Authors: Missy Lyons
Tags: #Menage a Trois (m/m/m), #ManLove
Heart of a Cowboy
Derek is only working for a month to pay off his debt to Jessie, but not everyone likes his openly homosexual lifestyle. He knows what it feels like to be beaten to within an inch of his life so he doesn't give a rat's ass what people think.
The attraction between him and the hunky Indian Ishwar is instantly satisfying. He finds himself begging for more every second he is near him, but when he falls into the arms of a stranger, things only begin to heat up, until an unforeseen peril puts him in danger.
Derek must prove he has the heart of a cowboy, and it will take every ounce of love and strength in his heart to make it through this ordeal alive.
Alternative (M/M or F/F)/Ménage a Trois/Quatre/Western/Cowboys
HEART OF A COWBOY
Siren Publishing, Inc.
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
HEART OF A COWBOY
Copyright © 2010 by Missy Lyons
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-463-3
First E-book Publication: August 2010
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
Letter from Missy Lyons
Regarding Ebook Piracy
Thank you for your recent purchase of my latest book,
Heart of a Cowboy
. It’s been a labor of love that I am happy to share with you and thank you for not sharing your copy of the book.
Piracy is a growing problem because most people don't even realize that sharing or reselling an ebook that they purchased is illegal and a violation of copyright law. If you are aware of illegal copies of this story circulating the internet please feel free to notify the publisher, Siren-BookStrand, with the link in the email or you can contact me directly through my website.
Please note by purchasing your copy of this book you are helping me to maintain my career as a writer. Writing is how I support my family and I live off the royalties from the sales of my books. Thank you again.
With deep gratitude,
Working from home is a lonely proposition. If it were not for the loving support of my family and friends I don’t think
Heart of a Cowboy
or any of my books would come into existence. I can’t speak for every other writer but I needed a network that could help me stay sane as well as accountable for finishing my stories.
My family is at the top of my list to give my thanks to. My adorable husband helped by keeping the kids occupied when I got too close to my deadlines and my nerves ended up frazzled. It was because of him that I could take field trips with my book and refuel my brain cells with Starbucks coffee.
Then there are the many others who spent hours helping me, critiquing, and offering their words of wisdom and support. So thank you to Cherie, Jody, Dahlia, Tricia, and to all the ladies in RD challenge and chat room. I couldn’t forget to say thank you to my editor Alison and Siren Publishing, who believed in my story enough to accept the book for publication.
Copyright © 2010
“You looking for some action tonight? I need a date, sugar.” Derek hated approaching strangers for sex but this was how the sex business worked. If he sucked some cock, he could eat again and his stomach would finally stop growling. He forced a smile and focused on the man illuminated by the streetlight in front of him.
By two in the morning most of the guys were off the streets of Dallas on their way home from the bars or in bed by now. However, the red-light district was full of hookers. Most men either came here to work or to get some, and this one was obviously looking to get laid, but he acted too awkward to be a regular john. He was dressed far too nicely in a matching jacket and pant suit, with a clean set of leather penny loafers. A gold wedding ring marked him as married. Just another reminder this wasn’t a place to find a life mate. This guy wasn’t looking for love, just to get his rocks off. For Derek, these nights became a meaningless string of sexual events that never helped him find himself as he hoped they would.
“What kind of action?” New guy was curious and obviously aroused. His right hand was hidden in his front pocket. Most likely playing pocket pool with his set of balls.
“The deep throat kind.” Derek gave him a hint of a smile, just enough to be construed as encouragement.
“You’re not a cop, right?” The stranger shared his nervous nature by shuffling his weight from side to side.
“No way, man.” Derek clenched his teeth together before reaching forward to stroke the other man’s dick from the outside of his pants. “If I was a cop would I do this?”
The stranger drew his breath in slowly. He didn’t pull away from Derek’s touch, but his dark brown eyes looked over his shoulder as if he were looking for something or someone. “I hear cops have to admit if they are setting you up.”
“I’m not a cop,” Derek laughed softly, “just looking to make a quick buck and get a little male-on-male action if you know what I mean.” Derek felt up the other guy’s muscles over his arms and leaned in suggestively. The stranger wasn’t all that handsome or all that muscular. Derek would never have picked him out as potential boyfriend material. He had a few extra pounds on his belly and wore glasses that did nothing to show off his brown eyes and long lashes. Nothing attracted him to this man, but Derek learned to shut the fuck up and just suck harder at a young age.
“How much for a little loving?” asked the stranger.
Little loving? That was a funny way to phrase it. Loving was the last thing Derek would call it, and sex wasn’t love to him anymore. It was just sex, but the guy probably needed some kind of break. Like so many other men, he was hiding behind a marriage, too afraid to tell the world he preferred dick to pussy in his diet.
On a whim, he cut him a break. This close to Christmas he charged forty dollars, but tonight he just wanted enough to eat. “Twenty dollars for a blow job.”
