Page 31 of Baker (Bastian Brothers #1)

“Dumbass,” I grumbled to myself, tempted to turn around, but as I was already well into Monroe Falls, I just went and made the left into the Pellman Memorial Hospital ER parking area and shuffled inside.

The place was packed. Like SRO and I spun on my heel and left.

I’d go see Aiden in a day or two and save myself the time and cash like I should have done.

Hopping back into my truck, I sped out of the parking lot and went back home.

My list of shit to do was as long as my arm, the one not in a damn cast. We had turned the cattle out to range, the bull with them, to ensure he covered all the females.

Later, in the off-season, we’d separate him to let him get some R&R from his breeding duties.

So we had that pasture to fence in. A lot of it had been torn up by the twister that had broken my arm.

Then there were the line cabins that needed to be refurbished and one rebuilt from the ground up, which hadn’t started yet.

The goats were now on watch as kids should start coming any day. Hell, any hour, according to Aiden.

Aiden. He of the wandering eye and fey smile. Poor Ford wouldn’t stand a chance if our resident vet decided to break out all those Irish charms his mother and father passed down to him.

Dodge, I felt, had what it would take to get along with Ollie. They were of a similar age and had lived lives that had been challenging in some regards. Ollie wasn’t one to cat around like Aiden was known to do. Dodge would need a man who was faithful and—

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” I asked myself as I sat at a stop sign, my turn signal ticking steadily, staring down the road as if in a daze.

What exactly was this horseshit running around inside my skull like a toddler after guzzling his dad’s energy drink?

“Are you suddenly living in a Hallmark movie? Jesus wept.” I threw the truck into gear, winced at the jolt to my arm, and then nearly stalled her out as I fumbled to find the clutch.

“This is what romance thinking does to your pickled brain. Just stop.”

I belittled myself all the way home. Stupid.

What was I even doing letting fluff like who was good for who in my head?

Stalking to the shed where we kept the ATVs, I began flinging whatever I could find into a wagon.

Fencing supplies tumbled out of five-gallon buckets.

Spools of barbed wire were hoisted up, snagged on my flannel shirt, and then, when yanked free, tore a strip out of not only my poker night shirt but the skin under it.

That made me mad. I stared down at the cut on my left forearm, spit into the wound, rubbed the spittle around, and then climbed onto the old blue Honda and sped off.

I needed to clear my head. Pressing on the gas hurt, but pain was good.

Pain would scour the little floating hearts that my poker buddies had planted in my thoughts.

I rode full bore across my land, eyes watering from the chill, the headlight on the ATV bouncing skyward as I hit gulleys and rolling hills.

An armadillo appeared out of nowhere by the cabin that had been sent to Oz.

I yanked hard on the handlebars not to run over the dumb thing.

It ran off into the night, and I sat there, panting softly, my right arm aching like a kick to the gonads, and stared down at the shell of the old cabin.

The moon was bright tonight. It painted the weathered bricks of the chimney in a ghostly white milky color.

The ATV ran roughly beneath me, coughing every now and again.

She needed some new spark plugs. Stacks of lumber, shingles, and premade trusses were waiting for us to get to the actual building.

Ford was the man in charge of this project and he seemed to be ready to go as soon as he was done with Bella’s shop.

I sat there for a long time just staring down at the building site.

The wind blowing cool on the back of my neck, and my head lost in the wispy, silvery clouds.

I cradled my arm against my belly. I should have ridden Winnie.

No, I should not have done that. What I should have done was go inside the house to find some peace and quiet.

Ha. As if that was something a grumpy turd like me could even locate in that house anymore.

There were too many people to find solitude.

But is it solitude you seek or something else?

I rode off before my crowded head could fixate on that random query.

The glow of a small lantern in a cozy tent tucked back into a dome of redbud was like a fucking beacon.

I cut the engine and ducked down, removing my hat as I dropped to one knee in front of the open flaps.

Inside the tent lounged Hanley, a paperback book in one hand, his cock in the other.

“I heard you coming,” he said as he gave his thick dick a languid stroke, his sight locked on the John Le Carre paperback.

I flung my hat to the top of his oversized backpack jammed into the corner.

“What if it had been one of my brothers?” I asked and sat down to tug off a boot. Using both hands. The tugging was not one of my best ideas, but when Hanley gave me a questioning look, I waved it off and let the hurt flow.

“I knew it was you. That cloud of tension brewing around your head arrived five minutes before you did.”

“Bullshit,” I grunted before one boot finally came free. I chucked it over my shoulder, battled with the other, and then proceeded to strip naked as Hanley lay there naked as the day he was born, working his fat cock as he nonchalantly read. “I keep my internal thunderstorms close at hand.”

“I’ve noticed.” He glanced over the top of his paperback when I straddled him, shoving his book-holding hand to the ground as I placed my needy hole right atop his erection. “Did you want something from me, Baker?”

“You know what I want.” I rolled my hips.

He moved like a rattler. All muscle and coiled power, flinging me to my back, then sitting atop me, book forgotten, his hot hazel gaze locked with mine.

“I want you to tell me what you want, Baker.” He took my right hand and gently placed it on my chest. My left he led down to our cocks now lined up and leaking. “I want you to tell me with your words what you want from me.”

I felt some of the rigidity in my body—aside from my prick, obviously—begin to leach into his sleeping bag as he took control.

“I want you to fuck me until my brain is quiet.” The words whispered over dry lips.

His gaze softened as he recognized the candor in my plea.

And so he began to peel away the bark that I shielded myself in, lifting one layer, then another with his touch and his tongue.

He stole a kiss that left me weak under his weight.

I gripped our cocks tightly, rubbing the slits to gather precum as he took me apart with nothing more than his tongue in my mouth and his dick next to mine.

He licked deep, taking each breath, inhaling it then breathing it back into my lungs.

I lost track of who was who as he and I began to merge.

To dovetail. When I was shivering and unable to speak, he took a moment to slip a leg over his shoulder.

“Yes, yes,” I whispered, my hand now clutching my cock as he moved between my legs, his cockhead seeking entry. “Lube,” I croaked out.

He glanced downward and let a string of spittle drop from his lip to where his cock lay in wait. I arched up at the sight. He moved up and back, smearing the spit over my balls and hole.

“More,” I begged, and he gave it to me.

“Get the lube.” I flailed around until I found it shoved under a canteen. Probably from where we had thrown it the last time I’d come here looking for dick. “God your hole is so pink and pretty.”

Sounds that could have been words escaped me.

I handed him the lube and flung everything inside my skull into that beautiful void where there was no worry, no self-recriminations, no bills, no family, and no endless temptations.

There was nothing but him and me and the pressure of being wholly fulfilled.

He slid in with a soft grunt, his grip on my thigh firm as he pressed it into my chest.

“Give it to me. That last thread that you’re holding onto, Baker. Let go. Let me in.”

He was in, fully, his fat hot dick was deep inside me. What more did he want? I moaned in frustration when he just knelt there, cock growing even fatter as he reached out to run his thumb over my bottom lip.

Unsure of what he was asking, I let my arm fall from my chest, the cast thudding to the thickness of his bedding, and searched his eyes for something.

It took me a moment, given that I was rock hard with a stiff dick in my ass, but once I located it, I felt the final brick that had been holding up that shaky wall crack.

“I trust you,” I croaked as I clenched. His body trembled, tightened, but his gaze grew mellow as if he saw into me, the real me, the scared as shit Baker who so wanted to be loved but was scared to death of driving another poor soul away.