McLeod, Anitra Lynn - Dirty Cowboy (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) (5 page)

Everett scrubbed and rubbed and rinsed. He couldn’t believe how much more human he felt after a good bath. Sort of like he was reborn. He was trying to remember the last time he’d washed up somewhere other than outdoors. And then he remembered. Just as quickly, he pushed the memory away. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t think about his childhood or his father ever again. Keeping that deal with himself had been surprisingly easy. His father was a worthless cardsharp and floozy magnet. What he’d given Everett couldn’t rightly be called a home. It was just a rented room over a saloon. Still, it hurt like a son of a bitch when his father up and left him when Everett was just barely thirteen. A decade later and the pain still lingered. No wonder he and Dalton had connected so fast and furious—they both had a deep-seated fear of being left behind.

No matter how much he told himself that Dalton wasn’t going anywhere, Everett couldn’t resist climbing out of the water just to make sure. Dripping and chilled by the light breeze that had picked up, Everett made his way to the edge of the trees.

Dalton was hunkered down, feeding sticks into the fire while two pots simmered. Everett ducked back into the water before Dalton saw him.

Damn. That was the problem with change. Good for one thing usually meant bad for another. It was good that he’d finally found what he’d been looking for all his life. Problem was, now that he had Dalton, he was terrified of losing him.

Instinctively, he knew that if he tried to tie the man down and make him stay, he
would
lose him. Sure, Dalton had gripped up on him the way a burr clings to a pant leg, but that didn’t soothe Everett’s fears.

Every good thing he’d ever had vanished. Good jobs, good places to stay, good friends—poof! Gone like money in a saloon. Just once he wanted something he could call his own. Something permanent. Something that he could treasure until the day he died. What he needed was the one thing he’d never done. He needed to put down roots. If he wanted Dalton to stay with him, he had to find them a place to stay together.

Realizing he was as clean as he was ever going to be, Everett climbed out of the spring and swaddled the blanket around his dripping body. He wrung the water from his duds, hung them up to dry, wrapped the soap in his now clean kerchief, then ambled back to camp.

“Sit.” Dalton pointed to crate he’d settled by the fire. He took the soap-wrapped bandana from Everett’s still-dripping hand.

Feeling spoiled, Everett settled on the makeshift chair. He grinned when he saw Dalton testing one of the pots of water.

“Your face hurt?” After getting a handful of his stubble, Everett had no doubt that the redness on Dalton’s face was the fault of his rough beard.

“A bit.” Dalton smiled at him. “I thought if you were going to clean up, we should get you all the way there.”

With the delicate touch of an experienced barber, Dalton shaved him. Usually when he indulged himself with a paid shave, he was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but with Dalton, he was utterly relaxed. The feel of his soapy fingers and the slick whisking of the blade was almost sensual. Dalton took his time, stroking over his neck, his cheeks, and even that notch right below his nose. If he noticed the scar under his chin, he didn’t ask after its cause, which Everett was glad for. He didn’t want to tell that story to him.

When Dalton finished, he used the kerchief to wipe up the last of the lather, and then he leaned over and kissed him.

“Better?” Everett asked.

“Much.” Dalton kissed him again. And again.

In short order, they discarded the shaving equipment and ended up with Everett leaning against the wagon and Dalton pressing close.

When Dalton yanked away the blanket, Everett asked, “What about supper?” His nose twitched, and his belly rumbled. Whatever Dalton had made smelled better than anything he’d ever thrown together. On the other hand, having Dalton’s hands all over his face had stiffened his prick. Between his hunger for food and his craving for sex, Everett couldn’t decide which need was more pressing.

“It’ll keep for a minute.” Dalton palmed Everett’s prick.

“A minute? Is that all this is gonna take?”

“Probably.” Dalton dropped to his knees and took Everett’s cock into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue was a shocking contrast to the cool night air.

“Whoa, slow down.”

Firelight flickered over Dalton’s hair as his head bobbed, but rather than easing up, he tugged more firmly along Everett’s cock with his mouth. When he lifted his hands, encompassing Everett’s shaft and balls, Everett couldn’t even breathe the orgasm rose up so swiftly.

“I—my God!” Before he even knew what hit him, he climaxed good, hard, and long. So stunned was he that Everett couldn’t even move. He sagged heavily against the wagon.

When Everett looked down, Dalton met his gaze. While looking him right in the eye, Dalton did something with his tongue, a flicking motion, that caused one last twitch that milked him dry.

Dalton pulled back, releasing Everett’s now-spent cock with a
pop
. He stood and then kissed him.

Damn if he wasn’t right. The whole thing from start to finish had probably taken less than a minute.

“I’ve never had a better meal.” Everett nestled into the makeshift bedroll next to Dalton. It was the first time he’d ever slept naked. “Stew, biscuits, and where did you learn to make coffee like that?”

Dalton shrugged.

Playing was fine, but Everett was getting worried that any personal type questions he asked got shuffled off or flat-out ignored. He wasn’t sure if Dalton was hiding something or if he was ashamed.

“Did they hurt you before they left you?” He hadn’t seen a mark on him, but some hurts didn’t leave marks.

Rather than answer, Dalton pushed him on his back.

