14. MATTHEW
Chapter fourteen
MATTHEW
LITERALLY FALLING FOR THE HORSEMAN
It takes me three tries to get up on the horse, and as soon as I’m up here, my natural instincts are screaming at me to get off, but I shove the thoughts deep down and do exactly as Atlas says.
Thankfully, the horse I’m riding, Whiskey, is calm and happy to follow behind Atlas and his horse, Thor.
He really does love the Marvel names, but I guess I can see why he named that one Thor, with his silvery fur that seems to grow darker down his legs like armor.
And he’s well-muscled too. I’m pretty much just sitting here looking pretty while we follow the freshly leveled trail.
Atlas stops every now and again to mark on the tablet where he wants Perry to come back and trim some branches to free up the air space.
By the time we get to a spot that’s about in line with where his trailer sits, I’m bouncing like a pro and actually controlling the direction. I don’t know what I was so worried about. This horse-riding thing is pretty simple when you get the hang of it.
“I’ve got to grab something from the trailer. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute,” Atlas says, climbing off Thor and tying his reins to a nearby tree. “Do you want me to tie you off until I get back?”
“No. I’m good. I’ll just do some circles here while we wait for you,” I say as I give a little pull on the right side of the reins, and Whiskey starts to move in that direction.
“Okay, but maybe go slow, you don’t want to get dizzy.” He chuckles, and then he disappears through the tree line. I squint, trying to see through to where his trailer must be, but it’s too thick.
“Hopefully he doesn’t get lost on his way back. I don’t think I could get both of you home on my own. But you’re pretty easy to manage, Whiskey. We understand each other, don’t we?” I ask, leaning forward and petting the side of his neck.
Something rustles beside me, and Whiskey rears up a little, neighing as I grip onto the reins and clench my thighs as tight as I can.
“Whoa, boy. It’s okay,” I say, but something moves in the tall grass, and he doesn’t like it one bit. He stomps, jerking me back and forth, then, before I can even think what to do, he takes off up the trail.
“Whoa,” I yell, pulling back on the reins like Atlas told me to.
But nothing is slowing him down. Freshly leveled dirt kicks up behind us as he follows the trail along.
I have to figure out how to stop him. The trail isn’t fully cleared up ahead yet.
If he hasn’t got a clear path, he could run right into a downed tree or into a ditch and break a leg, and then he’d have to be put down.
Fuck. “Whoa. Whoa, stop, you silly horse,” I scream louder.
“Atlas!” I yell, hoping he’s already heard my attempts to slow the runaway and is on his way to rescue me. Why did I think I could do this?
“Atlas. Help. Whoa, boy. Whoa.”
The trail bends up ahead, and I know that just around that corner is the end of the line. I have to stop this horse, and I have to stop him now.
I pull hard on the reins, the horse’s head jerking to the right as I do, and my heart skips a beat when it does.
For a moment, I think he’s finally paying attention to me.
But instead of slowing to a stop, he turns to the right, and now I’m barreling down the embankment into Beaker Valley and its field of flowers right toward a long wire fence.
“Fuuuuuck,” I cry out, yanking on the reins.
“Matthew, pull up,” I hear Atlas call from somewhere behind me, but the fence is so close.
I try one more time, closing my eyes tight, and then I’m airborne, flying forward.
My eyes spring open just as I clear the fence, tumbling into the long grass on the other side and landing flat on my back with a painful thud.
My chest burns, my throat is raw from my screaming attempts to stop him.
“I… couldn’t…” I try to yell to Atlas, but my lungs ache, and every breath is painful and short.
A snort from behind me pulls my gaze, and I tilt my head back in time to see Atlas coming to a stop beside Whiskey, who is eating grass safely still on the other side of the fence. He must have pulled up just in time and thrown me over.
“Are you dead?” Atlas asks, more humor in his tone than I’d like.
Before I can answer, a big wet tongue slides up the side of my face. I roll sideways, every muscle aching when I do, and push up onto my knees to find a large black sheep standing there.
“Looks like you made a new friend,” Atlas laughs.
“That was gross. And that,” I say, looking up at the hill we came down. “Was the scariest thing I have ever done in my whole life.”
“More terrifying than getting buck naked with me last night?”
“Way worse.”
“Good, because we need to get you back to the trailer so I can check you out. Think you can stand?”
Any other time, hearing that sentence out of Atlas’s mouth would have been the biggest turn on, but right now, I’m in too much pain to think about anything except how to get up onto my feet.
I crawl toward the fence, lean on the wooden post, and push up onto one knee, then Atlas is there, stepping through the wire and scooping one arm behind my back to help me up.
“I got you,” he says in that steady husky tone of his, and I feel completely safe.
My legs could probably give out right now, and he’d just pick me up and carry me back to his trailer, no problem.
Suddenly, I almost want to see if that’s true.
I don’t, though. He helps me through the gap in the wire fence and up onto his horse, then he keeps the reins in his hand as he climbs up onto Whiskey and makes a sort of clicking sound at the back of his mouth.
Whiskey makes a start back up the hill like Atlas was talking some secret horse language, Thor following alongside as I try to stay upright.
It’s not easy. My legs tremble as I try to grip the wider saddle, and I feel myself leaning forward more and more the further we go.
“You can hug his head if it’s easier,” Atlas says, glancing over his shoulder at me.
“You sure?” I ask, already leaning down.
“Positive. Here,” he says, taking my hand, the warmth of his touch spreading through my arm.
“Hold him here.” He guides my hand down the side of Thor’s long neck, and my head rests against the side of his mane of black hair as I watch Atlas the whole way back to the ranch.
He bypasses the stables and leads us through the paddocks, right up to his trailer, before he climbs down and helps me slowly get off Thor.
