Two Good Men
Hell’s Delight: Unbridled 3
by Karen Mercury
Everyone’s just looking for two good men.
Dodge Hendy, aspiring animal orthotist, is shocked and yet oddly thrilled by what he sees through Kingsize Taylor’s window. The recently divorced, bicurious Dodge is open to newcomers. When King comes to the hotel to apologize to Dodge, two dead bodies they stumble across cry out for their assistance. They can’t leave this case unsolved.
Rodeo star Kingsize Taylor is swept away by Dodge’s untouched beauty, his virginity. King is ready to settle down and create a home with another man, but is skittish about Dodge’s ten-year-old son Ryan. He’s never been monogamous with anyone with a kid before.
The plot thickens when they follow the main suspect to the gay rodeo. Dodge, like the suspicious fumigator, is deathly afraid of being outed in a politically correct world. But in his journeys with King through the underbelly of bawdy night clubs and forensics labs, King realizes he’s found the man everyone looks for.
“Cockroach Blockers is giving me a headache the size of my grandma’s thimble collection.” Levi Steinbeck compressed the skin between his eyebrows and sighed. “Captain Marick has agreed to subpoena their records just to make sure they have a purchase order from the hotel for fumigation on that day. But it’s been deny, deny, deny. Osmond still won’t even admit his truck was there. Now he’s not returning phone calls. I’m telling you. If we finally get a trial, I’m going to take that witness seat and ejaculate my knowledge on the face of that eight-tenths of a sorry bastard. It’ll be some creamy web of payback. Either he knew Mike and Flo were in Room 411, which makes it murder. Or he didn’t, which makes it manslaughter.”
I said, “Not to mention extreme incompetence. Why’d they block off other rooms people were working in and not that one?”
“Which makes it murder,” said King.
“Or,” Levi said, “it proves they didn’t know anyone was there and just wanted to kill rats.”
We were enjoying more cheese, champagne, and crackers from the refrigerated unit. It no longer grossed me out, and I did like a nice Brie.
“So you blew your wad on your last ride, I heard.” Levi chuckled. He was the sort of guy who enjoyed the hell out of others’ misfortunes.
King nodded and sipped champagne. He’d only stayed on the bronc five seconds on his last ride. “This is the first year in eight that I’m not going to nationals. I’m willing to accept my rodeo career is over. Hand over the reins to younger bucks.”
“It’s hell on your bones and muscles,” I added.
“How’s the hooch biz going?” King asked Levi. “What with you having to be here fulltime and all.”
“I got a partner running things. Dr. Hamerelli will be back next week to run the crime lab, although I must say I’ve been doing an admirable bang-up job.”
“Then you won’t be needed at either place,” I thoughtlessly said.
Levi drew himself up to his full height of six-five. “I beg your pardon, sir! I’ve developed contacts and expertise the whole time Hammer’s been gone that is irreplaceable. He needs an assistant. And my guy up at the distillery is in dire need of my expertise. He started making peanut-butter-flavored Ginger Jake, or shall we say Pea Butt Jake, which did not go over well with the upscale crowd we’re trying to draw. Oh. Excuse me. This is my police station contact.”
Ostentatiously, Levi put his phone on speaker. We were treated to the high-pitched Mickey Mouse voice of some kid, hysterical about something.
“Slow down, slow down, Con, my man.”
King told me, “That’s Coningsby Dawson. IT guy under Captain Marick.”
“Fire. Fire, man!” shrieked Con. “Someone set fire to the Cockroach Blockers building! It’s a three-alarm fire!”
“Wait, wait,” said Levi. “Three alarms is…good? Or bad?”
“Three alarms is bad,” said King.
“Well, it depends on what you mean by bad,” I said. “‘Bad’ as in a giant fire, or ‘bad’ as in it was not a very giant fire?”
Con shrieked, “Three alarms! As in a big, bad, giant fire! The fire department has sent out all six of its trucks and they’ve requested more from Hell’s Delight!” He paused to catch his breath. “Knowing your investigations, I thought you’d want to know.”
Maybe the weed wore off at that precise moment, but Levi suddenly leaped into action. Putting his pipe in his inner vest pocket, he yelled, “Cumon! Let’s get down there and see who’s acting suspiciously.”
What in the name of a slow milky fuck did I just say? But my mouth would not stop making words. “I’m not closet!”
“Hell yeah, I’m out. I mean, to a certain extent, you have to understand. I’ve got my kid and my reputation to think of, and—”
King practically kicked open his door. We’d almost lost the fumigator as he’d darted down a cattle alleyway, past the catch pens where they kept the stock.
