The Cowboy Poet – Serving his Master series Book 2

The Cowboy Poet is a stand-alone novel in the Serving his Master series. Powerful M/M BDSM with a romantic twist.

EXCERPT FROM THE NOVEL

Tyler stood in the middle of the motel room, which was lit by the eerie glow of the neon vacancy sign just outside the window. The air was hot and close in the small room. Tyler could feel the sweat breaking again beneath his arms and down his spine. He watched Clint move around the room, turning on a lamp, switching on the air conditioning unit, removing his cowboy hat and placing it on the bureau. There was a coil of rope beside the hat, the kind used for roping horses.

Clint approached him, standing so close Tyler could feel his breath on his cheek. “I want you,” Clint murmured. He stepped back with that same maddening half smile he’d offered when they’d first met, and sat down on the only chair in the room, spreading his legs wide, cowboy boots firmly planted on the floor. He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. Tyler resisted the primal impulse to fall to his knees between those long legs.

“Get nekkid,” Clint ordered, his voice gentle but firm.

Tyler hesitated a moment, but decided that’s what he’d come for—some casual sex with a hot cowboy. Why shouldn’t he get naked? He was young and strong and had nothing to hide. With a shrug and a smile, he kicked off his boots and shucked out of his pants.

When Tyler was stripped bare, Clint got to his feet and walked around him in a little circle, trailing his fingers so that they were always brushing Tyler’s skin. His touch left lines of heat as it moved over Tyler’s chest, back, abs and stomach, inching downward toward Tyler’s bobbing erection.

“Oh my,” Clint said with a wolf’s smile as he gripped the hard shaft. Tyler groaned, leaning into Clint’s hold, his balls tight with need. He hadn’t had sex in over a month, the last time being yet another casual, empty encounter with someone met over a beer, someone named Jeff or James, something with a J, he could no longer recall.

Clint stepped back, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside, his agenda clearly the same as Tyler’s. As he undressed, Tyler could see that his body was muscular and compact, with a cowboy’s dark tan over his face, neck and arms. His chest was powerful and covered in dark curls that moved in a V down his sternum. He reached for Tyler, pulling him close. Their cocks collided as they moved, before lining up against their bellies, one beside the other, both hard as steel.

They were about the same height, just at six feet, though Tyler was broader where Clint was lean though muscular. When Clint leaned his head forward, Tyler expected their lips to meet. He found his own parting in anticipation, but instead Clint dipped his head. He nudged the skin at Tyler’s neck with his teeth, biting just hard enough to get Tyler’s full attention. At the same time, Clint reached for his bare ass, gripping and kneading the cheeks with strong, sure hands.

Tyler reached for Clint as well, pulling his body hard against him, a light sweat mingling between them despite the window unit’s wheezing efforts to cool the room. Tyler’s body was humming in anticipation, his cock throbbing, his fingers tingling as they moved over Clint’s skin, feeling the flexed muscle rippling beneath.

There was something about this man—he’d felt it the moment he’d begun speaking on the stage and its grip hadn’t left him the whole evening. He exuded a kind of quiet, confident power—not the sort that shouted, but the kind that only needed to incline the head to make others pay attention and obey.

They fondled each other, fingers stroking, cocks pressed hard against bellies, feet planted firm as they pulled each other closer. Tyler tried to tell himself this was nothing more than a quick, easy fuck with a hot near-stranger. He’d had a couple of beers and that, combined with the hot summer night and the near constant of his loneliness, had made his blood flow faster, that was all. Tonight was about sex for its own sake, without emotional involvement or commitment or any ulterior motive. That’s all he needed, he told himself. That’s all he wanted.

And yet Tyler couldn’t seem to catch his breath. His heart was beating fast, a steady tapping against his ribs, and his knees wobbled, as if he’d just received shocking news. When Clint pressed against his shoulder, it seemed only natural to sink down to the floor at Clint’s feet.

Impulsively, he wrapped his arms around Clint’s thickly-muscled thighs and rubbed his cheek along the man’s rigid shaft. He turned his head, licking a line down the smooth skin, tracing a long bulging vein with his tongue.

Clint gently pushed Tyler away from his hard cock, angling his body in such a way that his heavy balls were thrust toward Tyler’s parted lips instead. “Show me how much you want it. Go on.” Tyler leaned forward hungrily, tonguing the silky skin. Eagerly he sucked each ball into his mouth, taking his time as he savored Clint’s spicy-sweet scent. He felt Clint’s hand on the back of his head as he pressed his balls against Tyler’s open mouth, his cock still out of reach. His hand was strong and sure as he held Tyler in place.

Tyler pulled back, disconcerted, unwilling to admit how hard it made his cock to be held in position like that. To distract himself, he ran his lips over Clint’s right thigh, licking the salty skin. Lowering his head and closing his eyes, he licked down Clint’s leg. When his tongue touched the thickened, raised skin just above Clint’s knee, he opened his eyes, feeling the dense ridge of scar tissue with his fingers, recalling Clint’s limp.

“What happened?”