Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Home.
Home, home, home.
Joaquim bounced as they turned off the Farm-to-Market, and onto the gravel road that led to his ranch. It wasn’t big. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t great. It was four miles off the road, fenced and gated, and miles away from everybody. Joaquim loved it.
Raul was in the back seat, leaning forward to talk with Balta, words flying fast and furious.
They pulled up to the gate and he hopped out, grabbing the old ring of keys.
Balta scooted over to pull the truck through for him, grinning and jabbering with Raul, his voice so much more musical in Portuguese.
He didn’t bother to get back in the cab when he locked up—Joa just jumped onto the tail gate, looking at the pastures, at everything that might have changed.
They bounced along the rutted track, and he made a mental note that he needed to grade it again.
Still, if that was the worst that he had to do, he was happy.
He’d called Papi and asked them to check the lights and water and put things in the kitchen—milk and beer and bread for a couple days. His folks were going out of town, but Papi had been good, doing what he asked before going to Sao Paulo that very morning.
The green house looked whole, both his dogs waiting on the porch, wagging. “Maca! Mamao!”
The truck slid to a smooth stop, Balta not even jolting him, and the minute the engine cut off the dogs were on him, bouncing all over his legs. Balta laughed, swinging out of the cab and coming to help.
“They missed you, huh?”
“They do.” He’d had them both almost eight years, the silly hounds, and he missed them when they stayed with his folks.
“Oh, look at them!” Raul laughed, stepping down cautiously, making sure the dogs saw him coming. Good man.
Maca tackled Raul, wagging and panting, while Mamao headed for Balta, more shy.
“They don’t bite.”
Balta held one big, square hand, and Mamao wiggled right up, begging scritches. So sweet, the way she adored him. Balta laughed and laid into her ribs. “I bet there are treats inside, huh?”
“Sim, sim. Papi would bring them. He brought groceries, too, just like always.” His Papi was a fine, fine man.
“You’re lucky, Joa.” Raul smiled when he said it, not jealous or sad or anything. Just happy to be there with them.
“I am. You are, too, because we have three weeks.” Three weeks and the big TV and movies and the barrel hung outside and the horses to ride.
Raul bounced. “You said we could rope…”
“We have a pen that we all share. Me, my brother, my cousins.” A pen, a trailer, everything they needed.
“Oh, good.” Look at those pretty eyes shine. Raul had beautiful eyes, light like a hawk’s in the sun one second, dark the next.
He blinked, caught for a moment, then he blushed, smiled. He couldn’t. That was wrong. “Come in. Come in.” He unlocked the door.
Balta whistled up the dogs and followed, grabbing a duffel out of the truck. Raul grabbed the rest of their bags and trudged along behind, those eyes missing nothing.
The house was simple, heavy sturdy furniture, a big television, movies and books. It was a good place, a home. His. Joa couldn’t help but shimmy, ass wiggling back and forth. “Better than a hotel, sim?”
“Much better,” Raul agreed, setting down bags and stretching. Those tanned cheeks went dark. “Where is the bathroom?”
“Oh, here.” Joa took Raul’s elbow, showed him the guest room and the bathroom across the hall. “There’s another in the master bedroom, sim?”
“Obrigado…” Raul went in and closed the door.
Balta was on him almost right away, pushing him until his back hit the wall and kissing him hard, mouth hot and damp on his. He groaned and jerked, cock trying to drill out of his pants and into Balta’s thigh.
“Mmm. Good, huh? Want you, namorado.” God, Balta was hot against him.
“Sim. Sim,” he groaned, trying so hard to be quiet.
Smiling against his mouth, Balta rubbed up on him, hard on his hip, burning even through the denim. Beautiful, pushy man.
They needed to get to the bedroom. Somewhere with a door. Soon. “Balta. Our room, yeah?” Now.
“Sim. Sim, amante. Raul! Make yourself at home, huh? We’ll figure something for supper.” With that, Balta dragged him down the hall to the master bedroom.
