Bucked (6 page)

“Great. Can you open your shirt?” Joe spoke without lowering the camera, but Mustang was getting used to that after the dozens of shots the guy had already taken.

“Sure.” Mustang used his right hand to unbutton the shirt, pretending that his left arm was just fine.

He’d taken off the bandages, covered the incision in clear surgical tape and not worn the sling to the photo shoot hoping the photographer wouldn’t notice.

Even if they made him take his shirt totally off and decided they couldn’t use him because of the scar, they were too far into it already. He’d still get an hour’s pay. Well worth the drive to Houston.

Striking a few poses, he was still feeling a little awkward. He was used to being photographed, but at sporting events. There they took action shots. None of this posing and “turn slightly to the left and stare at the floor to your right” crap.

“Perfect.” Joe lowered the camera and fiddled with something on it. “Let’s try a few without the jeans.”

Mustang whipped his head around. “Excuse me?”

“Just the chaps, no jeans.”

“You mean you want me in my underwear with my chaps?” Which underwear was he wearing, anyway? He hoped not the ripped pair. And why the hell did the guy want a picture of that? That wasn’t attractive.

Joe laughed. “No, Mustang. No underwear. Just the chaps.”

“You mean…with my business hanging out?” He frowned.

The photographer smirked. “Your
business
. I haven’t heard it called that before but yeah, that’s what we want.”

People on a sports website wanted to see that? “Where are these pictures going again?”

“The site’s not up yet. Didn’t Guy give you the web address?”

“Yeah. It’s on his business card.”

“He told you there’d be nudity, right?”

“Yeah.” Guy had said artistic nudity. What the hell was artistic about his dick? Joe waited expectantly until Mustang continued.

“I’m just not sure why anyone would want to see me naked, is all.”

Especially on a site dedicated to sports.

“You’d be surprised. Believe me.” Joe shook his head.

Mustang really needed to get a computer and learn how to use it, especially if his cock was going to be out there in public on it.

“How many more hours do you think we’ll be shooting?”

“At least another hour.”

Three hundred dollars minimum. Just for some pictures. He couldn’t pass that up. Mustang sighed and started to unbuckle his pants. Then he had a thought and pulled his hat down lower over his eyes. “You think maybe we can put a fake name up there on the website though? So no one knows it’s me?”

“You mean Mustang is your real name?” The shock showed clearly on Joe’s face.

“Yeah, well, I mean it’s the name I ride under and everyone knows me by that name. So maybe I shouldn’t be doing this under the same name.”

“Don’t worry about it. They’ll make up something good for you.”

“Okay.” Feeling better about that at least, Mustang started to unbuckle his chap straps, all while Joe looked on. That was creepy enough, but not half as bad as when he pushed his jeans and then underwear down to his ankles.

Mustang suddenly had the urge to cover himself with both hands and run naked for the hills.

He buckled his chaps back on as quickly as he could, happy for any sort of coverage, even though the damn things didn’t cover any of the important stuff. Not in the back or the front.

“Take the shirt totally off too. It’s covering you up.”

Shit. Unhappily, Mustang did as he was told. He didn’t give a damn anymore whether the photographer saw his incision or not.

Right now he was more worried about the fact that the man was zooming that big, long lens in on his dick.

When he thought things couldn’t get any worse, Joe said, “That’s great. For these next round of shots, can you get yourself hard?

There’s some baby oil over on the table, if you need it.”

Holy crap. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

***

Mustang drove home with three hundred dollars cash in his pocket and shaking hands. He could barely concentrate on keeping the trailer on the road as he argued with himself. So he had been pretty much naked in a room with a strange man. Big deal. The guy hadn’t touched him or anything. Men were naked together in locker rooms all the time.

Though it was frigging creepy to have Joe studying him through the lens of that camera and—God help him—directing him about what to do with himself.

Shit. He felt…violated. He considered if he’d feel differently if the photographer had been a female. If a hot woman with a camera had been focused on him, telling him to rub his cock and get it hard for her, yeah, that would have been hugely different.

He sighed. Three hundred was just a drop in the bucket of what he needed to cover his expenses over the next few months. His dreams for a big, high-paying modeling career were shot after today. If this was what modeling was like, they could keep it. A hundred and fifty an hour wasn’t worth it.

Now he’d have to work with his father
and
live with the memories of standing in nothing but chaps while he stroked himself into semi-erectness in front of a man. It was no wonder he hadn’t been able to get totally hard. He wasn’t into men. Add to that the air conditioner cranking on high so the room was frigid. Who the hell could have gotten it up in those conditions? It was a miracle he’d been able to get even partially hard.

Great, naked and almost impotent for all the world to see, all for a measly three hundred dollars. The fine imposed on a rider for challenging the judges’ decision in competition was more than that.

