Page 17 of Baker (Bastian Brothers #1)

Chapter Eight

T he day was warming up nicely.

Prissy was feeling her oats, so we had a hard run across the pasturelands, slowing only when we reached one of the old line cabins.

Someone had been working on this one that faced west. Windows had been removed.

Probably Linc, or possibly Dodge, both were eager to get the cabins renovated and serve all them city slickers looking for a week out west. Yee and fucking haw.

It still didn’t sit right with me to have strangers meandering around our land.

You don’t seem to mind Hanley strolling around.

Why did my internal voice have to be such a sarcastic jerk?

Why could I not just agree with myself? I never had this problem with a conscience when I was drunk.

If this was what Pinocchio went through with his stupid cricket, it was no wonder he ran off to that island full of donkeys.

Or was there a whale? I couldn’t remember.

I’d only seen it once when I was married—my ex had a niece who we babysat on rare occasions who loved old Disney movies—and I had been mildly plastered.

Terrible. Yes, I know. I never claimed to be a good man back then.

I wasn’t even sure if I was a decent man now…

Shaking off the dark times, I focused on the present.

Taking positive actions now would lead me to a brighter future.

That was the doctrine in our meetings. Progress, not perfection.

Which was good because this old cowboy was never going to be perfect, no matter how many dry years I clocked.

If I made it through a day not taking a drink and not pissing off the few people left on this planet that cared for me, that was a good day.

Prissy hit the brakes, sending me lurching forward as my head had been in the clouds.

She gave the air a sniff, blew the smell out, and curled her top lip.

I sat up straighter in the saddle, looking out over the vast meadows that were just now starting to green up slightly.

Birds flitted about as we stood atop a knoll, looking down into a shallow divot in the land where old dead grasses blew in the soft wind.

Far off, I spied the white butts of several pronghorns bounding away at top speed.

It never ceased to amaze me how fast they were.

Second fastest land animals in the world.

Cheetahs were a bit faster, but pronghorns could run further.

Not that we had cheetahs here in Oklahoma, obviously, but we did have—

Prissy reared up without warning. If not for my many years in the saddle, I would have been thrown.

Instinct took over. I loosened my grip on the reins as I leaned forward to link an arm around her neck to talk to her.

Yelling would only add to her anxiety, so I spoke softly until her front feet reconnected with the ground.

“Jesus H. Christ,” I said after my horse settled.

That was when I saw it. A huge clump of brown and green weeds rising out of the shifting dead grasses.

“Easy, easy,” I cooed to the restless beast under me.

Prissy was this close to trying to ditch me again when Hanley tugged the mask off his ghillie suit to stare at us.

Even from this distance, I could see the look of deep regret as I battled with Prissy.

“Easy, easy. It’s not a monster. Just some fool in a suit. ”

He quickly stripped off the camouflage outfit, keeping his feet planted in the small runoff where he’d been hidden.

And hidden damn well too. When Prissy finally danced herself in a few circles, eyes wide and nostrils flared, she sighted a human and not a weed creature, then, finally, began to settle.

“Sorry. Sorry. Shit, that was bad,” he shouted from the gulley where a few scrubby redberry junipers had taken root. “I didn’t know you were there until you started shouting at your horse.”

Prissy was not happy about this man standing downwind, but I convinced her to approach him, the lure of a tiny drinking hole and the promise of some treats when we got back to the ranch enough to counter her unease.

We climbed down into the runoff, her hooves splashing in a tiny temporary creek filled with melted snow.

I looked down at Hanley and felt a rush of want searing a path to my balls. God he was pretty.

“She winded you but couldn’t see you.” I slipped off my mare’s back, gave her a few soft pats on her neck, and then dropped her reins.

She gave Hanley the darkest look I had ever seen a horse give anyone before she lowered her head to drink at the tiny stream.

“She and I would appreciate it if you never did that again.”

He rubbed the back of his sweaty neck. “Sorry, yeah, that was not my finest moment. I stood up to see if I could get a few action shots of the pronghorns as they ran. Guess she thought I was some sort of meadow ogre or something.”

