by Mary Calmes
“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, then closed the distance between us, taking my face in his big, rough, hard callused hands.
I suddenly could barely breathe.
“Tell me what you wanted to say.”
Talking? Was he kidding?
The half grin I got flushed me with heat, and that was nuts because all he was doing was stroking over the curve of my jaw and staring into my eyes.
“Glenn?”
The rumbling purr in his voice sent a shiver through me that was impossible to hide, along with the smell of the mint on his breath and the soap on his skin. The warmth of his hands wasn’t helping matters either.
He sighed and shook his head. “Waiting on you to figure shit out is exhausting.”
“What?”
“Lemme enlighten you,” he husked before he drew me to him, lowered his head, and kissed me.
I whimpered in the back of my throat and opened for him, parting my lips as his tongue found mine. Why or how, what was going on, none of that mattered at the moment. I had wanted to kiss Mac, to see what all that power and heat tasted like, and while I was confused, it didn’t matter. I would take advantage this once.
He stepped into me, slipping one hand around the back of my neck as the kiss ramped up, became urgent and grinding, devouring and mauling, like he wanted to eat me. Not that I cared. I was his for the taking, whatever he wanted, ready to yield.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, surrendering my weight, leaning as he dipped his other hand to the small of my back and pressed me against him, rubbing, pushing, parting my legs with his thigh as I tried to stay standing.
The kiss made me dizzy but I gave as good as I got, needing to sate my curiosity, to see what having Mac’s mouth on mine, his tongue exploring, teeth nibbling, and hands, now, on my ass, squeezing, felt like.
“Fuck,” he snarled, breaking the sublime, euphoric connection, the drugging kiss ending as he shoved me back.
I was lost, staring at him, watching him pant, seeing how swollen his lips were, how red, noting the clenched fists and the slight tremble to his broad shoulders.
“I should throttle you.”
“What?” I asked, taking a step toward him.
He lifted his hand to keep me away. “We’re gonna get something straight first.”
“I don’t—”
“You’re not a top.”
I had no idea what we were talking about.
“God, look at your face and your big, dark, beautiful blue…. Fuck, Glenn,” he groaned, then pounced, gathering me to him in a rush.
I took him in my arms when he grabbed me, tipped my head back, and laid a kiss on me that I felt from head to toe and all parts in between. His tongue tangled with mine as he fisted a hand in my hair and held tight as he used his other to get into my jeans. The belt surrendered easily, the snap next, the zipper making a quick sound before he wrapped one scarred, strong, beat-up hand around my cock and pulled.
I nearly made a wet mess right there as I bucked into his grip, but I held on, squirming, hands in his hair as he stroked me firmly but gently. I needed to be closer to him and so tugged on his T-shirt, wanting it off.
“Jesus, Glenn,” he rasped, pulling free, only to grab my bicep and haul me over to his bunk. He shoved me down and I sat hard, looking up at him and waiting.
He squatted in front of me and gingerly picked up one foot, pulled off my boot, and then repeated the motion with the other. Once that was done, he stood back up, grabbed the bottom of each leg of my jeans, and shucked them down and off fast.
“You see this,” he said, gesturing at me. “You… waiting… looking up at me with those pretty eyes of yours, ready to take direction…. This should clue you in.”
I was lost, but I had to touch him. That was the most important thing. “Please get naked. I wanna see all of you.”
I would have thought he was a stripper, the way he took off his T-shirt, reaching down his sides, sliding it up and slowly off, letting me see the hard, flat planes of his stomach, the wide, carved pectorals with dark-brown nipples, the sexy angles of his collarbone and his chiseled arms and massive shoulders. He was built powerful and strong, and I wanted him all over me.
His cock was erect under his sleep shorts, tenting the soft cotton, making a wet spot, and before he could do as I asked and divest himself of every stitch of clothing, I leaned forward and pulled at the drawstring. They dropped to his hips, holding there for a second before falling to his cock, caught on his long, thick length like they’d been hung up on the end of a club.
“Glenn,” he whispered as I lifted them off and let them drop to puddle around his ankles.
“Just let me,” I groaned, my breath catching as I wet my lips before parting them, opening for the wide mushroom head of his gorgeous cock.
He was silky on my tongue, hot and slippery, and that combined with the smell of soap on his sleek skin, the musky, earthy scent of his groin, made me ache to have him.
“You have no idea what you—fuckin’ Glenn, you’re so—just give in already. Lemme have you.”
Funny. That was exactly what I wanted myself.
I had no gag reflex at all, never had, and from practicing on the toys I had at home—locked safely away from the prying eyes of any houseguests—I had confirmed how good at swallowing I would be, if nothing else. At the moment, though, I was glad there was no hesitancy in me because the filthy choked moan that came up out of Mac’s diaphragm when I swallowed him down the back of my throat told me all I needed to know.
I had no technique, had in fact only been on the receiving end of this maneuver, but my rough, fumbling, untrained enthusiasm was apparently more than appreciated. His fingers in my hair, tugging as I licked and sucked, laved, dragged my teeth carefully down the side of his heavily veined shaft, directing my movement and pressure and pace, let me know he was enjoying my efforts.
