Then when they’d gotten back to the ranch, he was supposed to start training his mustang. Right away. From the second the horse stepped out of their trailer into one of the round pens.
After a year and a half on the ranch, Mack wasn’t clueless about what needed to be done. He’d watched Xavier break two mustangs the previous year.
But after almost seven hours in the cramped cab of the truck, paired with the worst hangover he’d swear he’d ever had in his life, all that training flew out the window.
Patience. That was what Xavier always instructed them when dealing with a new horse, wild mustang or not. You had to listen to the horse. That’s what he was always saying. Listen to the horse. They’ll speak loud and clear if you let them.
Well all Mack heard when he finally got Torpedo to step out of the damn trailer was a whole lotta pissed off horse. Didn’t seem like Torpedo had enjoyed the ride any better than Mack. He was twitchy, nervous, wouldn’t stand still long enough for Mack to even put his hand near him, much less to touch him.
Meanwhile, in the circular paddock in the distance, he saw Calla up and riding her horse. The first day. Riding. What the fuck type of juju magic did that woman have?
She’d certainly had him under her spell. When he wasn’t cursing his killer hangover, the night he’d shared with Calla and Liam kept coming back to him on endless loop.
The look on her face when he breached that tight little pussy of hers—Christ, there hadn’t been an ounce of fear on her face. How the fuck was he supposed to have guessed she was a virgin?
And then you just fucking left her there.
He cringed every time he thought of how he’d stormed out of there like the world’s biggest asshole.
He felt the shame of it even as he slammed the hotel door behind him and all but ran down the hall. He did shot after shot at the bar in an effort not to feel it. Not to feel anything. And when that dumb redneck got up in his face near closing, well, it was the perfect opportunity to take out some of his fury. Punching the bastard in the face did feel good. At least until two of the guy’s buddies joined in and Mack was dodging fists from all sides. He could have handled three guys back when he was at his prime. But three years of working with his hands instead of his fists plus a shitload of tequila and they got in several hits.
He made them regret it, at least. Until Xavier showed up to pull him off the fuckers and they got out of there right before the cops were called.
Just one more thing he owed to Xavier. It chafed. He didn’t like being in debt to anyone.
After spending the day failing to make any progress with his mustang, he grabbed his dinner and jogged up the stairs to eat in his room. He’d felt Calla’s eyes on him as he went. Liam’s too.
He ignored them and spent the rest of the night in his room. He felt on edge as he got in to bed that night.
Sleep didn’t come.
His ghosts were too restless.
Ben. His mother. His years spent as Bone’s bitch. The feel of Ben’s slim body slipping onto his bunk each night.
Ben was always too skinny. He’d have skipped meals if Mack hadn’t been there ordering him to eat.
Sometimes Mack had resented Ben’s neediness. There were days Ben would go all but catatonic unless Mack was there giving him commands. Near the end, there was a six month stretch where Ben only came alive at night when they were alone together in bed.
“Master,” he’d whisper as he reached for Mack in the darkness. “How do you want your slave tonight?”
It was a game Ben liked to play. Mack balked at first until he felt Ben’s distress when he refused. He didn’t know why Ben liked it that way. His devotion to Mack was probably unhealthy. Then again, they were in a fucking super max prison—healthy wasn’t really an option on the table. So Mack played along.
“On your knees,” Mack ordered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he sat up. “Suck my cock.”
Moments later, he felt Ben’s trembling hands reaching to pull his cock from his pants. Then a hot mouth sucking him in.
Mack’s hands went to Ben’s head. He always kept his hair so short it was almost shaved. Mack massaged Ben’s scalp as Ben went to town on his cock.
“Deeper. I want to come down your throat,” Mack growled.
Ben pulled off just long enough to whisper, “Yes, Master. Whatever you say, Master.”
Mack hissed out through his teeth as Ben swallowed his cock. He could deep throat like no one Mack had ever met.
He had to fight from coming right there on the spot.
“Fuck your hand while you suck me off.”