Let It Go (9 page)

“Shit,” Creed whispered, stumbling away from the man. Eli wouldn’t meet his gaze. His chest heaved; the red flush that infused his face when he was angry spread down his neck to his chest. Nipples hard peaks. The heavy bulge beneath his jeans… “Is this for real?”

“Let me down.” Eli still wouldn’t meet his gaze, his voice a whisper. “Just let me down.”

Creed stood there, struck stupid. This is what this is.
Oh. My. God.
Was he wrong? Eli had reacted to his touch. Embarrassed. He was so damned embarrassed. Humiliated was the better word. Creed had to know. At the risk of everything he had to know. Breathing in a ragged breath, Creed moved in front of the helpless man. Toes touching boots. “Why? So you can beat me senseless? That’s what you usually do. Pound on me. For ten years. And I’ve never known why.” He laid his hand on Eli’s neck, much like he had a few moments before, but this time he let his fingers trail down his body. “Or would you rather fuck me? Is that what this thing between us is?”

Eli bit his bottom lip. Creed could see how he tried not to react. His skin prickled under Creed’s fingers. He struggled with the twine. His breath was harsh on Creed’s face. “I’m not interested. Let me go so I can kill you.”

“Your dick says otherwise.” Creed leaned close enough to whisper in Eli’s ear. “I can smell you, Eli. Makes me want to taste you.”

“Faggot,” Eli growled, but a moan followed as Creed slid his fingers back to his chest, tangling with the crisp red hair that swirled around his nipples.

“Takes one to know one.” Creed felt giddy with knowledge. He forgot to be cautious. He forgot everything. The scent of Eli’s arousal had him nearly mindless. He wanted. Always wanted. Always. He felt Eli surge forward as the twine shredded on the nail. Rough hands encircled his neck. “Want you, always wanted you,” Creed whispered, watching Eli’s face change. Rage. He’d made a mistake. “I’m sorry.”

Strong hands slammed into him, pushing him much like Creed had done to him a few minutes earlier. He deserved Eli’s anger. Deserved whatever the man threw at him. He landed hard on his back in the haystack. Worn-out horse blankets beneath him. Meant for the trash. Eli straddled him, the tattered strands of the bailing twine hanging down his arms. Creed wouldn’t fight. He closed his eyes waiting for the first blow. It never came. Eli leaned over him, his eyes alive with a fire that scared him. He heard the fabric on his thin shirt rip; his jeans were next, not ripped just gone. Before he could think to stop him, Eli forced him onto his stomach in the hay. Strong hands held him down. Pressed his shoulders into the foul-smelling blankets. “On your knees.” The words were harsh, guttural. Wasn’t the first time he’d been here. He did as he was told. The sound Eli made was so familiar; spit trailed warm and slimy down his crack. Fingers pushed it into him. He spit again. Creed whimpered into the blanket when Eli entered him. Hot and hard and fast.

“You like that?” Eli lay over him. Holding his body rigid but not touching him. His voice was strange. Almost soft. He was breathing heavily. Felt good on Creed’s skin. Eli didn’t move inside him. He held himself so still as if he was giving Creed a chance to adjust. “You’re tight. I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice sounded pained. His breath grazed Creed’s shoulder, followed by something soft. His hair? Lips. Eli kissed him. Quick, soft kisses along his shoulder. “You feel good. Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Creed whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He cleared the lump and repeated the denial. “Feels good. Want it. Like it rough.”

Eli’s groan was the only warning Creed received before Eli’s hips snapped forward, pinning him to the blanket. “Sorry. So sorry. I’ve got to. Want to make it last. Don’t think it’s possible.” Eli pushed his legs wider and buried himself deep. And that’s all Creed needed. His mind melted, going blank, nothing but fucking. Just a dick inside him, fucking him. No words; soft kisses on his shoulder and sweet moans. It wasn’t fast. Slow, so slow. Eli’s hips rocked into him almost gently, no hurry. There was no hurry. Eli, fucking him. Making him ache. Making him want. Sweat dripped from him, between them. They slipped against each other. Creed pushed back, moved with him. “Feels good, Creed. Wanted this. Does it feel good? Tell me.”

“Yeah.” Creed tingled at the sound of his name. No one had ever said his name before. No one had ever asked him if it felt good. Not as if it mattered, at least. “Feels so damned good. Harder. Like it harder.” Something dark reared in his mind. He fought to keep it away. “Feels good—Eli. Want you. Always you.”

