Laird's Choice (5 page)

Clearing his throat, he re-coiled the hose, strapped it to the handle it was kept on, then returned to fill the bins. He would wait until the animals ate before letting them free to roam the corral.

Soon he could hear muffled voices and knew

Winston and Laird were up. His heart did a strange little lurch. Still, he continued what he was doing by grabbing his tools and kneeling in the dirt to replace a fence post.

"Morning."

Race glanced up, using his fingers to block the sun.

"Mornin'."

"I brought you some coffee."

Race pushed away from his work and peeled off his gloves to level his eyes on Laird. The sunlight only heightened the man's good looks.

The two stood in silence—Race with his back

against the corral and Laird with his elbows against it. It was a strange quiet Race wasn't used to. He was still trying to wrap his mind around being free. This, silence, was new to him because for so long in prison he couldn't hear himself think. There was always noise: guards yelling, prisoners screaming, riots boiling. There was always something to keep his attention off thinking and just on surviving.

"You know, we're going to have to talk about it,"

Laird finally said.

Race took a drag from his coffee and turned his

head to look at the real estate agent beside him. He said nothing, simply eased further back against the wood fencing and pushed his hat down over his eyes.

"Race, say something. Don't make me feel like a complete slut for throwing myself at you or something."

Race laughed then and received a fist to the arm for his troubles. Laird stalked off toward the house and Race ran after him. "Laird!" he called. "Laird, wait. Come on now!"

"Ass!"

"Laird!" Race grabbed his arm and ran to stand before him. "What did you expect my reaction would be to that statement? Come on! Cut a guy some slack. That was funny."

Laird only glared at him, and Race fought to keep a straight face. He may not have dated in a while but he never forgot—laughing would be the absolute wrong thing to do in this situation. He brushed a strand of hair from Laird's face, searching the man's clear green eyes for a moment before stepping in closer. "You're not a slut, Laird.

And you didn't throw yourself at me. You make it seem like I wasn't right there with you. I was as turned on as you if not more—so this isn't all on you."

Still Laird said nothing.

"Damn it, Laird."

Laird pushed his hand away and stepped around

him. "I have to go look up some properties for you." With that said, he disappeared into the house. Race removed his hat and dragged his fingers through his hair before slamming the hat back to his head and storming into the house.

"Hey, Race, Laird just…" Winston started.

"Not now!"

"Race! What's going on?"

"Not now, Winston!"

Race stalked through the house, down the hall and knocked on Laird's door. When no answer came, he turned the knob and stepped in, closing the door behind him. He removed his hat, tossed it on a nearby chair, and rested his back on the door. Laird was seated at the desk with his laptop open.

"Are we going to do this every time?" Race questioned.

"No," Laird replied, without looking up. "There won't be an every time."

"I see."

Walking across the room, he gripped the back of

Laird's chair, spinning him around. When their eyes met, he could tell Laird was mad. Smiling, he inched the chair back until it crashed into the desk. He leaned in then, trapping Laird between the chair, desk, and his body. Laird grabbed his shoulders but Race allowed his eyes to drift shut as he inhaled Laird's scent, memorizing it, allowing it to captivate him. He bowed his head to Laird's neck, licking the warm flesh, savoring the taste. He left his hands where they were, against the arms of the chair for he knew should he touch Laird he wouldn't be able to stop himself. He remembered the night before and that if they hadn't been so rudely interrupted, he would have gone further. Dragging his tongue up the side of Laird's neck, he dropped a kiss on the spot just beneath Laird's ear. A sigh left Laird's lips and Race took that as the sign he needed to pull Laird's earlobe between his teeth.

"You have to stop," Laird whispered.

"Why is that?"

"Because like you; I have my secrets."

"You have a mole I need to know about?"

Laird chuckled. "No moles—that I know of, and if I have, no one has said anything over the years."

"Then don't worry about it."

