Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance by Bailey Bradford (poetry books to read txt) 📗

the truck in an attempt to soften the kiss. Chance followed suit, licking Rory’s lips gently in apology before sealing his mouth to Rory’s in a soul-stealingly sweet move that made the very ground shift beneath the younger man’s feet.

“Christ,” Chance murmured against Rory’s lips, sending a shiver straight down his spine. Rory tried to speak, to agree, but his throat felt tight and words would not come.

“Let’s go home.” Chance placed a chaste kiss on Rory’s swollen lips before nudging him in the direction of his truck.

Managing a nod and a cocky grin of his own, Rory forced his heavy limbs to move. Part of him was afraid that in the amount of time the drive would take, Chance would find some reason to put the brakes on what was burning between them.

Another part was equally terrified that Chance wouldn’t, and the teeming emotions that Rory was trying so hard to batten down would break through the surface. If that happened, he would end up shattered when Chance rejected his affections. Despite that very real concern, Rory reached his truck in no time. He could not turn away from whatever it RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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was Chance would offer him, even if it meant risking his heart.

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Chapter Seven

“Goddamnit!” Chance’s hands shook as he steered the truck out of the club’s parking lot. He’d just blown Rory in the parking lot, much as he’d done other men, and had been done to him, numerous times in his misguided youth. Damn it, he’d worked hard to overcome that part of himself that treated sex like a game. He’d done so very well, for so many years—yet tonight he’d just reverted in a snap.

All it had taken was for Chance to walk in the Xxchange and see Rory being mauled by the pretty dark-haired man. That sight flipped some switch inside Chance that made him want to possess and dominate Rory, and it scared the hell out of him.

Therein lay one difference between the actions of his youth and those of tonight.

Tonight wasn’t about having fun. What happened between him and Rory was tangled up in thoughts and feelings that Chance had never dealt with before. He wasn’t sure he’d dealt with them tonight, exactly. Chance had been unable to think about what he was doing—he only did it, couldn’t do anything but follow his body’s demands.

This wasn’t a one-time thing, at least not for him, and he didn’t think it was for Rory, either. Grunting to himself, Chance could at least admit that much. He’d had an overpowering need to claim Rory, to mark him and imprint himself on the younger man. If the way the man had responded, all sexy sounds and hot skin, had been anything to judge by, Chance had done what he’d intended to do.

The headlights from Rory’s truck grew closer in the rearview mirror drawing Chance’s attention away from his thoughts. Rory was driving pretty damn close to Chance’s bumper, which did funny things to his heart.

“Looks like someone is in a hurry, though hopefully not too much of one.” Chance reached down and squeezed his dick through soft denim. He was so ready to go a pothole might set him off. Jesus, he wanted to take all night with Rory, but at the rate his dick was leaking, he’d be lucky if he didn’t come before the other man finished stripping.

Chance slid his hand down a little lower and grasped his balls, clenching them tight enough to have tears stinging his eyes. It only helped a little bit—his dick didn’t soften any but at least he could focus on something other than reaming Rory’s tight ass—

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“Damn it!” Chance squeezed again. “If this keeps up I won’t have any fucking balls left by the time we get home!”

Contracts, he’d think about the contracts he was hoping to someday get with the SWGR. The Southwest Gay Rodeo was something Chance wished he’d been aware of when he’d been rodeoing—he might have been able to stay in the circuit for a few more years had he joined it when it started up. But no, he’d been a cocky young fool, and it had cost him.

Chance pulled onto the dirt road leading down to the ranch and instantly, Rory was tight on his tail. If he had to break for a deer or any other critter, they were screwed. Chance gave the truck more gas, telling himself it was to create a little space between the two vehicles, but he couldn’t convince himself of that when he was burning to get home, to get Rory inside and strip the man bare.

Rory’s truck zoomed past him once they pulled into the drive, drawing a pained laugh from Chance. Looked like he wasn’t the only one in a hurry. He opened his door just in time to have Rory reach in with both hands and half lift him from the truck. Damn, the man was strong.

Chance was vaguely aware of two cowboy hats flying into the truck as Rory took his mouth with a hunger that matched Chance’s own. He couldn’t register the tongues and teeth, the fitting together of lips as any one individual act—instead, Chance’s whole body felt like it was being consumed by Rory. A hard tug had their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. Arms like steel bands clamped around Chance and tried to merge two bodies into one.

All Chance could do was meet that kiss, hold on to Rory for dear life and hope like hell he wouldn’t be as changed from this one moment in time as he feared.

Somehow, with this kiss, Chance felt that he was the one being possessed, and he’d given Rory part of his soul in the claiming. A bolt of fear shot through Chance, but he couldn’t find the strength to pull away. Jesus, if giving up a part of himself meant