Nowhere Ranch Read online

  To be honest I kind of like the guys who make it clear they are there for your ass and that's it. When I was fourteen and seriously wanting to be fucked, I used to pray to God to send me aliens to fuck me and then leave. Anal probe: bring it on. Just don't park your boots by my bed. Fuck and go. Sometimes on weekends like this I liked to get an extended engagement, but usually it was best to play it by ear. Once I got lucky and hooked up with a guy who kept me all weekend at his house, and I swear we said about twenty words to each other the whole time.

  But I worried what Loving would think of how my preferences ran, and he might find them out because sometimes the game began in the bar. I have a fondness for getting felt up in a booth, trying to look like I'm not. I'm also not averse to ignoring those signs on the bathroom door and bending over the toilet, bracing my hands on the wall while I get it from behind. Obviously I wasn't going to do that when my boss could walk in to drain the hose at any time.

  I wanted to be somebody's slut for the night, to stop standing straight and impressing everybody. Instead I felt like I had driven three hours to feel like I was still at work.

  “I wish,” Loving said after a half hour of more silence, “that you could just go up to them and say what you wanted. Better yet, we should have little cards to hand each other, listing position preference and pet peeves. Goddamn, but I hate driving all this way only to find out I'm taking home a cross between a parrot and a squealing piglet.”

  That made me snort my beer. Loving passed me a napkin, deadpan, but there was a light in his eye that eased me.

  “I have had guys come up and tell me what they want,” I volunteered. Actually, I found it very hot when they did.

  Loving grunted. “When you're forty-two, that doesn't work as well. I have a hard enough time picking out the ones that won't call me Grandpa when they brush me off.”

  Ouch. “What are you after? Maybe I can help you weed through.”

  It was, I realized, a fucking weird thing to say, and I tried to retreat into my beer. But if he thought it was weird, he didn't let on. In fact, after leaning back on the bar and contemplating for another few minutes, he even answered me.

  “Age isn't so much of an issue, but the space between Tired Old Horse and Flighty Young Colt does seem to work out best.” He sipped at his beer. “I really don't care much for talking. I don't want to know their history outside of whether or not we need to double the condom, and I don't want to give mine beyond the same.” Another sip. “And tonight, they need to be somebody willing to take a rough ride.” He glanced at me, looking rueful. “See any of those out there?”

  My glass shook a little as I lifted it to my lips. Yeah. You're sitting next to him. I took a long drink, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and said, “Nope.”

  “I see plenty I think have my same agenda too. Even if any of my type show up, I don't stand a chance.” Loving sighed. “What about you, Davis? What's on your menu?”

  Oh, fuck. I tried desperately to think of something to say, but nothing would land in my head. I drained my beer and hoped he would get distracted and give up.

  No dice.

  “Shy boy, are you?” he teased.

  I think I might have blushed. “Around my boss, I am,” I said, adding a silent prayer that this conversation would end now.

  But now I'd pushed his button. “Here now,” he said, and when I glanced at him, I could see he was pissed. “You think I'm going to hold this against you? That I'll fire you to keep you quiet or something?”

  Well, yeah, it had crossed my mind, but I could hardly say that. I turned back to the bar, motioning to the bartender. “I don't really know what to think,” I said at last.

  “I'll tell you what you're gonna think,” Loving shot back. “You're gonna think that I'm not some dickhead who will fire you to protect my secrets. Which I don't really have. I just don't advertise.” He tipped his hat back, and when the bartender brought me my beer, Loving had his money before I could reach for my wallet. He slammed the bills on the counter. “I am not your fucking boss tonight.”

  I took hold of the glass and anchored myself against it before I said, “But you will be on Monday.”

  He grunted and smiled wryly. “Tell me what the fuck you're after, Davis. I told you my list. Let's hear yours.”

  I didn't have enough focused brain cells left to make up a lie, so I gave him the truth. All of it. “Well, there is one guy here that meets your bill. But he doesn't go to bed with the boss.”

