Frog by Mary Calmes (read along books TXT) 📗

“It’s true,” I said, rushing him, hands on his face, tipping it up, smashing my mouth down over his, kissing him deep but slowly, gently, not hard, finally alone with him and loving it.

“Oh God, Weber, you’re the only one who’s good for me.”

We didn’t fall on the bed; we sort of sank down into it, collapsed, and continued making love with our mouths. And I wanted to attack him or have him ravage me, but I just could not for the life of me stop kissing him.

First I was on top and he was under me, and then he pushed up and I was rolled fast to my back. He started plundering my mouth, and the pace changed, got frantic, as he bit me and I sucked on his tongue. His moan was so sexy, and I was so hard and just certain, down to the depths of my soul certain, that if I didn’t get my hands on his bare skin that I was going to die.

“God, I fuckin’ hate you,” he whispered, the words hot on my face.

I put him flat on his back and found myself staring down into turbulent brown eyes. “Cy?”

“You belong to me, you stupid sonofabitch!”

I sighed deeply. “Cy, we’ve been over—”

“What is so wrong with letting me stake you in a business?”

“Doing what?”

“I don’t know, whatever you—I could sponsor you and you could—”

“No sir,” I said, rolling sideways onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. “My body can’t rodeo no more. I may be stupid, but I ain’t suicidal. I’ll find a ranch where I can—”

“I don’t want you on a ranch somewhere in Texas! I want you right here!”

I turned over, moving further away from him, and went face down into the pillow. Fighting was not what I wanted to do. This was what had happened the last time, and I remembered his ultimatum, how angry he’d been, trembling with rage, furious at himself and his tears, livid that I had any power over him at all.

“This was a mistake,” I muttered, moving the pillow as I rolled my head sideways. “I’m so sorry, Cy. Just when the damn thing was healin’, I show up and tear off the bandage and make it start to bleed all over again.”

He was silent, and I cursed myself for saying anything.

“Weber,” he growled my name, surprising me with his body on mine, pinning me under him to the bed. “Did you ever think that the only thing you’re supposed to do is just love me?”

I went still and silent, because wanting me around was one thing, love was a whole other undertaking. We had never, ever spoken about or brought up the concept, much less the word.

Jesus.

“Oh, he’s scared now.”

I shifted under him. “Get up.”

“And if I say no?” he asked me, hand in my hair, tipping my head sideways, his lips on the curve that connected neck to shoulder, kissing, his other hand running down my flank.

I shivered, feeling my response roll through my body. He felt so good, and the emotion surging through me was even more acute because I knew him, trusted him, and didn’t have to guess how he felt. And it was stupid to deny what we both knew, that it wasn’t just sex between us or friendship, but what the hell was I supposed to do in his world? What was I even supposed to do in a city? I didn’t know how to do anything but break horses and ride bulls and saddle and ride and… day labor? I would have the world class brain surgeon do what with me?

“Fuck!” I ground out, “Get off me!”

“So you can do what?” he whispered into my ear. “Run away?”

I got my palms flat on the bed, ready to push up, but his mouth closed over the back of my shoulder and he bit down hard.

God, I loved to have him put marks on me.

Bruises, teeth imprints, the rash from the stubble on his face, scratches: I loved it all and only ever allowed Cyrus to leave evidence on my skin, on my body.

The moan that tore out of me sent him into a frenzy of motion. Kissing, licking, nibbling, hands pulling, yanking, and when his mouth closed on my right ass cheek, I bucked forward into the mattress.

“You don’t get it yet, but you will,” he said, his breath catching as I felt the hard length of him slide over my crease.

In the manic fumbling, I had not felt him pull off my sleep shorts, but when he moved, lifting off me, I felt how naked I was and exposed.

“Web,” he growled low, hands on my hips. “Please let me have you. I will take such good care of you.”

I had never thought that I would want to submit to another man. To be me, I figured, I would always need to top. Lately though, the idea of him being inside me had filled my thoughts as I jerked off at night.

“Web,” he murmured, and I felt his hands kneading my ass, spreading my cheeks.

My cock was already hard, and as I ground down into the mattress, I felt his warm breath ghost over my skin.

“You’re all flushed,” he rasped, and I could tell that looking at me, seeing my reaction, was turning him on.

My breathing was shallow; I could hear it.

“Cy.”

“Yes, baby,” he said, and I felt the first swipe of his slick tongue over my puckered hole.

I jolted under him as I heard him flip open the cap of the lube at the same time.

“I’ll trust you if you trust me.”

“What does that mean?”

“You fuck me without a rubber.”

“What?” He was shocked, and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew his eyes had to be huge and round.

“You heard. If you’re gonna come in my ass, I wanna feel it. I wanna be drippin’ with you.”

“Oh fuck, Weber,” he groaned. “I can’t do—”

“You’re a doctor. I know you have safe sex, and we’ve