Frog by Mary Calmes (read along books TXT) 📗

“No, I know, I just… I missed you, and I never have any way to reach…. I’m just so glad you called. You have no idea.”

And because I knew him, I knew he really was.

WEMETin Texas when I was breaking horses on a ranch between rodeos. He and some friends had come to hunt quail, and the guide was held up with another party, so my boss at the time asked me to run into town and pick the men up and drive them out to the ranch. I never thought the brown-eyed, chestnut-haired, golden-skinned man would take a second look at me. Even under the merciless Texas sun, he’d looked like a million bucks. Crisp, polished, pressed, the tailored dress suit and shirt that cost more than all my earthly possessions put together clung to the long lines of him and accentuated the muscles underneath. I could barely breathe.

In the SUV, I stared at the road, kept quiet, and concentrated on not fidgeting. When they all piled out of the car after I rolled up to the huge ranch house, I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. And then almost came out of my skin moments later when there was a hard tap on the glass. I rolled down the window, swallowing hard, my mouth bone dry.

“What was your name?” the god asked me as I tried for the life of me to remember.

I coughed. “Web. Weber Yates,” I managed to answer. “What’s yours?”

“Cyrus. Cyrus Benning.”

I smiled at him, taking in the swirl of gold in the milk chocolate eyes that you only noticed up close. He had long, dark, feathery lashes; chiseled features; and broad shoulders. The man was just mouthwatering and by far the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

He nodded, and I watched his eyes narrow as he wet his lips. “I don’t normally—” He cleared his throat. “—and you’re probably not… but do you think you might want to have dinner with me?”

I would not make it through dinner. “Or we could just find a motel and fuck,” I said before my brain kicked in. The man’s mouth, his full, sculpted lips, had made me want things I shouldn’t have. Looking at him, I got brave.

He nodded, his smile wicked and wide. “We could do that, but I would also love to feed you if you let me.”

“That’s not real safe in this town.”

He nodded again as he leaned against the door and reached toward me, sliding the back of his fingers up my throat. “Okay then, room service and sex it is. When?”

“I get off work at six.”

“So, seven then?”

I managed to nod.

“Where?”

I gave him the name of the best place in town. “I can get the room,” I said, even though it would bankrupt me and delay my exodus another two weeks. But it would be well worth it to crawl into bed with a man who would fill my daydreams for the rest of my life.

“I’ll get the room,” he assured me, the curl of his lip intoxicating. “So, seven for sure?”

“Seven would be just fine.”

His eyes were all over me, and I heard his breath catch. “God, I really hope you’re a—”

“Top,” I said, needing that to be clear from the get-go. I had never trusted anyone enough to bottom for them, and I certainly wasn’t going to start with some stranger I wanted to fuck, no matter how hot he was.

“Yes.”

“I am,” I assured him.

He nodded.

“Should I bring rope?” I teased him, to see how far I could push it.

“Whatever you want just as long as you fuck me.”

It was going to be a hell of an evening. “No worries about that. Until tonight then.”

“Until tonight,” he said but didn’t move.

Everyone else was inside, and the SUV sat parallel to the drive and was big enough to obscure every view from the house. So I leaned forward out of the window.

“You wanna have a taste of me now?”

In answer he dropped the duffel bag he was holding, grabbed my face with both of his hands, and looked at me.

“Give me your tongue,” he ordered, and I realized for a bottom, the man was damn bossy.

I had a second to smile before his lips met mine, open-mouthed and greedy, crushing and rough, just how I liked it. My gasp of pleasure was cut off, leaving me to moan deeply into his mouth, a sound that brought a rumble of desire up from his chest.

He took what he wanted, and I let him, the kiss demanding and hard, his tongue stroking, tangling, pushing in deeper as he tasted and nibbled, ravaging my lips like I belonged to him.

When I shoved him back, we were both panting.

“Jesus,” he gasped, his big soft brown eyes wet and hot, his lips swollen and dark as he swallowed over and over.

“Step back,” I ordered him, feeling better, empowered, and no longer like a poor substitute for the prince he was obviously kissing frogs to find. As he moved to allow me to open the door and get out, I remembered that I was actually good at this part, the fucking part. Romance? Long-term commitment? Forget it. But right now, hot-and-heavy, living in the moment—that I could do.

“What are you—”

“Come here.” I grabbed his bicep hard at the same time I slammed the car door, wrenching the man forward almost off his feet and dragging him after me.

“Where are you taking—”

I turned so fast he nearly walked into me, stopping fast, having to lift his hand so he didn’t hit me, and laying it flat on my chest. “You want me to fuck you or not?”

He nodded, and I turned and pulled him after me, around the side of the house, down a short hill, through some bushes toward the barn where the machinery was kept. I took a left and shoved him up against the side of a smaller shack where the hand tools were kept. No one