Cowboy Tamed

Two months ago Brock Ward kicked Preston Keese off his ranch, but nothing can get the hot cowboy out of his head. Damn Preston for lying and cheating… and throwing away his love. Preston fucked up. In his need to prove Brock cared, he lost the man he needed most. There’s nothing left for him in Copper Creek… except Brock. If only he could prove he wants to be a cowboy tamed. One phone call is all Preston has… one chance to try to rein in the man he wants.

Cowboy Tamed By

Taylor McKay

eBooks are not transferable. This ebook cannot by sold, shared or given away as it infringes on the copyright of this work. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. Cowboy Tamed COPYRIGHT © 2011 by Taylor McKay All rights are reserved. No part of this book

may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Demanding Romance except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Contact Information: [email protected] Demanding Romance Publishing History First Demanding Romance Edition, April 2011 Cover art by Morgan Lee Published in the United States of America

Cowboy Tamed Steam from his cup of coffee misted in the chilly April evening. Brock Ward closed his palms around the heavy ceramic mug and sipped the hot strong brew. The last rays of daylight colored the Montana skyline in pinks, oranges and violets. His favorite mare, swollen and ready to foal, plodded around the pen, her giant belly swaying with each step. “Should be any time,” Kenny, one of his ranch hands stated, leaning against the post and

taking a cigarette from his pack. “I’m bettin’ by morning.” The horse nipped at her hind end. She was sweating and restless. Brock squinted against a gust of cold air and hunched into the woolen warmth of his coat. “Her first foal.” He’d kept her isolated, had the vet out this morning and yet couldn’t stop worrying. There were times when Avril was his best friend. He could talk to the majestic black Morgan, tell her the secrets he couldn’t share with anyone else. She bore his burdens and was always there. Together they’d covered every acre of the Ward ranch. The chirp of Brock’s phone broke the stillness. He took the phone from the deep pocket of his coat and checked the number. “Zeb.” The local sheriff.

“Wonder if he’s found that mountain lion? Got folks ‘round here upset.” Kenny struck a match. Sulfur sizzled. He held the flame to the tip of his cigarette and inhaled. Brock took the call. “Good news, I hope.” He worried about his stock and about the foal. “Did you catch the cougar?” “Hi, Brock. Don’t hang up. I only have one phone call.” There was silence. “I think I’m in trouble.” Brock’s throat tightened and his gut clenched. The voice he never expected to hear again, but one that still played in his mind, floated on the canyon breezes when he rode Avril and haunted his dreams at night. He ached for

Preston Keese in ways he’d never admit to anyone. In ways he’d only shared with Avril. Brock longed for Preston’s hard, lean body, sweating beneath him as he slid his cock into Preston’s tight ass. He missed the quiet conversations and long nights of loving. Preston sighed into the phone and quietly spoke. “I didn’t know who else to call.” Brock hated the desperation in Preston’s voice. He wanted to break, to ask what was wrong, but what would it matter? Preston was Preston, and Brock didn’t have the energy for his drama anymore. “You should’ve called someone who gives a shit.” Brock ended the call. His heart raced and his fingers trembled.

“I’d guess by the smile on your face,” Kenny said sarcastically, “that wasn’t the sheriff.” Brock glanced to Kenny. He was a good man. Couldn’t be more than thirty-five. Clean cut, pretty blue eyes and sandy brown hair. He might not carry the brawn of some of the men, rather his build was long and wiry. But Kenny had a gentle patience with the animals. He’d worked for Brock a few years, was a good man to have around. Most wandering men that ended up on the ranch were running from something. Brock didn’t pry and expected the same. Kenny was one of the ranch hands Brock considered a friend. A good friend. He trusted Kenny, but Kenny wasn’t a man Brock was interested in personally. Brock had made it a

point to avoid complicated situations. That’s why he didn’t get involved with those who worked on Ward land. He’d broken that rule with Preston. And didn’t that end well? “Seems the sheriff has company.” Brock rolled his shoulders and hid the discomfort in his voice. “Preston’s in town.” Kenny raised a brow and took a drag off his cigarette. “Guess hell must have frozen over.” Brock gave a snort and took another sip of coffee. “He’s obviously still getting into trouble.” Because Preston had called from the sheriff’s office, Brock assumed Preston had been arrested. Wouldn’t have been the first time he’d found more trouble than he could handle. There was a time Brock had loved Preston’s

wild untamed ways. Not anymore. Kenny chuckled. “He was always ballsy, but I didn’t think he’d have the cojones to call you for shit. Not after the way he left.” Brock wasn’t about to become gossip for the town again. Whatever he might have done in the past, he wasn’t about to repeat. “What does he want?” “Fuck if I know. And I don’t care. Said he had one phone call I told him he should’ve called someone who gave a damn.” Emotions roiled in his stomach. Brock refused to give a damn, regardless of how much it hurt to hear Preston’s voice.

“Has to be serious if he called you.” “Preston has run out of people who care.” Kenny shrugged. “What? If you have something to say, say it.” “I just think you ought to find out what happened. If he called you… ” He let the rest unsaid, but Brock still heard the words. When a man reached the end of his rope, he had to tie a knot and hang on. If Preston had called him, he was at the end of his rope. “Fuck.” Brock turned back to the mare. “I can’t leave. She’s about to foal, and I need to be here.”

