The Cowboy Poet Read Online Free Page A

feelings at bay, hidden away even from himself—until now.
Tyler could feel his face burning. The damn thing of it was, he loved being there at Clint‘s feet. No, love wasn‘t the word. He craved it. The shrouded embers of his lust had burst into flame once more and it was raging beyond his control. When he felt like this, common sense just flew out the window, even when he knew better.
He looked away, blowing out a breath, angry at himself and his weakness. He needed to get out of there. This had been a mistake. He looked toward the pile of clothing, his legs tensing beneath him in preparation of rising. He owed this man nothing.
He glanced at Clint, who was watching him with a bemused expression. What‘s goin‘ on between those ears of yours? Ain‘t no shame in being somebody‘s boy, Tyler. In fact, with the right man, there ain‘t nothin‘ finer.
Tyler drew in a sharp breath. Who the hell was this cowboy, who seemed almost privy to his secret thoughts? He‘d seemed so fine and upright, but Tyler had learned from experience men were not always what they seemed.
Wayne had acted much like any other hired hand on the ranch, a little swagger, a little bluster, but no real hint of the cruel streak hidden beneath the surface. Who was to say Clint Darrow was any different? Better to get while the gettin‘ was good.
Look, I‘m sorry but this is a mistake. I need to go. Tyler rose, his eye on his jeans as he turned his back on the cowboy. He heard Clint moving behind him, but continued forward, determined to dress and leave before things went any further.
He was reaching down for his clothing when suddenly sturdy rope was slung over his head and quickly tightened around his body, pinning his arms to his sides. What the hell— he cried, confused and flustered.
You ain‘t goin‘ no place, Tyler Sutton. Not till you prove to me this ain‘t what you need. Clint was behind him, pulling the strong, soft nylon rope tight around Tyler‘s upper body before he even realized what was happening.
Goddamn it, Tyler cursed, jerking hard against the restraints, but Clint had been quick, and the knots he was tying were at Tyler‘s back. Let me go. You can‘t keep me here by force.
Clint‘s voice was low and sexy in Tyler‘s ear. Well, I can, but I don‘t plan to. No. Whatever you give me tonight, you give me because you want to. I‘m just slowin‘ you down a little, is all. Giving you a chance to stop running and take stock of just what it is you‘re runnin‘ from.
Tyler wrenched away, twisting to view his captor, his heart beating high in his throat. This is crazy. What the fuck do you think you‘re doing?
Nothin‘ you don‘t want. Clint glanced down at Tyler‘s cock, which Tyler realized to his dismay was harder than ever, a bit of pre-cum leaking from its tip. Clint had a second piece of rope in his hands, and before Tyler could stop him, he‘d stepped behind him again and, grabbing Tyler‘s wrists in a surprisingly strong grip, pulled them behind his back. In seconds he‘d looped and knotted the rope around them.
Clint moved around to face him again, his cock as hard as Tyler‘s own. He swept Tyler‘s bare body with a long, appraising gaze, his tongue appearing between his parted lips. You look mighty fine, boy. Tell me now that you don‘t like it. Tell me you weren‘t born to kneel at somebody‘s feet, ready and willin‘ to take what they give you. Tell me you hate to be tied up. Tell me all that and I‘ll let you loose.
Tyler opened his mouth to say just that, but somehow the words stuck in his throat. Clint chuckled softly. They were standing close by the bed, and a single push made Tyler lose his footing. He fell heavily against the mattress. Clint gently rolled him onto his stomach, climbed over him and straddled his hips.
He stretched out over Tyler, pinning him with his solid weight, his cock hard against the small of Tyler‘s back. Tyler felt his teeth again at his neck, and then his tongue, soft