“That all? What can I get for more?” The guy had hope in his puppy dog look he threw Derek, but Derek just wasn’t interested.
“That’s all I do.” It was the one rule Derek had. He never kissed a date, and he never offered anything more. It was meaningless sex and he wanted to believe there was a guy out there who would value his body. If he sold out now, it was like saying good-bye to those dreams of finding a guy who cared. “If you want more, you’re going to have to find another boy-toy to do it.”
Derek turned to leave, but the man stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “I’ll take it.”
“I get my money upfront and then you get your loving.”
“Can it wait till we get back? I left my money in the car.” The dude looked at him hopefully.
“No way, man.” That was another rule he didn’t like to break. Most guys who tried to pull that “I’ll pay later” shit didn’t want to pay him at all, but this guy was dressed right. He was a middle-aged businessman, not the usual street walkers, gang bangers, or wannabe drag queens. He looked honest enough. It was taking a risk to trust him, but it could pay off if he became a return customer.
“Please can we hurry and I’ll just pay you later? I don’t want to be seen around here.”
Just a wee bit paranoid your wife might find you’re propositioning a prostitute, huh?
“Okay.” Derek rolled his eyes. Why the fuck was he feeling like such a sucker for saying yes? “But you are going to pay me what a blow job is really worth, which is forty dollars for making me wait for my money, and if you fuck me over, I’m going to be mad.” What the fuck? Derek didn’t want to lose a paying customer, so he ignored the twisting of his stomach. This guy hadn’t technically paid him. Yet. He was cold and tired and wanted to go home. It sounded like this guy wanted to have this over with as fast as he did.
The other guy’s jaw nearly hit the pavement, but he accepted the offer. “Fine. Forty dollars.”
“Deal.” He agreed too easily for Derek to feel good about trusting the guy, but he ignored that niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach and carried on with the terms of his agreement, hoping to get paid. “We can get some privacy in your car.”
“Let’s just do it here.” The guy started to unbuckle his pants.
The last thing Derek wanted was to get arrested again or ticketed for indecent exposure. The court system didn’t give a fuck if he was prostituting himself for drugs or food. It treated him equally harshly. He tugged the guy’s arm back toward a dark corner of the street. “Come on. There’s an alley back there we can use.”
The guy sounded agreeable and made a halfhearted laugh. “Sounds good to me.”
They stopped behind a Dumpster, and Derek felt up the front of his new friend. His hard-on pressed against the front of his pants in the palm of Derek’s hand, and Derek felt an involuntary response to it in his pants. It sucked being turned on by this at all, but there was a part of him that liked this. A part of him wanted to believe this guy wanted him, needed him on a primal level, but he just wanted him now. There was no deeper meaning to it. There sure as hell wouldn’t be a tomorrow.
He dropped to his knees in front of the guy. It’s funny that he didn’t even bother with names nowadays. If this guy was a boyfriend, he would know his name by now, but tonight he didn’t bother with pretending. He unzipped the other man’s pants and freed his dick. “Look at the size of your cock! I bet you make all the boys cry when you fuck them.”
“I wouldn’t know. You’re the first guy I’ve been with since high school. You sure you wouldn’t consider up the rear? My wife won’t ever do that. She thinks it’s gross.” His laughter sounded uncomfortable. Forced.
“That’s one thing we have in common. Not the gross part, but no one gets rear access from me.” Derek helped to unbuckle his pants, and the guy curled his fingers through Derek’s hair. Derek did his best to ignore him, unzipping his package. He didn’t want to believe this could mean anything to him. The cock was warm, hardening in his hands. He licked the head of the dude’s cock before slipping it into his mouth.
“Shit, that feels good.” The businessman moaned and Derek pretended to enjoy it, hoping throaty sounds of pleasure would make the guy come faster.
He cupped the other man’s balls and squeezed ever so slightly. A drop of pre-cum tasted salty on his tongue. He smelled super sexy and clean. Funny Derek had to get close enough to suck his cock to notice. It was a masculine scent with tropical fruit and spice undertones. “Damn, you smell good. I could just eat you up.”
“You like that? It’s my cologne. Oh fuck. You know how to suck a guy off.” His date rammed his cock in Derek’s face like he was ramming a pussy. “My wife bought it. Some Ralph Lauren fragrance. I think it’s called Polo Black. Shit, I can’t think straight when you do that. Fuck me hard—that feels good!”
Derek didn’t respond because he couldn’t. Deep-throating the guy’s dick took up all his attention and then some. He moaned for the guy’s benefit, working his cock in and out of his mouth, and Derek wrapped his hands around his hips to the other man’s ass. He massaged the butt cheeks, squeezing each one.
Derek sucked until his new friend came in gushing spurts of cum, swallowing as much as he could to keep any mess down. Some guys tasted better than others, but this guy tasted bitter and metallic in his mouth and he couldn’t wait to get out of there to wash his mouth out with some water.