“Me too.” Eli stopped moving, his breath all but stopped. “Can’t do harder. I’ll burst apart. Want this too much. Not ready to stop.” Creed waited. His heart raced. He could feel Eli throbbing inside him. He didn’t want this to end either. He waited. Eli roared as lightning sizzled past the barn. “Roll over. On your back. Want to watch you come.”

He withdrew, and Creed cried out. Not from pain but from loss. He let Eli move him. He rolled, careful not to kick him. When he was on his back, Eli leaned over him. His eyes blazed with fire, turning them a light shade of brown, almost golden. Red mottled his face, his chest, his shoulders; he was ablaze. There was straw in his hair. Creed wanted to reach out and run his fingers through the thick, straight patch; he wanted to pull him close. Kiss him. He wanted Eli to kiss him. His soul screamed for it.
Kiss me!
But Eli didn’t. Instead he pulled Creed’s hips up his thighs until their bodies were almost joined there. More spit and he was inside him again. So deep. Felt so good. Creed arched his back and took all of him.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” Eli said. His eyes closed now. He held still, his square jaw tight, almost angry. Creed lifted his legs higher, wrapping them around him as he was told. Eli’s hands slipped beneath him; strong fingers gripped his hips, forcing Creed to move. Eli groaned again and thrust deep into him; his body trembling at the force, he fell forward over Creed.

“Harder,” Creed begged him, watching his face as he lifted his ass off the blanket and slammed himself into Eli. He needed more. Needed to feel something. “Eli.”

“Won’t be able to stop again,” Eli whispered, his mouth next to Creed’s ear. His hips moved. Thrusting into him. Creed found his rhythm and moved with him. Undulating. Riding wave after wave of—“Come for me, Creed, want to see you come. Need to see it.”

That. He needed to come for Eli. It was all he’d ever needed. A hand gripped him. Tight. Jerking him. “Harder, more, need to come, Eli.” He couldn’t breathe; his body tingled in places he didn’t know he could tingle. Pain. Pleasure.
Need.Want.Eli.Eli.
“
Eli
,” he cried out when the pain shot through his body. Arching into the hard man inside him, impaling himself as the feeling consumed him. “Oh God. God. God, Eli.” Hot and sticky coated his belly; his body wasn’t his anymore. He’d become nothing, liquid, part of Eli.

“Shit, oh shit.” He knew that sound. The tight, short thrusts, the words of surprise. He waited for the rush of heat inside him. Waited. But it didn’t come. Eli pulled out of him. The movement rough enough to hurt. He let his legs fall away. Lying still, he waited for Eli to realize what they’d done. He steeled himself for more pain. Instead, Eli moved up his body, straddling him, his dick in his hands as he stroked himself. “Going to come, Creed. Need to come. Can’t stop.”

Creed laid his hands on Eli’s thighs, stroking the hair there, his gaze locked with Eli’s. He saw the pleasure build in his eyes. Eli’s body went rigid, his mouth slack as he threw his head back. “Creed. Feels so good. Creed.” Creed didn’t flinch as milky white heat shot over his chest, some on his chin. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. When he was finished Eli collapsed over him, his mouth hovering so close to Creed’s they could kiss. He could smell peppermint on his breath. He wanted to kiss him. Needed to kiss him. Needed to taste the mint on his tongue.

Eli’s lips landed on his neck instead. He didn’t seem to notice.

Chapter 7

The horse trailer stood in a deep puddle of water. The rain had finally stopped in the past hour, just in time for Sawyer to come driving up with the stallion he thought Eli needed to replace Opie.

No horse could ever replace Opie. But Sawyer was right. He needed a working horse for all the little things around here, especially while his mares were in delicate conditions. The fellow who had the horse sat in the truck with Sawyer. Something Engler. Eli never could remember his damned name. Jack Engler, Sawyer’s cousin from near Pensacola. That sounded right.

Eli was out of sorts. He didn’t want to do this today. A strong breeze came up that told him the rains wouldn’t stay away too much longer. The big red horse was skittish as hell. He wasn’t saddle broken. What the hell kind of time did Eli have to break a horse? And this one looked as if he would fight that hoof and nail. “He is a beauty.” This from Sawyer.

“He is. What’s his name?” asked Eli, and Jack Engler rattled off some long-ass name fit for a race horse that made Eli finch. “What’s his real name?”

“We call him Red.” The laugh that came from nearby made him bristle with anger. He ran a hand down the back of his neck and made himself relax. It had been like this since Creed had walked away from him yesterday. Bare-ass naked and quiet as death while Eli was still trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t come to grips with what had happened in the barn. They were back to avoiding each other.

