Wilder, Winona - Loving Tyler [Coming Out 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)

by Winona Wilder

  “Later. You get something even better tonight. You’ve only lost half your virginity. Today will make things official.” Tyler rolled to his side. “Come on, let me feel you inside me.”

  The bed shifted as Marcus turned. He heard the spurt of lube as he prepared himself. Then his hand was over his hip as he positioned himself against Tyler’s ass. He felt the cool shock of the lubrication as he nudged his opening. It had been a long time since he had a man, but this would be like any other because, for the first time, real feelings were involved. “I might hurt you.”

  “Don’t worry about me, darlin’. This ain’t my first rodeo. I won’t complain if you ram me hard.” He meant it. Tyler found a perverse pleasure in the pain of hard sex and erotic punishment. Nothing he planned to subject his sweet boy to, but he was game.

  Marcus pushed himself into Tyler, entering him in a firm, consistent thrust. The city boy groaned and shuddered as he filled his ass. “Oh, God.”

  “Show me what you’re made of.” Tyler grabbed the headboard with one hand, bracing himself for a workout. Marcus didn’t fail him. The other man must have been as pent-up as him, thrusting and pistoning in and out of his ass like a machine.

  His body was lit up with sensation, his ass spasming, his cock thickening. Reality spiraled out of focus as his orgasm loomed just beneath the surface. He began to pump his cock to match the rhythm of Marcus’s big dick fucking him. The dual stimulation was too much. He wouldn’t last long.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Fill me up! I wanna feel your hot seed inside me.” As if following his command, Marcus gasped, his hand digging into his hip as he pumped this release into Tyler. His own cum sprayed the coverlet as he reached his peak, the sticky mess coating his knuckles.

  Marcus kissed his moist neck, not pulling out of him, just lying close without moving. “How’d I do for my first time?”

  “You’re a natural. But I hope we’ll have lots and lots of practice.” Tyler clenched around Marcus’s semi-flaccid cock, making him groan against his neck.

  They rolled apart, only to snuggle closer, face-to-face. He could never tire of looking into the Italian’s dark, exotic features. The man belonged on a magazine cover, and here he was, all his.

  “Where will you go from here?” asked Marcus.

  “Paying events are in Essa now. Drifters follow the money, so I guess that’s where I’m heading.”

  “What about me?” He could hear the caution and vulnerability in Marcus’s voice, and it made him want to hold onto the man and never let go.

  He kissed him on the lips, once, twice. “You go where I go.”

  Marcus sat up, breaking their intimate bubble. “Is it really that simple in your head? I just throw away my whole life and travel the rodeo circuit with you?”

  “I thought that’s what you had in mind when you came out here looking for me.”

  “I needed to see you, to get some closure. Tyler, I have a condo, a job, and family back in the city. I can’t just not go back—that’s not how real life works.”

  He hopped off the bed and tugged on his boxer briefs. “So what was I? A fantasy? A good, part-time fuck?”

  “No! You’re putting words in my mouth.” Marcus slipped the remainder of the dildo out of his ass and tossed it on the bed beside him.

  “Am I? You’re not coming with me, so I guess that means you’re heading home to your real life.”

  “What do you expect? I’ve known you a week. Am I supposed to throw away my whole life and take a risk on you?”

  Tyler cringed on the inside, but didn’t let it show. What else did he expect? Every man he’d shared a bed with only saw him as a bedmate, a man-whore with nothing of value besides a good romp in the hay. It never bothered him until now. Now it fucking hurt. He wanted to get down on one knee and beg Marcus to stay, to love him, but he wouldn’t.

  “Maybe I should just hop in my truck and hit the highway.” He pulled on his Wranglers.

  “I forgot to tell you. Your truck has at least one flat.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I went to get your bag, there was this guy lurking around. He pointed out the flats.”

  Tyler’s heart clenched and throat tightened. “What did he look like?”

  “I don’t know. Big homely guy with overalls.”

  Tyler was scared to know the answer, but he had to ask. “Did he have a lazy eye?”