My back doesn’t hurt as much now, but my shoulder is aching, and my legs feel like I’ve just spent a few hours at the gym using all those fancy machines I used to use.
Back when the gym was how I got a workout.
Since coming here, I haven’t needed to go looking for exercise; every day on this ranch awakens muscles I never knew I had.
Today, it’s several new ones that hopefully aren’t torn or broken.
Atlas leads me to his hammock chair and then goes and takes the saddles and reins off the horses, letting them into the paddocks beside the trailer.
“Okay, now they’re taken care of, time for you. Shirt off,” he says, and my cheeks immediately grow warm. I reach for the first button, and then wince at the shooting pain that spreads through my shoulder.
“Here. Let me help,” he says, kneeling between my legs, and I rest back in the chair. His hands slowly unbutton the flannel. Did I hit my head? Am I hallucinating?
“I don’t want to wake up,” I whisper, and he lets out a soft chuckle.
“You okay there?” he asks, opening my shirt and pulling it partway over my shoulders, almost pinning my arms in place at my sides. He massages down my arms, a frown stitched into his brow as he goes. “Does this hurt?” he asks, and I shake my head just a little.
He pulls me forward and leans in close to check over my shoulder, my shirt shoved all the way down my back. Every breath is filled with the scent of him. Delicious and warm and sweet. My head spins a little, and I almost lean against him, but catch myself just in time.
“What about this?” Atlas asks, and he lifts my right arm up as he moves back.
“A little stiff. I mean sore. It hurts a little,” I fumble, and he just smiles that warm, kind smile he normally reserves for the horses. “Well, I think you’ll live.”
“I don’t know, I kind of feel like I might die of embarrassment any second now,” I say, and he goes to stand, but my hands reach out and grip his forearms, fixing him in place.
“Don’t leave,” I plead, my heart hammering so loud he has to be able to hear it.
“You’ve had a scare. That excitement is easy to mistake for something else. You’re not thinking straight,” he says, but his gaze lingers on my mouth for that moment longer than just a simple glance.
“I’m not,” I say, and he goes to move away again, but I hold him firm. “Straight, I mean.”
“Okay,” he says, like he’s not sure where this conversation is headed. I’m not entirely sure I know where it’s headed either. I just know that I want him to stay exactly where he is, between my legs.
“I guess you kind of probably guessed that, what with the kiss in the pool and all,” I say, and he shrugs.
“Dancing with Loki was probably what really gave you away.”
I laugh.
“He’s really good. If we can get him to stop playing dead, he could put on a good show for the guests.”
“That would be an achievement. I’d settle for the first part.”
“I could try to work with him on it if you like. You’ve got so many other things you have to manage. I wouldn’t mind. Once the trail is done, I’ll be looking for more to do around here anyway. It’s not like Connor has a lot of time to do it.”
“He’s never really been a needy guy.”
“Yeah, I noticed. I think that’s part of the reason the board didn’t trust him and sent me out here to begin with.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, sitting back on his heels, his hands lying flat against my thighs, and my cock gives a small pulse at the sight.
“You know, the reason they sent me here. To spy on Connor. He told you all that, didn’t he?”
“No,” Atlas replies, his jaw tightening.
“I didn’t do it. I told Connor almost right away why they sent me. He’s a good guy. I could tell that from the start. He cares about this place and all the other ranches he’s now the owner of.”
“You told him almost right away?”
I sigh.
“I agreed to come here to be their spy, thinking it might give me a leg up, you know, when they managed to force him out. Then I met him and Dean, and I saw what this place was, and I suddenly saw what this company could be with him in control. I decided then and there that I wanted to be a part of keeping him in that seat, not getting him out of it.”
“From what I saw yesterday, you’re pretty good at your job,” he says, his hands sliding slowly up my thighs. I’m not even sure he knows that he’s doing it, but the further up his fingers glide, the thicker my cock grows.
“Thanks. I was just doing what I could, you know, to help.”
“You did more than that. Your quick thinking saved that ranch from ruin. The number of animals alone has to give you a red-carpet welcome when you… you know… take that last ride in life.”
“You mean when I die?” I ask with a laugh.
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure where you stood on the whole afterlife, what comes next thing.”
I sit taller, bringing him close enough to envelop me in his delicious scent once more.
“I think I’m starting to see that there are places right here on earth I’d like to explore more before I take that ride.”
He grins at my use of his analogy, and his fingers press firmer against the denim of my pants.
“So, did you have any aftereffects from the other night?” he asks, biting the lower corner of his lip a little as he waits for my reply.
“You mean after being out here with you naked?” I ask, and he nods.
“Actually, yeah, I did.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for one, clothes feel extra weighty now.”
“They do?” he asks, and he takes my right sleeve and slides it the rest of the way off over my wrist. “Is that better?”
“A little,” I reply, and he turns his attention to the left sleeve, removing it next.
“Now?”
“Getting better,” I say, and his fingertips skim over the soft hairs of my forearms and then over my stomach to my fly.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Am I sure I want to get naked with you again?”
“This time is different,” he says, hands shaking a little. He can’t honestly be nervous right now. This guy is probably the hottest horseman I’ve ever seen in my life; he’s probably been with heaps of people.
“I want different,” I say, and I reach up, cup his face, and kiss him.
This time, he doesn’t pull away. His hands slide around to my back, and he lifts me to him, his hard body pressed against mine, and my cock bulging under the denim of my jeans, aching to be set free.
And then, as if he heard it begging, he fumbles with my fly, gets it down, and then frees my hard cock from the confines of my underwear, gripping it in his warm, callused hand as his tongue fights mine for control.
I better not be hallucinating.