Snaking his tongue over the ear, he let a kiss fall at the side of Laird's face before moving his mouth down to hover above Laird's lips. He brushed Laird's mouth, caressing it with his own. When Laird's arms went up around him, Race sighed and shifted his head. But soon Laird's fingers were tangled in his hair and pulling his mouth down. When their lips finally fused, a growl erupted from Race's chest, making his knees weak and sending fire surging through his veins. He feasted on Laird's mouth, drawing Laird's tongue in then shoving his own into Laird's mouth. His breath left him quickly now, his heart racing and cock pulsing. He couldn't take a breath for fear of exploding and all he could do was suck on Laird's tongue and lips as if his life depended on it.

* * * *

happening between them. His cock, heart, and soul took over, causing him to tug Race's head back using the cowboy's hair and gripping the front of his shirt where the buttons fused through the holes. Locking gazes with Race, Laird curled his finger over the attached button then deliberately, slowly, pulled. One button flew off catching him in the chest before his hand fell down to the next. Then one by one, each button snapped and landed somewhere around them. Laird didn't release Race from his stare even as he pushed the shirt down Race's arms, released his hair and wrapped his hand around Race's back, pressing the palm to the cowboy's back. Licking his lips, Laird finally looked down to Race's chest and saw precisely what he wanted. Both the cowboy's now hardened nipples were pierced and wearing silver. He licked his lips, grabbed Race's shoulder, and pushed slightly.

Rising slowly, he took in Race's body, noting the necklace around his muscular neck; it was a black string with a shark's tooth and the letter S as the pendants.

Looking downward, his eyes fell to the tattoos decorating Race's chest and arm. On the left side was a tattoo of a very pissed off tiger, and on his arm was a strange looking tribal tattoo. Moaning in rabid satisfaction, Laird wrapped his arms around Race's hips, hunched down slightly, and pulled the first bud into his mouth. Race hissed. Laird swirled his tongue over the nipple, hooking his teeth into the silver piece of jewelry and pulling slightly.

"Shit!" Race growled, tugging on Laird's hair. "Pull it harder!"

Laird did as he was ordered and Race shivered

beneath his body. Releasing the small, silver bar, he sucked the abused nipple while lifting his hand to the other and pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. His free hand was yanking at the button on the front of Race's pants. Race pushed him away and backed up. Laird growled and

attacked. He moved swiftly across the space, wrapping his arm around the back of Race's neck to take his lips. Race smirked and tried shoving him away again and together they sailed across the room and crashed into the dresser. A bottle of cologne slipped off and smashed to the floor.

Laird didn't so much as look down. They were moving again as Race struggled with him. Once more they crashed into the dresser and the other bottles there rattled. They spun around until Laird was against the dresser, pinching one of Race's nipples harder and harder.

Race's head fell backward, hair spilling beautifully over his back, but Laird didn't let him stay like that too long before the nipple was bathed by Laird's tongue again.

"Damn," Race swore, burying his fingers into Laird's hair and pushing his nipple deeper into Laird's mouth. "So damn good…"

"Was this what you wanted?" Laird asked then grazed the nipple with his teeth. "Is this how you like it, Race?"

Race grunted and slipped away from Laird. He

backed across the room, fire blazing in his eyes. Laird unbuttoned his shirt and shoved it from his shoulders. He trailed a hand over his chest and rippled abs then sank his fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. He saw Race's body change and knew the cowboy liked what he was seeing. Ever so slowly, he undid his belt then the button and pulled the zipper down. With his pants and boxers around his ankles he stepped away, pulled his arousal in a tight fist, and jerked himself slowly.

"Laird?" Winston hollered from the other side of the door.

"Go away!" Race replied, eyeing Laird's cock like his next meal.

"Is everything okay?" Winston called instead.

"I swear, Winston," Laird called. "Go away!"

There was a soft chuckle from the other side of the door before it seemed Winston left. Laird went back to taking great pleasure in watching Race's eyes change colors until the cowboy let his head fall and his hair spilled into his face. Laird moaned and let his own head fall back and his eyes drift closed. That was when Race made his move.

He was behind Laird, with one hand around Laird's hip and the other hand against Laird's back guiding him to the bed.

