Sequel to Calvin's Cowboy
It's been seven months since Calvin Hamilton came crashing into John “Brock” Brockwell’s life. Calvin’s belief in him has allowed Brock to reclaim his dignity with a new life, a new job, and a new relationship.
It's Valentine's Day and Brock is determined to do something special for his lover, so he buys red roses and a card. However, on getting home, he soon discovers Calvin has also made plans, ones that involve blindfolds, rope, and sex toys.
Join Calvin and Brock as they rock the rafters with a compelling mixture of raunch and romance.
“I hope I’m not about to make a huge-ass fool of myself,” Brock said to the otherwise empty elevator as it took him up to their floor. Would giving Calvin flowers make it look as though Brock thought of him as a woman? Brock’s hand reached for the button, he’d stop the car, go back to the store and get something else. But just before his finger made contact with the button he changed his mind again. He loved Calvin and this was how he wanted to show him just how much.
Brock checked his appearance in the mirrored walls. Maybe there was another line or two around his eyes. He frowned, which increased the depth of his wrinkles.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
“Now or never,” Brock muttered.
The hallway was empty, which gave Brock a little more courage to do what he had planned to do. But even if there had have been witnesses, this was New York, and almost anything went.
Holding the flowers in his left hand and the card between his arm and his chest, Brock pressed the doorbell to his and Calvin’s apartment.
Within a minute the lock disengaged and the door opened.
“Did you forget your k -- oh.” Calvin put a hand to his mouth.
“Howdy,” Brock pushed up the front of his Resistol with the pointer finger of his right hand. “Y’all said ya were fixin’ up the old place.” Those were, as far as Brock could remember, the first words he’d spoken to Calvin on that fateful day seven months earlier. The shirt wasn’t the same, but the hat, boots, and belt were. He couldn’t find the bandana he’d warn that day, so had gone without.
“Uh?” then the light bulb seemed to go on in Calvin’s eyes. “It don’t look like ya brought ya tool box, cowboy.”
Brock’s smile faded momentarily. He didn’t remember Calvin saying that at his folks front door. Then he caught on. “I got all the tools I need jist here,” Brock held out the flowers and card, “and here,” he cupped his crotch.
“Oh, my, that’s a mighty fine tool ya got there. Maybe ya should come in and start usin’ it.”
Brock stepped over the threshold, closed and locked the door and was immediately slammed up against it by Calvin pressing into him, Brock managing to pull the flowers and card to the side before they got squished.
“Uh, guess y’all were pleased to see me,” Brock said, in an exaggerated Texan drawl, more than a little “relieved at Calvin’s reaction.
Hitching up the front of his hat even further, Brock took Calvin’s mouth in a fierce kiss.
Calvin didn’t reply verbally, his mouth was too busy sucking on Brock’s tongue while his hands roved up Brock’s chest to his shoulders.
Calvin’s tongue then went on the offensive and pushed Brock’s back into his mouth. Meanwhile Calvin’s hands had moved to Brock’s arms.
Calvin groaned then reduced the pressure of the kiss. Lips still lightly touching, he said, “You been to the gym?”
Calvin kissed him again. “I can tell. Your arms are pumped.”
Brock had done an extra set on the dumbbells because he knew Calvin had a particular thing about his arms.
“Have I told you today how beautiful you are?” Calvin said before kissing Brock once again.
Calvin had; he told Brock every morning. Maybe one day Brock would believe him.
“Love you,” Brock said before Calvin recommenced kissing him.
Was it usual for two people who’d known each other for as long as they had to behave like this? Brock didn’t know. What he did know was that he was still as in love with Calvin now as when he’d first used the L-word in the locker room at the high school back in Parish Creek last July Fourth. No, that wasn’t true, Brock loved Calvin even more. The man was just so amazing and awesome and sexy and ... His jeans were getting mightily uncomfortable. His predicament was made all the more evident when Calvin’s questing hands smoothed down Brock’s sides and after remaining on his hips for a few moments moved to squeeze his erection.
“Yep, that’s one mighty fine tool ya got there, cowboy.”
“All the better to love ya with.”
A small part of Brock thought he should be embarrassed by the silly porn talk, but, hey, it was Valentine’s Day, Junior was out, and he had his man all to himself.
“Want to see what present I got you?” Calvin asked, stroking Brock’s cheeks.
Ever since Calvin had admitted he thought stubble was sexy, Brock had changed his shaving routine. He’d do anything to please his man.
“You’re all the present I need.”
Calvin smiled mysteriously, “Come with me, I left it in the bedroom.”
Brock raised an eyebrow but took the hand Calvin offered. They stopped off at the kitchen for Calvin to put the flowers in the sink and for him to open his card.
Chuckling, Calvin said, “Perfect.”
“Thanks,” Brock dipped his head.
Calvin picked up Brock’s hand again, kissed the knuckles, and led him into their bedroom.
If Brock’s dick was hard before, it went stone hard when he saw a length of white rope tied to each of the four bedposts. Calvin was saying something, but Brock couldn’t hear him because of the blood pounding in his ears.