I gave him a long, slow look. Sweaty head to clay-coated boots. “You’re the finest-looking ogre I’ve ever seen.”

“That a fact?”

And just like that we were in each other’s arms, mouths sealed, grappling and tugging at our clothes while my horse swatted the air with her tail, uncaring if my ass was hanging out. As long as she didn’t nip my bare cheek, she could watch all she wanted.

Hanley was an aggressive kisser, delving into my mouth as he fondled my aching balls, his tongue tangling with mine.

A whimper flowed out of me before the kiss ended, and he went to his knees, right there on his ghillie suit, his tripod still set up on where several pronghorns had been grazing a few minutes ago.

He kneeled before me, pupils blown, and sucked on his finger wantonly.

“Fuck,” I gasped, knowing that he was slicking the digit up for my ass.

I wanted a finger in me, but I wanted his cock in me more.

With my pants around my ankles, I couldn’t spread my legs any wider.

Hobbled as I was, he still managed to slip his hand under my balls to find my hole as he licked the weeping head of my cock.

“Damn, you taste so good,” he growled, then swallowed me down as he pressed the tip of his index finger inside me.

I groaned, grabbed his head, and began working my cock in and out of his pretty pink lips as he put more of that finger inside me.

Soon, he was tapping my prostate like it was a telegraph key.

My hips were punching now, and he moaned around each thrust deep into his throat.

With a shout that made Prissy startle, I blew apart, cum coating his lips and chin as he did his best to swallow my load.

His finger continued to tap-tap-tap away, tripling the intensity of my orgasm until my knees buckled.

My half-soft cock slid from his lips, leaving a trail of cum and spittle on his chin as I dropped to the ground with a grunt and a shudder.

Then he stood, easing to his dirty boots.

His cock was stiff, the head swollen and slick.

I opened my mouth without a word, and he fed me his dick, inch by inch, until his balls rested on my chin.

With a sign that I hoped told him to use my mouth as he wished, he then eased out.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he said, voice rough as a pineapple but far tastier.

“Come down my throat,” I breathlessly replied.

He ran his thumb over my lips as his dick nestled against my cheek.

I wet my lips and turned my head. His soft exhalation was carried off on the cool winds as I lapped at his cock.

With a gentle touch, he turned my head forward, took his prick in hand, and fed me his dick.

Eyes watering when he was done, he looked down at me for a moment, then eased out.

I sucked in air, leaning in, eager for that shank of meat to fill my mouth.

His smile was wicked then. Message received.

He set a pace that was at once rough, but not rough enough.

I grabbed his ass through thin denim to press him deeper.

He eased out, gave my hair a tug, and then went back to his own pace.

Slow at first, then faster, this dick stretching my jaw wide as he rocked in and out.

With one hand fisted in my hair and the other resting on my cheek, he went to his toes as his cock swelled.

Hot spunk coated my throat. He pulled out, cock still spitting, and smeared his spend over my tender lips.

“That’s the hottest thing ever,” he snarled, his chest heaving while he rubbed his cum into my skin with his dick.

I knelt there, eager for his jizz to coat me wholly, but the facial would have to do.

For now. Eyes closing, I worked to catch my breath as the breeze cooled the spunk on my cheeks and chin. “Stand up for me.”

He released my hair and offered his hand to me.

I pushed up, dick out, and moved into his arms to kiss him.

I could taste both of us. He lapped at my mouth, mixing our essences together like eggs into cake batter.

I clutched at his sides, hungry for everything he could give me.

Another pounding would be phenomenal. Right here.

Hands and knees in the gulley, stones digging into my kneecaps and palms, his cock wrecking me.

“I want to fuck,” I huffed into his mouth. He drew back just enough to find my gaze. What he saw there made one side of his lips quirk up.

“Right here in front of God and that prairie dog colony over there?” He sounded all innocent, but the lingering fire in his pine-colored eyes showed some raunchiness that made my toes curl.