Once there, Laird felt himself fall forward, bouncing slightly on the bed before Race's hands were clawing at his cheeks and pulling them apart. Laird struggled to get away but couldn't before Race's long, wet tongue snaked between his cheeks and impaled him.

"Fuck!" he swore, reaching back and clutching the back of Race's head. He pushed down. "Yes!" In his pleasure, he slammed his fist into the bed then pushed upward to his knees. Race simply shoved against his ass and dove in to feed from his hole again. Laird felt it the moment his eyes rolled back into his head and his body shook violently under the delicious assault. Every slide of Race's tongue drove him farther and farther to the edge.

The idea Race hadn't freaked out with his roughness but had simply played around tore at his very core, and he pressed his eyes shut. He whimpered, clutching the sheets in both fists, and rode back against Race's tongue.

"Are you going to come for me, Laird?" Race asked, his voice a low, husky drawl.

Laird couldn't reply; he couldn't think.

"Come on, Laird," Race baited. "Speechless are we?"

Laird was too far gone to say much. All he could do was lay there, twitching, moaning, trying to think. A long, thick finger slid into him.

"Race…" he pleaded helplessly before his toes curled.

His body went stiff, and then suddenly he was

trembling. He had no power to open his eyes. His mouth opened in a silent O before his cock pulsated and erupted against the bed beneath him. His orgasm was so good it was almost painful. He rode it out, with Race's finger deep within him.

"Shit… damn, Race!" He finally found his voice before pressing his face into the bed. Race slipped from him, caressing up his back before he felt Race's weight laying atop him, pressing him sweetly into the bed. Laird moaned, accepting Race's kisses against the back of his neck and the side of his head.

"See, Laird? It's not that I don't want you. I can't seem to control myself around you. Like I said last night—

we have to take this slow, because once you find out what I've done, you'll never be able to forgive me."

"That's a way to throw cold water on a buzz," Laird moaned. "Why don't you stop saying that and tell me what happened."

"Because I need the perfect words."

"No, Race," Laird replied, rolling over. He turned his head in time to watch Race fall on his back to the bed beside him. "You don't need the perfect words—just the truth."

Their eyes met again and Race inhaled. Laird closed his eyes, pressing his face shamelessly into the cowboy's hand as Race reached up to caress his cheek and dragged a thumb over Laird's lips. "Always the truth, Laird." Race's voice hitched as he said his name. Opening his eyes, Laird bowed his head and kissed Race's bare shoulder.

"So tell me…"

"I—ah… can't."

Laird sighed. "You know, guys always say stuff like that—trying to be ominous. Then when they finally reveal what they were hiding it's not that horrid at all."

A sad smile traced Race's succulent lips—the same lips that had just done so many wonderful things to Laird's body. "Trust me, Laird. This is horrid. But I know your secret."

"You do?"

"You like it rough… rough in ways you think I don't understand and will never accept. Am I right?"

Laird bowed his head, feeling the wind fall from his sails.

"And I think if you could, you would have bitten me. I think I'd let you try."

Laird thought about it, and the idea of sinking his teeth into Race turned him on again. His aroused cockhead brushed the sheet and he groaned.

Laird sat on the windowsill and watched Race as he looked around the home. For a moment, he disappeared into another room and Laird tilted his head trying to catch a glimpse of the cowboy. But all he heard were footsteps.

Smiling, he turned and looked out the window at the rolling waters of the ocean off in the distance. He could hear the water crashing into the rocks, and periodically a seagull would screech. Other than that, it was quiet, peaceful; precisely what Race had asked for.

"This is perfect," Race's voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked around to see Race leaning against the doorframe of the living room. "After all the searching, I think this one is perfect."

"Do you want to put in an offer?"

Race smiled, walked over to him, and leaned over.

Laird closed his eyes and helplessly offered up his lips. A sigh escaped as Race skillfully kissed him until his mind screamed with pleasure and his body trembled. He pulled his mouth away only for air but when he opened his eyes, Race was looking at him in that way that made his heart swell and his cock jerk with excitement.

"Race, no," he protested, half-heartedly. "Another agent could be coming in to show the place!"