Page 19 of Cabins Cows Critics
“So that’s a no to the killer animals then?” I ask, digging the toe of Wendy’s Ugg boot into the dirt.
“Out here, you’re pretty safe, just don’t go climbing any fences. Brutus is quicker than he looks,” he says with a relaxed grin.
“Brutus?”
“The big bull in pen two. Actually, best to steer clear of all the bull pens. The cows are sweethearts, but those boys will wreck you.”
I’d like to wreck him, I think, my cock thickening a little.
“So why are you out here anyway?” he asks, leaning on the doorframe, his gaze sweeping over me before his lips pick up on one side in a sort of smirk. Did this guy just check me out? No. No way is cutie cowboy interested in my skinny ass. I try not to laugh at the ridiculousness of that idea as I turn and gaze up at the sky.
“Wen snores,” I reply, and he chuckles.
“You two don’t live together then?”
I snap my attention back to him.
“Do you mean Wen and me?”
He nods.
“Hell, no. I mean. We’re not together. She’s my best friend, that’s all. I wouldn’t. I’m gay,” I say, one hand over my heart like I’m pledging something he should already know. I don’t think I’ve ever been mistaken for a straight man. Not in the last fifteen years anyway.
“Oh, umm, that’s good,” he says, taking off his hat to scrub his hand through his hair, the tie holding his mess of blond locks at the back coming loose, and fuck me if I didn’t already think this guy was a god, seeing those locks of blond fall down and frame his Adonis face would have done it. He twirls the mess around and shoves his hat back on to hold it in place. The hair was tamed, but my body was on the verge of feral. “I mean, cool.That she’s your friend, and you’re not, that being straight is a bad thing. I know lots of straight people. I used to be one of them.”
“Umm, okay,” I say, unsure what the polite response might be.
“That came out wrong. I guess I was never straight. I thought I was. But I’m not.” He lets out a sigh. “I’m gay, too.”
His head dips low, the cowboy hat hiding most of his face, only his chiseled jaw peeking out from below.
“I’m sorry. It’s been forever since I’ve done this.”
“Talked to another human being?” I ask, and he laughs.
“Not talked with, but flirted, yeah.”
No way did he just say that. Maybe I did fall back there, and maybe I cracked my head on the cold ground, and this is all a hallucination, because no way did Connor just say he was flirting with me.
“Look, I get it, you came here for a holiday, I didn’t. I wasn’t. I’ll go now,” he says, turning, but I step closer, the breeze swirling his scent of leather and grass and wood over me in a delicious warmth, and I grab his arm and turn him to face me. He’s still tipping his hat low, but rather than lift it, I raise his head, and when his piercing blue eyes blink slowly and move to my mouth, I push up onto my toes and kiss him.
I wrap my arms around his thick neck as he scoops me around the back with one arm, lifting my toes from the ground, and swings me toward the barn. I deepen the kiss, his tongue letting me take control, as he carries me through the door into the warmth.
Without even lowering me down, he pulls the door closed with his free hand and then grabs my ass and lifts me higher, guiding my thigh around him to straddle his waist. My heart is racing. Never have I ever been handled so easily. He could throw me over his shoulder and carry me off into the woods,and there’d be nothing I could do to stop him. Normally, this is where my obsession with serial killer podcasts would throw a cold blanket over the fire inside, but nothing about being manhandled by Connor scares me. I want it.
My back presses against the hardwood wall, his large hands slip under the hem of my jacket at the back, sweeping up my spine and sending a shiver of electricity through me down to my balls.
He moans into our kiss, and I hug my legs tighter around him. His bulge is straining against the thick denim of his jeans, and it digs into my ass, so I slide my hand between us and cup him through his pants.
“Fuck, yeah,” I say, breaking our kiss, then moving my mouth along his hard jawline to the soft, salty skin of his neck as I start working him through his jeans.
He moans again, and I go for the belt buckle. He grips my ass pulling me tight against him, grinding my groin against his bulge, both of us hard and desperate for more.
His head lolls back a little, and his hat falls to the ground, and when he sweeps his fingers through his mess of blond hair, letting his hair out and surrounding me in strawberry and ash, I bite down a little in the crease of his neck, tasting his sweet, salty skin.
“Oh fuck, I want this so bad,” he groans, and I finally get his belt open and fly down, his hard, leaking cock springboarding free between us. And fuck me, he’s thick. My fingers don’t reach all the way around him, and his veins brush against the tips of my fingers with each stroke, making me wish desperately that I could see all of him. To taste him. But he’s still holding me up against the wall, hard body against mine, hands exploring my back like he’s memorizing every curve.
I shift my legs, lowering them a little, and he gets the idea right away, stepping back to let me stand, my grip on his hard cock never failing.
