Evan thrust too. Sweat trickled down his chest making his shirt stick to him. His cowboy let go of Evan's dick and clutched his hips in a punishing grip. He fucked Evan hard and deep, all the while maneuvering Evan until he was bent over with just his hands on the wall for support.
Using the wall as leverage, Evan shoved backward. He was so close. He needed more. If he could only—His lover moved just right, the head of his prick rubbing against Evan's gland.
Evan's whole body tightened. He actually felt faint for a moment. He reached down with one hand and tugged his cock. Once, twice ... that was all it took, his balls drew up, his ass clenched and his cock spewed. He barely heard his partner groaning out his own release.
Bent double, Evan panted, trying to get his wits about him as his cowboy's cock slipped out of him. He heard the jingle of a belt, saw his companion's hands fastening his pants, then all the other sounds came back to him. He was in the back room of a bar, dripping with come and his ass hanging out.
Evan stood.
A hard arm encircled him. Denim pressed against one ass cheek and his lover slid almost beside him.
Evan saw a flash of white, or gray, as the man pulled off his hat. He caught Evan's chin and melded their lips together. Evan squeezed his eyes shut and threw himself into the kiss. It was rough and possessive and took Evan's breath away.
Their tongues tangled as they filled one another's mouths with moans. Then as suddenly as it began, it ended.
The tall, dark stranger kissed one of Evan's eyelids then the other. “Pull up your pants, Evan, the floor likely has cum all over it.” He stepped back, releasing Evan, and put his hat back on his head.
Shit! Evan reached for his jeans, jerking them and his underwear up over his hips. He knew damned well his own spunk was on the floor. He buttoned his fly and fastened his belt, trying not to think about it. Then it dawned on him. The man had called him by name. He knew Evan, even if Evan didn't know him.
It was way past time they talk. Evan looked up, to thank his lover and finally ask the man his name.
His cowboy was nowhere in sight.
* * * *
At least the music was good. Who was he kidding? Evan sighed, his shoulders slumping. His mystery man was nowhere in sight. Evan had been here for a good three hours and there was no sign of his tall, dark and handsome cowboy. He should just call it a night. Every time he'd seen the tall drink of water, he'd come into whatever bar they'd gone to shortly after Evan and his friends. They'd gotten into town earlier in the afternoon, so he hadn't had a chance to look for a gay bar.
Besides, he was tired. Okay, fine, he was brooding. He'd been hoping to run into the man again. He couldn't stop thinking about that last night in Tulsa. It was like the man had read Evan's mind, like he'd known him forever. Hell, the guy had even known Evan's name. Evan could still feel that huge cock in his ass a day later. He wasn't sore exactly, but there was a nice reminder of the night before every time he moved. Damn, that had been amazing.
A tall, familiar-looking cowboy, a bulldogger Evan thought, walked by on his way to the bar and mumbled rather loudly something about faggots masturbating horses. Asshole.
Evan took another swig of his beer and slumped back against the bar, he was getting maudlin. He should really go check on Gus before the stables locked up at midnight but he had to wait for Mark. Traveling all day yesterday then spending the evening getting Gus settled into the rent stables and today's qualifying round, had him beat.
Riding the circuit and rooming with Mark kept Evan from being lonely and helped with money, but on the occasion that one of them found a bedmate for the evening or just wanted to be alone, it sorta sucked. Like now. Tired or not, Evan's truck was their only transportation and he couldn't very well leave Mark here and go back to the motel.
Mark was two-stepping with Doreen. He didn't look ready to leave anytime soon.
Someone bumped into Evan's arm, sloshing his beer. He brushed the splatters of beer off his shirt and looked up a nicely muscled blue-plaid-clad arm to an equally impressive chest, then met glaring hazel eyes under a black cowboy hat.
It was Jeff Benson, one of the bull riders. If he didn't have such an attitude problem he might actually be a good-looking guy. The buckle bunnies seemed to find him pleasant enough, but he hadn't spoken two words to Evan in the three years he'd been on the circuit. He never missed a chance to glare at Evan, though.
"What are you doing here fag?” Jeff snarled.
