He shook his head slowly and tucked himself away. “You’re not gonna want me after tomorrow. You’re gonna see all the other sexy ponyboys doing their thing, the ones who don’t cause a fuss and listen to their trainers and prance around happy as shit and thrilled to submit. You won’t want to deal with me after you see them. You’ll have your pick of them all, cowboy; you wait and see. You won’t want me anymore.”
I wanted to say his declaration was bullshit. That I already felt more for Luke than for anyone else I’d met at the ranch. For anyone I’d met in the past year.
But Luke had already gone. He’d opened the door and left, shutting it behind him, leaving me still holding the rail with one hand as my belly dried and the pleasure of Luke’s passionate assault faded.
Chapter Five
I stood there for several minutes, trying to figure out what had happened. My naked arms folded around my chest. I felt rejected even though Luke’s admiration had been obvious.
The absurdity of my situation had me feeling unsteady. I normally picked things up fast and paid attention to details. But because I’d not been prepared for any of this, I had a difficult time gaining my equilibrium.
Niggling doubt crept into my brain. I did up my jeans and put my shirt back on, hands trembling and heart trying to settle itself after being ripped open and sucker-punched by a guy with blue eyes and a narcissism complex.
I looked at the duffel bag at the end of my bunk, contemplating how I would feel if I left now. The entire experience would seem like a dream. A crazy, horny, wet dream I’d stumbled upon like the neophyte I was. I hadn’t imagined a place like the Braided Crop Ranch existed.
I went as far as grabbing the handles of my bag and hefting them to my shoulder. Then I became conscious of the sticky skin of my belly where Luke’s release still marked me. I needed another fucking shower. Maybe I’d shower first and then leave.
I put the bag down, knowing I wouldn’t go. My outright curiosity, my love of a challenge, my complicated feelings about Luke and the other ponyboys, all of it was too fascinating and goddamn fucking arousing to abandon. I had to see this through. I needed to see if I could handle this unexpected job. Needed to see if I could be as good a stable hand to a group of human ponyboys as I had been to the real horses I’d always cared for.
And I wanted to see exactly what being a human ponyboy was like.
The evening hadn’t begun to wane. Hopefully, the others would hang out at the main house for another hour or so and I could shower in private. I’d clean myself quickly and go to bed, though I might not be able to sleep.
I stripped to my boxer briefs and brought a clean pair to the showers, hanging them on a toilet stall partition while I turned on the warm spray and ducked beneath. The water felt astonishingly good on my sweaty skin, and I sighed, letting the rivulets trickle over my face as I soaked my hair.
I squeezed some shampoo into my hand and washed my hair, wondering if I should’ve gotten a trim before coming up yesterday. My ash brown hair was getting long and curling at the edges where the sides grew past the tops of my ears and the back reached the collar of my shirt.
I’d told my friends I’d be out of touch for a while, that I was going away to clear my head and get back to some old-fashioned manual labor. I needed a break from everything, from the meaningless routine of my life. There wasn’t one person I’d actually started to miss, except maybe Mitchell. And missing him was tied up with a small sense of betrayal. Or had he saved me? Maybe he’d figured I could do with a crazy adventure. Maybe he knew me better than I did.
Well, there was nothing I could do about my hair now. And why would I think to make myself pretty for a bunch of livestock? I found myself grinning. The mix-up was pretty funny, all things considered. No wonder I was the talk of the ranch tonight.
I’d surprised them all by staying. And damn if I was going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me leave with my tail between my legs.
I rinsed my hair clean and lathered up with a body wash smelling of fresh hay and sunshine. Was the scent intentional or a happy accident? At any rate, I liked it. I was already getting hard again. This place was doing crazy things to my libido. Not that I’d been slacking in the jerking-off department. I orgasmed once a day on average and sometimes more. This would make number three, which wasn’t so unusual. Maybe getting off would help me sleep.
I glanced at the door to the showers, listening carefully for any noise in the main bunkhouse. I didn’t hear anything, so I wrapped a soap-covered hand around my swelling cock and teased myself, thinking of Luke’s mouth on me and remembering Luke’s cock spurting fluid on my belly.
It didn’t take long for me to come, and I wondered if I would ever be able to stave off an orgasm again. I had no control, faced with the blatant sexuality of this place. Putting a hand on the wall opposite me, I enjoyed the remnant shudders of my release as the water washed my thin spunk down the drain.
Then I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye and turned.
Not Luke this time, and I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed or relieved. Standing by the entrance to the showers was Noah in his boxer briefs with a towel in hand, as taken aback as I was.
“Sorry. I didn’t think anyone had come back yet,” Noah said, his eyes travelling curiously over my naked form.
“I’m all done,” I grinned, turning off the taps and grabbing the towel I had placed nearby. I dried my hair and then swiped the towel over my body quickly, grabbing my briefs and pulling them on. When I looked up, I noticed Noah was still there, watching me.
I nodded politely and went to move past when his hand came out and gently wrapped around my damp bicep. Similar to when Luke touched me, or, let’s be honest, pinned me with his sex stare, my body lit up like tiny fireworks. I swear there was deep, dark magic going on here.
“The bunkhouse takes some getting used to,” Noah said quietly, pushing his briefs down and stepping out of them.
My breathing quickened as I glanced over Noah’s slim, swimmer’s body and imagined him in a ponyboy harness and collar.
“I’m still getting used to this place.” He released my arm and moved forward, turning on a showerhead and ducking under the spray
I stood, mesmerized, watching the hot water course over Noah’s body and pool at his feet.
“Thanks,” I said, genuinely grateful. Because, unlike Luke, Noah appeared genuinely kind and thoughtful.
