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

skin under Chance’s ear, and then latched on hard with his lips and teeth while driving the tip of a thumbnail into the weeping slit of Chance’s cock again. The combination one-two assault sent a frisson of searing heat exploding out from the base of his spine to every nerve ending in Chance’s body. He yelled before he could stop himself, clamped his jaws shut and bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood as he thrust into the strangling grip on his cock. His balls tucked impossibly tighter and jettisoned waves of ecstasy to his cock and out the head in thick white RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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ropes on the stranger’s hand and Chance’s shirt. His head dropped forward, neck too weak to hold it up just then as the other man stepped quietly back and the hand on his cock disappeared.

Chance took a few stuttering breaths before he realised the man was gone. What the hell? He assumed the stranger had stepped back to give him a minute to put his pecker back in his pants, or maybe the man was going to wash his hands. He tucked and zipped hurriedly, embarrassed and turned on, eager to take this party somewhere quieter. Except the mystery man who’d said he wanted Chance must have suddenly had other ideas. When he looked up, all Chance could see of the person he thought was the stranger was part of a long and densely muscled shoulder and arm pulling the door to the bar shut on the way out.

Chance stood rooted to the dirty floor, trying to process what had just happened. One minute I’m covered in warm male flesh that made me feel like pure perfection was all over me, the next minute I’m left standing with my dick dangling in the breeze and spunk splattered everywhere.

Seriously, what the hell? Confused and feeling worse than when he walked in the bar, Chance straightened his spine and walked out wearing his dignity and the scent of his own seed.

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Chapter Two

“I’m sorry, Mr Wilson. You just don’t have the experience that I’m looking for right now, but I do appreciate you taking the time to come out for an interview. You have a lot of potential…” Chance let the sentence peter off as the wannabe cowboy refused the proffered handshake and stalked out of the office, muttering things Chance didn’t hear for the most part—other than ‘pretentious asshole’. After that, he stopped listening before he did something to the green city boy they’d both regret.

Jesus, when had people stopped being civilised to each other? A rush of heat washed over Chance when he thought about just how uncivilised he’d been Saturday night, coming like a randy teenager in full view of everyone in the bar. Embarrassment threatened to ride over him until he was coated in pink proof of the emotion, but Chance pushed it back.

Wasn’t like he’d ever be stepping foot in that bar again. What had started out as one of the hottest experiences in his sexual history had ended up leaving him feeling confused and angry, something he definitely did not enjoy, best orgasm ever or not.

Here it was, Monday, and he was still letting the whole thing get to him. Frustrated with himself, Chance pushed away from his desk, grabbed the next file—Max Jenkins—and walked to the office door.

Two men sat in the living room waiting to be interviewed. Chance hoped like hell both men would be qualified for ranch hand positions—he’d been so busy himself that he hadn’t had time to do more than place ‘help wanted’ ads in a few papers. He’d downloaded and printed off some generic job application online, feeling a bit stupid for doing so, but nowadays a person couldn’t be too careful. He’d want a background check run on anyone he hired.

Considering his luck so far, he might just be better off throwing in the towel and hiring the last two men applying whether they were qualified or not. Maybe he could train them—

he sure wasn’t impressed with what had passed through his office already. Not one of the applicants yet was familiar with ranching or rough stock.

And artificial insemination? He didn’t even want to go there again. Times were tight, and Chance understood the need for employment, but he also understood that he had to RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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have some knowledgeable employees to make his ranch profitable.

“Max Jenkins,” Chance called out, glancing at the backs of the two men. One was slender and wiry, much shorter than the owner of the broad sexy back on the opposite end of the couch. His cock took notice of the width of those strong shoulders, causing him to lower the file until he was holding it in front of his groin. Not a good way to start off an interview with a potential employee. However, it was the smaller man who stood and turned a weathered face to Chance. A quick inventory told him this man had logged a lot of time out in the sun, fine lines spread out around his eyes and creasing his cheeks. The image gave Chance a bit of hope that this man, at least, had some experience that would be an asset to the Galloway Ranch.

As the man approached, he grinned at Chance and shook his head. “Seems that young city boy was a might tee’d off at ya when he left. Max, nice to meet ya, Mr Galloway.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Chance’s lips. “Yeah, young and green, never spent a day working on a ranch in his life, and I’m a pretentious asshole for pointing that out.” He offered his hand to Max as the smaller man let loose a rusty laugh. This time his handshake was accepted and gripped in a surprisingly strong hold.

“So, Max, why don’t you tell me about your experience?”