Woman on Top [McQueen Was My Valley 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (4 page)

Gabriel hadn’t ever resorted to handcuffing a guy he had a yen for. Usually men just flung themselves at him out here in the wild. Men who normally wouldn’t even mess with another guy would become feisty animals when out in the middle of nowhere. No restrictions, no one watching over their shoulders, no one to criticize or blame. On vacation from their wives or girlfriends and maybe knocking back a few while relaxing, once they caught sight of Gabriel’s badge their eyes shone with lust. Gabriel only had to use force on the men who enjoyed that sort of thing.

But when he’d spun the ginger around to get a view of his ass and maybe indulge in a little spanking, he saw the scars. This stopped Gabriel dead in his tracks—for a minute, anyway. His first thought was that this guy was involved in much rougher play than he was accustomed to. Then it struck him. Maybe the lash marks hadn’t been entirely voluntary. The guy
did
have a tattoo on his right forearm that looked Chinese, and his hair had a military cut that had grown out. He may have gotten into trouble in another country.

So instead, Gabriel dropped to his knees to pleasure the guy. He had maintained an erection throughout Gabriel’s playful abuse, so his desire was evident enough. Gabriel gulped the long, fat prick down his throat, gratified to feel the vibrations of his deep groan in the pit of his stomach.

Gabriel knew he was a good cocksucker. He’d been told that dozens of times by amazed and grateful men. Maybe because he didn’t have the vaguest gay aura about him, men were always surprised at his blow job skills. He wasn’t gay. Gabriel enjoyed a nice juicy cunt like the next guy. There just weren’t that many pretty, straight women hanging out in the high desert. The women he ran into were usually shooting large-bore pistols at targets of men while wearing flak vests. His encounters with those women were short and to the point—citing them for shooting a bull or barn owls or something similar.

Gabriel could also tell that this ginger was so hot he was instantly on the verge of coming. It was plain he didn’t have much, if any, experience with other men, and the perverse thrill was turning him on. This happened more often than one would suspect, and when Gabriel felt the cock elongate and stiffen nearly to the bursting point, he backed off. As he mouthed the cockhead lightly, he unsheathed his baton and whipped it to extend it. He had to detach his mouth from the cock in order to slather the baton with his spit. He slurped the prick back down his throat again to distract the ginger from his nudging of the baton against his tight anal ring.

When he slipped the baton past the bud’s stricture, the ginger gasped and shivered as though being plunged into a freezing pool.
He won’t last long
. Gabriel jiggled the baton, tickling the inside of the channel as he sought out the perfectly exquisite spot—the spot that would have the lanky, muscular fellow exploding with force down his throat.

There
. Tremors gripped the man’s thighs as he swallowed a moan. His hips jerked uncontrollably, and Gabriel applied a voracious licking to the underside of the bulging prick. He wiggled the baton against the sensitive prostate, and the man ejaculated down his throat.

Ah. Sweet and light
. It was almost as though the guy had been drinking champagne, that’s how delicious his semen was. Gabriel gulped gratefully while the other man rotated his hips sensually, the better to scratch his pulsating prostate. A low growl resonated through his abdomen as he fucked Gabriel’s mouth. Jet after jet of jism spurted into Gabriel’s mouth, and he swirled his tongue around the slit.

When the man began sliding down the cave wall, Gabriel gave him a break. Slipping the baton out of his butt, Gabriel took the throbbing dick in his hand and just lightly licked it. Gabriel was nearly doubled over by the time the guy hit the sandy cave bottom, and Gabriel had to relinquish the cock, regretfully. He leaned back on his heels and regarded the man, now a limp mess of limbs, his reddened cock pulsating against his thigh.
Beautiful
.

Already he needed to see this man again. This realization frightened him. He wasn’t gay—he just did this to while away the boring hours. And most of the people he ran into in the desert were passing tourists, people shooting off boxes of shells or stumbling around looking for the Burning Man festival. Encounters with them were strictly one-night stands.

Now the soldier couldn’t even look him in the face, he was so ashamed. Gabriel was accustomed to that, but this time he couldn’t restrain himself from holding the other’s chin in his fingers and planting a bruising, openmouthed kiss on him.