Derek stood, allowing the other man to take his time to get himself put back together.
“I guess that’s it then?” His date made a disgusted sound and straightened his pants after buckling his belt.
“Yeah, unless you want to open your wallet a little more.”
He actually had the gall to look insulted. “No way am I paying another twenty dollars for a two-minute letdown you call a blow job.”
“Hey buddy, it’s not my problem that you came too fast. I held up my end of the bargain, now it’s time to pay up.” Derek folded his arms holding a defensive stance in front of the other guy’s exit.
“Fuck you.” The jerk pushed against his chest, knocking Derek to the ground, and fled on foot.
Goddamn it. Derek watched his meal ticket run away and screamed after him to stop. Running after him seemed futile, especially after the guy got in his car and sped off. He screamed at the top of his lungs. “You owe me forty bucks, asshole!”
If Derek ever saw him again on the street, he’d be tempted to take that money off his hide. Give him a knuckle sandwich. But beneath the anger it hurt to get rejected like that. Insulting his blow job was the ultimate letdown. He didn’t think it was worth paying for. Now that was fucked up.
Damn it. He knew better than to trust some pecker off the street. Now what the fuck was he going to do? It was getting to be too late to pick up another john.
He had to push past the anger and rejection, to get back out to work. Even the streets around here were empty. There was no way he would be making money around here. If he stayed he would be going to bed hungry.
* * * *
His stomach growled. After having that jerk-off not pay, Derek headed for a more hopeful locale.
The dinner theatre downtown was just letting out the second showing of the Christmas play
. A flood of people exiting the double doors caught Derek’s attention. They all looked so damn happy. None of them looked hungry; most of them were dressed formally or in really expensive sequin-covered gowns.
Derek tried to look for a target, a lonely gentleman, or a guy who didn’t look happy with his current girlfriend, wife, or whatever he bothered calling his date, but he didn’t think anyone would be a taker tonight. They all looked too damn happy, and if he wasn’t careful about who he made suggestions to, he would get punched, or the cops called on him. The women would be a no-go. He couldn’t pretend to fake interest for their benefit, and he didn’t feel like trying to go hetero now.
Jesus, why the fuck did he feel like a beggar on the side of the road begging for a few dollars? They would look down their nose at him just the same whether he asked for the money straight up or offered to work for the money. It wasn’t like these losers couldn’t spare a few dollars.
They wouldn’t miss the cash, but he would certainly miss dinner. His stomach growled loudly as if to emphasize the point, and a sharp pain shot through his middle. He held his stomach and made up his mind he would do whatever it took to get a decent meal and not have to go rooting around in the garbage for it like some animal.
It was people like this who treated him like a pariah. This was the part of society in which he would never belong. This was more like the clique that the jerk from earlier tonight belonged in. People who thought they could walk all over him and get away with it. Use him, abuse him, and throw him down in the street.
Well, tonight he was going to get what he deserved.
If he couldn’t earn his money, he would just take it like a common criminal.
Derek scanned the group for an easy target. An old person, someone who appeared frail, or at least didn’t have a six-foot man attached to her arm. His eyes stopped when he saw a short Asian woman. She was pretty enough, but barely came to five feet tall. Most of the crowd was walking to the parking lot, but she appeared to be waiting for something or someone in front of the auditorium.
Derek inhaled the cold air sharply into his lungs and set a brisk pace to cross the street, aiming to come up behind her. He would have to act quickly. She wore a cocktail dress in white and black satin, with a matching evening bag with silver handles. She didn’t seem to care much about anything going on; her eyes seemed unfocused and lost in private daydreams. She had her hands behind her, playing with the beaded bag in her fingers.
The handbag wasn’t very big. It couldn’t have much in it. Perhaps it held her makeup and a few dollars to get her by for the evening, but a few dollars would be enough.
Derek bumped into her. She hit the ground and he grabbed the purse, tucking it firmly under his arm like a football. The few people around her were just as confused at what happened as she was. It gave Derek precious seconds to increase the distance between him and her. He ran like the devil was chasing him.
Suddenly she realized her purse was missing. The moment came when he heard her call out behind him, “Stop! Thief!”
He took long strides, crossing the asphalt parking lot in record time. His heart raced and his lungs took in painfully cold air in deep gasps.
He was going to make it. He couldn’t hear anyone pursuing him. He turned his head round to look. No one was running after him, and after he cleared the parking lot, he could easily clear the block wall and disappear into the darkness of the surrounding streets.
An engine roared to life behind him and time suddenly slowed down. He felt a bumper hit him from behind. The force thrust him off his feet, causing him to fly through the air. He hit the ground hard—skidding to a stop.
An endorphin rush shielded him from the pain, but he’d be feeling it in a few minutes. Road rash undoubtedly marked his face. He touched his hand to it to find there was blood.