“Whoa, no, not again.” As much as he wanted to let this go right where it was bound to go, he knew he wouldn’t feel right without a bit of jawing. “I want to talk to you.”

With a huff of disappointment, Dalton rolled over onto his back. “Why can’t we talk tomorrow?”

Everett couldn’t think of one good reason except his gut was telling him something wasn’t right. And if he didn’t figure out what was going on, he was going to either inadvertently hurt Dalton, or get hurt himself.

“Tell me about yourself. Doesn’t have to be how you ended up here, just—something. Anything.”

Beyond the canvas walls of the wagon, the fire was banked down low, mostly just coals now. There wasn’t hardly any light but what little bit of moonglow slipped through the clouds. All Everett could really see was the glittering of Dalton’s eyes, and the movement of his mouth. Everett could only see his lips because Dalton kept licking them, making them wet and shiny in the dark. Distracting as hell, but Everett was determined to set his gut, and his mind, to rest. Only a man with something to hide, or something he was deeply ashamed about, keep so damn tight about himself.

“Just tell me what you want me to say and I’ll say it.” Dalton kept his gaze pinned to the arched roof above them.

“I don’t want you to say nothing but the truth.” Everett traced his fingers up and down the length of Dalton’s arm. The more closed-lipped Dalton was, the more vocal Everett’s inner voice wanted to be. “What’s in your past that’s so all fire horrible?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember much of anything before I woke up and saw you.”

Damn. Everett felt like a complete clod. He’d heard of folks being hit so hard the blow knocked the memory right out of their heads. No wonder Dalton wasn’t talking. He wasn’t hiding anything. He just didn’t remember. Everett’s inner voice promptly rolled over and went to sleep.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry.” He pulled Dalton onto his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me that? I was all worried you were a bandit. Or something worse.”

Dalton laughed.

“And now you’re laughing at me.”

“Only because you’re funny.” Dalton leaned up. “Look at me. Do I look like a bandit?”

“No.” Cupping his chin, Everett turned his face this way and that as if examining him. “You look more like one those fine, upstanding city folk.”

“But I’m lying down.”

It was Everett’s turn to laugh. “You got a way with twisting my words around with your tongue.”

“I’m good with my mouth.” Dalton leaned in close.

“That you are.” Just thinking about what he’d done to him, twice, had Everett’s heart racing and his dick standing at attention.

“I could do that again.”

“How about I do unto you?” Easing him back, Everett resisted the urge to go fast and furious like they had every time so far. He felt badly for doubting Dalton. Maybe his not remembering might be for the best. A man couldn’t hurt over a wrong he didn’t know had been done to him.

Dalton relaxed under Everett’s gently exploring hands.

“You have the softest skin.” Everett kissed his shoulder then worked his way up to Dalton’s ear. Pulling the lobe into his mouth, he let go with a sigh. “And I swear you taste sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Yeah. Not like sugar, but like...air. The way the air tastes in spring. Fresh, and a little warm, with a hint of heat to come.” That was what sparked him so hot about this man. There was fire in him. Even naked, Dalton looked city slick, but inside he was primitive, like the full-blown heat of summer.

“Do you like when the wind blows?” Dalton’s voice was very soft, almost as soft as his skin, and quiet, like the first few drops of a storm.

It was a curious question, but the way Dalton asked, the answer seemed deadly important to him. Everett kissed his neck while teasing his fingers around the very edge of his nipple without touching the most sensitive center.

“I like it when the wind blows.” Everett lifted his finger and lowered it to a fraction above one straining nipple. “Today the wind cooled the sweat on my brow.”

Dalton held his breath, waiting for contact. After a long time, Everett lowered his finger to his now sensitized nipple. Dalton gave a little jump, as if he’d been shocked, then he sighed and chuckled.

“When I first saw you across the fire, I thought you would be rough and dirty, almost cruel in your passion.” Dalton lifted his hands above his head in a show of submission. “But you’re not.”

“No?” Everett licked his way around and around his nipple, upping the torment. “I think looks can be deceiving. I want to be all those things, but I’m holding back.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Everett had a feeling that Dalton had been hurt more than most men could bear. There was just something…fragile about him. Not feminine, because he wasn’t that at all, just something brittle. A good punch wouldn’t knock him down, but a harsh word, a cruel act—those would kill something that was just starting to grow. For about the first time ever, Everett wanted to protect someone other than himself. “I swear, I would kill anyone who tried to hurt you.”

“You would?” Dalton lifted his hands higher above his head.

“I would.” With lips, teeth, and tongue, Everett teased every inch of Dalton’s flesh, but for the one place he most wanted to go, the one place Dalton most wanted him to go. Avoiding his cock had Dalton thrashing side to side and moaning up a storm.

“I thought you didn’t want to hurt me?” Dalton asked.

“I ain’t. There’s a huge difference between driving a man to the edge of frustration and hurting him.”

“My cock is so hard right now it’s starting to hurt.”

“Yeah?” Everett chuckled against Dalton’s taut belly. “That’s just where I want you.” He looked up, but all he could see was a vague outline of Dalton’s hands above his head and his face tilted low. “All desperate and hungry and willing to do just about anything I say.”