Page 29 of Wistful in Wyoming
Blinking at the change of subject, it took Jeremiah a moment to respond. “Yeah, I did.” He yawned and then his gaze flickered up to the top of the phone and back down again. “I didn’t realize how late it was. Between dinner, two beers, and coming so hard I thought my head was going to explode, I’m beat. Five o’clock comes early.”
“That it does. Get some sleep. Can I text you tomorrow?” Dale forced himself not to push things and offer to run over and tuck Jeremiah into bed, preferably with Dale pressed tight against his back, skin to skin, their hearts beating in sync.
“Anytime. Maybe we can do dinner tomorrow night?” Jeremiah asked before his gaze dropped to his chest as his bottom lip disappeared into his mouth. His moments of shyness were so damn adorable.
“I’d love that. Night, cowboy.”
“Night, Dale.”
The last thing Dale saw, before the screen went black, was Jeremiah’s beautiful smile. Rolling over, he plugged his phone into its charger and set his alarm. Hope bloomed in his chest, hope for the future and the possibilities it held.
* * *
Three weeks later ...
Dale tooka drag from a bottle of his home-brewed beer as he stood at the island in Jeremiah’s kitchen, as the other man put the finishing touches on the meat-lover’s pizza he’d made from scratch for their dinner. Dale had been ogling the man all evening, watching him knead the pizza dough, the muscles in his forearms and shoulders flexing and shifting surprisingly erotic.Who knew cooking could be so much fun?
It was a Saturday evening, and the JP was quiet after the ranch hands had left a few hours ago for a big PBR rodeo in Cheyenne. Even Anthony had gone with them to see the professional bull-riding event, so Jeremiah and Dale had the ranch to themselves—a fact Dale knew his lover was relieved about.
While no one, other than Willow and Nathan, knew Jeremiah was gay and dating him, Dale was okay with Jeremiah’s hesitancy and nervousness when others were around. He knew the man was trying and that the situation was different from what he’d experienced with Chris being in the closet. In that case,no onehad known about them—they'd remained hidden behind closed doors or traveled far enough away that they wouldn’t run into anyone they knew. With Jeremiah, there’d been small steps in the right direction, and hopefully more would follow.
Dale and Jeremiah had joined Willow and Nathan for dinner or coffee and dessert several times over the past few weeks. During those occasions, Jeremiah had openly flirted with Dale and even held his hand and kissed him in front of the other couple, which often made Willow squeal or swoon and sigh. Jeremiah felt safe with them, and Dale was willing to wait for him to take the next step in coming out. He had faith it was just a matter of time until Jeremiah was fully out—he could keep being patient. At least, for now.
A few evenings, Dale had wandered over to Jeremiah’s place for dinner or some beers on the porch—things that could easily be construed as acts of friendship—but he never stayed over or even too late. However, the other night, after dinner with Willow, Nathan, and baby Shannon, Dale and Jeremiah had returned to Dale’s RV where things had, understandably, gotten hot and heavy between them. They’d exchanged blow jobs and fallen asleep in each other’s arms afterward. Jeremiah had kissed Dale awake the next morning at four-thirty to let him know he was walking back to his house. Since it’d been the first time they’d actually slept together, Dale had appreciated that his cowboy hadn’t just disappeared on him. Waking up in Jeremiah’s arms was like a dream come true, and he was looking forward to the day it became a regular occurrence with them. He wanted it like he wanted his next breath.
They hadn’t fucked each other yet—Jeremiah had confessed that, while he’d topped a few times, he’d never bottomed, a fact that blew Dale’s mind. He wanted to be Jeremiah’s first in the worst way but knew he had to be patient. Chris was the only man to ever be inside Dale, and he remembered how terrifying yet amazing that first encounter had been. When the time was right, and Jeremiah was ready, Dale would do everything in his power to take care of him and make it the greatest experience of the man’s life. He fully anticipated being the bottom for as long as it took Jeremiah to be ready. And even if the man was never ready, Dale would be okay with that too. What they had was worth so much more than sex and worrying about who’s dick went where.
It was a busy time of the year at both ranches, so many nights, the two men talked on the phone using the video chat feature on the texting app. Dale had enjoyed getting to know Jeremiah better on a personal level. They’d talked about their childhoods, education, hobbies, trips they’d taken, likes and dislikes, and everything else that’d popped up in the easy conversations they shared. They’d laughed so much, his ribs had ached some nights.
A thought flashed in Dale’s mind. Grinning, he waited until Jeremiah had slid the loaded pizza into the oven. “So ... did you finish the wooden cock yet?”
Being a ginger, there was no way for Jeremiah to hide his embarrassment, a fact Dale loved. The other man sighed heavily as his neck, face, and ears burned bright. Dale chuckled. “Is that a yes or a no, cowboy?”