  I kept my eyes on my beer, but I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was still for a second. But he turned away, ordering himself another drink as well. It wasn't until I was half through mine that I realized he had switched to soda.

  “Tory says you're from Iowa.”

  I nodded. “Algona. It's a very small town in the northwest-central area.”

  “I'm from Kansas City originally,” Loving offered. “Married and moved to Omaha.”

  “Heard some of the hands say you were a professor.”

  “Mathematics. But shortly after my divorce, they ‘cut my position.'” He grimaced. “Once I came out, it turns out they didn't need as many math professors. So I cashed in my savings and bought Nowhere.”

  I didn't know what to say to that, so I kept quiet. Besides, this was an awful lot of chatting for two guys who had just said they didn't want any.

  Of course, it was that or sit there and think about how we could be fucking each other.

  I cleared my throat. “It's a nice spread.”

  Loving shrugged. “We had a rough go when we got started, but it's coming along. Thanks again for picking up on the rabies so fast.”

  “That's why you hired me,” I said.

  We ran out of conversation again after that, but I still didn't get up, and even when a few guys were cruising me, I kept my head down. I don't know why. No matter what Loving said, it was weird to do a pick-up around him. Especially when I'd just admitted that if circumstances were different, he could have picked me up.

  There was an easiness about him that I really liked. We'd sat saying next to nothing all night long, and yeah, it was awkward, but now that he'd established I wasn't going to get fired, I was starting to relax. I still wanted to get fucked, but this wasn't bad either. I told myself I'd go find a fuck buddy as soon as Loving got up to get his. In the meantime, I just kept drinking, knowing I'd had too much, but Loving kept putting them in front of me.

  Eventually I had to piss, though, so I excused myself and headed back to the john. I figured by the time I got back, somebody else would have my seat, so I tipped my hat to Loving as I left and gave him a little smile too. I made a mental note of prospects on the way to the toilet, trying not to be disappointed in my options. I took my piss and came out ready to go on the hunt.

  But the first guy I saw was Loving. He'd left the bar and now sat in a booth in the back with two drinks in front of him. When he saw me, he motioned me over.

  “They're starting music in a few minutes,” he said. “We can see better from here.”

  I didn't want to sit and watch musicians. I wanted to find somebody to fuck me. But I couldn't say that, so I just nodded, took up my beer, and headed for the other side of the booth.

  He shook his head. “No. You won't be able to see from there.” Scooting down, he motioned to the space beside him. “Sit here.”

  As soon as the music started, his knee kept bumping mine, and then after a few minutes his arm was behind me on the back of the booth. It made me nervous, so I leaned forward to keep away from accidental touches. Except when I felt his hand on my lower back, I knew it wasn't accidental.

  When I felt his fingers brush against the patch of skin above my underwear, I jumped. But when his other hand reached out and took hold of my thigh, I went still.

  “This is nothing to do with your job,” he said into my ear. “If you aren't interested because of me, say so now. But if your only objection is that I'm your boss—” He stopped, then sighed. “W
ell, I'm going to make you say it a few more times, and I'm going to try and convince you otherwise.” His hand kneaded my thigh. “Think of it as a trial run. If we both like how it works out, we could save ourselves a lot of gas mileage.”

  My head was spinning. I reached out to hold on to the table. “I don't know.”

  “If I weren't your boss,” Loving dogged, “would I be barking up the right tree?”

  His fingers were burning my skin, and I thought my jeans were on fire under his hand. “Yes,” I confessed, and I closed my eyes as his one hand kneaded and the other flirted with the elastic of my waistband.

  “Good.” I felt his fingertips against the patch of skin just above my crack. “This bother you, being groped in public, or does it turn you on?”

  “Second one.” I held on a little tighter to the table as his hands dipped lower and slid higher in erotic symphony.

  “I was serious about wanting it rough. You all right with the occasional swat on your backside?”

  Jesus. “That's fine.”