“She’s close, but not that close. She’ll be in labor all night. Maybe even into the morning. And I’ll be here.” He flicked ash to the ground. “Preston isn’t my problem.” Brock set his cup on top of the post and pushed away from the fence. He didn’t owe Preston Keese anything… except maybe an ass kicking. Two months wasn’t long enough to forget the hell he’d been through or the pain of Preston’s betrayal. “I have to check on Avril’s stall.” He stomped away and headed into the stables. The scent of horse and fresh hay permeated the room. He’d had two stalls modified to accommodate Avril and her foal. Fresh straw covered the ground. Emergency supplies were on the shelf, and Doc Maple was at the ready in case there were complications Brock and Kenny

couldn’t handle. Brock leaned against the beam… and thought about Preston. Preston was cowboy from the tip of his hat to the Montana dirt crusted on his boots. He was country—all man and mischief. His mischief had gone too far. But as for the man… Strong thighs, trim hips, big cock and a nice ass. Anxiety fired through Brock. He had hated to think about how he’d feel if he ever saw or heard from Preston again. Thinking about him at all brought back too many memories. He closed his eyes, aching for everything they’d been… everything they’d lost. Fuck that. Preston had fucked up, pissed away all they could have shared. Brock couldn’t get

the image of Preston’s lips wrapped around another cowboy’s cock out of his head. Brock had refused to hear explanations or apologies, and Preston hadn’t put up much of a fight. What would be the point? He’d cheated. Brock had kicked him out of his house, collected Preston’s shit from their room, asked Kenny and another one of the hands to find Preston and dump his belongings into the bed of his truck. Finding Preston hadn’t taken long. That night, he’d left with his lover. Now, two months later, Brock guessed that love affair hadn’t lasted either since Preston had called the Brock. Brock growled and jammed his hands into his pockets. Kenny stepped into the barn. “I’m heading out.”

Brock turned to Kenny. “Thought you were going to hang around here.” Brock would need Kenny’s help with Avril and her foal. “I won’t be gone long.” He jangled a set of keys in his hand. “Just need to check on a few things.” “Like what?” Brock straightened. “Where’re you going, Kenny?” Although, he had a pretty good idea what Kenny had planned. Something like getting into business where he didn’t belong—seeing an old friend in town—in the jail. “I don’t think you want to know.” “You’re right. I don’t want to know if you think

you’re going into town to see a certain cowboy who didn’t call you to come bail his ass out of jail.” “It’s none of your business what I do. I’m not asking permission nor am I asking you to get involved. But if Preston called you, then he’s in trouble.” Brock slid his palms into his pockets to keep from ringing Kenny’s damn neck. “I don’t need this shit. Stay out of it.” Kenny shifted from one foot to the other. “Sorry, boss, but I can’t do that.” “So you’re rushing off to bail him out?” “Yep. Right or wrong, he’s practically family.

I’m not saying he didn’t fuck up when he fucked you over. And it isn’t up to me to forgive him. I’m not trying to get between you and Preston because whatever went wrong between you two has nothing to do with me going to the jail.” He straightened his hat. “Even if I do think you’re being a stubborn jackass.” “What the hell did I do? I wasn’t the one on my knees sucking some cowboy’s dick. I was the one who found my lover in my house fucking one of my ranch hands.” Technically Brock had no idea if Preston fucked the other man. He didn’t care. Shit. He’d cared too much. He’d let Preston get under his skin and into his heart. He’d thought they were partners. “Yeah, I heard the details.”

Brock didn’t think there was a person within a fifty mile radius who hadn’t heard the juicy details. It’s all anyone could talk about for weeks. “And you’re still going to get him?” Kenny nodded. “Suit yourself,” he snapped. “But make it fast. You still have a job and I need you here.” “Not sure how long it will take. Not sure he has somewhere to go. So after I bail him out, I might have to swing him by my place. He’ll need a place to crash.” Kenny strode from the barn. Brock bristled. His gut twisted and piercing pain knifed through his temple. His mind screamed to forget about Preston and focus on

Avril, but his heart couldn’t. Damn it. He rushed after Kenny, jogging across the hard packed dirt. Just hearing Preston’s voice had caused anxiety to fire his blood, what would seeing him in person do? Kenny had his truck engine idling. He sat behind the wheel with the door open. “You stay here with Avril and I’ll go.” “About time you pulled your head out of your ass.” Brock shook his head. “Just because I’m going doesn’t mean I’ll bail him out. He might just deserve to spend some time with the sheriff.” Kenny smiled, his damn face splitting with

happiness. “What do you think is going to happen when I get to the jail?” “Hopefully seeing him again will remind you what you both lost. Brock, don’t let your pride keep you from something you need.” He slid from the truck. “You need Preston. Everyone around here can see what you refuse to. Preston made you happy. When he left, part of you went with him. Maybe if you bring him around, you’ll figure out what’s missing.” Brock pushed him out of the door. “You sound like Dr. Phil.” “Better than Dr. Ruth who would tell you to go get laid. You’ve turned into an asshole, and the

rest of us are about sick of it.” Brock slammed the truck door without responding. Gunning the gas, he left a cloud of dust for Kenny to choke on. ***** Brock drove down the deserted highway. Inside, he was a jumbled mess. When he kicked Preston out, he’d decided he would never take him back. Because when he was with him, he wanted to be with him. Wanted him in bed with his knees bent toward his ears, his feet braced against Brock’s shoulders. Brock easily remembered the heated pressure of Preston’s ass as he drove his cock deep inside of Preston. Preston liked dick—sadly he’d wanted more than just Brock’s. However, nothing would change the fact there

had always been a spark, a smoldering heat between them fueled by more than lust. Together, in bed, they’d been intense lovers. Brock ached for more than the loss of their sexual connection. Preston had made Brock laugh, made him feel and that’s why his betrayal had cut so deeply. The drive into Copper Creek took about twenty minutes. Plenty of time for Brock to change his mind, turn around and head back to the ranch, but he didn’t. He pulled into the parking lot of the courthouse and jail and parked next to Zeb’s marked SUV. Brock rested his wrists on the steering wheel and sighed. His gut was in knots. Nerves were getting the best of him. Why should he be worried? He had all the power in this situation. He could walk in, find out what kind of trouble Preston had gotten himself into

