Page 88 of Wrangled

I turned to him. “Did you like having his hand inside you?”

Robert’s lips parted, and he adjusted his crotch.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“He didn’t do it that often, but those times when he did… it meant something. We only started doing it in the last couple of years before he died.”

I nodded. “That requires a lot of trust, but you’d had time tobuildthat trust.” I studied him. “So… are we here so you can say goodbye?”

“Yeah, but also…” He pointed to the window, where a squat oak chest sat beneath it. “We’re here for that.”

Now I got why he needed the truck. “Can I take a look?”

“Sure.”

I went over to it, lifted the heavy dust-covered lid, and perused its contents.

It was a treasure chest.

There were ropes of different types and lengths, neatly coiled and tied. I smiled. I could tell a lot about a Dom by his rope collection, and right then Kevin was scoring pretty highly. I spotted coiled hemp and jute, which were good natural options for Shibari, although I preferred jute because of its tighter lay, making it more durable and less likely to thread over time and in a scene. But where Kevin scored an A? There wasn’t a sign of cheap braided cotton there—that stuff was a bitch to untie all the tight knots. A lot of Doms used it because it was lightweight and a good option if you needed to carry a lot of it around.

What Kevin had was a solid polypropylene braid, an all-round rope good for most purposes outside of more intricate Shibari rope art. And it told me a lot. Kevin had a different style to me, which meant different sensations for Robert, different approaches.

That, I could work with.

One segment of the chest contained dildos—glass and silicon in varying sizes—and another was filled with butt plugs, cock rings, a ball gag, vibrators, a blindfold…

“I suppose in fifteen years, you amassed a lot of stuff.”

He nodded. “I only kept the bare minimum at the house. This was where we played.”

“You want to take this back to the house?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t belong here now.”

I surveyed the cabin’s interior. “What will you do with this place?”

“I’m not sure yet. It’ll come to me.”

I pointed to the chest’s contents. “And what about all this? You’re not going to throw it away, are you? You could donate it.”

He stared at them. “I’m not emotionally attached to any of it. Kevin bought it all.” Then he pointed to the ball gag. “I didn’t like that. We only used it the once.”

“And the sling?”

“That got a lot of use.” He smiled.

“What did you just think about?”

“Kevin fucked me all over this cabin—in the shower, the bed, on the couch, on the rug, against the door… And once on the porch.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know which was the stronger emotion—terror that guests would come along the trail and see us, or exhilaration. It was such a turn-on.”

I grinned. “You do know you just guaranteed that I’m going to fuck you outdoors when we camp out on the cattle drive, right?” Before it had been a pleasant notion—now I was definitely going to make it happen. Then I realized something. “You know, that’s the first time I think you’ve smiled when you’ve spoken about Kevin since I’ve known you. Which has been all of…” I did the math. “All of four days.”

He gazed at me, and that slow smile put in another appearance. “You’re right.” He shook his head. “Man, talk about timing…”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that…Kevin used to say there are no coincidences—it’s just the universe making sure things slot into place. And these last few days… I suppose it started with the anniversary of his death. That was Saturday. Then a number of people decided to tell me it was time to move on.”

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