Evan held up his beer and tipped his head. Just because Jeff was an ass didn't mean he had to be. Mama always said politeness was the best way to deal with rude people. Oh fuck that. So he was gay, big deal. It didn't give Jeff or anyone else an excuse to act like a dickhead to him. The man should apologize for spilling Evan's beer. Besides, a good fight would likely get him out of here, where he was tired of being. “Having a beer ... asshole."
Jeff's eyes widened. Apparently, he hadn't expected Evan to stand up to him.
Why did macho—more brawn than brains—cowboys think gay equaled sissy? It was a stupid mistake on their part. Evan had grown up on a farm, just like most of them, and was no stranger to hard work and hard living. He'd been in more than his share of fights growing up. He stood straighter and moved his bottle to his other hand, in case he had to take a swing.
"Pfft.” The bull rider shook his head. With one last glare, he ordered himself a beer and ignored Evan. Which was probably for the best, Evan didn't know if he had enough bail money in the rodeo fund right now.
He finished off his longneck and looked at his watch, still keeping tabs on Jeff out of the corner of his eye. Damn, today sure seemed longer than normal. He and Mark had qualified for the next round but they'd ridden late in the day. They'd gotten a decent time, but by no means their best.
"I know that look.” Mark sidled up to the bar between Evan and Jeff, holding up a finger at the bartender. “Bud Light.” He tossed a few bucks on the bar and grinned at Evan.
"What look?"
"The Evan Marshal I'm-bored-and-ready-to-leave-look."
Evan chuckled. “I had no idea I was so transparent."
Mark shrugged. “Well, I've been your friend since we were in elementary school.” That much was true. They grew up about a mile apart from one another and started roping together in junior high school. “Go on and get outta here, I'm going back to Doreen's room. I'll catch up with you tomorrow at the arena.” Mark waggled his eyebrows and took his beer from the bartender.
Mark glanced over his other side at Doreen, who was sitting at a table on the edge of the dance floor with her friends.
Evan looked too and noticed that Jeff was gone.
Mark turned his attention back to Evan, a big grin splitting his face.
"All right, if you're sure Doreen is taking you back to her motel, I'm leaving."
"Hmmm...” Mark's face scrunched up and his brow wrinkled. “Maybe you should look around, see if you can find some company?"
Evan leveled a stare at his buddy. Mark knew his rule about hitting on men in honky tonks.
"Fine.” Mark nodded. “I'm sure. Go."
Evan slapped Mark on the shoulder. “See ya tomorrow.” Before Mark decided to say something else, Evan hightailed it out of the bar.
On the way back to the rent stables, Evan detoured by a convenience store to buy Reese's peanut-butter cups, peppermints and a sixteen-ounce bottle of Coke.
Not surprising, when he got to the stable, it was empty of people. It was late, about thirty minutes before the stable locked up for the night. Everybody had gone out to celebrate their wins or moved on if they hadn't qualified.
This was one of the nicer rent stables on the circuit. It smelled of sweet feed, oats, hay, sawdust, leather ... horses, it smelled like horses. Evan loved the smell, it reminded him of home.
The stables had painted cinderblock box stalls in the center of the building and nicer, wooden stalls along the perimeter of the building. Evan had paid the twenty extra dollars
and rented one of the bigger stalls on the far wall. He'd had to skimp on his last couple of meals to afford it, but Gus was worth the extra money.
As close as it was to closing time, the lights were also dimmed. It was almost cozy. Gus might be asleep. One thing about Gus, there was no sleeping standing up for him. He sprawled out and got comfortable. Evan grinned. His horse was truly unique and it wasn't only his unusual coloring. Although not many horses were blue-eyed.
Evan walked down the aisle where Gus's stall was and blinked, he could swear there was someone standing in the stall. “Hey!” The person had black hair, Evan could only see the top of their head. “Hey! What are you doing?” His stomach tightened and heat raced up his body. Clinching his fists, Evan ran. What was that man doing with his horse? His boots clicked on the cement, echoed loudly and nearly kept time with his thundering heartbeat.
When he got within ten feet of the stall, Gus stuck his head out over the door as far as he could get it, looking for Evan.
Evan didn't slow down. He grabbed the latch and threw the sliding door open.