and then, if he wanted, he could leave Preston’s ass to rot in jail. Feeling more in control of his emotions, he keyed off the ignition, opened the door and slammed it closed. Gravel crunched under his boots as he crossed to the glass door leading into the lobby of the small courthouse. Bells above the door jingled when he opened it. Zeb, sitting at his desk, glanced over. “Hi, Brock, good to see you.” “Well, if it isn’t Brock Ward coming to claim one of his boys.” Pamela, Zeb’s dispatcher— and girlfriend—came from the back room with two cups of coffee. Brock unbuttoned his coat as he crossed the

room. The small county courthouse had a rustic feel, just like the community. Pinewood desks, braided rugs and an elk’s head mounted on the wall. “So what’s he done?” Pamela set the coffee on the desk in front of Zeb. “I’m going to leave you two alone.” Her uneasy smile caused Brock’s stomach to turn over. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” “I’m good.” He sat in the chair across from Zeb. “Thanks.” He glanced to Zeb. “So what’s he done?” Zeb waved her off. The chair creaked under his weight as he leaned back and waited. Pamela shut her office door. In the large glass windows separating the offices, Brock could still see her sitting behind her desk and turning on her

computer. “How serious is it?” How much was it going to cost to get Preston out? Zeb scratched his whiskered face. “Preston’s in trouble, but it ain’t with the law.” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on the lip of the desk. “Things have been bad since he quit working for you.” Brock took a deep breath. “Preston didn’t quit working for me. He was fired. We both know why he isn’t welcome on Ward land.” Brock was gay. He never hid it. Never hid from it. He wasn’t out trying to score with cowboys. Like every other rancher in these parts trying to make a living in a tough industry, Brock was surviving—thriving actually. He was a member

of the community, helped his neighbors, and he was gay. No one cared who he fucked any more than he cared that the sheriff was screwing Pamela. “Preston’s lived here all his life.” And when his parents lost their ranch, he stayed on and worked for Brock. “I never asked him to leave town, just to get off my land.” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on his knees. “I didn’t know he was still in town. Thought he’d left.” “He’s living in his truck, Brock. He was working out at Thompson’s place for a couple weeks. But Ron had to cut back, can’t keep the hands he has and Preston was the new hire. I figured at least here he’d have a cot and three

squares.” “No, you figured I’d come collect his ass and put him back to work.” Brock groaned and adjusted in the chair. “I don’t want to see any man down on his luck, but Zeb, you’re asking too much.” “That son of a bitch he’d gotten mixed up with hasn’t been around since that night. I’m not asking you to take him back.” Zeb cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “Well, you know what I’m saying.” He plucked at a pencil on his desk. “I’m not saying you have to ask him to move back in, but you got work and he needs a job.” Brock chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll be damned.” First Kenny and now Zeb and obviously, Pamela knew what was going on as

she kept glancing at Brock with a tentative smile on her bright pink lips. “Oh hell, Brock, if I could justify the expense in the budget, I’d give him a job. He’s a damn good worker. He’s just a dumbass that got caught with his pants down.” He choked. “I meant that figuratively.” Brock stood and stretched. “Temporary work, Zeb, just until he gets a lead on something else around here.” He pointed at Zeb. “I know you have your nose in everyone’s business. But I’ve had about enough of people getting into mine. Sniff out a job for Preston, but I don’t want anyone sniffing around Ward land for gossip.” Because there wouldn’t be any. Work, nothing else. There was still a cougar on the loose killing stock, and now he had the care of the

new foal, Brock could use another man. Thinking of the new foal… “I need to get back to the ranch.” Zeb smiled and came around his desk. He slapped Brock on the back. “I’ll get him. His truck is in back, but his registration is expired. Can’t let him take it.” More likely, Zeb didn’t want Preston to have transportation. Keep him close to watch him. Preston’s run of hard luck was coming to an end one way or another. Looks like Brock was the means to Preston getting back on his feet. Hell, most of the town probably blamed Brock for Preston’s current situation. Regardless, Brock would advance Preston a paycheck so he could square away his business.

Not that he had a choice. Between Kenny and the other hands, he’d have a hard time kicking Preston off the ranch again once he was back on it. But if Brock had to be honest, Preston was good to have around. Brock just had to find away to keep Preston out of his bed. Brock stared out the glass door into the darkened night as he waited for Zeb to bring Preston up from holding. Part of him couldn’t believe he’d be taking Preston back to the ranch… another part had never wanted him to leave. “Brock?” He turned at the sound of the sheriff’s voice. Preston stood next to Zeb, his hands tucked into the dusty jeans hanging on his hips. A lump lodged in Brock’s throat. He couldn’t

find words to say. Preston looked the same— same hypnotic jade green eyes, but now marred with dark circles. He looked tired. Whiskers shadowed his jaw and his coffee-colored wavy hair, cut above the ears but longer on top, bore the usual indent from his cowboy hat. “Let’s go.” Brock spun and strode through the door. ***** Regret slammed like a meaty fist into Preston’s gut, the force stealing his breath. Brock came. He looked tired… he looked pissed. “Sheriff?” If Brock hadn’t wanted to bail him out, he shouldn’t have come. Preston had assumed that’s why Brock had hung up on him. “He’s pissed.” “What did you expect? A hug and a

handshake.” He gave Preston a shove toward the door. “Consider this probation. Get your shit together, Preston.” Zeb hitched up his trousers and puffed up his chest on a deep breath. “Brock’s bringing you back on his ranch, temporary like. So it’s up to you to figure out the rest.” Preston nodded and followed Brock out the door. Once outside, he said, “I need to get a few things out of my truck.” Brock flung open the driver’s side door. “I need to get back to the ranch.” He slid behind the wheel as Preston opened the passenger door. Brock stared at him across the cab of the truck. His mouth formed a hard line and his jaw ticked with tension.