The soldier resisted. Gabriel licked his lips, but he kept his mouth shut tight and tried to squirm away. That was to be expected. Men often doubled their shame once the sexual act was completed, wallowing in mortification. Gabriel had to admit defeat then, and he rocked back on his heels to grab the guy’s hands in his. He yanked him to his feet then found his handcuff key on his key ring. “I’m Gabriel Verona. You?”

“Kinsey,” the guy panted, avidly watching him click the key into the cuff. He still trembled, probably freezing cold, the flesh of his pectorals shivering in the shade of the cave.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “You didn’t take me serious about arresting you, did you? There
is
a law against nudity and masturbation, but I’m not about to waste time arresting anyone over it. I’m on horseback, too, and the nearest police station is in Monticello. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Kinsey forced a laugh as Gabriel returned the cuffs to their holster at his hip. Rubbing his wrists, Kinsey said timidly, “Of course I knew you were playing around. Say, is that a forty magnum Glock?”

“Yeah, it’s a—”

In the flash of an eye, Gabriel was seeing stars. He spun on his ass, sliding even farther than normal because he’d hit some ice.
That bastard just sucker punched me!
Gabriel was probably more shocked that Kinsey had had the nerve to slug him than at the bruise he already felt forming on his jaw.

The nude Kinsey loomed over him, fists balled at his sides, ready to wallop him again if he dared try to get up. Gabriel had underestimated Kinsey’s ire because of his seemingly gentle nature. That was a stupid mistake. He should really know better by now, having been a conservation officer for eight years.

“Keep your goddamned hands on your own fucking dick,” Kinsey snarled.

Gabriel laughed. He even closed his eyes and threw his head back to laugh. That showed that he wasn’t afraid, that he knew Kinsey was done punching him. “Good one, buddy,” he wheezed, genuinely amused. He draped his hand across his abdomen as it shook with mirth.

When he opened his eyes, he was glad to see Kinsey laughing, too. Kinsey even reached a hand out to help him up, patting him on the back chummily when he got to his feet.

“I mean it,” Kinsey told him through clenched teeth. But he was smiling when he let Gabriel go and meandered back to the shoreline to get back into his clothes.

Gabriel followed to wash off his baton in the creek that descended from the Inkwells proper. “You in the military?”

“Yes. No. I was. In the Marines before switching to…the private sector,” Kinsey said vaguely. He had to wiggle his hips to get into his snug 501s, and Gabriel had a new appreciation for him all over again. Kinsey was absolutely stunning, his milky skin shimmering over the finely molded abdomen, stiffening Gabriel’s prick again.

“You here to ski?”

Kinsey didn’t even dignify that with an answer. “So you just ride around these mountains, hoping to catch someone auditioning their hand puppet?”

Gabriel laughed at the slang he’d never heard. “Actually, about twenty yards over that ravine is a poached doe deer. Had to do a necropsy to determine cause of death and found she was pregnant with two little fawns.” It riled Gabriel all over again, remembering the gut-shot doe. A concerned citizen who had surprised the poacher had called Gabriel’s hotline to report it. The poacher must’ve bailed at the sign of the citizen, because other than the buckshot, the deer was untouched, preserved in the snow with her tongue coyly sticking out. “There’s been an epidemic of deer poaching since I came to McQueen Valley, usually taking the antlers and leaving the carcass. Black market antler trade. My predecessor, Julian Longtree, told me some guy’s been running amok, taking trophies. It’s not just female does he’s whacking—he’s killing the herds for years to come.”

Gabriel was surprised that this seemed to soften Adrian. He didn’t expect a tough and courageous marine to care about any dead does, but Adrian frowned and said, “Those are God’s creatures. You especially don’t shoot does.”

“This is why we have seasons and regulations!” Gabriel agreed heatedly. He knew he became strident and overzealous when the subject of poaching came up, but after all, that zeal was why he’d become a conservation officer in the first place. “This ruins it for all the
ethical
sportsmen who abide by the rules.”