Without a word, Jeremiah strode from the kitchen. Dale’s eyes narrowed as he tracked Jeremiah’s footsteps up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. A few moments later, he returned with his hand behind his back and his chin nearly touching his chest. A leering grin spread across Dale’s face, and his cock stirred. He set his hands on the island and leaned on them, not taking his eyes off the beautiful flush on Jeremiah’s face and neck. His mouth watered at the sight, and he wanted to lick the man from head to toe. “Show me.”
Without looking at him, Jeremiah slowly brought his hand forward and held up his creation. Straightening, Dale rounded the island, stalked toward the other man, and took the phallus from him. “Damn, baby. This is gorgeous—and I don’t mean that in a sexual way. Although, there is that.”
Jeremiah had finished the carving, including thick veins and a flared and notched head. There was even a slit at the top. The wood had been sanded to smooth perfection, the grain rich, natural, and stunning. Several layers of clear sealant had been applied until it was slick and shiny. The cock was long and thick, and Dale’s thumb and finger couldn’t quite touch around the circumference. At the wider base was a pair of heavy balls, which could be used as a way to grip the sculpture or to stand it on its end. It truly was a work of art. It was lifelike and solid. He hefted it slightly, trying to imagine what it would feel like to use it to get himself off. Or better yet, have Jeremiah use it on him, or Dale could fuck Jeremiah with it while Jeremiah sucked him off. The possibilities had his own cock hardening and his mind racing.
Fuck.
“You’re really talented, Jay. Willow mentioned you have a workshop here that you never invite anyone into. I’d love to see more of your work, but if that’s crossing a line you don’t want to yet, I understand. A lot of artists are quirky like that, and there’s nothing wrong with it. I’d just love to see that part of you—maybe someday?”
“Maybe,” Jeremiah responded with a shrug. “And you’re right, my workshop is my sanctuary—it’s where I can really be me.”
Dale set the cock down on the counter, then hooked his fingers into the loops on Jeremiah’s jeans, pulling him close. Dipping his head down, he brushed their lips together. “You can always be the real you around me—in fact, I prefer it. Now, tell me, can that thing be used for real?”
Biting his bottom lip, Jeremiah nodded—his blush, that’d begun to fade, returning. “The sealant is safe. I ... um ... did research.”
Dale chuckled as he raised his eyebrows a few times in succession, causing his cowboy to bark out a laugh and blush harder than before. He put his hands on Dale’s chest and gave him a gentle shove. “Pervert. Before you blurt out any of those bright ideas swarming around in your head, let’s eat. I’m starving and the pizza’s done.”
After dinner, and a make-out session that’d led to Jeremiah blowing Dale’s brains out and coming in his own hand at the same time, the two men cuddled on the couch in just their jeans and socks. The old John Wayne film,Big Jake,was on the widescreen TV above the fireplace and was the only source of light for them except for the one under the microwave in the kitchen.
Dale sat with his stocking feet propped up on the coffee table while Jeremiah was stretched out next to him with his head in Dale’s lap. He loved the open-floor plan of the house. The great room was huge, with exposed, dark-stained, wooden beams in the vaulted ceiling. The entire fireplace wall was covered in river rocks and with a matching stone slab for the TV to rest on. The hearth and mantel conjured visions of Christmas decorations and matching red and white stockings, but he quickly shut that down. He was getting way ahead of himself there.
There was a half-bath off the hallway that led to Jeremiah’s office. The country kitchen had both a breakfast nook, with a two-chair bistro set, and was attached to a formal dining room. Upstairs, there were three spare bedrooms and a full bath, in addition to Jeremiah’s main bedroom and en suite bath. The man had worked closely with the builder and architect to get his dream house, and the results were stunning. Even the attractive but practical decor belied the fact it was a twenty-seven-hundred square foot bachelor pad. Each time he was there, Dale spotted more and more little details that showed Jeremiah’s hand in the finished work of the house. Little carvings at the corners of the moldings above the doors, a figurine of a cowboy on a bucking bronc on the mantel, even an over-sized wooden bowl on the kitchen counter where Jeremiah kept fresh fruit.
Dale checked his watch. He didn’t need to leave yet—Nathan had handled the evening chores, so the foreman could have the night off—but he didn’t want to be half naked on the couch with Jeremiah when the ranch hands got back. Ten to one odds, most of them would be three sheets to the wind and at least one of them would knock on the backdoor, urging the boss to join them for a beer at the fire pit. One thing Dale had learned about Jeremiah was that he treated his employees like family—some of them had worked for him for over five years. In the ranching business, which often saw a fast turnover in hands, that was saying something.