For the last two months, Preston had simmered in his own self hate. He had a gift for fucking up everything good in his life, and he’d certainly fucked up with Brock. He hated depending on anyone, even Brock. Although in fairness to Brock, he’d hid his feelings well. But Brock had to have hated their relationship. Brock provided everything. He had money, friends, a hard body and a sharp mind. What did he need Preston for? Besides a piece of ass. Preston had only ever been able to count on himself and now he had the sheriff pulling in favors. As much as he missed Brock, this wasn’t going to work. “I’m not sure what to say to you. I’m so fucking grateful that you’re here, but you’re obviously pissed about it. If I could say, don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine and then go on my way, I would. But I’m on my knees

here.” “I don’t want you on your knees.” Brock growled and turned away. “Get in the truck.” Preston sat in the truck and shut the door. “My pickup is around back.” Brock nodded, turned the ignition and shoved the gear into reverse. The cab was dark and silent as he drove around to the back of the building and pulled alongside Preston’s truck. “It’ll just take a minute. Be right back.” Preston climbed from the vehicle. Two months ago, he’d felt exactly as he did right now. The crushing weight of regret made his chest ache and his gut clench. He’d throw up if he had anything in his stomach. Pamela had offered to

feed him at the jail, but after Brock had hung up on him, he couldn’t bring himself to eat. Grabbing his hat off the front seat of his truck, he slapped it on then went to the rear of the bed. He grabbed his duffel and sleeping bag and tossed them into the bed of Brock’s truck. Less than a minute later, he opened to door and climbed back in. “I’m ready.” Brock threw the truck in gear and cruised out of the courthouse parking lot. Preston took a last look over his shoulder, then sighed and relaxed into the seat. However, he felt far from calm. As Brock shifted gears, Preston couldn’t tear his gaze away from the play of muscle in Brock’s thighs. His palm rested on the gear shift, his fingers curled around the knob. Two months hadn’t diminished his rugged sexiness.

They drove a few miles without speaking. Preston stared out the side window, wishing Brock would say something. “You didn’t have to come.” His words broke the silence. “I didn’t want to.” He turned to Brock. “Then why did you?” Brock’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “Because I had to.” He cast a quick glance at Preston then turned back to the road. “I suppose we’re going to have to discuss a few things.” Preston choked on the lump in his throat. He’d been naked with Brock, had spent long nights kissing him, running his hands over the hard

contours of Brock’s body. He’d been fucked by Brock—fucked until he walked with a limp. He’d also sucked Brock’s dick, swallowed his cum and rimmed his hole before he shoved his cock into Brock and fucked him until they were both sweaty and spent. They were friends and lovers. Until Preston fucked it up. “Whatever we were is over.” Brock stared straight ahead. “Don’t play games with me because I’m not interested. I’m not interested in hooking up again. I don’t want you trying to manipulate the situation.” He turned down the long dirt road to the ranch. “I’m serious, Preston. Push me and I’ll push right back. You want a job?”

Could he work for Brock and not want more? No. But he understood… he deserved Brock’s anger. “I’m not sure?” “Well, that makes two of us.” The truck bounced over a rut in the road. Headlight beams cut through the night. Preston missed this stretch of dirt, the anticipation of coming home. Only tonight, he wasn’t coming home to Brock. “I know you don’t want to hear excuses.” Brock wouldn’t listen that night and didn’t appear to want to talk now. “But I’m sorry.” Preston stared at the glow from the homestead. He’d hated living in that house, feeling as if he didn’t contribute, that he didn’t have claim to be there. Now he wondered why he couldn’t have appreciated all he’d had.

The truck skidded to a halt. Dust billowed up from the tires. “I have to check on Avril.” Brock opened the door, slid out and slammed it closed before Preston could respond. Preston scrambled from the truck. “What’s wrong with Avril?” He caught up with Brock. “She’s foaling. She went into labor today.” Brock glanced to the pen. “Kenny must have her in the stables.” They strode toward the large outbuilding. “It’s actually Kenny you can thank that I went to the jail, and Zeb has a way of getting what he wants. Seems you still have a lot of friends around here.” “I won’t deny it feels good. But I’m hoping to earn back your friendship.” Preston followed

Brock into the barn. Familiar scents, familiar sounds. “God, it feels good to be home.” Brock paused. “Right now, just worry about earning a paycheck,” he mumbled as he made his way to the rear of the building. Lights were off in the large open barn except for a dim glow in the far corner. “How is she?” “Up and down.” Kenny moved out of the way. Brock knelt next to the horse and rested his palm on her muzzle. He ran his hand along her neck. “She’s warm.” Kenny shifted his gaze from the horse to Preston. “It’s good to see you.” He sidled out of the stall and pulled Preston into a tight hug, slapping Preston on the back a few times. Then

he stepped away. “We’ve all missed you.” He grinned. “Well, most of us. Some just won’t admit it.” “That’s enough, Kenny.” Brock continued to assess Avril’s progress. “Has her allantoic membrane ruptured?” Kenny crouched next to Brock. “Not yet. She was getting anxious and was kicking at her belly so I brought her in here.” Avril growled. “She’s contracting.” The horse’s abdomen tightened and her legs stiffened. Kenny shifted over. “Preston, you should be proud.” Preston throat tightened with emotions. Brock probably didn’t want to remember, but Preston’s stallion was responsible for the foal. Avril’s colt would be the last to carry on

Shiloh’s lineage. Shiloh had been beautiful. Dark brown mane and tail and a chocolate coat. Strong and skilled, Shiloh had been a great ranch horse, but he’d also been Preston’s mount. Six months ago he died of a brain aneurysm. Blood from the nose had been the first sign, but Brock had paid for an autopsy. Because Avril had conceived, they’d needed to be sure Shiloh’s death hadn’t been caused by something genetic. Kenny backed out of the stall. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asked Brock. “Sure, that’d be great.” Kenny raised an eyebrow at Preston. “You?” He nodded. “Thanks.”