  “How’d you know?”

  Fuck! They’d found him again. It had been two years with no sign, but now they’d found him. They always found him.

  Chapter Eight

  There was an uncomfortable silence during breakfast at the diner. He was sure Tyler had been happy to see him, but maybe it was only the buzz from the alcohol. Ever since they had sex, his mood seemed to shift. Was it all about sex? Had he gotten his fill for the week?

  “I have to head back to the city to get things settled. But if you’re serious about starting something long-term, I’ll come back up and we can talk more seriously about it.”

  “No. You’re right, I barely know you. We should head our separate ways.”

  Marcus froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Permanently?” Surely Tyler hadn’t done a three-sixty in only an hour. He seemed genuinely interested in maintaining their relationship this morning, even getting hostile when Marcus suggested not following him to the next town. Maybe he’d hurt him. Maybe Tyler was putting up guards to keep from getting hurt. Marcus felt like an asshole. All he wanted was Tyler. He was just too damn scared to give up everything only to find out Tyler tired of him after a month together. He wanted to be sure their relationship was for real before committing himself body and soul.

  “We had good times, but it’d never work. City boy, country bumpkin. Personally, I think you could do much better than me.” Tyler never looked him in the eye, only making patterns in the eggs he’d barely touched.

  “Are you kidding me? I drove all the way down here because I thought we had something special. Was I wrong?” The foundation of his whole world was crumbling. His mind processed the past, present, and future at an alarming rate. If he returned home knowing Tyler only thought of him as another number, he’d be crushed. He’d have no hope, nothing to look forward to but his unfulfilling life. Was he too uptight? Not uninhibited enough for the more experienced cowboy?

  “I’m a drifter, Marcus. Certain people aren’t meant to change.”

  He stood up, his chair scraping along the tiles. “Bullshit!” It was so unlike him to make a scene, to raise his voice, to tread off the beaten path. Now all he could think about was the betrayal threatening to undo him.

  “Cavendish Tack and Saddles are probably wondering where their best recruiter is. Can’t say I was disappointed with the fringe benefits, but like I said, I’m not interested in a sponsorship.” Tyler took a drink of his Coke, effectively ignoring him.

  “You’re a bastard!” He tossed his napkin and stormed out of the diner. Tyler didn’t try to stop him, and he didn’t expect as much.

  He speed-walked up the side of the road towards his car, undiluted anger making the world blur out of focus. Marcus replayed all his times with Tyler over and over in his head—the kisses, the lovemaking, the endearing confessions. How could he be such a poor judge of character? The more distance he put between him and the diner, the more he felt the anger diminish and the despair and hurt take over. He felt small, cheap, and stupid, completely deceived by a cowboy and a world he barely knew.

  Marcus wasn’t Tyler’s anything, just another fuck for the record book. He used the back of his hand to wipe away the moisture from his eyes and hit the gas, eager to put the miles between him and Tyler.

  * * * *

  Essa looked like every other town he’d passed through over his countless years on the circuit. It was the same meaningless sequence of events—new town, cheap motel, glory in the ring, meaningless sex. The routine was getting old. Ever since he’d found Marcus, he saw a new world of possibility
. Life didn’t have to be black and white, but could be lived in full color. The Italian had brought out the best in Tyler, given him the precious gift of his body, and showed him a new reality.

  Breaking the other man’s heart, practically hearing it crack down the middle, had been the hardest thing Tyler ever had to do. As soon as Marcus told him about the lazy-eyed bastard that had slashed his tires, he knew it was one of his old foster brothers. It had been years since they’d bothered him, found him. Living in the foster home as a teen had been a sadistic entrapment that he’d only been able to escape when he’d turned legal age. It seemed most country folk back then only took kids in for the money, not for their love of children. His foster home hadn’t nurtured his differences, his unique sexuality, but tried to beat it out of him. When that didn’t work, they just beat him. Since his escape, he’d traveled the circuit on his own, making a name for himself.