A chill ran down his spine at the memory of it all. He needed a drink, or even better, to sink himself into a nice, soft woman. Sage crossed his mind and he quickly dismissed the idea.

Mustang passed the turnoff to Sage’s house and glanced at it wistfully. Hell, Sage was a good friend and he really needed to talk.

He tapped the brake with his foot and considered swinging the trailer into a U-turn.

She would be sitting down at the small old table in the corner of the kitchen. The one they used when they didn’t have company.

She probably had her legs curled up and her feet tucked under her like a little kid. That had been her favorite position to eat in when they were younger. When he’d eaten over this week he noticed she still did it.

What would Grams have put on the table for dinner? Something light since it was hot today.
Pico de gallo
maybe, made with cool cucumber and melon and drenched in tangy fresh citrus juice and spicy hot pepper.

His mouth started to water and he yanked his mind away from the thought of Gram’s cooking and hit the gas. He couldn’t think about food without his stomach protesting since he’d skipped eating before he’d left for the shoot. He didn’t want to think about the shoot either.

His mind traveled back to Sage, the one subject that he thought would be safe, until the fantasy of her there at the photo shoot helping him get hard sprung into his mind.

Damn. He definitely couldn’t go knocking on her door now. He needed to get home and take a shower. Wash away that oil Joe had him spread all over himself for those pictures and the memories that went along with it.

Mustang took the next turn onto his parents’ street as his cell phone rang. He knew instinctively who it was before a glance at the caller ID told him.

“Hey, Little Bit.”

“How did the shoot go?”

He sighed. She was the only one on earth who knew about the photo shoot, except for the photographer. He could tell her it went fine and never talk about it again. Hell, he could tell her he didn’t go at all, that the guy canceled, and that would be it too. But if Mustang was going to purge this awful, uncomfortable feeling by talking about it with anyone at all, it would be to her.

“Well, not so good.”

“Oh no. What happened?”

When the hell had his life gotten so fucked up? He glanced down at the sling on the seat next to him, the one he’d have to slip on before his mother noticed he’d taken it off. Yup, about the time he’d gotten that sling was when his life had taken a nosedive for the pavement, but he wouldn’t need it forever. If one thing was true it was that Mustang Jackson would land on his feet. Eventually.

Sage would tell him it was okay. That artistic nudes were perfectly all right. Then he’d feel better. He swallowed hard and launched into his account.

“Well, it started out kind of weird because I’m not used to that kind of stuff, but then things got weirder…”

Day one as a prison guard working with his old man had been about as bad as he’d expected it to be. His father’s consistent introduction to everyone they met during his grand tour of the facility was an added bonus Mustang hadn’t anticipated.

“This here’s my fool son, Michael. He broke his arm riding a bull, but now he’s ready to tackle a real man’s job.”

In spite of that less-than-illustrious beginning to his temporary prison guard career, Mustang went back for more punishment. Day two of working at Huntsville Prison with his father didn’t go any better than day one had. In fact, it was infinitely worse.

Mustang got caught asleep in front of the video monitors. In his defense, the task was the most boring on earth. Even all the coffee he’d drunk didn’t help keep him stimulated while sitting in the tiny, windowless room staring at a bunch of screens. Mustang could practically feel his muscles atrophying from the inactivity, but his father insisted he couldn’t perform any other duty at the prison with one arm in a sling.

The drive home had been filled with his father’s angry lecture about how Mustang had embarrassed him, followed by the inevitable, “It’s hard for me to believe you’re actually my son.” Then he’d added the real clincher, “Thank God your grandfather is dead and didn’t see your performance today.”

Thank God your grandfather’s dead.
Yeah. Real nice.

Then there was the angry silent treatment for the remainder of the drive, which Mustang preferred actually.

His mother didn’t need more than one glance at their faces when they walked through the front door to determine their moods. She didn’t ask how work had been. Instead she announced, “Dinner in half an hour.”

“Thanks, Ma. I’m going to shower.”

She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, probably as anxious to escape his father’s recount of the day as Mustang was.

The stiff fabric of Mustang’s blue polyester uniform pants swished as he dragged himself into the bedroom. He hadn’t even worked a full week yet. What else was he in for?

He pulled his wallet and phone out of the pocket and flung them onto the dresser. He crossed the small room and flopped back on the bed after the day from hell.

Not even one week down and three more months to go. Perhaps he should break it down into days and tick them off with marks on his wall next to the bed like the prisoners did. That seemed apt.

He needed a drink. He needed a nap. He needed a woman. Most of all, he needed to get the hell away from his father.

The cell phone rang. Three whole people had that number. Slade, whom he’d just talked to yesterday, Jenna and Sage. Oh wait.

There were a few more now. Guy and Joe, the questionable photographers. Hmm, he’d only had the damn phone a little over a week and he was already filling up his address book.