“Have to change that, give him something fitting a horse.” Eli watched the horse’s eyes roll in fear. He was never good at judging horse flesh; that was always his uncle. Cattle he understood. Horses. You rode those. You didn’t milk them, or eat them. And the payout was less for eight seconds’ work. He’d stick with cows. “Creed, what do you think? Is he worth the money?” It was the first time he’d spoken directly to the man since yesterday. “Let my boy here look at Big Red.” He winced, knowing how that sounded. Wasn’t how he meant it. Creed shot him a dirty look, but he took Engler’s place at the horse’s head.

“Well, gee, Dad, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Creed actually smiled, his eyes turning a lighter shade of green if that were possible.

“Just tell me what you think of the damn horse. Is he worth the small fortune Engler is asking for him?” Eli growled.

“Eli, Jack is the best judge of horse flesh in North Florida,” Sawyer said in a hushed voice low enough so that Engler didn’t hear. “What’s a saddle bum like him going to tell you that Jack can’t?”

“Yeah, well, I trust Creed’s judgment. He’s got a gift with horses. And besides, if Engler is such an expert, why is this horse still unbroken? And why is he still for sale? I don’t have a lot of money. I don’t want to get saddled with a horse I can’t use.” Eli didn’t keep his voice down. Why bother? He had a reputation of saying what he thought; no sense stopping now.

Creed cast him a look that said he heard before he leaned over to whisper in the horse’s ear. His hands busy brushing, petting, connecting with the huge animal. He moved around, hands down flanks, over his belly, talking to him in that soft voice of his. Eli felt his skin tingle from watching him.

“What’s he doing?” Jack Engler suddenly seemed edgy as Creed took a handful of mane and launched himself astride the horse.

“Something no one else has done.” Eli didn’t need Creed to tell him the horse had never been mounted before. The stark terror in his eyes said everything. “You can’t get a saddle on him. And I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts Creed is the first person to stay on him that long.”

Engler didn’t say another word. Neither did Sawyer. They watched as Creed worked to calm the horse down. The muscles in his thighs clenching as he pressed his legs into the horse on the first buck. He leaned forward. One hand still holding tight, the other stroking along the beast’s neck. Talking to him again. After a few wild moments in which Eli was sure Creed was going to be sent flying, he managed to settle the horse down to the point that he appeared calm.

“I’ll be damned,” Engler said under his breath. “Look at that.”

Creed dismounted in a fluid motion. Moving back around to the horse’s face, he took him by the halter and led him back to the trailer where he hooked him on the lead.

“So what do you think?” Eli called out to him. “Do you think you can break him?” He knew that if anyone could it would be Creed.

“He’s been mistreated. Doesn’t trust.” Creed pushed his hair out of his face and settled the worn-out ball cap back on his head, his eyes inscrutable, his lips drawn in a thin line.

“Not by me,” Engler was quick to say. “I bought him at auction in Tennessee. He’s been like that since the beginning. My boys have done everything to retrain him.”

“Can’t retrain fear,” Creed replied, his eyes going blank like the day before, and Eli wondered if he spoke from experience. “Offer him five less,” he added and walked away. Creed jumped the fence into the pasture, whistled for Kip, and then while they watched he grabbed the horse’s mane while he was still moving and swung onto his back. Together they took off at a full run. No bridle, no saddle. Just a man and his horse.

“You heard the man. Final offer. If he can be fixed, Creed can do it. I doubt you’ll get another offer.” Eli couldn’t drag his gaze off the swiftly disappearing man. He shivered, remembering how those thighs had felt wrapped around him. Long, lean, and hard. He envied that damned horse.

“I’ll be losing a thousand dollars,” Engler said through gritted teeth.

“Well, that’s the offer. It’s going to take a lot of work to get him trained for working cattle. I can’t even imagine how he’d ever be fit to race. Or even as good as Creed is, I doubt he could make a decent barrel racer out of him. Your call, Engler; you know how to get in touch with me.” Eli slapped him on the shoulder and went to say good-bye to the horse before he went back into the barn to finish cleaning out stalls.

* * * *

Rain came down hard, drowning the world out. It was a hell of a drought buster. Dark settled in early. Eli felt trapped and antsy. A week. It had been a week today since he’d left the ranch. He hadn’t spent this much time here in years. “Judge Dickhead called while you were out riding,” Eli said to the man sitting at the kitchen table, a book spread out on the surface in front of him.