart, wider. Rusty ate faster, sticking his tongue deeper. Jack yanked at his restraints. His body squirmed and arched. He cried out repeatedly but Rusty wasn’t finished with him yet.

  Sliding his wet tongue over one finger, Rusty braced against his knee, pressed one hand against Jack’s abdomen and inserted the finger into Jack’s puckered hole. Jack grunted. “Rusty, gimme two,” he pleaded.

  Pulling the finger back, Rusty licked a second digit and entered Jack’s body again. Rusty glanced up at Jack’s face to see his mouth hanging open as his hips began slamming down against the two fingers. Working the fingers within his lover, Rusty licked his lips before adding his tongue to the mix.

  Pushing up, Rusty licked his palm to jack his cock a couple of times, before burying himself deep within Jack.

  A gasp left Rusty Hunter’s throat and he reared upright in bed. He breathed hard, looking around furiously. “No!” he called as he looked around. When no one was there with him, he began calming down.

  “Oh, God!” he cried and buried his face into his hands. He knew the dreams had to stop. They were getting rougher, sexier, hotter. There was only one way he knew of to stop them. He climbed out of bed, walked to his desk and hunched over it. He picked up the letter that he had been writing.

  Dear Jack,

  Sorry I took so long to reply to your last letter. For some reason, things went crazy around here because we lost Clarion. Remember the black Stallion you rode the last time you were here...

  Rusty stopped reading. The thought of Jack riding anyone or anything but him caused Rusty to feel jealous. Angrily, he bunched the letter up in a large fist and hurled it for a three point shot to the trash can. He then walked into the bathroom and took a cold shower.

  But surprise, surprise! The shower didn’t work.

  * * * *

  “Hey, Malone,” a worried voice called. “You do know your cup’s full, right?”

  “What?” Jack asked, and when the other Texas Ranger pointed, Jack looked down. His cup was full and was now running over. Swearing, he put the box of milk down, dropped his coffee mug into the sink and stared down at the white mess before him. He always poured his milk into his cup first and somehow had managed to fill his cup.

  “Where the hell were you just now?” his partner questioned while reaching for a long piece of paper towel. Jack took it and shook his head.

  “Alberta,” Jack replied truthfully. Going down on his haunches, he proceeded to help his partner clean up the spilled milk.

  “Rusty still hasn’t written?” Michael questioned.

  “No.” Jack stood up and dumped a soaked piece of paper towel into the garbage before reeling off another piece. He wiped down the chair that the milk had splashed against before dumping that piece of paper. He then grabbed another large piece, dampened it with clean water, and wiped the floor just so it wouldn’t be sticky later.

  “Maybe you should just count your losses,” Michael suggested. “Maybe seventeen years is enough for him. People grow apart all the time. Hence the reason why I have three ex-wives.”

  “I thought you had three ex-wives because you were gay?” Jack arched a brow and Michael laughed while washing his hands.

  “Yah, that, too.”

  Shaking his head, Jack rinsed his cup and poured out some coffee. This time he made sure he paid attention until the cup was filled before he spoke again. “The least he could have done,” Jack continued and sat down at the break table, “is write me and tell me he’s finished. Tell me to my face, then disappear. Not disappear completely without so much as a word. God! I thought I knew him more than anyone else.”

  “I think you’re letting your cop instinct get in the way here,” Michael pointed out before taking the chair across from Jack. “Why don’t you call him?”

  “Tried that. All I keep getting is his voicemail. I’m so sick and tired of it—at first the phone would ring and ring then go to voicemail. Now it just goes straight to it. I left a couple of messages but it feels strange when he’s not returning my calls, you know.”

  “Yah. You got some time, why don’t you take LOA and go up there? I mean, that way you can face him, get it over with, then come back fresh and ready to go.”

  Jack thought about that suggestion and had to admit he liked it. If he went to Calgary and faced Rusty, he could then return to his job with some semblance of closure. That way his mind wouldn’t be on Rusty during a bust and he could avoid getting shot. That thought made him growl in his throat and Michael laughed.

