Cowboy Tamed

by Taylor McKay

  Brock joined Preston at the opening to the stall. Avril grunted twice, then her muscles quivered. The foal’s front hooves dropped from the mare. Preston’s heart pounded and his hands trembled. “Are you as nervous as I am?”

  Brock rested a hand on Preston’s shoulder. “More so, but look, she’s doing great.” The narrow and knobby front legs were fully exposed.

  Preston warmed where Brock’s hand rested on his shoulder. He thought about the last two months. He’d been miserable. Not because he’d lost his job, lost his home, but he’d lost Brock. He’d taken their relationship for granted. Until he’d been away from the ranch and hadn’t shared a cup of coffee with Brock every morning, Preston hadn’t realized how much he’d miss their friendship. Spending time together had been easy. And the sex… His cock stirred and his nuts tightened. No one compared to Brock in bed.

  And there was the crux. He hadn’t known if Brock felt the same. There was a time they’d both been wild and reckless. He didn’t want to be the only one tamed—the only one who’d fallen hard. “I wanted you to fight for me.”

  Brock’s hand fell away and lowered to his side. They stood close. Breaths blended.

  “Perspectives change after you lose what’s important.” Preston couldn’t look at Brock as the words fell from his lips. He watched Avril give birth to her baby. “My thoughts were twisted. I worked for you, lived with you…” I loved you. But those words wouldn’t come. Not now, not with so much mistrust between them.

  “We were partners.”

  “In my head, we weren’t equal partners. We’ll never be equal. I’ll always be a ranch hand, always want for more than I have.” He leaned against the wall and finally looked—really looked at the man he’d betrayed because of his insecurities. “I decided I’d prove I was right.”

  Brock’s eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. “Right about what?”

  “That you’d eventually want out. That I was just a convenient piece of ass.”

  “Fuck, Preston, is that how I made you feel?”

  Avril grunted and the foal slipped from her body. Brock dropped to the ground in case the foal attempted to stand.

  “You didn’t do anything, Brock. I did.” Avril nuzzled her baby. Preston squatted next to Brock and gently touched the foal. The baby had Avril’s dark coloring, but with a patch of white on her snout. Shiloh had carried the same marking. “What are you going to name her?”

  “I don’t know.” The foal stumbled to her feet. Her hooves were soft and her legs wobbly. She stumbled again.

  “Easy, baby.” Preston braced her flanks. The foal’s hind legs were widespread, but she stabilized. She trembled, frozen in place.

  Brock laughed. Avril snorted, shifted on the straw and stood. She lowered her head and licked her baby’s muzzle. “Good job.” He stroked Avril’s neck. “It’s been a long night.” He glanced over his shoulder at Preston. “I need to put down fresh straw.”

  Preston went to work. He wrapped his arms around the colt’s legs and carried her to the opposite stall. Brock clicked his tongue and led Avril to her foal. Preston raked up and disposed of the soiled straw while Brock filled the feed and water buckets. As if the time they’d been apart melted away, they worked in silence. Preston scattered fresh bedding intimately aware of Brock standing behind him. If he was braver, he’d turn, hoping Brock stared at his ass, hoping Brock thoughts were the same as his.

  The night had been long. Preston was tired, but not tired enough to sleep. Heat simmered in his gut and his cock was hard. Needs he’d never denied still had him by the balls. It wasn’t just sex. God, but he wanted sex…wanted Brock. But not because he needed to come. He could beat off if all he wanted was the flash of pleasure from orgasm. Strong hands, tender kisses, being held through the night, belonging in Brock’s arms. Those were the missing pieces.

  “Are you about done in here?”

  Preston jumped. He hadn’t realized Brock had moved closer. He turned, bumping into Brock. He grabbed Brock’s shirt, then snapped his hand back.

  “You okay?” Brock braced a hand on Preston’s waist. Their faces were close. Gazes locked. A soft exhale slipped from Brock’s parted lips. Preston breathed him in. Brock licked his lips. “Thanks for helping tonight.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” I could kiss him, lean forward, claim his lips, and show him how sorry I am—how much I need him.