There was no one in there but Gus.
Hmmm ... Okay, he was seeing things.
Gus butted his head up against Evan's chest, looking for attention.
"Hey, boy.” Evan chuckled, patted the black neck and leaned on the door frame. “Man, my imagination is running away with me.” Whew, that gave him a scare. Evan let himself take a deep breath in an effort to calm his racing pulse.
"Got something for you.” He held up the bag of peppermints and Reese's. After dropping the peanut-butter cups into his shirt pocket, he balanced his drink on the part of the sliding half-door that was still sticking out and tore open the bag of candy for Gus.
Prancing in place, Gus flipped his head in greeting to Evan.
It was nice to be loved. Evan pulled out two mints and began unwrapping them. A hot puff of air blew over his cheek as Gus stepped closer, then a warm, wet tongue lapped over his jaw.
Okay, maybe there was such a thing as too much love. “Ugh. I hate it when you do that. You're not a dog, dang it.” Bending his head to the side, he rubbed his face on his shoulder. “You are so strange sometimes."
Gus snorted, but didn't move back. He nuzzled Evan's chest, nipping at the pocket.
Evan sighed. His horse thought he was a lap dog.
Grabbing Gus's halter, Evan maneuvered his head out of the way and continued to unwrap the candy.
Butting his head back in, Gus snagged the Reese's package out of Evan's pocket.
"Hey, that's mine.” Evan snatched the chocolate back and held out the peppermints in his palm. “This is yours."
Gus lipped the candy out of his palm and began crunching it loudly.
Evan patted the horse's neck then unwrapped his own candy. He peeled the paper off one cup and ate it. Leaving the other one in the wrapper, he put it back in his pocket and grabbed his Coke. He needed a place to sit down. There should be a stool somewhere in the stable. Ah, there at the end of the row. He pointed his finger at Gus, “stay here,” and headed down to the silver stool, half visible around the corner of the end stall.
As Evan reached for the stool, it moved.
A brown boot stepped into view. “Hey, cocksucker."
Evan jerked his head up.
Jeff Benson tossed the metal seat to the side, away from the glossy white cinderblock wall, as Dodger Craig and Brett Lahr walked around the corner.
Shit.
"What? You not gonna say anything?” Jeff spat a stream of snuff-laced saliva right beside Evan's foot.
Jerking his boot back, Evan scowled up at the bull rider. What the hell was the S.O.B. up to? He'd hardly done more than glare at Evan the whole time they'd known one another. Damn, this must be about Evan calling him an asshole at the bar. Well then so be it, cause Evan wasn't apologizing. Jeff had been rude first. “What do you want, Benson?"
Dodger laughed. “We want your sorry faggot ass out of here, that's what we want. There's no place for faggots around here. Rodeo is for real men."
Brett nodded his agreement.
Jeff spat again. “And take your creepy assed wall-eyed horse with you."
It looked like they were cruising for a fight. Damn it all to hell, Evan wished Mark was here to back him up. His stomach knotted up a little at the thought of getting his ass kicked, but he sure as shit wasn't backing down. Evan could hold his own, but he doubted he had much of a chance with all three of them. “I don't think so.” Evan fisted his hands and balanced his weight. “You do whatever the hell you think it is you have to do, but I'm not going anywhere. I have as much a right to be here as the three of you ... so you can kiss my ass.” Hey if he was getting his ass kicked anyway, he was certainly gonna let them know what he thought of the situation.
Benson jerked back like he'd been slapped. Then he actually hesitated, clearly stunned by Evan's boldness. “Damn, you got a mouth on you. When are you gonna learn? You don't talk to your betters like that, queer."
Fury built up inside Evan. Really, it shouldn't have, he knew lots of people thought they were better than him or that something was wrong with him because he was gay, but he was tired and on the irritable side. Not to mention he still smelled like beer where this asshole had spilt his drink earlier. Evan hauled back his arm and popped Benson right in the nose. Blood flew, splattering the front of Benson's blue plaid shirt and part of the stall wall next to them.
Benson's hat fell off as he stumbled backward.
Lahr and Craig caught him, pushing him back upright.
Evan wasn't stupid, he didn't give them time to recover, much less think. He waded in, fists flying.
