28. Porter

"Port."Bishop shoves out of the door behind me.

"Not now, Sully." My body shakes with what feels like a fever, I'm so angry. Still, I find myself whirling around on him, not wanting to talk but not having it in me not to do it either. "What he said about my dad…"

"Doesn't matter." He reaches out to grab me, then seems to realize what he's doing and drops his arm again. "It doesn't matter what Randy thinks. I know who you are, and you know who your dad was."

But do I? In some ways, yes, I do. Regardless, he was my daddy. He taught me to ride and made me love ranching…but he wasn't perfect either. He had his flaws, a whole lot of them, some I've taken on myself. That part of what he said is true. "I don't think he cheated on my momma, but I know there were rumors, and the job thing…hell, I don't even know what he's talking about. He always bounced between jobs. He did work at the factory once, came home pissed because he got fired but didn't give us the details. I know he didn't always do the right thing, but I loved him."

I lean against Sully's truck, wishing I could suck the words back in. There's not a chance in hell I would have said them to anyone but him. It's like he's a magician, my magician, who knows all my secrets and can unlock parts of me, making me do and say and feel things no one else can.

"Of course you did." Sully moves closer, doesn't stop until he's right up in my space.

"Someone will see." I eye him, unwilling to look away.

Sully sighs. "Let me take you home. I wanna touch you and kiss you and show you how much you mean to me."

My stupid insides feel all melty. It's miserable and wonderful at the same time. I rode out here with Bulldog, but after what just happened, the guys won't think anything is up if I ride back with Sully.

A pang hits my chest at that thought, that they can't know, that I almost feel like a dirty little secret, but I push it aside, nod, and without a word, walk to the other side of the truck.

We're quiet most of the ride out to the ranch. Sully tries to make conversation about the fun we had before Randy showed up, but I'm not in the mood. My muscles still feel too tight from the confrontation. The instincts are still inside me to lash out, and while I held them at bay tonight, part of me wishes I hadn't.

He drives his truck under the large Sullivan Ranch sign, and for the first time in a while, my gut clenches. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's all the talk about my dad tonight.

He parks, and we both get out.

"What the hell are they doing up?" Sully asks, the worry clear in his voice, and I follow his gaze to the large front porch, where his parents are sitting on the swing.

It's not unusual for his parents to sit on the porch, but obviously not this late.

"Let's go make sure everything is okay," Sully says, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. If he thought this was about me, he wouldn't want me to go.

I follow Sully over.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

"Oh no," his mom says, "not really. I just… You know how I get sometimes. I had a bad feeling tonight, is all. I was worried about all of you, and your daddy didn't want me to be up alone." Her gaze shoots back and forth between Sully and me.

"Where's everyone else?" his dad asks.

Sully sighs, takes his hat off, and runs a hand through his hair. "Ah, hell. Might as well tell you tonight. Things didn't go quite as planned."

"I told you it's not a good idea to be so friendly with the hands," his dad snaps, and while I know I should keep my mouth shut, it doesn't listen.

"This has nothing to do with him. Bishop didn't do anything wrong. Randy is out of control." I cross my arms.

"With all due respect, Porter, this conversation is between me and my son. I?—"

Mrs. Sullivan cuts him off. "What happened?"

"Porter is right. Everyone was having a great time, and we were bonding, having fun. Randy showed up angry and drunk, hollering about stuff he had no business talking about. Not one person in Buck's would tell you anyone was in the wrong but him. He almost started a fight."

I note that Sully doesn't tell them it was me Randy almost started a fight with.

"I knew it. I knew something was wrong." His mom wrings her hands together. "Where is he now?"

"Wade's handling it."

"Don't fret." Mr. Sullivan puts an arm around her. "We'll talk about it more tomorrow and get him squared away."

Sully's momma sighs and lets her husband lead her into the house. She gives me a smile, then squeezes Sully's arm in support, before they close the door behind them.

As nice as Mr. Sullivan tries to be with me on the surface, it's not hard to tell he's got some walls up where I'm concerned—not that I don't have them as well.

"I'm going to bed," I say, heading for the bunkhouse.

Sully follows right behind. "Come to my room with me tonight. Don't let that other shit take something away from us."

I want to be with Sully, want to spend the whole night in his bed, and get up in the morning and take a shower with him, before we head out for a long day on the ranch. That ain't gonna happen, but I'm not strong enough to turn down any part of him I can have. "You need my cock, Sully? Is that what this is?"

"I need you," he replies gently, his voice full of vulnerability.

Those three words have the ability to mask everything else, to push it so deep, I can almost forget it's there. "I need you too," I nearly growl, wishing I could pull him to me right now, but I can't. Instead, we walk side by side like we're nothing but ranch owner and hand. I have to pretend to go one direction, then sneak around the house to his private entrance. Later, I'm sure Wade will make an excuse to the guys about where I am, and then I'll slip out of Sully's bed in the middle of the night and return to the bunkhouse.