Hauling himself off the bed, he grabbed the cell and glanced at the number.

He flipped it open with a smile. “Sage.”

“Hey. I wanted to see how your first week of work is going.”

He groaned. “Is your grandmother within hearing distance?”

“No. I’m in my bedroom alone.”

Mustang enjoyed a quick fantasy of Sage lying on her belly on the bed wearing nothing but a T-shirt and a little pair of cheek-bearing undies, feet kicked up in the air as she talked.

“Good. If she can’t hear then I can safely tell you my job fucking sucks.” His entire life sucked at the moment.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. What happened?”

“Well, let’s see. It started when my father presented me with my very own uniform and it all went downhill from there.” He flopped back onto his own bed, holding the phone to his ear. He stared up at the ceiling and realized the last thing he wanted to do was recount his day. “Can we change the subject? I’m starting to get depressed. What did you do today?”

“Hmm. I wiped some snotty noses, cleaned up a massive glue spillage and oh, yeah, did a dramatic reading of
Thomas the Train
.”

Mustang laughed. “You have a position opening up there anytime soon? That sounds much better than my day.”

She laughed. “I’ll see what I can do, but in the meantime, how would you feel about a picnic down by the lake?”

“Tonight?”

“Yup. It’s beautiful out.”

He hadn’t noticed, having been ensconced in hell and all. “Sure. Just let me shower and change and I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds good. See you there.”

Mustang told his mother he was going out and luckily, once she heard it was with Sage, she didn’t seem to mind he was skipping out on dinner. Then he showered, plastic bag covering his bandages and all. He’d be very happy when this arm was healed for so many reasons.

Finally, changed into normal clothes and feeling better, he headed out on foot for the lake that lay halfway between his and Sage’s house. It was probably a mile to drive to her house, but by taking the shortcut and cutting through backyards the way he used to when he was a kid, he was there in just a few minutes.

He arrived to find her already there. She was bent over a basket. He yanked his eyes off her ass as she stood, a folded blanket held in her hand.

“Hey there.” He grinned with the sheer joy of seeing her.

“You look like you’re in a better mood.”

He took the blanket from her and she helped him spread it out on the grass. “Yes, I am.”

Sage swung the picnic basket onto the corner of the blanket and sat on her knees facing him. “Oh, really? And why is that?”

Mustang sat too, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Because I know you and Grams packed something good in that basket.”

If only she knew the truth about why he was smiling. He tried to get comfortable without leaning on his bad arm. He finally ended up rolling on one side and propping his head up with his right hand. From that position, he was about eyelevel with Sage’s absolutely beautiful breasts.

More and more women were getting big, fake implants. Not Sage though. Her breasts were perfect. He imagined taking a nipple into his mouth then shook that image from his brain.

“So work sucked, huh? I’m sorry.”

“Yup.” Mustang shrugged. “It will be a relief when I don’t have to depend on that man and owe him for that stupid job I never wanted anyway.”

“I guess you could always become a full-time model and quit the prison.” She grinned devilishly.

He rolled his eyes. “No, thanks. I don’t want to talk about the prison or that stupid modeling job. Tell me more about what you did today.”

She groaned and crossed her legs, tucking her dress down between them. “Hmm, let’s see. After school I came home and did my own schoolwork for my college classes.”

He smiled at the tiny wrinkle that had appeared between her brows when she talked about homework. “Oh, that sounds like a ton of fun. You wild woman.”

“I had to get it done if I wanted to do something fun with you tonight. See? I had a plan.”

Yes, she did and so did he. His plan was to get out of this town as soon as possible. Unfortunately, other parts of him had mutinied and were currently plotting on how to get his hands and mouth on Sage as soon as possible.

Sage was sweet and innocent and tempting as hell, and she didn’t fit into his plans. One night with Sage might make him want to stick around. He didn’t want to want that. He wanted to go join up with Slade. The only reason stopping him from rejoicing at the thought of doing exactly that was seated in front of him looking entirely too tempting.

She was watching him with those eyes of hers that a man could get lost in and something suddenly struck him.

“Where did your glasses go?”

Sage smiled. “I got contacts my freshman year in high school.”

He’d already left town by then. Whenever it had happened, he was glad it had. “I’d always thought it was a shame to hide such pretty eyes behind glasses.”

“You did not.” She scowled. “You never looked close enough to see my eyes back then.”

Mustang frowned. “That’s not true. I swear. I always thought you were a pretty girl, even when you had on those ugly braces with the pink and green rubber bands.”

She laughed. “Thanks, I guess. And those were the hottest fashion colors in braces back then, I’ll have you know.”

He considered carefully how he’d remembered those details from almost a decade ago. If his life depended on it, he couldn’t tell you the eye color of the last woman he’d been with, even though he’d spent a good portion of that night having sex with her. He’d even faced her during some of it. Yet he remembered so many details about Sage and he probably would even after he left Magnolia again.

