The stranger’s pace quickened, his movements becoming more erratic. His fingers dug deeper into my flesh, and I knew I’d have bruises tomorrow—evidence of this moment that I could press on during boring ranch meetings while Dad droned on about cattle futures. Maybe they’d even be there when we went to church on Sunday. I always did enjoy showing off forthe lord.
When the stranger finally came, there was no warning except a guttural groan that he muffled against my shoulder, teeth grazing my skin through my shirt. His hips jerked a few more times, grinding deep inside me as he rode out his orgasm, pumping every last drop into the thin latex between us.
Then, just like that, it was over.
He pulled out and stepped back. I heard the snap of the condom being removed, the rustle of him tucking himself away, zipping up. I stayed where I was, braced against the wall, feeling empty and used in the best possible way. My cock still throbbed, unsatisfied, but that was part of the game too.
Without a word, he unlocked the stall and walked out. The bathroom door creaked open, then closed. He was gone.
I finally turned around, adjusting myself in my jeans with a wince. I was hard as hell and would have to wait until I got back to my motel room to take care of it. The delayed gratification would make it that much better.
I cleaned up as best I could in the cramped stall, then checked my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my pupils dilated. I looked exactly like what I was—some slut who’d just been thoroughly fucked in a bar bathroom.
Perfect.
I splashed cold water on my face and fixed my hair, making myself presentable enough to walk through the bar one last time. As I pushed through the bathroom door, I scanned the bar for my mysterious stranger. He was nowhere to be seen. Typical. These types never stuck around for small talk, which was exactly how I liked it.
I grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair and nodded at the bartender. Outside, the cool Montana night air hit my flushed skin, making me shiver. My ass throbbed pleasantly with each step toward my truck. I’d parked a couple blocks away, not wanting to risk anyone recognizing my father’s company vehicle if they happened to know him.
The streets of Bozeman were still lively with college students, their carefree laughter following me as I walked. They had no idea what I’d just done, and the secret knowledge made me smirk. Ryder McGrath, son of respected and uptight rancher Pete McGrath, getting railed by strangers in bar bathrooms. If only they knew.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Dad. I silenced it without looking. Whatever ranch emergency he was calling about could wait until morning. Tonight was mine.
At my truck, I winced as I climbed into the driver’s seat, the pressure against my well-used ass a delicious reminder. My cock was still half-hard in my jeans, and I debated taking care of it right there in the parking lot. Instead, I started the engine. The motel was only fifteen minutes away, and the anticipation would make it better.
As I drove through downtown, I spotted my bathroom stranger walking alone down a side street. Our eyes met through the windshield for just a second before I accelerated past. No acknowledgment, no wave. It was too dark to see me in the cab of the truck. Perfect.
Back at the motel, I locked the door behind me and stripped immediately. The bathroom light revealed dark fingerprints forming on my hips and a red mark on my neck where he’d gripped me. I traced them with my fingertips, reliving each moment as I finally wrapped my hand around my neglected cock.
It didn’t take long. A few strokes while thinking about those rough hands and I was cumming hard, biting my lip to keep quiet. As I cleaned up, reality started creeping back in. Tomorrow I’d have to be Ryder McGrath, responsible ranch heir, welcoming another batch of ex-cons to their new temporary home. I’d have to stand beside my father, all serious and professional, pretending I hadn’t spent the night getting fucked by a stranger.
The thought made me laugh as I collapsed onto the bed. Let them all think what they wanted. I knew who I really was, and I wasn’t apologizing for it. Not to my father, not to Hell Creek, not to anyone in Montana. And when Dad finally retired and everything was in my name, then I’d let my freak flag fly. Until then, I could keep quiet. Keeping a secret and attending church services for a few years in order to inherit a multi-million dollar ranch seemed like a small price to pay.
I set my alarm and closed my eyes, already wondering when I could sneak away again. Bozeman was full of those red flag guys just waiting to be found. And I was very, very good at finding them.
Maybe next time I’d see if I could get two guys to fight over me. That would be a nice confidence boost.
Chapter 3
Ryder
The morning light filtered through the cheap motel curtains, waking me earlier than my alarm. I groaned, rolling over to check the time. Five thirty. Dad would be expecting me back by eight, which gave me just enough time to shower, grab some overpriced coffee, and make the drive home.
My body ached in all the right places as I sat up. I pressed my fingers against the bruises on my hips, savoring the dull pain. Evidence of my night out. I slipped a hand between my legs, letting a finger drag over my hole. I winced, a smile coming to my face. Another successful night at the bar.
The hot water in the shower felt glorious on my skin, washing away the remnants of last night’s activities but not the memory. I took my time getting ready, knowing this would be my last moment of real privacy before heading back to the ranch, where everyone was always watching and judging. Where my father’s eyes seemed to follow me everywhere on the ranch.
I pulled on my jeans, which were just a touch tighter than necessary, and a button-up that showed off my shoulders. I stopped for a moment, studying myself in the mirror. I looked just about the same as always. Nothing about my appearancescreamed, “I let strangers fuck me in bathroom stalls.” It was my little secret, tucked away behind the mask of the dutiful son.
The drive back to Hell Creek was peaceful. I cranked up the music, rolled my windows down, and let the cool morning air clear my head. By the time I turned onto the long gravel drive leading to McGrath Ranch, I’d transformed back into the person everyone expected me to be.
Dad was waiting on the porch when I pulled up, arms crossed over his chest, that perpetual frown etched into his weathered face.
“Where were you?” he demanded as I stepped out of the truck. “I called three times last night.”
I flashed him my most innocent smile. “Sorry, Dad. Went out with some buddies from college. My phone died.”
He grunted, not quite believing me but not having evidence to the contrary. “The new workers are arriving at nine. I need you to help Larry get the bunkhouse ready for them.”