  “I’m glad you’re here, too. Kenny and the guys will be glad you’re back.”

  Preston’s heartbeat thundered like a heard of wild mustangs. “Are you?”

  Brock’s fingers tightened on Preston’s waist then slid onto his hip. “Honestly, I’m not sure.” He swallowed hard. “But you need a job, and I need you.” His hand fell away and he stepped back. “You’re good with the stock and you know the land.” Brock stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Tomorrow I’ll cut you a check for first month’s wages to help get you settled.” He nodded toward the stalls. “I know it’s not the Taj Mahal, but it’s better than sleeping in your truck. There’s an air mattress in the tack room.” He turned and walked toward Avril. “If you want to get your stuff out of my truck, I’ll get momma and baby put up for the night.”

  Nausea churned in Preston’s gut. They’d been so close—about to kiss—and the sudden separation left him cold and aching.

  “I’ll sleep better knowing you’re out here.” Brock kept talking, but Preston stopped listening. He strode from the barn to get his duffel and sleeping bag. What had he expected? Brock to welcome him home? Invite him into his bed? No, those were only Preston’s dreams. He’d created this reality where he’d gotten exactly what he deserved.

  * * * * *

  The following night, Brock stood at the kitchen window and stared at the barn in the distance. It was late. He should go back to bed, but restlessness kept him tossing and turning. He told himself it was the cougar still on the loose, the new foal, but that wasn’t the truth. He couldn’t keep Preston from his thoughts. During the day he’d checked on the foal a couple of times, chatted with Kenny…and avoided Preston. He suspected Preston was avoiding him as well. There was so much mistrust and misunderstanding between them.

  Hell, nothing had changed. Brock had known Preston since he purchased the Keese property. At the time, he hadn’t realized how much he would come to depend on Preston. Because of poor business decisions, Preston’s father lost the ranch. Brock had resources and had acquired the land, stock…and in a round about way Preston, too.

  Preston had come to work for him right away, although Brock had reservations on hiring the former owner’s son. Would there be resentments? Brock knew the history, but after a few weeks, Preston had simply become one of the hands. Then their relationship had become personal. Brock hadn’t considered the past, only focused on the future. The future with the ranch…and with Preston.

  Had he been so self-absorbed in all he wanted to do with the ranch that he hadn’t considered how Preston hurt? He’d lost his family home, then moved back in as Brock’s lover. Why wouldn’t Preston question his value?

  Brock closed his eyes as regret welled in his gut and his throat grew tight. He’d just been another betrayal in a series of betrayals. Preston had cheated, but the motivation had been a test. Brock had failed Preston long before that night.

  But that didn’t mean they could go back. The underlying problems between them hadn’t changed. Preston couldn’t trust in Brock, and Brock didn’t know how to show Preston how much he cared. Preston’s love was enough for Brock, but was his love enough for Preston? If Preston was going to stay, and Brock was ready to admit he did want Preston here, someone was going to have to bend. Brock would because Preston belonged at the ranch. He belonged with Brock.

  Brock strode from the kitchen and stalked across the grounds to the stables. The moon was full. Mountains were shadows in the distance, still capped with snow. This was home for Brock now. The ranch was part of him. But this was home for Preston, too. He’d grown up in
these stables. He imagined a teenage Preston slipping into the barn for a late night encounter. But also a young man learning the ranch he loved had been sold, his home, his memories…his birthright gone.

  In case Preston was sleeping, Brock quietly slipped into the barn and made his way to the rear. He paused. Moonlight poured through the window, casting a glow over Preston as he looked in on Avril and the foal. Muscles carved his back and shoulders. Jeans rode low on his lean hips and he was barefoot. He leaned against the half wall dividing Avril’s stall from the next.

  Brock slowly approached. He closed in behind Preston. Preston stiffened, inhaled then relaxed again. Brock breathed against Preston as he looked over Preston’s shoulder into the stall. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s beautiful.” Preston tipped his head slightly to the side.