  He was stroking me openly now. Normally I wear a belt with my pants because they tend to slide down my ass, but I don't when I'm cruising because of hopes someone will do exactly what Loving was doing, which was sliding his whole hand over the globe of my ass. His other hand was kneading my cock through my jeans. “Anything specific you'd like, or that you want me to avoid?”

  I bit my lip as his pinky finger slid a little into my crack. He had me half onto his lap, but I was still a little stiff in places other than my crotch. I wanted this, but it was freaking me out too. I had never, ever fucked anyone I knew before, let alone someone who employed me. I knew I should force the issue, should tell him no. But it was like I was paralyzed.

  He noticed, and his hands stilled. “You want to go?” he asked. Gently. Almost kindly. But with his pinky still wedged in my crack.

  I opened my mouth to say yes, but I couldn't. And then I thought, Jesus, what a head case, and I took a deep breath and went for fucking broke.

  “I like rough,” I said, my voice shaky at first, but it got stronger as I went on. “And I like it when I'm told what to do. If you want me ass-up on the bed, you say so. Trash talking is good. You want to tell me I'm your pony or your dog you're fucking, I can do that. I think hotel carpets are gross, so I'd rather not do puppy play on the floor. But in bed's okay. You can tie me up or gag me, but I don't care for both at once. I don't do shower blowjobs because it makes me feel like I'm drowning. I have done watersports, but I don't mind skipping that. But slapping is fine. So is biting so long as you don't draw blood. Pinching is good. Especially my nipples and my ass. Hickeys are okay, but I like to keep them where I can hide them.”

  I had started talking really fast by the end, and when all of it was out, I let out a breath and waited. After a few seconds, Loving's hand cupped my cock.

  “Public exposure?”

  His fingers were already on my zipper. I shuddered and pushed my hips forward into his grip. “So long as I don't get arrested.”

  “Fair enough.” He pinched my ass hard enough to make me jump. “Unbutton your fly and put your hands on the table.”

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  * * *

  Chapter Two

  Now that I'd made the decision to give in to Loving, I didn't see any reason not to sin as big as I liked. I mean, if you're gonna steal a chicken, eat the whole damn thing.

  I still had a little bit of panic, but it was sliding quickly under my lust. Loving's fingers shifted against my ass as I fumbled with my fly. I undid all the buttons, but I was slow, because he was kneading me hard from the back. I mean, hard. He was more aggressive than I thought he would have been, so much so that actually if he'd been a stranger, I'd have had him dial back. But with Loving I felt okay with it. I finished with my jeans and put my hands on the table as he'd told me to do.

  He pinched again, hard enough that I felt it in my cock. “Good boy.”

  His hand on my thigh slipped up to my underwear. I liked the way he just dug in. He stuffed his hand inside my briefs, taking my cock in a tight grip. I looked down and shivered at the sight of his hand moving against me beneath the fabric.

  “You like the look of that, do you? Like watching me grab you right here where anyone can see?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, keeping my eyes on the sight. I could see his hairy wrist at the waistband, but the rest was just digging. I pushed up into his hand, humping a little.

  His hand at the back had his finger burrowing into my crack, insistent this time. It pressed against my asshole, and I pushed back to let it in.

  His hand in front didn't stop moving as he spoke, but his fingertip only pushed gently at my backside. “We're doing this dry.”

  “Yeah,” I said, and opened more for him. “I can take it. Push it in.”

  I listened carefully for his response. Some guys really get off that I will do dry. Loving was hard to read, though. He said nothing, just pushed in.

  A dry finger up my ass is oddly focusing. It's sexy, and it's not. It's an invasion in a way that lube isn't quite. It feels more like using to me, and to be done like this out in the open really turned me on. He had his finger up inside my ass all the way to the hilt while I looked down and watched his hand moving roughly inside my pants, and holy shit, but I was ready to bend over the table here and now.

  “I think it's time to move this to a private room,” Loving said, but his hands were still working pretty insistently on and in me. “Your hotel or mine?”

