Chapter 3 #2
"Look at you," he said, low, his palm working slow against me through the denim. "All that mouth and you're this hard already." His grip tightened, and I exhaled against his jaw. He stroked up, watching my face while he did it. "On your knees, Ranger."
His thumb dragged slowly across my bottom lip, pressing in just enough, and I opened for it and sucked it in, and his eyes went dark, and my own rolled back for a second before I got them under control.
"That what you want?" I said around his thumb.
He looked at me for a long moment. "Depends." He drew his thumb back slow. "You bite?"
"Only if you ask nicely."
He worked his jaw. Then he stepped back and looked at me, top to bottom, and said: "Strip. Everything off." He paused. "Except the boots. Those stay."
I went so light in the head I was glad he'd shoved me against the wall so I didn't fall.
I reached for my belt buckle, hands trembling.
Ransom stood back and watched me undress.
"Take your time," he said. "I ain't in no hurry."
I was. I stripped everything off faster than I'd ever undressed in my life and wound up standing there naked except for a dead man's boots. My cock was hard and sticking straight out while Ransom stayed fully dressed, hat on the table, boots on his feet, watching me like he'd paid for the show.
He smirked and let out a low whistle. "Hot for a lawman."
"I get that a lot," I said, which was a lie, but I was not going to let him have that completely.
I went to my knees and yanked him closer by the belt loops.
His belt buckle was cold under my fingers. I worked it open, got his jeans down his hips, and pulled Ransom's cock out. He was hard and thick, and my mouth watered at the sight of it, which had never happened to me before. I leaned in.
Two fingers came under my chin, tilting my head up, stopping me an inch from where I wanted to be.
"Eyes on me while you do it, Ranger."
"Yes, sir," I said, and locked eyes with him as I took him into my mouth.
Salt and bitter heat flooded my tongue. The specific weight of him was pleasant, one of my favorite things about men.
With him it was better. He was thick enough that my jaw ached from the first push.
I breathed through it, took more, and let him hit the back of my throat.
He tipped his head back and let out a groan that sounded hungry and relieved at the same time.
My own cock throbbed untouched between my thighs and I thought: I would do anything to hear that again.
I worked him slow, tongue along the underside, pressure at the head, learning what got me that sound and doing it again until his hand found my hair and tightened.
"So pretty on your knees," he said, low.
"Look at you." His fist shifted and tilted my head back so he could see my face.
I held his eyes and kept working, and his gaze was a second hand on my skin.
"Look how hard you are." He looked at my cock, heavy and neglected and leaking against my thigh. "You want to come?"
I made a sound around him that was probably an answer.
"Beg me for it."
I pulled off enough to talk. "Please." I sounded wrecked, which was fair. "Please, Ransom."
"Yeah." His fist tightened. "Fuck yeah, just like that.
Now slow down. Suck the head." I did, and he dropped his head back and swallowed.
"Fuck." He breathed through it. "Fuck." He guided me back down and then off completely, tilting my face up.
His chest heaved, and he said: "Come on my boot. Right now. Do it."
I wrapped my hand around myself and started stroking.
I don't know why. Normally, I preferred to be in the driver's seat.
The idea of a man telling me what to do and how to do it generally didn't sit well under my skin, but when Ransom gave me an order, it was like it bypassed all the rational parts of my brain and went straight to the animal part of me.
"Open," he ordered, and I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue so he could feed me his cock while I worked myself. "Go on then. Give me what I came for, Ranger, and I'll give you what you want."
I started stroking myself faster, harder, letting the pressure build until the point of no return was inevitable.
When it happened, I was so caught up in enjoying the moment that I almost forgot and scrambled to aim for his boots.
I came hard, shaking, striped across the toe of Ransom's left boot with my forehead pressed against his thigh and a sound coming out of me I had never made in my life.
He pulled out of my mouth with his hand already moving, and I stayed where he put me, on my knees, chest heaving.