“Jesus, Glenn, I’m gonna kill whoever taught you how to do these things with your mouth right after I thank them.”
“Why—” I began, licking him from balls to head, only to suck hard and sloppily on his glans a second before deep-throating him once more.
“Fuck!” he huffed, jolting in my mouth, driving down a second before he sucked in air through his nose. “It’s like you’re a virgin with the skills of a whore.”
I snickered, smiling around his cock, humming a second, making his balls vibrate before I let his shaft slip from between my lips. “I haven’t been a virgin since I was fifteen years old.”
“You’ve never been with a man,” he clarified, sliding his precum- and saliva-dripping cock across my bottom lip.
I opened and he pushed in and out as I felt my cock thicken to an almost painful hardness at what he was allowing.
“How the fuck do you—stop,” he croaked out, fingers threaded in my hair, holding tight. “I’m gonna come if you—”
I made the suction stronger, faster, and took hold of his ass, grazing his cleft with my fingers, parting his cheeks slightly as he hammered into my mouth.
He was gorgeous when he came, head back, eyes closed, biting his bottom lip, all those beautiful muscles clenched at once as his gorgeous chest froze with his held breath.
The hot spill against the back of my throat was thick and briny but not bad, and I drank him down and stayed there, still, until he slowly withdrew.
When his eyes fluttered open, I smiled up at him, more than a little proud of myself.
“You made a huge mistake,” he informed me, cupping my face in his hands as he dropped to his knees before recapturing my lips.
Mistake? As far as I was concerned, with how I was being rewarded, I couldn’t think of one wrong turn I’d made.
The kiss was to taste me and rub his tongue over mine, and when he took me in hand, sliding his thumb over the dripping head of my cock, the mewling cry that tore out of me was involuntary.
“What—” I gasped, “—mistake?”
He broke the kiss to look at m
e. “You gave in. Ain’t never lettin’ you go now.”
That didn’t sound like anything to be sorry about.
“Does your side hurt?” His voice was filled with concern.
“What?” I breathed in his air, inhaling his scent, wanting him all over me but unsure how to get him there. Did I shove him down, take what I wanted?
“Are you in pain?”
“Only from blue balls,” I teased.
He was not taking the bait. We would not be engaging in our normal banter. “Have you ever been fucked?”
I was startled and tried to put more distance between us so I could see his face. “I—no. You have to let me have you.”
He studied me a second. “If that’s what you want,” he said, kissing me again until I forgot what we were talking about, lost in the taste of him.
I was always a top, and yes, I’d only ever been with women, but I figured there would be a guy, beautiful, smaller like Stef, and I would be…. But I’d watched a lot of porn, and even though I knew it wasn’t like that in real life, what I saw were some huge Hulk-sized guys mounted by men considerably smaller and not built like body builders. So I knew size, in and of itself, was no indicator of anything. There were power bottoms and submissive tops, and if you saw them walking down the street together, you would have maybe thought the reverse was true. But really no one knew.
I had an idea of what went on in Rand and Stef’s bedroom because of what I knew of them as men, and I knew what everyone else thought, but maybe we were all wrong. Maybe my big scary half brother liked Stef to have his way with him. Maybe they switched, and not like it mattered, not like I truly cared, but all of it had wreaked havoc on what I thought I was supposed to do and be and made me think I was looking for one thing when something else—or someone else—was what I needed.
Pushing him back, I stared into Mac’s now dark charcoal eyes, clouded with passion, heavy lidded with blown pupils.
His breath hitched. “Why’re you waiting?”
I had no idea what I was supposed to do. “Maclain?” I understood the mechanics of the act, the lube, that there was prep involved and not simply me shoving myself inside of him. There were steps, but initiating them was lost on me.
“Honey,” he rumbled. “It’s taking everything in me to not attack you, so if I’m what you want, get the lube out of my pack right there and fuck me.”
I concentrated on keeping my voice level. “You’d let me do that?”
“I would beg you to do that if that’s what it would take.”
Jesus.
He wanted me so bad that it didn’t matter if he had me or I had him. How fucking hot was that? It didn’t make a difference to him even though the first thing he’d said to me was when I sat down on his bunk that I wasn’t a top, which must have meant that his plan was for me to be on the bottom. And when he’d said it, I had been excited, not scared, not questioning, not anything but made of yes. “But you don’t even… like me,” I ground out.
“Idiot,” he murmured before he lunged at me, knocking me back down onto his bunk, and I was caught under 240 pounds of rugged, hard burled man.
Even after such a short time, I was already used to the ravenous toe-curling, spine-melting kisses and returned each and every one as I took the tour with my hands, touching him everywhere I’d always wanted to, his thick dirty-blond hair, his wide, sculpted back, my fingers tracing down over his ribs before moving to the solid, defined chest. When he had to breathe, I kissed him everywhere else, across his clavicle, up his throat, over his jaw, my kiss-swollen lips abraded by stubble before they settled, again, over his.
“Wait,” he insisted, about to lift away.