Kenny left the barn and Preston leaned against the wood beam. Brock wiped down Avril’s flanks with a towel, comforted her with a loving stroke, then backed away. He sat in the fresh straw and leaned against the wall that separated one stall from the next. He bent his legs and rested his wrists on his knees. “If you’d rather I not be here, I can leave.” Brock glanced up and chuckled. “You’d leave?” Preston shifted his gaze to Avril. “I wouldn’t go far.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a peg outside the stall. “I’d be like the expectant father hanging outside the waiting room.” Preston entered the stall. “Want me to take your coat?”

“So what does that make me?” Brock stood and shrugged off his coat. Brock’s shirt, casually tucked into the waist of his worn jeans, molded to his muscular torso. Preston took the coat and hung it on a peg next to his. “I’d say you’re the momma, but you don’t like to admit you have a soft nurturing side.” Preston sat a couple feet away from Brock. “But that’s the only thing soft about you.” Brock laughed and shook his head. “You can’t help yourself.” “Me? I think you’re the one misinterpreting my words. What are you thinking about, Brock? I was referring to your attitude. You know you’re

a hard ass.” Brock took off his hat and tossed it at Preston. “Don’t make me regret bailing your ass out of jail.” “Believe me, that’s the last thing I want.” Preston set Brock’s hat to the side then took off his own. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry… about everything.” He leaned his head back and stared into space. “I was fucked up.” He shifted his gaze to Brock. “Maybe I’m still fucked up.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Once everything went to shit, I didn’t know how to fix me, didn’t know how to fix us.” “Not everything can be fixed.” Brock stretched out his legs. “Sometimes the choices we make

have consequences. Whether we want to or not, we have to live with those consequences.” “God, you’ve been hanging around Kenny for too long.” They both chuckled. Kenny had a way of analyzing every situation, looking for the silver lining on every storm cloud rolling in. Avril whinnied and tried to stand. Brock jumped to his feet and gently calmed the horse. “Easy girl, you’ll be a momma soon.” He whispered in soft tones, trying to soothe the animal. Avril’s eyes were large and she stomped her back feet a few times. After a few turns, she lay back down and panted. Sweat dampened her coat and her muscles quivered. Contractions tightened her belly. The barn door creaked as it opened. Kenny

brought two mugs, a carafe of coffee and a basket of food. “I brought the carafe in case it’s a long night.” Brock glanced up from wiping Avril’s face. “Thanks.” He noticed the two mugs. “Aren’t you staying?” Kenny shook his head. “I figure with Preston here you don’t need me. I’ll get some sleep. I’ll be back early to see the foal and take care of the ranch. You’ll need to sleep after being up all night.” Brock nodded. Preston stood. “I know I have you to thank for my being out here,” he said to Kenny. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.” Not just

the birth, but sharing the experience with Brock. “We’ll catch up over breakfast. I figured you’d get hungry and I doubt either one of you are going to leave the barn tonight.” He set the basket on the ground. “Call my cell if you need anything.” Kenny left. Brock poured coffee into the mugs and Preston peered into the basket. “Cold chicken, and apple or a brownie? Who’s been making brownies?” Brock handed Preston a mug of coffee. “We have brownies?” He looked into the basket. “Guess not much changes.” Brock handled the ranch but sucked at taking care of himself. Before Preston had left, he’d been the one to

make sure Brock took time to eat, didn’t give every waking hour to the ranch, but found time to laugh and play. Their play usually ended with getting naked. “Have you eaten today?” Preston handed Brock a brownie and took one for himself. “Not since breakfast.” Neither had Preston. This morning he’d been sleeping in the bed of his truck. What money he had, he needed for gas and food. Hell, he’d slept under the stars as often as he’d slept under a roof. Way he saw it, wasn’t much different than a hunting trip. But it was different. He didn’t have a home anymore… a home with Brock. Preston sat in the straw with Brock, in the dim

light, with the basket between them. After he ate the brownie, he plucked a piece of chicken from the bowl. “Are you disappointed things didn’t work out at the Thompson’s place?” Preston shrugged. “I don’t really want to be anywhere but here.” Brock was quiet a moment. Avril was still restless. Wind rattled the rafters and Preston toiled with the words he wanted to say. “Why’d you do it?” With his palms wrapped around the mug, Brock stared into his coffee. “I never fucked him.”

Brock glanced at Preston. “You cheated, Preston. I think about us, about how I was so stupid to think we had something special.” “We did. We do. I just lost sight of what’s important.” “No, we didn’t. I never wanted to fuck another man… that includes sucking dick. You must have wanted to get caught. Why else would you bring another man into our house?” “It’s your house. Your ranch. I guess I never saw it as ours.” “That makes what happened worse. You knew I’d be home. Did you think I’d get a beer and watch?”

A sharp, piercing ache lanced through Preston’s chest. Just like that night, the pain was still raw in Brock’s whiskey-colored eyes. Preston had wanted proof Brock cared. Now he had it, but the cost was the very thing Preston had wanted to prove. “Any explanation I give won’t make sense. At the time, I thought… ” What did he think? That he could prove Brock didn’t care as much about him as he cared about Brock? He’d needed to know he was important in Brock’s life and not just a ranch hand. “What? You thought—” Avril’s squeal cut through the tension. Brock scrambled to his knees. Preston shifted to check her hind end. “Her water ruptured.” Preston stood and stepped back. Most horses didn’t require help during the birth. Avril rocked on

her side. Almost immediately the foal began to emerge. For Preston, their conversation wasn’t forgotten, but it was time to focus on the mare. This was it. 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. Preston moaned, his feet dropped to the bed and his back bowed. “Fuck me.” Brock intended to. He pushed in deep, fucking Preston with slippery fingers. Hot smooth tissues contracted against the intrusion.