Like stealthy sleuths, we jogged along bent over past steer and bulls. The fumigator had now slapped on a white cowboy hat, making us, I guess, the bad guys. He had shed his coveralls in the car and pulled on some cowboy boots. Now he’d paused by some other guys sitting on an alleyway rail. He greeted them like he knew them.
“You don’t recognize him?” I asked in a low voice, although the animal sounds around us were plenty enough to drown out our words. “He’s not a rodeo participant?”
“Not that I’ve seen. Listen.” Grabbing my sleeve, King practically yanked me in the opposite direction, around the corner of a wooden structure. Quite forcefully now, he slammed me into the wall and pinned me with his hips. Like when we’d made out, our erections ground together, thrilling and stimulating beyond all description.
Yes. I wanted another man.
I wanted King.
This made me queer, I supposed.
He gripped a handful of my hair to hold my head against the wall, too. His other hand grabbed my jaw. “Listen.” He quickly bit my lower lip. “I want to tear off all your fucking clothes right now and dog you like a fucking bull, but I don’t have a fucking condom. And you know what? You’d love every inch, every second of it.”
“I would,” I breathed.
“Meantime, I’m going to objectify you. You’re here to pleasure me. I’ve obviously inspired you already. I can tell by how long and hard your cock is.” He shimmied his hips against mine, bouncing me on his big dick. Motherfuck, I could swear my cock was spurting. I had so much pent-up jizz. “I’ve inspired you, so now I’m going to require from you.”
Stepping back a half a foot, King yanked me down by the hair. If I wanted to avoid pain, I had to fall to my knees. My mouth watered to be face-to-face with that kingsize dick, pulsating tightly in his jeans.
“Take pride in your deep-throating skills, boy,” growled King, expertly undoing his belt buckle with one hand, still squeezing the hell out of my scalp. “You’re not going to feel free until you kneel before a real man and give him your power. Be proud to know you’re providing a home for his ecstasy. Come on, boy. Let the lifeblood in my dick fill you when you milk my DNA.”
And he shoved that limb so far down my throat I nearly choked.
Indeed, he was a tad bigger than that dildo. And I wasn’t ready for it. So I choked and swallowed drily, trying to encompass his rod with my throat muscles, stretching them.
His lewd talk helped ease my way.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, baby. Eat my meat. Lap my spunk with your sweet tongue. Oh yeah. You know how to do it. You’ve been wanting a meaty dick in your mouth ever since college. Those boys tried to torture y’all. One boy skull-fucked you just like I’m doing now.”
Yes, he was fucking my mouth, in and out, giving me a chance to breathe. On the out swing, I could gather saliva in my mouth to lube up his penis. Then he’d plunge it brutally, and I’d have to swallow deeply to keep up.
He picked up the pace, his ballsac slapping against my chin. Just barely hanging on, I smacked my hands against his bare butt cheeks, digging my fingers into the meatiness of the flesh. Motherfuck. How long had I waited to do that? I had a guy’s shapely ass in my hands.
And a fat, hard dick was plunging in and out of my mouth.
“Oh, yeah. You liked sucking that football player’s dong, didn’t you? It started you wondering if you wanted to suck wang all the time. Pretty soon it was all you could think of. You didn’t want any pussy. You pretended you were fucking some guy’s ass when you fucked her.”
How did he know? The more King reminded me of my perversions, my twisted sex life with Cindy, the harder I sucked on his colossal phallus. He’s right. I’ve wanted this my whole life. The boy “forcing” himself on me, “forcing” his dick down my throat, he’d only unlocked a whole cabinet full of cravings I must’ve been tamping down my entire life.
“Oh, yeah! Suck my dick, boy! Suck that meat like it’s all the cocks you’ve ever wanted! Oh, damnation! I’m gonna blow, boy! Keep it up because I’m gonna—”
He flooded my mouth with his warm seed. I tried to keep up with that, too. Man, did he have a load. I gulped and gulped like it was a bottle of cold water on a hot day, and I couldn’t keep up with the flow. Some dribbled down my chin and I realized I’d be glad of a chance to eat it in front of him.
“Ah, that’s good,” grunted King, shuddering into my mouth. “God, you can suck. You’re a god-given talent for sucking dick.”
I slapped his ass to indicate I’d had enough, but he continued to fuck me until jizz squirted from the corners of my mouth. I had to forcibly pull away, and yes, he did yank some hairs from my head.
Gulping one more time, I coughed. I realized I was angry, or offended, or something. I felt affronted, taken advantage of.
“What the hell was that all about?” I yelled up at him. Him and his drooling, dangling rod.
Layla Wolfe is satisfied with a leather jacket, one bad-ass pink camo compound bow, and a vicarious outlaw lifestyle.