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

He had nothing to be insecure about. While there was no way he could match Rory’s beauty or youth, he could damn sure match him, if not teach him a thing or two, about fucking.

“Take your clothes off.” Chance reached for his own shirt, watching as Rory followed suit. Then he remembered the younger man had his nipples pierced, and suddenly Chance was impatient and getting naked became a lot more important than things like finesse or proving any point.

He jerked his shirt off half-buttoned and reached for his belt, unbuckling it only before working on his pants. Boots, damn, he’d forgotten about his boots. Chance felt his cheeks flare hot but let it go when he realised Rory was in the same predicament.

They both sat on the bed to pull off their boots and the rest of their clothes, Chance struggling not to stare at the silver hoops on Rory’s chest. It was an equally difficult battle not to lean back and look at the tattoo he’d only got a hint of weeks ago. Kicking off the last of his clothes, Chance cursed loudly, startling Rory.

“What? What’s wrong?” Rory had that wary look in his eyes again, the one that made Chance want to kick his own ass.

“Stand up and turn around, Rory. Please. I just want to see…” Rory’s dark eyes suddenly gleamed. He stood and stepped close enough that Chance felt the heat rolling off his body, could smell the scent of the white drops beading the spongy head of his cock.

Chance started to reach for that luscious cock only to have Rory spin around and give him his back.

Or, more precisely, his ass. Chance let his hand continue on its path and filled it with taut, sleek cheek. Firm and perfectly rounded, Rory’s ass had Chance forgetting why he’d even asked the man to turn around. He kneaded the pale skin in his palm, then slid his hand over to the crease, letting his fingers brush over Rory’s tight opening.

Rory shivered and twisted his torso to watch Chance, the movement causing a ripple in the tattoo on his back. Chance shot Rory a grin, meeting his questioning gaze.

“Sorry. Wanted to see your tattoo but I got distracted.” Chance kept his hand on the firm flesh as he looked at Rory’s tattoo. Rory faced away, keeping his body straight for the RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

43

inspection.

“It’s beautiful,” Chance murmured, bringing his other hand up to trace the shapes of a horse and rider, who looked to be in the midst of dismounting to attend to a calf. The tattoo took up the majority of Rory’s back, and was intricately detailed from the colours of grass to those of the sun and sky. It looked like a painting, a piece of art rather than a tattoo, and Chance wondered what it would feel like to walk around wearing such a thing of beauty.

He’d never really been into tattoos before—or, rather, it hadn’t mattered to him one way or another. But, like just about everything else, Rory was quickly making him rethink his ambivalence on the whole subject.

“Jesus, Rory, I’ve never seen anything like it, or like you—” The words slipped out before he could catch them. Chance tried to think of a way to cover up the words or to hide them away, but Rory was already shaking his head and turning around.

“There’s nothing special about me, Chance. I’m just a man…with an excellent tattoo.”

Rory tried to make it a joke, but Chance could see the doubt in those wounded eyes. He stood up and forced himself to keep his gaze locked there in those blue depths rather than letting it wander to the glinting silver rings he wanted to tug on.

“You’re wrong, Rory. I don’t expect you to believe me, not yet, but it’s true. I haven’t been with anyone in a long, long time until you grabbed me at the club. Would have ran out of there if I could have, but you caught me, and then I didn’t want to run.”

Chance was afraid of revealing too much, setting himself up for a hurt he might not recover from. He couldn’t stand there and let Rory think he was anything less than extraordinary, though. He just couldn’t, and damned if he knew why. Rory opened his mouth to say something, maybe argue, but Chance was done talking. He was only digging himself a deeper hole and it was time to stop.

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

44

Chapter Eight

Rory opened his mouth up to point out that Chance was probably just taken by surprise at the club, or maybe to ask just how long a long, long time was. He didn’t even get a word out before the man jumped up off the bed then his mouth was full of Chance—his tongue, lips and teeth, the taste of the man so seductive and sweet that Rory didn’t think he would ever get enough.

He nipped at Chance’s lip, bowing his back when the other man nipped back harder.

The pain from the bite shot straight to Rory’s cock. He had to thrust, rubbing his achingly hard dick against Chance’s straining length. He’d felt it, stroked it, and dreamt of it, but what he really wanted was to see it and taste it before he felt it again—deep inside him, rather than in his hand. Rory was sure he’d never see a cock like that again, not up close and personal, and he’d never seen one near to that size before—though, granted, his sexual experience was rather limited.

“Please. Fuck me, Chance.” Rory murmured the words into Chance’s mouth, felt a tremor work through the other man as he swallowed the request. Chance stepped back and turned to the nightstand, pulling open a drawer and rifling through until he grunted and took out a tube of lube, which he tossed on the bed, and…a paper? He faced Rory and thrust the paper at him.