Rough, Raw, and Ready
Page 38

“Trevor? Honey, what’s wrong?”
Trevor looked at Chassie. “My father had a heart attack.”
“Oh no. When?”
“A fuckin’ week ago.”
Chassie’s eyes widened. “And they’re just calling you now?”
“Apparently. Jesus. I can’t believe it. He’s out of the hospital and recovering at home.”
Edgard said, “How serious is it?”
“Serious enough that the old man’s requested my presence right away.” A bitter laugh escaped. “Or what he considers right away.”
“What does he want to see you about?”
“No clue. I hafta go tomorrow. Don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” He looked from Chassie to Edgard. “I’m glad you’re here to help her. Be just our luck if calves started droppin’.”
“But…don’t you want me to come with you?” Chassie asked.
Trevor sat next to her and took her hand. “Without soundin’ like a dick, you don’t wanna meet my family under these circumstances. Hell, I really don’t want you to meet them under any circumstances.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Chass, baby, they’re not nice people.”
“How can that be? You’re nice.”
He grunted.
“You are.” Her warm fingers brushed his face. “I don’t want you to have to deal with them alone.”
“I’ll be fine. I just…dammit, I don’t wanna have to deal with them at all.”
“It’s okay. Come back to bed and let me and Ed love you up tonight. We’ll give you a happy memory to take with you.”
Trevor crawled between them, unprepared for the blitz on his emotions and his body.
Edgard and Chassie worked in tandem. Kissing him until he couldn’t discern Edgard’s taste from Chassie’s. Touching him, driving him to the breaking point with dual sensations of rough and soft hands caressing his slick skin. Two mouths sucking and licking. One big hand firmly jacking his cock while tiny fingers delicately rolled his balls.
Chassie and Edgard switched things up as if they’d choreographed this erotic dance a hundred times. She tongued his nipples while Edgard fucked his mouth. Ed came quickly in a molten rush down Trevor’s throat. Even as he was still swallowing, Edgard scooted Trevor’s ass off the end of the bed. Chassie straddled his head, grinding her sweet, wet pussy against his face as she slipped into sixty-nine position. Edgard was on his knees on the floor, scraping his fingers up and down Trevor’s trembling legs and toyed with his balls and prepped his hole as Chassie’s tongue continued to keep him on the ragged edge.
Trevor arched when Edgard impaled him. Fast and hard disappeared as he fucked Trevor thoroughly, but with absolute leisure. Chassie bumped her hips and her clit throbbed beneath his flickering tongue; she lifted her mouth off his dick and gasped as he sucked every last pulse from that swollen pearl.
After she’d caught her sanity, Edgard said, “Use your hand on him so I can fuck him harder and not worry about your teeth.”
“You want him to see what we’re doin’?” she asked as she lay alongside Trevor’s body.
“Yeah, we both know how much he likes to watch.” Edgard’s thrusts were hard and deep and hit Trevor’s gland on every stroke. Trevor pumped into Chassie’s tight fist, feeling the pace Edgard set in his head, his heart, his cock and his ass. For one breathtaking second he dangled on the precipice of bliss, then he soared over. He watched as milky white spurts arced out of his cockhead onto Chassie’s chest and his anal muscles flexed around Edgard’s prick, immediately sending Edgard into a shuddering climax.
“Holy hell,” Trevor panted. His gaze focused on Edgard and Chassie, who hadn’t moved at all. Who weren’t paying attention to him at all.
With a sound resembling a growl, Edgard brought Chassie close to him, bent his head and licked the opaque droplets from Chassie’s chest with long sweeps of his tongue.
Chassie’s head fell back and she moaned seductively as Edgard cleaned up every rivulet, save for a thick spot on the tip of Chassie’s nipple. That one he wiped off with the pad of his thumb, bringing it to her mouth so she could suck it clean.
The pure joy displayed between these two people he loved had tears springing to his eyes. He finally had exactly what he wanted and he couldn’t bear to let either one go, not for a single night, let alone a lifetime.
But didn’t he owe his family a second chance? Part of him screamed no; part of him looked over at Edgard and was thankful for second chances.
No surprise his sleep was troubled as he wrestled with the unknown.
Chapter Twenty-five
The second Trevor pulled up to the place he used to call home, he damn near slammed his old truck in reverse and peeled rubber in an effort to escape.
Nothing had changed outside the house; he suspected nothing had changed inside either.