“You can’t just—I don’t know—put some sort of motion camera—nah, I don’t suppose that’d work.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel agreed vehemently, “putting a GPS collar on a doe wouldn’t help, either. We do that on big cats, cougars. We’ve caught a few poachers that way. But for deer—shit, I’ve got fifteen hundred square miles of patrol district to cover alone. I rely mostly on sportsmen to report poaching to me. I have the fetuses, rounds I dug out of the doe, and a cigarette butt. If I ever get a suspect, I can make a match. Think I’ll go back to the lodge to express mail this stuff to my lab.”

Kinsey appeared to have finished dressing, looking fine in a formfitting burgundy henley pullover. Gabriel expected Kinsey would offer to ride alongside him. After all, they were both heading back to the lodge. But Kinsey just turned to stuff his towel into his saddlebag, and Gabriel was left feeling even lonelier than ever.

Morose, he mounted his horse and regained the path.
Maybe he’s not going back to the lodge. Maybe he’s a BASE jumper like Nathan is and is scoping out new “diving boards” for a jump.
But none of these excuses seemed to be true as Kinsey trailed Gabriel by as little as thirty yards, riding up the canyon’s rim.

This is ridiculous. We look like idiots riding this close together yet not speaking.

Waves of relief washed over Gabriel when Kinsey rode abreast. He looked achingly delicious in that Stetson and sheepskin coat, although Gabriel could tell they were brand new. Kinsey seemed a natural on a horse—especially for a marine. “Why don’t you go talk with Nathan Horowitz? He’s got that new fly-fishing outfit. He must see boatloads of outdoorsmen every day.”

“I know Nathan,” Gabriel agreed. “In fact, that’s why I was temporarily reassigned to southeast Utah. My predecessor Julian decided to go to Hawaii with Nathan on his honeymoon.” Now that Gabriel spoke that aloud, it
did
sound mighty odd. Why had Julian butted into Nathan’s honeymoon? Well, it probably wasn’t important. Maybe Julian had had some wildlife research to do in Hawaii. What was important was that Gabriel had been reassigned from the Springville office, where he’d had a partner, Donovan. He’d been lonelier than ever the past few weeks, riding alone through the magnificent canyons, working on his watershed restoration project on his notebook. The highlight of his month had been stumbling upon a group of loud “Furries”—people who dressed like enormous stuffed animals in order to hump each other in the wilderness. That had woken him up and given him plenty to laugh about for a few days.

Kinsey looked thoughtfully into the distance. “Yes, they seem to have an…arrangement.”

Arrangement? What did Kinsey mean? “Yeah, I’ll go talk to Nathan. If you don’t mind.”

Kinsey shrugged. “I don’t mind. What they do on their honeymoon is none of my concern.”

Gabriel truly hoped Kinsey didn’t mind. Already he was far too interested in the ginger marine for his own good, and he knew only desolation could come of his crush. “I’m gonna get that bastard poacher.”

“Yes,” agreed Kinsey, and the emotion seemed to be heartfelt. “We need to preserve our hunting and fishing heritage.”

“Holy mother.”

Cass Cameron, director of the front desk, normally spoke in such intense terms, so Brooke didn’t look up from her computer screen. Every time a fellow who was remotely good-looking, maybe dressed in a tux, walked by, Cass muttered some appreciative comment under her breath. She always became very fluttery when around Julian Longtree, the constant companion of Xandra and her new husband Nathan. Brooke didn’t know why Xandra didn’t share the wealth and let Cass date Julian. Xandra and Nathan were obviously protective of the sexy half-Navajo game warden.

Cass continued, “This man, Brooke. He looks like a goddamned luscious living statue.”

All right, I’ll look up.
Oh, holy shit. Cass is right. He’s a god.
This man surely must have been nearly six and a half feet tall. It was obvious he was highly muscled even though he wore a brown Wildlife Resources jacket, like the one Julian wore. His duty belt chock-full of manly implements aroused Brooke even further, as did the star-like badge pinned over his front jacket pocket. His three-day-old beard made him look even more rugged, if such a thing was possible. The beard was so manly it didn’t even begin to cover up what looked like a fairly fresh bruise there.