He pressed one hand to the sinking feeling in his belly at the thought of leaving. He noticed her watching him and scrambled for something to say. “Maybe we can eat now.”

“Sure, we can do that. Are you feeling all right? Are you still on pills from the operation? I know they can mess with your stomach.”

“I’m finally done with the antibiotics and I’m basically off the painkillers too. I took one last night when I got achy and couldn’t sleep but today I didn’t take any.”

Luckily the discussion about medicine gave him something to think about besides wanting her and knowing he shouldn’t have her, but even that didn’t prevent him from focusing one hundred percent on the shape of her ass as she turned away from him and bent to open the basket of food.

He pictured nestling up closely behind her. Sliding his hands onto each of her hips. Holding her close. She turned and he realized she was watching him and waiting expectantly.

“Um, sorry. What did you say?”

She smiled. “You really must have had a tough day at work. You seem a million miles away. I asked if you wanted something to drink.”

God, yes. Bourbon, straight up
. “What have you got?”

“Water or sweet tea.”

He laughed. What else would a sweet innocent girl have to offer by way of drinks? “Sweet tea is good. Thanks.”

She handed it to him. He had to sit up to be able to grab it.

“My grandmother made your favorite.”

“Empanadas?”

Sage nodded. “Yup. I’ll have you know I have to beg her to make them for me. Now that she’s just cooking for the two of us, I usually only get them on my birthday and a few other times during the year. But you come home and she’s made them twice already.”

He shrugged, smiling. “What can I say? I have a way with the ladies. I’m just a charmer, I guess.”

“Yes, you are.” The expression on her face became serious. She leaned in closer, taking his sweet tea out of his hand and putting it down on the ground. Then her mouth was too close to resist, so he didn’t.

Whether she or he closed the final distance he didn’t know or care, but it seemed they were drawn together like two magnets.

As soon as their lips touched he sank into absolute bliss. Somehow he ended up on his back with her on top of him. Her leg lodged between his so her hip pressed against the zipper in his jeans. He didn’t dare move or risk losing the contact that felt so good.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth. He tilted his head to take more of her inside him. Wrapping his arm around her, he pressed her to him, not willing to let her get away.

Mustang felt her grind her crotch against his thigh. Her breathing quickened as she rubbed against him. He groaned, so turned on he couldn’t stand it.

Kissing him like her life depended on it, she started to tremble in his arms. He broke the kiss and pulled back to watch her face.

Eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, she was enough to make a man lose all control. It took every shred of control he had to not flip her over, raise that skirt and fuck her silly. He’d never seen a woman look so beautifully tempting.

“Oh God, Sage.” He drew in a shaky breath.

That brought her out of it and she tried to roll off of him, but he held tight. Turning pink in the cheeks, she finally met his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you crazy. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
Don’t
be sorry.” He grabbed her head with his right hand and kissed the embarrassment from her face.

Cursing his sling, he had to satisfy himself with holding her with one arm while she lay above him. He was hard as a rock, there was no way she could miss feeling him pressing against her, but he didn’t move. Neither did she as she stared down at him with those deep chocolate eyes. “Do you still want to eat?”

Mustang laughed and shook his head at the X-rated image that flitted through his head. She had no idea what he was picturing eating. Good thing she meant food.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s eat.”

They had better do something to distract him because the impulse to make love to her was nearly overwhelming. In spite of what he wanted, he let her roll off him.

What was he going to do for the next few months if they couldn’t even eat together without his wanting to plunge inside her?

She delivered a paper plate laden with food and handed it to him. “Your favorite kind.”

“Onion and jalapeno?”

“Of course.”

“For both of us? Your favorite is chicken.”

She blushed. “You remembered that?”

“Of course.”

Still pink cheeked, she laughed. “Wow. Well anyway, yeah, for both of us. Grams only made your favorite kind.”

“Because I’m so charming, remember?”

From the way she dropped her eyes, she was remembering. He smiled, happy they’d both taste like onions just in case there was a repeat of that kiss. His pulse raced at the thought.

Getting excited over just kissing. He was reliving his high school years all over again. Funny how he didn’t mind it one bit.

***

An hour or so later, back at his house with memories of a damn nice goodbye kiss from Sage to keep him warm, Mustang walked into his bedroom.

Emptying his pockets so he could ditch his jeans and go rub out the need being near Sage all evening had created, Mustang pulled out his cell phone just as it began to ring. Glancing at the readout, he didn’t recognize the number but that didn’t mean much.

It was a Houston area code. Maybe Joe wanted him to pose mostly naked for his sports site again. Perhaps this time he’d be in football gear since he had mentioned he’d played a bit in high school. Another week of work like this past one and he might jump at that chance.