But that's not right now, and the second we're behind the closed door of his rooms, we're on each other, tugging boots off, ripping out of clothes, only stopping to touch and kiss and maul each other with our hands.

In these moments, nothing matters except me and Sully. We can lose ourselves in the want we have for each other that's burned hot and strong, undeniable and unexplainable, for years.

"Sit on the edge of the bed, Sully," I instruct him, see him swallow the lump in his throat, then does as I say. "Spread those pretty thighs for me." He does, and I step between them, hooking my finger beneath his chin and tilting his head up. "You're so fucking sexy." I swipe my thumb along his bottom lip. "Doesn't matter how many men I've had, I was never satisfied because they were never you. It made me hate you sometimes, hate that I wanted you more than anything else in this world. I don't hate it anymore…not when you look at me with those eyes like you do…like I matter. No one has looked at me like that before."

Leaning down, I take his mouth, push my tongue between his lips that are tinged slightly with beer and more with the overpowering taste of Bishop Sullivan.

He lets me lead the show like he so often does in the bedroom, kissing him hard, then easing off to gently nibble at him, brush my cheek along his jaw.

When I pull back, he says, "Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere." I grab the base of my swollen, aching erection, aiming it toward him. "Kiss it, Sully."

"Jesus, Port," he grits out, voice husky and hungry, but does exactly as I say, pressing his lips to the tip of my cock.

I tremble. "Fuck, if you're not the prettiest damn thing I've ever seen."

He tilts his head some, eyes up and latched on mine, before he kisses it again…and again, then lets his tongue slip out and circle my glans. It feels like fireworks are going off beneath my skin.

"My balls next. Lick 'em for me."

"God yes," he says, then buries his face in my sac, lashing them with his tongue, breathing in my scent.

I let Sully play, sucking me, kissing me, letting his tongue trace each dip in my abdominal muscles. When he pulls me down on top of him, I allow that too, taking his mouth in a searing kiss while we rut against each other, slick, hot skin on slick, hot skin.

My cock throbs, hand pushing down between our bodies, wrapping around us so we both fuck my fist.

He drops his head back, and I lick his throat, wish I could put my mark on it, then proudly show him off around the ranch as mine. "Fuck me." He pumps his hips with mine.

"You want my cock? Tell me. Tell me you want my cock." I need to hear it from him, need the words to pass his lips. I get a high from them.

"I want your cock."

"I want your hole," I tell him in response. "It's my hole now."

He sucks in a sharp breath, the two of us moving up so he's lying on the pillows. I grab a condom and lube from the drawer, slick up my fingers and push one, then two, inside his tight heat.

"Fuck." He arches toward me while I fuck him, stretching and opening him up. There's nothing like being inside him, and I know that once it's my dick buried deep in his ass, I'm not going to last long.

"I want your cock," he says again. "Give it to me."

I pull out, trembling as I rip open the condom wrapper. Once I'm sheathed, I pump lube onto my cock, push his legs back, then watch as I push into his tight, hot ring. His body opens for me, Sully hissing and moaning, soft pleas for more. There's nothing like seeing him take me, accept me into his body like we were made to fit together.

I take him slowly, sweat beading on my brow from the need to thrust hard and fast into him.

"Yes…so good…love feeling you stretch me out, making me yours."

He's so fucking mine, and even if I never have more than this, I don't think I can walk away from him.

Sully's heels dig into my ass as I hold his hips, pushing in until I'm balls deep. It's like a glove made just for me, and we breathe together before I pull out and thrust into him again. Pushing Sully's legs back with my arms, I slam into him over and over again.

His hands explore my body, blunt nails dig into my back, soft pants of breath caressing my skin. His dick is leaking between us, precum pooling on his belly. I want to lick it up, make him come, then swallow that down too.

"Stroke yourself. Jerk that pretty cock of yours while I pound your hole. When you come, I want you to come with me, want us to empty our balls together."

"Can't get enough of how you talk to me," he says, spitting on his hand, then jacking himself.

We work in unison, him on his cock and me in his hole, his ass a fist around my erection. The sound of our breathing, skin slapping together, and the scent of our sweat and sex fill the room.

When Sully's mouth drops open, I know I'm hitting his spot, know he's about to let loose, which is exactly what I need to stop lingering on the edge. We dive over the cliff together, my dick spasming inside him while his twitches in his hand, cum spurting over his belly.

Bending over, I lick it all away, then toss the condom before we tangle around each other in sweaty limbs.

"I should go," I say softly.

"A few more minutes. Don't want to let you go yet."

Like always, I can't help but give Sully what he wants. It's what I want too.