Because Brock’s actions had failed, he needed to give Preston words. He hadn’t shown Preston he was more than an employee, more than a partner working the ranch and sharing his bed. “This is my ass to fuck.” Brock now understood that Preston needed Brock’s possessiveness, to know that he more than mattered… he did. Brock had gone out of his mind seeing Preston give to someone else what belonged to him. This was to show Preston just how much he needed him. Banging his fingers hard into Preston, slamming deep, he scissored his fingers and stretched Preston. “Mine,” he said again with a grunt. “Then fuck me.” Preston’s chest rose and fell as

he gasped for breath. He licked his lips and dug his heels into the pallet and bucked against Brock’s fingers. “Please, I need your dick in my ass.” Brock pushed Preston’s knees into his chest. Grasping his cock at the base, he aligned his dick with Preston’s opening. “Say it again.” “Fuck me,” he said on a whispered breath. Brock fought the need to fuck him—fuck him hard—and force the words he needed to hear to spill from his mouth. Pushing forward slowly, Brock slipped the blunt crown of his cock into Preston. Preston jerked up and braced on his elbows. “Condom.”

Brock paused. “Do you want one?” “No, I don’t. But don’t you? I told you I wasn’t with anyone. And I believe you when you say you haven’t been with anyone else either.” He met Brock’s gaze. “Unlike what I’ve done to you, you’ve never lied to me.” “I trust you.” Brock released a shuddering breath and fed another inch of his cock into Preston’s ass. “I believe you.” A tear slipped from the corner of Preston’s eye. “You don’t have to cry.” Brock clenched his buttocks, gliding his dick deeper, feeling the pressure of the rings along his length, until he filled Preston. “You’re home, baby.” He buried

the length of his shaft, trapping his balls between them. Velvety warmth encased his cock, the smooth flexing inner walls of Preston’s ass contracted, caressing his dick. Oh God, and so am I. Preston’s thighs clung to Brock’s hips, and Brock rocked into Preston, driving his cock deeper. He stared into Preston’s jade green eyes as he reared back and slowly sank again. The room was dark, only the light of the moon falling across Preston’s face. His slightly parted lips curled with the pressure and thrust of Brock’s cock stuffing his ass. Brock lowered himself, crushing his chest to Preston’s. “You’re the only thing that matters,” Brock whispered.

Preston’s eyes closed and Brock kissed him. He filled his mouth with tongue as he drove his cock in and out of Preston’s ass. Hot, wet kisses and warm slippery thrusts. Preston’s fingers gripped Brock’s ass, kneading the firm flesh of his glutes. Brock nibbled on Preston’s lip then dipped in for another taste. He sucked, kissed, sweeping Preston’s mouth with his tongue. Then he thrust harder. Preston gasped. Brock kissed along his jaw. And he slammed deep. He kissed his neck, suckled the pulse point in

Preston’s flesh. And pounded Preston’s ass. He rammed his cock in and out of Preston… just the way Preston liked to be fucked. Preston needed hard cock and tender touches. Brock gave him everything… including his love. In truth, Preston had Brock’s heart long before tonight. Preston’s body tensed, his cock trapped between the sweat-slickened muscles of their stomachs. Brock moved against Preston, the friction of their bodies radiating into him as he drilled into Preston hard and fast. His muscles burned. Moisture trickled down his spine and his heart pounded. Heat pooled in his balls and his cock stretched, his nuts tightening. Preston gasped, grunted and his head thrashed

on the mattress. He pulled on his legs, rolling his hips. Brock plunged deeper. Driven by need, by lust and by love, he hammered into Preston. Bracing his hands on Preston’s thighs, he reared up onto his knees, angled his thrusts and fucked. Skin slapped skin. Brock growled and raced toward release. “Just like that. Oh yeah, you know how to fuck me. Make me come, cowboy.” With one hand Preston fisted the blanket, and with the other, he gripped his cock and furiously stroked the hard length. Every muscle taut, his stomach clenched and rippled, and he shot. Ropes of white cum spewed from Preston’s cock and splashed his chest. He groaned, gnashed his teeth and rode the wave. Contraction ripped through his body.

And Brock fucked him harder. “Ah, fuck.” Brock pulled his cock from Preston’s ass and gripped the shaft. He stroked the length, the crown, fucking through his fisted fingers. “Coming.” He hissed, fire licking his balls and pleasure streaking down his spine. And then he was there, crashing into orgasm. In violent waves, he came. Jism erupted from his cockhead. Pulse after pulse of hot spray pumped through his shaft, coating Preston’s chest. Brock milked his cock with fierce strokes, marking his man. Preston leaned up. As Brock held his cock, Preston licked cream trickling from the slit in Brock’s cock. “I beat off and taste my own cum just to remember the taste of yours.” He slicked

his fingers through the cum crisscrossing his chest. “I missed you… missed us.” Locking gazes, he touched his tongue to his finger. Brock panted, dragging oxygen into his lungs. He sat on his haunches, inhaled and released a heavy exhale. His pulse slowed, yet still pounded against his ribs. He leaned into Preston. The familiar sounds of the barn cocooned them in an intimate moment, heavy with emotion. “I missed us, too.” He licked one of Preston’s fingers, then kissed Preston’s mouth. Passion still simmered between them. “Good, because I’m not through with you.” Preston fell to his back, taking Brock with him. Brock laughed, sprawled on top of Preston. He rolled to his side. “As much as I love being in

the barn, I want you back in our bed.” He used the edge of the blanket to wipe cum from Preston’s chest, then he wiped his own. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since you left.” “Gotta be better than sleeping in a truck.” Brock shrugged. “Believe me, this air mattress is a step up from a hard truck bed.” Brock traced circles on Preston’s stomach. “I’m sorry the last two months were so hard on you.” Even longer than two months if he considered Preston’s history. “I’m not complaining.” Preston covered his hand. “I take responsibility for my actions. I

fucked up.” “We’re both culpable. But I don’t want to think about that night. I love you, Preston. I have for years, I’m only sorry that I didn’t show you how much.” He grinned. “And I’m not talking about sex.” But that didn’t stop him from grazing his fingers over the already swelling shaft of Preston’s cock. “The sex has always been pretty fucking incredible.” He widened his legs. “But I missed more than you’re cock. I missed working with you, late night poker games with the guys, a beer and burger on the deck, watching the sunset. And I miss riding with you. I promise, Brock, I’m right where I want to be.” Brock stroked Preston’s dick to full arousal.