My sight flickered to where a quartet of black-tailed prairie dogs were sitting on their haunches, watching us intently.

They seemed taken aback by the naughtiness they had just witnessed.

I’d not even seen the burrow mound. I’d been so intent on getting my hands on Hanley.

Good thing it wasn’t a nest of timber rattlers.

“They have the door cover charge and ID? If so, then sure, let them watch. They might learn a few things,” I replied.

Hanley chuckled. We kissed.

And then we heard the roar of ATVs coming up on us fast. Shouts.

I knew those voices. Ford, Linc, and Dodge.

JFC. Could a man not get any rest from his fucking family?

! “It’s my damn half-brothers,” I grumbled before grabbing at my pants around my ankles.

Hanley did a little dance, cussing vividly when he caught his dick in his zipper while I jerked my jeans up over my bare ass.

We were just presentable when the trio crested the knoll, the putt-putt-putt of my old Honda four-wheelers with rattling trailers filled with building supplies killing the serenity of the plains.

Which is why I hated riding the damn things when a horse was available.

Sadly, there were many times the ATVs were just more practical, so I’d accumulated a few over the years.

Beat to shit they were, but they ran like champs even when I wished they didn’t.

Maybe I should stop tinkering with them so they won’t start. I’d store that thought away for later.

“Hey, there you are,” Dodge called down to me, his cheeks pink from the ride.

“Here I are.” I gave Hanley a sorrowful look before making my way up the soft hill to stand in front of my half-brothers. “What are you three doing so far out?”

“We’re hauling building stuff to the Lonesome Dove cabin,” Linc said, his large hands wrapped in leather gloves as they rested on the handlebars. His beard had bits of old dead grass and seeds caught in it.

“The what now?” I asked because I’d never heard the cabins called anything but cabins.

“It’s that one way out on the furthest western pasture,” Linc explained as if I didn’t know my own fucking land. I did. And quite well, thank you. I just had no clue we were now naming line cabins after old westerns. Could we even do that?

“I think that name may be copyrighted or something,” I said as Hanley joined us, looking far too damn good. My fingers itched to get at him again, even though we’d just gotten at each other. The man was like fine aged whiskey. And we all knew how much I liked whiskey.

“Well, probably. We’ll make something up that’s similar. Horny Hoot Owl,” Linc tossed out and got a snicker from all of us. “You want to come along? We can get some final plans in our heads as to what we’d like to do with it.”

No. I did not want to go. I wanted to stay here and get fucked by Hanley.

But that would be lazy and irresponsible.

Baker Bastian may be many things, most crummy, but he was not lazy.

Heaving a mighty sigh internally, I gave my stupid brothers a nod, then went to find my horse who had wandered a bit.

Not far, but enough that I had to call her back.

When I was in the saddle, I rode back to the gathering atop the knoll.

“Thanks for stopping by,” Hanley said as he petted Prissy’s soft muzzle. “I’ll bring your hat to the house later.”

“I thought you lost your hat while out riding when your horse saw a coyote?” Dodge asked before tipping his spiffy new hat back just a scootch.

“Right, he did. I found it while I was out scouting a shoot site and took it back to my camp,” Hanley quickly interjected, saving my ass. Pity he had to save it when I really wanted him to wreck it. Stupid siblings.

“Why not come up for dinner tonight?” Ford chimed in. “Bella is making her special vegan lasagna, and she always makes too much.”

Hanley looked up at me questioningly. Did we want that kind of chumminess or would it be better to keep our thing strictly sex and no homey family shit?

“Sure, yeah, I’ll come get you at your camp at sunset,” I replied before I could think too much about it. What was one damn meal?

“Great. That sounds really good. Canned stew and talking to myself gets boring after a few days.” Hanley gave me a big smile before nodding at my kin and ambling back to his gear.

I turned my horse so as not to allow the three apes on ATVs to see me smiling like a giddy teen despite some deep reservations.

Prissy led the way to the Horny Hoot Owl cabin while I fought off daydreams of sharing coffee and cake with Hanley.