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

the son of a bitch.” Low and mean, the words vibrated with promise and knocked Rory out of his stupor.

“No.” Rory grabbed Chance’s shoulders, ignoring the burst of agony that shot up his arm from his injured hand. “No, you won’t. I’ll beg if I have to, because I couldn’t stand to see you spend the rest of your life in some prison. I couldn’t.” No, he loved the man too much for that, and even though he couldn’t tell him, admitting it even to himself brought Rory a measure of peace he hadn’t ever expected to feel again.

Chance fought back the waves of anger crashing in his head as he looked at Rory. What he saw he dared not believe—he’d done nothing to warrant the love shining in Rory’s brilliant blue eyes. All he had done was hurt the man numerous times before finally giving in to the scorching attraction between them—and if he had done something years ago, Art wouldn’t have been able to brutalise Rory.

Instead, Chance had packed up his things, ignoring the taunts and threats hurled his way and left the rodeo circuit, figuring he deserved every bit of what had happened to him for being such a slut. Much like Rory believed he deserved what Art had done to him. They were both wrong to have ever believed they had deserved such abuse.

It had taken Chance years to realise that, despite consenting to go out with Art, he’d been a victim. Looking at Rory, angelic face wet with tears, bottom lip smeared with blood, and his hand beat to hell tore something up inside of Chance. He would do whatever he could to make sure the man came to the realisation he was an innocent victim of a twisted piece of shit a whole lot sooner than Chance had.

The need to hold and comfort, to find a way to heal Rory was so overpowering that Chance shook with it. He wasn’t sure how to do what he wanted to do, but Chance knew where he would start.

Gathering Rory’s battered hand in both of his own, Chance leant down and placed RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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feathery kisses to every bit of bruised and torn skin, careful not to squeeze or put anything but the lightest of pressure on Rory’s hand. Chance was keenly aware of the hitch in his lover’s breath, felt the shudders that rippled through the man one after another without cessation.

The damage to Rory’s hand probably looked worse than it actually was, but Chance would make sure a doctor looked at it tomorrow despite all the arguments he knew Rory would give him. But until then… Chance ran the tip of his tongue over the worst looking of Rory’s knuckles.

“Ch-Chance.” Rory’s voice was breathy and low, slicking over Chance’s dick like a velvet caress.

The man had no idea how much power he wielded over Chance. The idea of him ever finding out should have been terrifying, but for whatever reason, Chance didn’t care if Rory discovered how he felt. He trusted his lover as he had not trusted anyone.

Chance slid his tongue between two of Rory’s fingers, licked up to the tips, then sucked both digits into his mouth with a strong pull. The resultant gasp that slipped from Rory’s lips was filled with so much heat and need that Chance’s balls tightened and pressed close to his body. He looked up into his lover’s heavy-lidded gaze and felt a burst of satisfaction that he had put that look of wanton need in those midnight eyes.

“What do you want, baby? What do you need?” Whatever the answer, Chance would give it to Rory without hesitation. He waited while Rory digested the question and was unsurprised when the man didn’t answer immediately. Chance had learned that Rory was a thoughtful and intelligent man. He would want to carefully consider the question and answer thoroughly.

Rory closed his eyes while he thought about what he wanted, needed, unsure if there was a difference at this point. Comfort, love, commitment—Chance. That was what it came down to—he wanted and needed Chance. He didn’t think Chance would want to hear that, though, which left Rory with one option his fevered brain and throbbing cock both heartily approved of. Decision made, Rory sat up and wrapped an arm around Chance’s neck.

“This, Chance. I want and need this.” Rory slanted his mouth across Chance’s parted RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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lips, sealing their mouths together in a brutal kiss. He had wanted to be gentle, loving, but the urge to own and claim was overpowering.

He needed Chance to give himself over, submissive, willing and open to whatever Rory demanded of him. He tried to hold back some of the aggression pounding in his veins, to nip when he wanted to bite and to hold when he wanted to squeeze until his fingers were burrowed so deeply Chance could never escape. Rory didn’t understand it and couldn’t fight it—the most he could do was temper it with what little restraint he’d managed to hang onto.

He nipped harder on Chance’s bottom lip, tasted blood on his tongue and struggled to rein in this violent force that wanted complete control—until Chance bit back, hard.

Rory’s control snapped, something deep inside of him broke free and he was jerking Chance up off the couch, ignoring the pain as his hands as he fisted his hands high up in the dark blue denim shirt. Chance grabbed onto Rory’s forearms and stumbled at the sudden move. Rory gave a sharp tug and sent the buttons from Chance’s shirt flying across the living room. The naked expanse of tanned flesh was topped with small brown nipples that were erect, telling Rory that Chance was every bit as turned on and needy as he was.

Rory bent and scraped his teeth across one pointy tip, pinching the other nipple as Chance threaded his fingers through Rory’s hair. It wasn’t