  “Not funny,” Jack frowned, but he wasn’t cross with Michael. Jack was angrier at himself than anything else. He was pissed at himself because he had allowed himself to fall for a friend. That was one of the cardinal rules for gay men—along with never fall for a straight man. Jack, a man who had always played by the rules and became a cop to make sure everyone else played by them, was breaking the most important ones. Sipping from his coffee, he made a face and rushed for the sink. He spat the liquid out and dumped the cup into the garbage. “Ugh! That tastes like motor oil!”

  Michael only laughed harder and exited the room.

  Catching water in his mouth, Jack spat it back into the sink then rummaged through his pocket for gum. After the bad taste of the coffee was gone, replaced by a minty peach flavor, he walked straight from the break-room into his chief’s office and closed the door.

  “Chief, I got a problem,” he spoke as he sat down.

  Chief Clark Duncan looked up from the file he was going through and arched a brow. Clark was an older man, full gray hair, muscular build, with the most beautiful green eyes that Jack had ever seen. There were a few times that Jack had thought that if the chief was a little younger and into men, Jack would have totally gone after him. Shaking that thought off, he inhaled.

  “What’s wrong? Does this have anything to do with why your head’s been in the clouds lately?” Clark wanted to know and Jack nodded.

  “I need some time, Chief.”

  “Take it. You’re no use to us if you can’t concentrate. Deal with your crap then come back.”

  Jack couldn’t speak. He nodded his thanks and walked from the office, closing the door behind him. Even as he drove home, he couldn’t think straight. What was he going to do when Rusty told him to take a hike? What was Jack going to do when he finally heard the words, “I don’t want to speak to you again” coming from Rusty’s lips? Rusty’s lips—those full, slightly sun singed lips that curled up sideways into a smile that could turn any straight man gay and break his heart. Rusty’s dark brown eyes that spoke volumes swam into Jack’s mind and he almost ran his car into a ditch. Pulling over to the side, Jack leaned forward and pressed his forehead against his steering wheel, trying to rein in the sudden swarm of arousal that was pulsating through him. Breathing through his mouth, he stayed in that position until his arousal subsided, then he sped the rest of the way home to make up for lost time.

  He spent the next couple of hours trying to get a last minute flight to Calgary, Canada. He was placed on hold, transferred about six different times, hung up on and that really irritated Jack. At one point he had to restrain himself from banging the floor against the side table. He was finally stuck with a center seat on a red-eye into Toronto, spend the day before catching his connection to Calgary the next morning. He didn’t ask why he had to spend the day and night in Toronto, he simply ac
cepted it as a part of his torture. With his luck, he’d probably be stuck between two rather large fellows with BO. Frowning, he shook that off as he wondered what he would do for a night in Toronto but figured he could find something or other. Accepting the charges on his credit card, he placed his gun into his safe, stripped down to his boxers and grabbed a beer. He still had a few hours before his plane left and he hated flying – he might as well get real loaded before leaving.

  There were times when Rusty’s letters had saved his life. When he was nineteen, Jack realised he was gay. He couldn’t tell his parents, for they were strict and religious. Having a gay son was the worst thing in his house. Jack had seriously thought of killing himself. The day he was prepared to carry it through, Rusty’s letter arrived. That night, Jack sat on the tree limb with the rope in one hand, Rusty’s letter in the other. By the time he finished reading the letter, Jack couldn’t go through with it. His spirits had been lifted so high that he spent the night staring up at the moon, and he headed home early in the morning and collapsed in bed. His parents hadn’t asked where he had been and he didn’t tell them.

  Lifting the bottle, Jack chugged half the contents before putting it down on the table. He stared at the bottle with contempt. Jack shouldn’t be drinking. It was in his genetics to be an alcoholic—his father was one, his grand-father was one and from what he knew his great-grandfather was also. Feeling a sudden sick sensation in the pit of his stomach, he left the half bottle of beer where it sat on the table and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. There he packed a few things in a gym bag, grabbed his travel documents, and placed them neatly on his bed. He then took a shower and called a cab. Maybe if he was lucky, someone had cancelled and he could get on an earlier flight.

  But, as usual, Jack was not that lucky.