I caught his bottom lip so he couldn’t, tugging on it with my teeth, making it clear he had no choice but to kiss me.
“That was fast,” he sighed as I rolled him to his back, sitting up, straddling his thighs.
“What?”
“You showing me what you wanted,” he answered, taking hold of my thighs so I couldn’t move. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind so I’m not the only one naked.”
“I like looking at you,” I confessed, slipping my hands on his chest down to his abdomen. “And I never thought you’d ever let me touch you.”
“Any man would let you touch him, Glenn,” he assured me, “and beg for the privilege. You have no idea how lethal that smile of yours is, how much I’ve wanted to touch them thick lashes of yours when they’re restin’ on your cheek, and how many times I’ve stopped myself from putting you flat on your back ’cause I knew how bad you needed to be kissed.”
I sucked in a breath. The revelation that he thought I was appealing surged through me, and it felt so good. But I pushed it aside, needing to be clearheaded when I talked to him. “Listen, I don’t wanna be fucked and just left after—I’ve been runnin’ from that.”
“You’ve been runnin’ from everything.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shook his head. “You realize you’re usually mean enough to hunt bears with a hickory switch, right?”
“Me?”
“Hell yes, you.” He snorted. “I ain’t never seen a man piss off so many people so fast who only want to keep him ’round.”
“Keep me?”
“For fuck’s sake, Glenn,” he replied almost angrily, “all any of us wants is for you to be out on the ranch.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“You know.”
I shrugged, thinking of my conversations with both Rand and Zach and what they’d also said when they thought I was asleep yesterday. “Maybe a little. Now.”
He rolled me to my back and settled over me gently, as to not put any pressure on my side, but holding me down at the same time so I couldn’t get away.
“Rand wants his whole family on the Red, and you’re the one who’s missing that he could have right now.”
“I don’t—”
“Take this off,” he prodded, working open the buttons on my shirt. “We all hoped, me included, when you started out with the restaurant that it wouldn’t go well so you—”
“Oh?” I bristled, trying to move him.
“Stop wigglin’, you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“I—”
“We wanted The Bronc to go up in flames so you’d come back to the ranch.”
“You did?”
“We all did,” he assured me. “But now we see the success you’ve made of it, and we’re all real happy for you because it seems like, when you’re there, that you’re in your element.”
“Oh?” His words were designed to give me heart failure, as good as that sounded.
“You’re real good with people.”
I was, as long as they weren’t related to me or foremen on ranches.
“You have a way of gettin’ folks to follow you, just like Rand does.”
It was a really nice compliment, and one I had thought myself, that Rand and I were more alike than I’d ever thought. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said, smiling at me. “But that leads us right back to what Rand wants, and that’s you on the Red.”
What he was saying was good, but more than that, to me, for me, was the way he was gazing at me with the softest expression I’d ever seen. It felt quiet and connected, like we had moved from somewhere apart to something closer with just new moments between us. It was like every second something was changing right there in front of me, and I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was fond of me, into me, wanting to spend time learning things and being around. Now that I was certain what I was seeing, could distinguish what true interest looked like on him, I’d never miss the possessiveness on his face or the heat in his eyes or the arrogant smile on his lips, ever again.
“He wants you to move your restaurant onto the Red.”
“What?” I asked, lost in cataloging the signs of wanting on Mac.
“Rand wants The Bronc on the ranch,”
he reiterated distractedly, helping me out of my button-down and the T-shirt underneath. “But barring that, he’d at least like you living there.”
“But I—”
“Zach wants that, too, you right there, accessible as well, and me.”
“You?”
“Yes, me,” he growled, running a hand down my abdomen, tracing over the ridges of the six pack I’d worked hard to achieve. “Because unlike the others, I can insist that you come stay with me.”
“Are you drunk? Is that what all this is?”
He scoffed and his slow smile made those eyes of his glitter like mercury poured into a glass. “No, sir. I just want what I want and I’m fixin’ to have it.”
“Oh? What is it you want?”
“That’d be you, Glenn Holloway. Just you.”
Chapter 5
I COULDN’T breathe. He was trying to kill me with naked confessions.
“Maclain, you—God.”
He’d reached under the elastic band of my briefs and drawn out my cock, hence the momentary loss of my words.
“Every time I see you and those blue-green eyes of yours settle on me and my heart goes up in my throat, I know that you’re supposed to belong to me.”
But how could he have his life figured out when I had no idea what had been happening?
“You’re so confused about things,” he said, leaning sideways to reach into his pack and retrieve the lube. “Everything that you face, all your issues, are in your head.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know, honey,” he soothed, sitting up, reaching for my briefs and sliding them down and off my legs, leaving me as naked as him. “Damn.”
“Keep talking.”
I got a flashing grin in response. “Sorry. Your skin is very distracting.”
Mine? “It is?”
He scowled at me, but instead of it being irritating, I found it ridiculously hot. “I just realized something crazy. All that swagger and bravado I see all the time, that’s all fake. You have no idea what you look like at all.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like I am?”
He didn’t, no. “C’mon. I look like my father and Rand and Zach and my Uncle—”