  Brock pressed a kiss to his flesh where shoulder met neck. “And you?”

  “I’m not sure.” Preston arched his back enough to bump his ass against Brock’s groin.

  Brock groaned. “I wasn’t either.” His cock was hard and throbbing. He rested a hand on Preston’s hip and rocked into Preston. He kissed along his shoulder. “Now I am.”

  Preston reached back and gripped Brock’s jeans in his fist. “God, you know I want you, but what’s changed?”

  “I have.”

  Preston turned slightly, keeping his back to Brock’s chest. Brock closed the space between their faces and kissed him. The first touch of lips was tentative, then familiar. Preston’s mouth opened and Brock groaned. He tasted his way into Preston’s mouth, curling his tongue around Preston’s. And then the kiss turned wild. Hot lashes of tongue. Lips meshed, fighting to taste more, to claim what he’d lost.

  Brock broke the kiss and turned Preston. He mapped the planes of Preston’s chest with his fingertips. Hard muscles and hot flesh. Preston’s nipples were tight, his heart pounded beneath Brock’s palm, and his cock bulged against the fly of his jeans.

  “I know I made mistakes,” Preston said.

  “We both did. I never would have fucked around on you, but that doesn’t mean I was a good boyfriend.” He glanced down and grazed his knuckles over Preston’s abdominals. “I didn’t understand. I’m sorry I took you for granted, and sorry I was so insensitive to your feelings.” He slowed his fingers as they brushed the edge of Preston’s jeans. Preston’s stomach quivered and tightened. “I’m not sure I could’ve understood.” Brock had never lost, not the way Preston had. At least not until he lost Preston.

  “What do you want, Brock?”

  Brock kissed him, kissed along his jaw and flicked his tongue against Preston neck just below the ear. “You.”

  Preston groaned and molded his palm to Brock’s cock. Brock smiled as he rasped a thumb over Preston’s nipple then gently pinched.

  “I’m showing you that I’m fighting for you.” He pulled Preston hard against him and ran his hand down the ladder of Preston’s spine. “I’m fighting for me.”

  Preston gripped Brock’s ass and crushed their groins together, hard cock to hard cock. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I want to fuck.” He crashed his lips onto Brock’s.

  Brock cradled Preston’s skull, angled his head and took the kiss deeper. Preston’s hand roamed from Brock’s ass to his hips then to the front of his jeans. He worked the button loose, lowered the zipper, and banded his fist around Brock’s cock.

  Brock reared back and hissed. Pre-cum dripped from the deep slit in his cockhead. Preston smeared the slippery cream with his thumb and traced the flared rim. He milked the shaft and slid his palm lower to fondle Brock’s balls.

  But he was hesitant. Preston glanced down, stroked Brock’s cock in a tight fist with a firm pull, but something was wrong.

  “I know you have something to say. I’m ready to hear it.” He wrapped his arms around Preston and hugged him tight. “I’m not walking away again.”

  “You didn’t walk away before. You made me walk away.” He pushed against Brock’s chest. “I realized something while I was gone. I don’t care about who has title to the land. I hated that Dad lost the ranch but not because of some sense of entitlement. This was never going to be my home. I’m not here because I don’t have anywhere else to go.” His hands roamed over Brock’s lower back then he dipped his fingers into the seat of Brock’s jeans, pushing them over his hips. “I couldn’t leave because of you.”

  Brock kissed him, open-mouthed and tongue to tongue. And that quickly, Brock was lost again. He softened his kiss, making love with his mouth. Slow and drugging, tasting and remembering. Two months melted away with the heated passion surging between them.

  Preston groaned, kissing Brock with equal ferocity. He wedged his hand between them, unzipped, and released his dick. Their cocks bumped. Gripping his hot hard flesh, Preston squeezed their dicks together.

  Brock growled. “God, I missed you.” He thrust his cock through Preston’s fist. “Come up to the house.”