Joaquim kicked the door shut, fingers working at Balta’s buckle, the thick leather belt. So rude. He was so rude, but he needed. They wrestled with clothes, both of them stripping to skin, jeans and shirts flying. Balta shoved him down on the big bed, coming down on top of him, kissing him silly.
He wrapped his fingers around Balta’s cock, pumping hard. It drove him mad, the way that made Balta growl and bite at his lips. That sweet dick throbbed in his fingers, Balta moaning and pushing into his fist. So hot, already wet at the tip, Balta was ready to pop, he could feel it.
Turning, Joa got that heavy cock in his lips, pulled until he could taste the salt of Balta in his throat.
“Oh… Joa.” That hard gasp made him want to smile, made him feel like a king. Balta thrust for him, begging with his hips, with those big hands.
“Mm-hmm.” His nose was buried in Balta’s skin, shaft parting his lips, filling his mouth.
Balta started babbling for him, humping hard, praising him and petting him.
Those thick thighs rose on either side of his head, Balta’s ridged belly tensing up for him, muscles standing out.
Joaquim knew just how to tug Balta over, fingers wrapping around Balta’s balls, rolling the sensitive organs in their sac.
“Jesu!” Balta came for him, hard as a cowboy landing on the dirt at the end of a ride, body shaking and bucking. Those big, square hands held his shoulders, fingers digging deep. Hot and salty, the taste of Balta one of his favorite things, the way Balta needed him another.
“Uhn…Joa. Come here, huh? Want to touch you.” Tugging, Balta got him up to straddle those strong hips, pulling him down for a kiss.
He moaned, cock slapping against Balta’s belly. “Need. Need, please.”
“Sim. Sim, love.” Balta pulled him up more and got one hand around him, stroking hard, up and down. The rhythm felt perfect, just strong enough to make him burn, not quite enough to ease his ache.
“Love. Please, Balta.” He arched, hips moving faster, demanding. His sounds started coming, louder than he wanted them. Balta didn’t help, smiling up at him, not letting him hide or drown them out. No, Balta held his hip with one hand, his cock with the other, and encouraged him on. All the way.
It was too much and Joaquim threw his head back, throat working as he sawed back and forth. So good. So fine.
“Oh, doce. So pretty.” Balta rubbed him until he wanted to scream, until his balls felt like stones, until he just burst with it, then Balta rubbed his spunk into his skin.
“Love.” He plopped down, cheek on Balta’s chest.
“Mm-hmm. Sim. Much better.” Kissing his cheeks, Balta laughed for him, the sound good. Right. His.
“Better.” He nodded, patting Balta’s hip. “Home, sim?”
“Home.” Those dark eyes went wide. “Raul…”
“Oh.” He blushed dark, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “I… Was I loud?” Oh, he didn’t want Raul to feel badly, to think he was horrible…
“You were… Enthusiastic.” Oh, look at that smile. It distracted him for a moment, making him smile back.
“You make me…” Oh, poor Raul. “You talk to him, Balta? Tell him I don’t want to make him uncomfortable?”
“Of course. I will make sure he’s good, huh?” Sitting up, Balta kissed him hard before giving him a back-pounding hug. “We’ll feed him good for supper.”
“We will. Papi said he left hamburger.” Oh. Balta was good to him, talking to Raul.
“Then we can use the grill, sim? Raul will like that. I bet he’s good at the grill.” Balta eased him off, letting him slide to the bed. “I’ll go talk to him now, if you want to clean up.”
He kissed Balta’s cheek. “Thank you. I’ll be out soon, sim?”
“No problem, namorado. Take your time.” It wasn’t until Balta had gotten up and pulled on his jeans, wandering out of the room with a jaunty bounce in his step that it occurred to Joaquim that the expression on Balta’s face just now? Always meant he was up to something.
Always.
Joa pursed his lips, thinking. Wicked demon lover.
Beautiful man.
He headed for the shower, trying to decide if he was worried or excited.