“No. No. I ambom, eh? Okay. Just grazed me.” He laughed, clapping Nate on the back, going to take his rope from Coke. He only limped a bit.
Leonid met him at the bottom of the stairs, jabbering at him furiously. “Eighty-eight, Balta. You’ll be in the money. You hurt?”
“Just bruised, huh?” Leonid was a sweet one, but Balta wanted to get to Joa. Really, he needed to help pull that rope.
Leonid took his bull rope with a smile, let him climb up so he could get by. He could see Joa, bending and stretching, over and over. His steps slowed, just so he could watch. Look at that behind. Joa was so well-built. Balta could imagine himself buried deep inside that tight ass, listening to Joa cry out for him.
Imagining it now might be inconvenient, though. So he started walking faster, boots clanging on the wire grid. “Ready, Joa?”
“Sim. Sim, Balta. Good ride.” Joa’s eyes sparkled, the excitement ratcheting up.
“Now you, huh? You watch when you get off. These new bulls, they’re angry.”
“Sim.I saw. I’ll watch.” Joa stepped over the rail, nudging the bull with his boot. The bull bucked up in the chute, front feet rolling over the rail.
He pulled hard, yanking Joa up before the bull could drag him down. “Deus!”
More of their countrymen moved in to help, and there was Nate again, tugging at the bull’s horn from the bottom. Nate was a good man. Joa was muttering under his breath, getting settled, setting his hand in the rope.
“Bear down, hey? Make sure you spur, if you can.” He couldn’t let Joaquim think too much.
“Sim. Sim, Balta.Eu sei.” Those eyes met his, serious and sure.
“Set?”
“Sim.” Joa nodded and the bull lunged out, spraying snot and spinning hard.
He knew he had to make Joa nod. Someone always did. Those few seconds before the gate opened were always the worst. Joa spurred and bore down, chin ducked, arm in the air. Look at that man. Just look. Balta whooped, urging on both Joa and the bull on.
Joa started to slide at six and a half seconds, and that muscled upper body clenched, the correction making him scream. He pounded on the top rail, bouncing, Eduardo right there with him.
“He’s going to make it!” Eduardo hooted.
The buzzer rang and Joa yanked at the tail of his bull rope, working to get his hand free.
“Esquerdo, Joa! Left!” If he went off to the right, it would be very, very bad.
Joa turned in a full circle, still spinning. He stepped toward the chutes and made it about three steps before the bull bowled him over.
Balta vaulted over the rail, landing inside the chute and reaching for Joa as Coke flung him toward safety. Joa landed against him, full-force, their bodies smacking together. Balta wrapped his arms around Joa, turning them to protect the man with his own frame. The gate slammed closed just in time to lock the bull out and them in.
“Obrigado.” Deus. Joa loved his job, Balta could tell.
He loved it a lot. Physically. Balta grinned, trying for a subtle bump and rub. “De nada, Joa. You need to go dance, huh?”
“Sim. Sim.” He could watch Joa samba for days. The man stepped back, vest open, buckle undone, shirt untucked.
Oh, he did love how Joa came loose when he rode. It was like the best striptease.
Joa ran back onto the arena,Oye Como Vaplaying while he and Dillon shook it, that tight ass bouncing.
A man had to admire the agility of Dillon’s ass. Adam Taggart spoke pretty highly of it, and if anyone would know, it was Tag. The man got around.
Joa’s laugh filled the air, the eighty-six and a half enough to get the man into the short go.
Balta would wait to see how the short round played out before asking Joa to supper. He would ask, though. The round would only affect how extravagant their meal was.
Joa bounced around, unfastening his chaps and grinning. “Not bad, eh?”