  “Can’t wait. I need you here. Now.” Preston dropped to his knees, lifted Brock’s foot and tugged off his boot. Then he removed the other. He paused to close his mouth over Brock’s cock and suck the head. He hummed and took him deeper. Wet warmth enclosed Brock’s dick. Teeth grazed his erection. The combination had Brock’s head spinning…and his heart breaking.

  “Bed. You. Me.” Brock curled his fingers into Preston’s hair and closed his eyes. He wanted to feel, to remember how good they’d been together. But unwanted images of Preston on his knees, sucking another cock, flashed through his mind. He fought the fear, the uncertainty and focused on this moment.

  “Mmm.” Preston tugged Brock’s jeans down his legs until they bunched around his ankles. Brock stepped out of the jeans. “A roll in the hay?” Preston chuckled and ran his lips along the length of Brock’s dick, sucked his sac and then curled his tongue around the ridge.

  “If you have a condom close.” Brock’s stomach clenched. Before he’d walked in on Preston, they’d stopped using condoms. “I have condoms and lube in our room at the house.” He drew in a shaky breath. His heart raced and his hands trembled. He was exactly where he wanted to be, but the past still loomed over them, a dark shadow of regrets. “But I’ve never used them.”

  Preston kissed Brock’s dick, kissed along his groin and rested his forehead against Brock’s stomach. “I have a condom.” Preston’s fingertips pressed into Brock’s hips. “And it’s okay. You don’t have any reason to trust me.” Preston stood, but Brock kept him from stepping away.

  “I do trust you.” He followed the lines of Preston’s chest with his fingers. “But we both need to learn what that means.”

  A slow smile spread across Preston’s lips. “We might need Kenny for that. His advice would be to fuck until we’re friends again and then fuck some more.” Preston pushed Brock’s shirt from his shoulders. “I think we should take his advice.”

  Preston sealed his mouth to Brock’s and took a step back. They kissed, touched and groped as they shifted deeper into the shadowed corner of the barn. Preston stumbled on his jeans as they fell from his hips and down his thighs. Preston laughed. “Wait.” He shimmied out of his jeans.

  Damn, Brock had missed that laugh. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge just how much. But tonight was about facing truths. “I’m not interested in sex just to be friends again.” Although Preston had been his best friend. Now, Preston stood before him, naked, and a little thinner but just as arousing. Long, lean muscles sculpted his frame. Masculine yet, someone Brock wanted to care for…to love.

  “Tell me why you want to fuck me.” Preston closed his fist around his cock and stroked the hard flesh, squeezing until the head darkened and pre-cum seeped from the slit. A coy smile played on his lips. “If not just to be friends again.” He backed into the corner where he’d set up his sleeping pallet. A thick sheet and several blankets covered the air mattress. His sleeping bag was still in the corner with his duffel. Bending over, giving Brock a perfect view of his ass, he grabbed the lube
from the side of the duffel.

  Brock snapped. “Because you’re mine.” Preston was his fucking cowboy. He’d tamed him…claimed him. He turned Preston, shoved him to the mattress and followed him down. “And I don’t share.” With his knees bent, Preston spread his thighs and Brock shifted between them. Braced on his outstretched arms, Brock rolled his hips and ground his dick into Preston’s. “What I want is for you to run this ranch by my side.” He clenched his jaw, absorbing the heat of their bodies pressed together. “Partners. I want to fuck you every night, grease up your ass and slide my dick into your tight hole.”

  “Do it!” Preston grabbed his knees, pulled his legs back and opened himself for Brock. “Just fuck me. I want your dick, want you to pound my ass like I’m the only thing that matters to you. I’m tired of fighting what I feel. I’m tired of wondering why you’re with me. Am I just a ranch hand, or something more? Fuck, Brock, I love you.”

  Brock hadn’t realized how much those words would mean to him. He rose to his knees, popped the cap, and squirted gel into his hand. As he slicked his rod with his left hand, he rubbed the tender skin around Preston’s anus with his right and tunneled two fingers into his tight opening. Then he added a third.