His head went back. His jaw locked. His whole body shuddered through it and he striped my face, the floor, the toe of his own boot. He shot hot and wet across my cheek, my mouth, my chin, and I held still and took it like a baptism.
He stood there with his chest heaving and his eyes closed, his hand still loose around himself. I waited on my knees in a dead man's boots with his cum on my face.
He opened his eyes and looked down at me. "Good. Now, lick me clean," he said, low and even, like he had all the time in the world. "Cock first. Then the boot. Put me away when you're done. Like a good boy."
The words went through me like a current from the base of my spine to the back of my skull.
I took him back into my mouth first, soft now, and cleaned him slowly, tasting salt and the last of him.
He stood still and let me do it with one hand loose in my hair.
I worked my way down, base to tip, thoroughly, and when I was done, I pressed my lips to the head once, just once, I don't know why.
I tucked him back into his jeans, did up his buttons, and smoothed the denim down with both hands like I was folding something that mattered.
Then I bent to the boot.
I told myself on the way down that I wasn't really going to do it. That was a lie. I'd known the moment he gave the order that I was going to obey. I licked Ransom's cum off his boot because I wanted to. The wanting had come up from somewhere I didn't keep things and had not consulted me first.
All of it. Slow. Dust and rain and him.
I sat back on my heels when I was done, feeling oddly proud of myself. My face was wet, my knees ached, and my heart was still beating too fast.
Ransom's hand came down on the back of my head and stayed.
The rain suddenly let up, ending just as quickly as it'd come in.
His hand left the back of my head, and the room came back into focus. I remembered who I was, who I was with, and what I was there for, and being on my knees for him wasn't it.
I got up off my knees slow, pulled my jeans on in the dark, put on my damp shirt, set my hat on my head.
When I turned around, he was watching me like he was unsure. I gave him the easiest smile I had. He didn't buy it.
"You all right, darlin'?"
It came out before I'd decided to say it.
His head came up sharp, and something moved across his face I couldn't read — not anger, not exactly.
Close to a flinch, like I'd put a hand on a bruise without knowing it was there.
He held still long enough that I felt the word sitting in the air between us, too soft for the room, too soft for him, too soft for what we'd just done.
Then his jaw worked, and he looked away.
"Come on," he said. "We got light."
He moved past me to the door.
Well, all right then. Guess we were going to pretend I didn't just give him the best blowjob of his life.
Getting the judge back across Galahad was no easier the second time. Ransom took the shoulders without discussion, and I took the legs. We got him up on the third try. Ransom checked the knots twice, carefully, and I watched his hands and waited for him to look at me.
He didn't.
I mounted Faye, and she shifted under me, glad to be moving. The rain was gone, and the sun was back out, drying up the puddles while the land drank the rest. Ransom swung up onto Galahad with his face turned away.
"Come on," he said again, and started off.
I followed.
He rode ahead with his face turned, and I rode behind in a dead man's boots and didn't ask him what he was thinking.
I figured it was forty minutes back to the ranch. I'd be dry by then and probably look presentable. No one, at least, would look at me and think I was a man who'd licked cum off another man's boots just minutes ago.
I turned my head and looked out at the desert.
I'd come in from the south on a road that ran straight between the fence and the mesa.
We weren't on it. The mesa was on my left when it should've been on my right.
Galahad was picking his way over ground that hadn't seen a vehicle in a long time, maybe ever, and Faye was following because that was what Faye did when another horse was in front of her.
He didn't look back.
I kept my hands easy on the reins and my mouth shut, even though I knew we were headed the wrong way. I had a feeling about what he meant to do next, and it wasn't one I liked. God dammit, Winston. Can't you be wrong just once? He's going to kill me, I thought, and I'm letting him.
Some part of me had already gone over to him in the shack and hadn't come back. That part wasn't afraid. That part was settled. The rest of me, the part still wearing the badge, was the one being walked into the desert, and even it wasn't pulling on the reins.
I followed.