Avril whinnied from her stall. “Speaking of riding, I want you to have the foal. I know she won’t replace Shiloh.” Preston leaned up. “Are you sure?” After Shiloh’s death, Brock had always planned to give the foal to Preston. He’d never questioned whether Preston belonged on the ranch. Assuming Preston understood that he was part of the tapestry of the land had been Brock’s mistake. He wasn’t going to let those assumptions come between them again. “I’m sure about us.” He kissed Preston. “I need you,” he said with his lips lingering against Preston’s. “Will you let me fuck you?” They’d been lovers, giving and taking. As much as Brock

loved to fuck, he also ached for the pressure of Preston’s cock sliding into him. Brock leaned over and closed his mouth over Preston’s cock. He’d had to swallow his pride, forgive and understand. Preston had to trust in Brock and trust in himself. They’d both hurt, both bucked against being vulnerable. They’d fought… and now they could love. Brock never thought he’d have his cowboy again. Never thought he’d be the cowboy tamed. He was. The End

Demanding Romance www.DemandingRomance.com

If you enjoyed Cowboy Tamed by Taylor McKay, we suggest:

Rough Rider By Taylor McKay COPYRIGHT 2010 by Taylor McKay

www.DemandingRomance.com Only the climax of sex rivals the climax of bull riding. But Rand Mata isn’t interested in buckle bunnies. He’d rather rope and tie up a cowboy. Rand won’t be satisfied with anyone less than a sub, one that likes to fight back before he gives in. Fallon O’Shea has a soft voice and a beautiful

face. He wants a wild cowboy to rein him in—a rough rider. But Rand isn’t sure Fallon knows what he’s asking for. Rand wants to dominate Fallon, wants to give him more than an eight second ride, but sometimes wanting can be dangerous. Excerpt: This was Rand Mata’s favorite part of the PBR rodeo. The heavy scent of bull and straw. The mounting excitement of the spectators. They could feel the anticipation. The bulls grew restless and so did Rand. He lingered near the pens. Earlier in the day, he’d drawn Tornado— more than a ton of pissed off animal. Tonight was the semifinals and he was eight seconds of hard rough ride away from money in the bank. Another step closer to the finals.

Rand rested a booted foot on the lower rung of the fence, slipped his can of Skoal from his back pocket and pinched a dip. Several deep breaths did little to tamp down the anticipation of his ride. He stared at Tornado. Huge, thick and solid. The big spotted black beast had piercing black eyes. Drool dripped from his mouth. Rand had been busted up by lesser bulls. He’d broken his nose three times, both arms, left leg and cracked more ribs than he could count. But tonight was his night. He could feel it in his bones—one particular bone. Fuck, he had a hard-on in his jeans. Later tonight when only the climax of sex could rival the climax of riding, he’d have to fuck his fist. He could have his choice of buckle bunnies, but Rand would rather rope and tie up a cowboy.

Not tonight, not after he left his troubles— trouble in the form of one hard-headed bastard —back in Nevada. Yeah, he’d felt just as used and just as ridden as Tornado and the other bulls. That was why he’d rejoined the circuit. Up until now trouble hadn’t followed him, and if he was smart he’d avoid future incidents by leaving tight-assed, hard-cocked cowboys alone. Like him, they got off on adrenaline. Rand liked to take the reins… he needed control. Rand and his ex-bastard had played hard, fucked hard… and fought hard. They’d needed a few hundred miles between them. Rand intended to keep the distance permanent. He wasn’t going back home to Reno. Rather looking for a new post to hang his hat. “Do you mind?” A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

Rand tipped back his black Stetson and squinted into the setting sun. The silhouetted man stood a few feet away. A strap wrapped around his neck and he held a camera with a long lens, indicating he wanted to take Rand’s picture. Rand cocked an eyebrow and gave a nod. He spit on the ground and angled his face in profile to hide his dip. “Thanks.” The man lifted the camera to his eye and focused the lens. “No problem.” “Fallon O’Shea. I’m shooting for the Examiner.” There was always print and television press at the PBR events. Rand was used to the attention, but not the shiver of awareness skittering down

his spine. All day he’d been riding the edge of arousal. The soft voice and pretty boy face had heat surging into his dick. The uncomfortable tightness in his groin had his balls twitching. He shifted his stance and a low groan rolled from his chest. Damn, he needed to get laid. “This’ll make a great shot.” A pony tail cinched Fallon’s reddish brown hair at his nape. Loose strands fluttered in the autumn breeze from the south. The camera clicked several times. “I usually offer copies to the riders if you’re interested.” They always did. But Rand wasn’t interested in pictures and he couldn’t be interested in anything else with the green-eyed Irishman. But he said, “Yeah, sure.” Anything to get the man to move on. Distractions, good looking, hot as

fuck distractions were better utilized after his ride, not before. However, in this case, Rand didn’t want entanglements of any kind. Tomorrow he’d have his rigging bag in the back of his truck and be on his way to Vegas for the finals. “I’ll be sure to get several shots of your ride.” “Great.” Fallon smiled and Rand tightened his hands on the fence rail. Fallon dropped his camera to his chest and slipped the sunglasses resting on top of his head over his eyes. “Nothing more… intense… than a cowboy getting a rough ride.”

