Ex-bareback rider and part-time songwriter Cam “The Professor” Chester rides pick-up for Philadelphia area rodeos—and rides the men he picks up in Philly’s gay bars. Hated by other rodeo folks, he’s alone in the showers one night when someone knocks him out.
Barebacker, bisexual Wyatt Knott has never met anyone like Cam and is instantly drawn to him. After Wyatt finds Cam unconscious on the shower floor, he goes home with the man to tend to his wound. Before you can say, “Ride ‘em, cowboy,” the two have sweaty, grasping sex in Cam’s recliner.
When Cam reports his attack in the showers to the rodeo’s owner, Shep Walton, Walton tells him nothing can be done because Cam doesn’t have any idea who hit him, and there were no witnesses. But by reporting the assault to Walton, Cam sets in motion a chain of events that will leave him drugged and bound in a chair, Wyatt standing next to him, with someone holding a revolver on them both.
EIGHT SECONDS, the length of time a barebacker must stay on his bronco, weaves the story of two men who’ve never been in love, yet find themselves unable to dismiss their passionate sex as a casual thing.
Tina, Two Lips Reviews, 4/5 Kisses!
"Eight Seconds by Barrie Abalard is a good book I won’t forget. What I liked about this book is the great connection between [the characters]... I really enjoyed this peek into Cam and Wyatt’s lives and would love to see a follow up story..."
Cryselle, Dark Divas Reviews
"There’s some fine character aspects to both men, and the rodeo scenes are brightly alive and gritty... the sex scenes, and the rodeo scenes are the reasons to read Eight Seconds"
Wyatt relaxed, lounging on the floor, his head propped up on one hand. “I’d love to watch you jerk that big guy off. In fact, I’d like to worship it. Anyone ever tell you that’s some hot cock you’ve got?”
“Only every man I fuck.” The blatant brag was softened by Cam’s winking grin.
“How’s your head, Professor?” Wyatt watched Cam’s hand knead himself into erection. Hornier than ever, he unzipped his own jeans to stroke himself.
“It hurts a lot less than it did, mostly because of your care—and your mouth. Anyone ever tell you that you suck cock better than Satan himself?”
“Only every man I suck.” Wyatt’s hand quickened. He hoped Cam would be ready to fuck soon.
A gasp escaped Cam. “I’d better get the lube and condoms.”
Wyatt sat up, placing a restraining hand on Cam’s knee. “With that head injury, you should wait here. Tell me where the stuff is, and I’ll get it.”
Cam told him, and within a minute Wyatt was back. “You ready, I hope?”
The injured man reached for the condom, but Wyatt said, “Nuh-uh-uh, this is my treat,” before sheathing Cam’s beautiful cock with latex. Both of them shucked off their jeans, put a bit of lubrication in the right places, and then Wyatt found himself bent forward, swaying his hips while trying to accommodate the largest cock he’d ever seen.
It hurt, mostly because he hadn’t stretched himself. He took others up the ass so often, his hole rarely needed preparation, but Cam’s cock was extraordinary in size, in shape, in every way.
Cam groaned. “Think I might be able to slide all the way inside you soon? Your tight little ass is driving me insane. I need to pound you hard.”
“Doing my best. It hurts a bit.” Wyatt wiggled his hips, taking another inch of Cam’s cock.
“Sorry to be an insensitive asshole,” Cam said. “I know it must hurt. It’s just that you’re so tight and hot and I’m dying to fuck you.”
“Right now, I wish my own asshole was a little less sensitive.” Wyatt pushed, willing his muscles to relax faster, and was rewarded with lessened discomfort as the big man shoved his way in. Within a moment or two, it was done, and he breathed, “Fuck me, stud.”
Wyatt gave himself up to the pleasures of cock, gasping every time Cam slammed it home. He was stretched to the limit, and knew he’d be tender tomorrow, but the powerful sensations of taking Cam so deeply thrilled both mind and body. What a fucking head trip to be impaled by this man, the man Wyatt had done his best to emulate on the barebacking rodeo circuit—Wyatt’s hero, for lack of a better term. What could be better than having your ass fucked by the man you practically worshipped?
Not that he’d ever, ever reveal his heart in that way to Cam “The Professor” Chester.
Gripping his own cock, Wyatt had pulled barely ten times when he started to come. Meeting each inward stroke of Cam’s with equal force, he fucked and came and yelled and fucked and came and yelled, his entire body trembling, glittery feelings flashing through his veins like platinum. Sweat dripped in his eyes. He used a forearm to wipe his brow, gamely riding Cam, who still hadn’t come. Wyatt put a little spin into his pelvic thrust, a little English, as ball players liked to say, and that did the trick—Cam screamed like a maniac while pounding Wyatt’s ass with his piledriver cock.
He sat, fully sat this time, on Cam’s lap, softening dick inside. Leaning back, he melded himself to Cam’s solid chest. Wyatt’s hands reached behind him to caress the man’s face, rewarded with an energetic nuzzle before Cam nipped his neck. Wyatt jerked at the sting. “Hey, no hickeys. Never really cared for them.”
“You are so tasty, I could bite you all over. But in a nice way,” Cam breathed into his ear. “A sexy way. Or don’t you like biting in general?”
“A few sharp nips in the right places can send me to the moon. I just don’t like marks, because of the bathhouse.” Wyatt sighed with pleasure, still not believing he’d just fucked and sucked his hero. “Damn, that was the most fun I’ve had in a while. Only problem is, my ass will be on a bucking horse again in less than twenty-four hours.”
Cam’s fingers traced patterns on his forearms. Wyatt shivered. This man could arouse him while touching his arms, for God’s sake.
“Maybe you should walk this side of the street more often,” Cam said, and Wyatt melted.