Cowboy hats littered the concrete floor and blood covered Evan's knuckles. He got in several good punches to all three of them, before Lahr and Craig grabbed his arms and held him.
"You fucking fag.” Benson wiped blood from his chin, then hauled off and punched Evan right in the gut.
The air left Evan's body in a whoosh. It was like falling off a horse and landing flat on your back. His lungs seized up, refusing to let air in as Evan doubled over ... or rather tried to. He couldn't move much with Brett and Dodger holding him. His black felt hat fell to the ground in front of him and Jeff kicked it aside. Evan heard the cowboys laugh but it sounded like they were in a well. Damn he hurt.
Benson didn't give him any time to recover before he popped Evan with an uppercut to the chin.
Everything went black for a few seconds and nausea clawed its way up Evan's belly into his throat. Benson just kept coming at him, fists flying as the others held him up. They laughed, calling out for Benson to hit him again.
Evan lost track of how many times the bull rider punched him, he concentrated on staying conscious.
A loud staccato of rapid clacking sounded behind them and Lahr, or was it Craig, yelped and dropped Evan's arm.
"What the—” Benson's eyes widened.
Angry horse sounds came from behind them, then the other cowboy hollered. Evan's other arm was freed and he began to fall. He tried to brace himself, but an arm slid around his waist, keeping him from hitting the cement. Slowly, he was lowered to the ground. He looked up into a pair of pale blue eyes, set in a handsome, tanned face, then everything went black.
* * * *
God, his head hurt. What the hell happened? He hadn't drunk that much last night.
"Evan? Evan, can you hear me? Are you awake?"
Evan recognized the deep voice, but he couldn't place it. Where had he heard if from? It was low, deep and almost comforting, if it weren't for the urgency.
Something warm caressed Evan's cheek. Then the sexy voice said. “Come on, Evan. Open your eyes so I know you're okay."
Peeling his eyelids open with what felt like herculean effort, Evan gazed up into pale blue eyes. Amazing. Evan blinked, getting his eyes to come into focus. The rest of the man's face was just as spectacular as his eyes. His short black hair, long narrow nose, almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones and f
lawless tanned skin attested loud and clear to the man's Native American heritage, but those eyes ... “Who are you?” Evan's voice was rusty and barely there, but it sounded awed, even to his own ears. Ouch. Speaking also made his head hurt worse.
One side of the man's slim lip turned up. “How are you feeling?” He brushed back Evan's hair, his touch lingering.
"Like shit.” Evan stared for several seconds. The man was ... well for lack of a better word, hot. Then it dawned on him. This was his cowboy. He wasn't wearing the familiar gray hat, but this was him.
His cowboy lowered the rail on Evan's bed, captured Evan's hand and took a seat next to him. He wore a red western shirt that looked familiar. Why did the shirt look familiar? The last Evan had seen him he'd been wearing a green shirt, not red. Evan glanced around and spotted the gray felt hat on the chair across the room. Wait! Brett Lahr had been wearing a red shirt. Shit! Evan's memory rushed back to him, he'd been in a fight. This man must have helped him. Wait! He was in a bed. Evan glanced around. He was in a hospital room, not the stables.
"Shh...” He, rubbed the back of Evan's hand, then brought it to his lips and kissed it. He whispered something. It sounded like “You're okay, love,” but Evan had to be hearing things. He didn't know the guy that well. He wanted to but ... They'd only had sex in the back of a bar.
Evan's attention drifted upward and caught the pale eyes watching him. God, the man had beautiful eyes. They were the same color as Gu—"Gus!” Evan started to get up, managing to get his shoulder off the bed, before a wave of dizziness overcame him. His head felt like it weighed two tons and hurt like a son of a bitch, but had to go back to the stables. What if—
"Relax.” The man let go of his hand and pushed his shoulders back to the bed. His face was just inches from Evan's, his hands pinning Evan to the bed. “Your horse is fine.” His breath smelled like peppermints.
Evan's breath caught. Even as badly as he ached, his cock was threatening to harden. Was this incredibly sexy man always going to affect him like this? “Are you sure? I left his stall door—"
The Ties That Bind Page 19