  When news hit his abusers of his success, jealousy and hatred made the blood brothers blind with the need for retaliation. For what, he didn’t know. But he never could understand the mind of a bigot.

  He knew it would never end, the vicious attempts to ruin him. They focused their meaningless lives on making Tyler’s miserable. Like they’d said in the past, a faggot doesn’t deserve glory in the ring, and he was ruining the respectable tradition of the rodeo.

  There was no way he’d subject his sweet Marcus to their hatred. If they knew he loved the city boy, they’d no doubt focus their attention on him in hopes of hurting Tyler. He wouldn’t have it. It was better for him to lose Marcus, rather than risk getting him hurt. There was nowhere for him to escape, not with his fame on the circuit. It would be as easy as checking the public event list to know where he’d be next. He was good at keeping invisible, hiding in off-the-radar motels, and moving on as soon as he finished his last event.

  Marcus was innocent, tender. He’d never be able to deal with the kind of hatred his foster brothers were capable of dishing out. Tyler couldn’t watch over him every minute, and every minute away from him, he’d worry. And it wasn’t just the two brothers out for blood. They’d managed to recruit a group of extremists determined to keep gays out of the ring. If only they knew how many there really were, they’d give up their twisted crusade.

  “Tyler!” One of his ring buddies greeted him near the registration desk. It took a Herculean effort just to offer a barely there smile.

  “Braden. How’s the family?”

  “Just setting up tent for the night. You’re welcome to join us for dinner. We caught a good-sized deer just outside of town. It’ll be enough to feed an army.” His friend laughed and clapped him on the back. Normally Tyler would revel in his good-natured conversation, but not anymore.

  “With the number of kids you have, it should last you at least one meal.”

  “You’re right! Macy’s expecting again, wouldn’t you know it.” The redheaded man wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “She’ll be happy if you stopped by for a meal.”

  Tyler slipped out of his friendly hold. “I have a ton to do, but if I have a chance, there’s nowhere I’d rather be. Thanks for the offer.”

  He roamed off the beaten path, not in the mood to small talk with the usual crowd. It was the same greetings, smiles, and gossip. By nightfall they’d return to their families or bunk buddies, Tyler forgotten. For a brief moment in time he belonged, had his own man to share his life with. But as soon as he had the world in his grasp, it was snatched from him. His foster family had stolen everything from him—his innocence, his self-respect, family, security, and now Marcus.

  Chapter Nine

  “Good work, Marcus. You’re definitely going places.” His supervisor scanned the files of the new account, a satisfied smirk on his face. Marcus had worked his ass off to get Calvin Brackworth to sign with Cavendish. He’d taken him out to dinner, given him front-row seats at a home game, and offered him a competitive commission. He was no Tyler James, but he was a rising young star in the rodeo. The extra work over the past three weeks had helped Marcus live life without dwelling on his aching heart and the memories that were likely all counterfeit.

  “Do you still want me to attend the opening of the Smithfield Rodeo next week?”

  “With the Brackworth account in the bag, I definitely want you there, Vinetti. We’re doing a big promo push. I want our banners inside the ring where the cameras are aimed. Get some live interviews, endorsements from any of the big names.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Marcus drove home just after sunset, a light rain making the pavement ahead of him appear as a static haze. He hated nights like this, and there’d been many lately. These kinds of nights were made for lovers, for cuddling up on the sofa and watching a good movie. Since that wasn’t his destiny, he’d go home alone to an empty condo, order some takeout if he wanted to eat, and file through his memories as he stared into space. It was the reason he kept busy, and it was better than the quiet reflection that could destroy him easier than a rusty blade. What was Tyler doing now? Had he found another lover? Did he ever think of him?

  He wanted to search him out and beg for him to love him, but those were only moments of weakness. Marcus didn’t want a man who was with him for convenience, pity, or any superficial reason. He wanted love, the love he thought he experienced with Tyler. Their lovemaking had allowed him to transcend to another level of consciousness, but it was all a lie, a vicious lie. Fuck, he was a mess.