  “Yours.” I liked the idea of being able to get away and end it, not having to wait until he decided. Of course, I couldn't drive because I was so drunk, so I wasn't going to have a car.

  He played with me a little more, and so I started humping him, moving his finger up and down inside me, pushing into his hand. I could see other guys watching us out of the corner of my eye. I felt like such a whore. So cheap. So everything nasty and raunchy. I almost wished he could take me right here.

  I moved faster on his finger.

  He hooked it inside me, making me gasp and go still. He flexed his finger a few times, stroking my insides.

  “You're nice and tight,” he told me. “Milk my finger.” I did, but then his hand came out of my underwear and slid up inside my T-shirt. He pinched my nipple, and I gasped. He crooked his finger again. “Harder. Clench harder. Yes. Like that.”

  I milked him with my ass, and he rewarded me with several pinches on my nipples, first the left side and then the right. Pretty soon we had an audience, and I was gasping and rolling my hips. My hands had not left the table.

  “They're going to kick us out,” Loving remarked, but he didn't stop molesting me. He was tugging outright on my nipples now, pulling them sharply and then rolling them inside his fingers. “You like this, what I'm doing to you? Pinching you and fucking your ass?”

  “I do,” I said.

  “Is it too hard?”

  I shook my head. “You can go a lot harder.”

  He pinched so hard that I saw stars and gasped. “Like this?” He pinched again. I couldn't speak, but I nodded.

  He resumed his nipple torture, alternating still, but he kept it hard. Really hard. “They're watching you. Six guys at the tables in front of us. They know what I'm doing to you.”

  “Yeah.” God, I was loving it.

  “You truly are incredibly tight. Tell me how it feels to have my finger inside you.”

  “Hot.” I clenched around him again. “Hot and dirty.”

  “I'd like to watch my finger go in. I'd like to just see your ass, with your hands holding it open while I push my finger inside you.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, wishing we were doing it already.

  “Do you like this, Monroe? Do you like being fucked like this?”

  “Yes, sir.” But I had to add, “Please call me Roe, sir. Not even my mom called me Monroe.”

  “You're very polite. Are you calling me sir because I'm your boss, or because my finge
r is in your ass?”

  “Both, sir.”

  He laughed, and to my disappointment, both his hands disappeared. But he pinched my ass before he withdrew completely. “Stand and do yourself up. We're going to go.”

  I did as I was told. I spared a glance at the men who had been watching at me. I'm only a little bit of an exhibitionist, but I liked that they had seen. I liked that if they ever saw me again, they would look at me and know I was a slut. That all the bad things everybody had said about me back home were true. That I was degenerate and fit only for hell. Because if this was hell, then fucking sign me up.

  The only thing I didn't like was thinking that come Monday, no matter what else happened, Loving was going to know that stuff too.

  His hotel turned out to be the same as mine, a modest one on the edge of town. Unlike me, though, he had a king-size bed.

  We didn't use it right away. He turned on all the lights and cranked the AC because it was hot, and then he sat down in the chair by the table and told me to take off my clothes. He watched as I did it, impassive and almost disinterested, which really turned me on. When I was naked, he had me stand there for a minute in front of him, turn around, and bend over for an inspection. I opened my ass for him without being told.

  “Very nice. Now come straddle my lap facing me and put your hands on top of your head.”

  He was a lot kinkier than I would have guessed, and I realized he was trying to see how far he could go. So I worked really hard for him to get that he wasn't even close to the edge with me. I sat very still as he tugged on my nipples again, then played with my cock. But he was fixated on my nipples. He flicked them awhile, and then, looking up at me, he leaned forward and bit one lightly.

  I swallowed a gasp and said, “Thank you, sir.”

  My cock hummed at the way he grinned. He slid to the other nipple and bit down even harder. This time I did cry out, and I thanked him again. We played this game for several minutes, until he gripped my thighs, lifted me to my knees, and reached around to my ass. He slapped it sharply. “Open yourself.”