~ Also available from Demanding Romance ~

Boys In Blue By AJ Hardcourt COPYRIGHT 2011 by AJ Hardcourt

www.DemandingRomance.com Adrian O’Rourke is the new rookie in the Boston PD. Tonight he’s buying rounds and bonding with his fellow boys in blue. The only officer Adrian wants to bond with is Owen Murphy. However, Owen and Adrian have history. Will memories of the past stand between them or will Owen take Adrian as his partner… in and

out of the uniform? Excerpt: “What the fuck are you doing?” Owen leaned against the door, his hands balled into fists at his side. Should Adrian apologize? Pretend ignorance? “Drinking, celebrating. Buying all my friends a beer. Come on, let me buy you another one.” He took a step toward the door. “I could use another round myself.” “I think you’ve had enough.” “I think I can make that decision on my own.” Owen continued to block the door. “Fuck you, Owen.” He didn’t want to be taken care of. He

needed Owen to see him as a man, one of the guys on the beat—or nothing. He had to step out of Danny’s shadow. At work and in life. “I’m not Danny’s little brother anymore. You don’t need to babysit me.” “Is that what you think I want?” Owen pushed Adrian against a stack of crates closing the space between them. “You’ll always be Danny’s little brother, but believe me I’m not looking to babysit you.” Adrian inhaled sharply. Owen’s breath, carrying the sweet scent of Irish whiskey, warmed Adrian’s lips. Owen braced his palms flat against the crate, framing Adrian within the circumference of his arms. “I don’t know what you want.”

Owen growled. “Aside from what I’ve always wanted?” “And what would that be?” “Christ Adrian, I was always so scared Danny would see through me. If he knew my thoughts, knew what I wanted to do to his little brother he would have kicked my ass.” “What do you want to do because if you’re about to kiss me, god, please don’t make me wait.” He hesitantly rested his hands on Owen’s hips. The moment was heavy, poignant for both of them. Adrian could barely breathe as he waited for Owen to say… to do something… anything.

“I’ve been waiting for you, hoping you felt the same. The way you’ve spoken to me tonight. The way you look at me. Fuck, do you know what you do to me?” He rocked his pelvis into Adrian’s. His cock was hard, stretching the denim of his jeans. “I need you, but I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want.” Adrian stared hard at Owen. All the years of longing, of pining for this man. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Owen took a breath to speak, but Adrian cut him off. “Never mind. I don’t care why.” He crashed his lips onto Owen’s. He kept his eyes open—couldn’t look away, could risk missing a moment of the rapture on Owen’s face—as he guided his mouth over Owen’s, tasting the seam, wanting inside. Owen parted

his lips and Adrian dipped in for the first delicious taste. Lips sealed to lips, sending a shiver of awareness, hotter than lightning, streaking down Adrian’s spine, searing a trail into his balls and warming him from cock to buttocks. He shifted his head, opened wider and claimed Owen’s mouth. Tongue rubbed along tongue. Hot. Wet. Passionate. Owen groaned and at the same time, gripped Adrian’s ass and urged him closer, grinding his cock into Adrian’s rigid erection already leaking pre-cum. Owen’s body was hard beneath Adrian’s fingertips as he navigated his way to Owen’s ass. Hands were everywhere, stroking, gripping, trying to get closer. Adrian slipped his fingers under Owen’s shirt at his lower back and into

the waistband of Owen’s jeans, trekking his fingertips over the curve of Owen’s ass. Owen growled, pivoted and pinned Adrian to the wall. “I’ve wanted this… wanted you for so long.” With a slow gyration, he swiveled his hips and created an intense erotic friction between their bodies. Adrian buried his nose against Owen’s flesh, nuzzling him just beneath his ear. The tease of his cologne, the masculine scent of his flesh, left him dizzy with desire. Desire to kiss and touch where they had more privacy. He flicked his tongue against Owen’s neck. “I need you now,” he pleaded. “Does the door lock?” He wedged his hand between them and traced the edge of Owen’s erection, grazing the rounded head through his jeans with his fingertips.

Owen rested his forehead against Adrian’s. Noses touching long the sides. The moment was intimate, promising a deeper connection. “I remember the day Danny introduced us.” “So do I.” As if it were yesterday. Danny had brought Owen to a family barbecue for the Fourth of July. That night, watching the fireworks, Danny and Julie had kissed as they sat on a blanket. Owen had stared into the sky… and Adrian had stared at Owen. “You’d just come in from playing basketball with friends. Your shorts hung on your hips.” Owen braced his hands on Adrian’s hips. “You weren’t wearing a shirt. Sweat slicked your chest.” He tugged on the hem of Adrian’s shirt. Adrian lifted his arms and Owen stripped it off.

“I watched a drop. Wanted to trace it with my tongue.” He trailed a finger around Adrian’s nipple. Adrian shivered and his stomach clenched. “You were so young.” He palmed Owen’s cock. “Old enough to know then that I was attracted to you.” A smile played over his mouth remembering how hard his cock had been, and how he’d been so scared that someone would notice. That someone would figure out he was into guys. He’d been in high school. Maybe he had been too young then. He wasn’t now. Adrian tugged on the snap of Owen’s jeans, peeled opened the denim and slipped his hand into the front, cupping the warm, swollen length of Owen’s cock.

“Oh, yes,” Owen said on a breath, covered Adrian’s hand with his own, and pressed hard into his palm. Their lips met again as Adrian worked his fingers into the front of Owen’s tight sexy underwear. The kisses were divine. Tongues, lips, teeth. Adrian sucked and nibbled, eating at Owen’s mouth. Finally he had Owen’s hard heated shaft in his palm, his fingers curling around the girth. Pre-cum moistened the crown. With a gentle touch, Adrian traced the flared rim and followed the thick pulsing vein running the underside. Adrian inched back. “I’m about to commit a lewd act in public.” He smiled as he slowly dropped to his knees.