  Marcus unlocked his unit and tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. He ignored the ringing phone, knowing it was one of his obnoxious relatives. After flicking on a couple lights, he pulled a travel bag down from the closet in his bedroom. He stuffed random clothes into the bag, not bothering to fold or organize them as was his habit. Nothing seemed to matter, and his anal ways now made him feel foolish, not refined as they once had. Would Tyler have wanted him if he was more casual, more nonchalant about the little things in life?

  He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off as he approached his dresser. His reflection stared back, a stranger mocking him. Tyler had consistently told him how attractive he was, but what good did that do him if he wasn’t good enough to keep?

  * * * *

  Tyler dusted off his chaps once he eased up from the dirt floor in the ring. The crowd roared when he waved his Stetson in the air. Another easy victory under his belt. He disguised his wince when he climbed over the fence. His ribs still ached on occasion, but complaints of the body never stopped a cowboy. He had something to prove, to himself and the bastards he knew were tracking his career. He growled under his breath. If it weren’t for his foster brothers he’d have Marcus with him right now. He’d be waiting for him, ready to tend to his wounds. There wasn’t anything he wanted to see more than Marcus’s smiling face. But it was only a memory that became a little more blurry each day that passed. He didn’t even have a picture to remember him by.

  As he trudged his way back to his motel room to change, he heard an all too familiar voice. Jet Cartwright, his old lover. He turned towards the voice and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Still riding, I see.” Jet closed the distance between them, his young blond in tow. He couldn’t fault the older man for his choice. James Matthews was a regular piece of sunshine, thick-muscled with that boy-next-door charm. It still didn’t sit right with Tyler to be the unchosen one, forgotten and dismissed.

  “That’s what I do. I didn’t see you on the riding log.”

  “We’re ranchers now. James gets too nervous when I ride, so I’ve stopped altogether.” Jet turned and winked at the blond.

  “Ain’t that just dandy.”

  “I heard word of you spending some time with a new fella back in Essa.” Why did Jet have to sound so genuinely concerned? It brought his emotions to the surface and made him feel worse than shit when Jet stood there with his boy toy while he was alone. He’d told Jet things he’d never told another living soul, and he trusted him to keep those secrets, even now. But thing
s weren’t the same as they’d once been. Jet was a family man now, and Tyler was heartbroken, more messed up than he had been to start with.

  “A passing fancy, is all.”

  “You wanna tell me something?” Jet was all dominance, hard to deny. He had a sixth sense about human nature, so lying was out of the question.

  “They’re back. Slashed my tires again.” He’d told the older man details about his past that made him cringe to this day. Jet was a good listener, didn’t judge, and the only other man on the circuit he knew of that was openly gay and proud of it.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this? You can’t keep hiding forever!” James held Jet’s arms when he started to throw them around in anger. Tyler continued to feel like an outsider and just wanted to get to his room.

  He dragged his hand through his hair, not comfortable even discussing the situation. “What would you do anyway, Jet? You know what kind of people they are. You gonna get yourself killed and leave your little sweetheart here all by his lonesome?” He shook his head, knowing the answer.

  “This have anything to do with the guy you were seeing?”

  “It always does. You know that. Love isn’t in the cards for me, not now, not ever.” He dipped his hat to James out of courtesy and began to walk backwards up the road. “Don’t be worrying about little ol’ me, Jet Cartwright. I’ve managed to survive this long…”

  He twisted to face the road, picking up his step. There was nothing to say that could change the situation, no matter how much he wished it.

  “Join us at the pub tonight!” Jet called from the distance. He only raised his arm to confirm he’d heard, no promises.

  The next morning, after a fitful night, he showered, shaved, and dressed for the big event. It would be a media circus today with the much anticipated bull riding events. Tyler rarely entered, but today he did. Why the fuck not?

  He donned his finer plaid shirt, knowing his fans would ask him to pose for photos. As much as he respected Jet and had no personal reservations about his beau, he hoped he didn’t run into them. He needed to be alone in order build up his barriers again, to kiss away everything Marcus brought to the surface.