Trevor parked and took off his University of Wyoming ball cap, running his hands through his hair, unconsciously mimicking Edgard’s nervous gesture. He stared at the barns—seven in all—and the gigantic corral surrounded by brand new white metal fencing. Four horse trailers were lined in symmetrical rows along the far left side of the chutes.
Two tractors were parked next to the towering stacks of hay. Must’ve been a good year if that much remained this late in the season. Then again, his dad could’ve bought the damn piles of hay. Money had never been an issue for Tater Glanzer. It was both a carrot and a stick—not just for members of his family.
He knocked back a long drink from the bottle of water, wishing it were whiskey.
After placing the plastic bottle back in the cup holder, Trevor jammed his hands through his hair again.
You’re stalling.
No shit. And how fucking stupid was it that he was cowering in his truck, scared of a sixty-year-old man? He grabbed his duffel bag and ambled up the sidewalk.
Before Trevor decided whether to knock or to walk in, the door opened. His younger brother Brent sneered at him. “Don’t be hopin’ Pa’s heart attack has softened him up.
He’s still a mean SOB and you’re still on his shit list.”
“Nice to see you too, Brent.” Trevor sidestepped him and paused in the entryway beside the ostentatious curved staircase that would’ve had a southern plantation owner weeping with envy.
“Hello, Trevor.”
He focused on his mother sprawled on the long chaise, a cigarette dangling between her lips. The explosion of flowers on the couch clashed with the floral robe she wore. At noon. On a weekday.
Nothing new there either.
Starla Glanzer still played the part of a rodeo queen, despite the passing of three and a half decades. Her hair was dyed a shiny blonde and teased into an unnatural cloud around her pudgy face. Her eyes were bloodshot from the booze she sucked down like milk, not from bawling over her husband’s current health crisis, Trevor thought cynically.
No loving embrace from his mother. Starla loved one thing: money. Her five children ranked below expensive things and her husband ranked even lower.
She exhaled a blue cloud. Her botoxed face remained a mask of boredom as if it’d been two hours since she’d seen her oldest son, not two years. “So you did show up. I didn’t think you’d bother.”
“Then why’d you call me and ask me to come?”
“Tater told me to. Wouldn’t want it to get out that I denied a dyin’ man his last wish.”
“He ain’t close to dead, Ma,” Brent said. “Might as well go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, Trevor. It was a wasted trip.”
Trevor grinned carelessly, rather than fighting back, knowing it pissed his brother off. “I’m here. Might as well pay my respects to the old man.”
His mother snorted and choked on a lungful of smoke.
“Ma? You okay?” A very pregnant woman waddled in from the kitchen. She stopped suddenly and her eyes darted from Trevor to Brent to Starla. “What is he doin’ here?”
“Lianna,” Trevor drawled, “you’re lookin’ as lovely as ever.”
“Cut the shit, Trevor. What do you want?”
“What do you think he wants?” Brent snapped.
Lianna whirled on Brent, the brother who stood between them in distance and age.
“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask Ma or your wife for it.”
Jesus. Less than five fucking minutes and he was in the midst of the same old pointless bickering and bullshit. Trevor addressed his mother. “Which room am I stayin’ in? I wanna dump my stuff before I see Pa.”
Brent and Lianna said simultaneously, “He’s stayin’ here?”
“Of course he is.” His mother flashed a smile at him, ignoring his siblings. “Trevor is family. Where else would he stay?”
“In the bunkhouse.”
“I’m sorry. Did I hear you say you wanted him to stay at your house, Lianna, darlin’?” Starla cooed in a saccharine tone. “Because I could arrange that.”
“No!”
“I didn’t think so. Besides, we’re havin’ a family dinner tonight. You three, Molly, and Tanner.”
“Tanner is here?”
“He quit the competition the minute he heard about your father being in the hospital.
He drove straight through the night to be at his father’s side.”
Her meaning—Tanner did his duty and you didn’t—was crystal clear. It’d be futile to point out that no one had told him until a week after the incident happened.
“Where is Tanner now?”
“Sleepin’ off a drunk in the new horse trailer with some skanky bar maid,” Lianna said.
Starla glared at Lianna. “Anyway, everyone will be here.”
“Everyone except your wife, Trevor. Why didn’t she come with you?”
Because I’m keeping that sweet woman away from this nest of vipers as long as possible. He forced a curt, “She’s busy. She sends her regrets.” Trevor’s hand tensed on the duffel bag strap and he glanced at his mother, perched like a Marlboro rodeo queen among her admiring peasants. “Which room?”