Heat consumed Hayden. Dylan's touch and kiss was so measured and soothing, so full of passion and desire. It made Hayden feel what he had never felt before in his life—desirable. He was going to give in, he knew that. He was going to let Dylan do whatever he wanted and he was going to glory in it.
He popped the button open on Dylan's jeans and felt the hard bulge instantly pushing at the underwear beneath. His hand trembled as he drew down the zip. Dylan gasped as Hayden's fingers slid under his boxers to wrap around his hard shaft.
Oh God, just the feel of the smooth, heated flesh in his hand made Hayden's cock throb with the need for release, his balls aching. Dylan surged forward, kissing him hard, plundering his mouth with his tongue, gripping his buttocks hard to crush Hayden's straining cock against his belly.
Hayden rocked his hips, grinding himself, working Dylan's cock in his boxers, feeling it leak onto his hand. The sounds of their breathing mingled; gasps and groans punctuated their kisses.
Dylan pulled back. He stood, lifting Hayden in his arms in one swift movement and Hayden wrapped arms and legs around him, clinging as Dylan climbed the stairs, carrying him to bed.
Hayden had been a straight man all his life. He had never been able to indulge in the thrill of his lover carrying him to bed. And a thrill was exactly what it was.
Dylan carried him into a bedroom and laid him down on the bed. He flicked on the bedside light and opened the drawer by the bed, taking out a condom and a tube of something.
Hayden stared as Dylan pushed down his jeans and then his boxers, his hard cock springing free. He was a good length, thick and cut, his balls heavy, free of fuzz, his bush trimmed neatly. Hayden sometimes slyly looked at naked men and gay pornography on his computer, when the thoughts in his head became too much. Never had he seen a more perfect specimen than Dylan.
Dylan climbed on top of him. Hayden opened his legs around him and then they were naked cock to naked cock, rubbing, grinding, kissing, working themselves and each other into a frenzy.
Dylan's hand cupped his balls. His fingers slid beneath them, stroking his buttocks, seeking between them, sliding into his cleft. Hayden jerked and flinched as a finger touched his most private area.
Dylan didn't say anything. He opened the tube and squeezed clear liquid onto his hand. Then he put a wet finger back and stroked, pressing, teasing, wetting until Hayden opened up and took him.
Hayden hissed as the finger speared him. He gripped Dylan's wrist. "I haven't ever…"
Dylan regarded him a moment. "Not ever?"
"No."
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
Dylan kissed him. Hayden guessed it was a gay man's wet dream come true to find a straight, unbroken boy like him in his bed. Dylan would take away his virginity, ride an ass that would never be that tight again, but would feel like a perfect glove clenching his dick.
Hayden didn't much care if Dylan was fulfilling some private fantasy. He only knew he wanted the finger inside him to be replaced by something a lot bigger.
Dylan took his finger free. He lubed up his hand again and rubbed a generous amount around Hayden's entrance, caressing deliberately in a way which inflamed Hayden. Oh, God, it felt good. He imagined the wet slide on him as a tongue, rimming, slicking him up, opening him to receive Dylan.
Dylan sat back on his heels and rolled a rubber on. He leaned forward, guiding his cock between Hayden's wide-spread legs. "If I hurt you, you tell me to stop," he said.
Hayden nodded. He reached down and gave his own erection a stroke as Dylan rubbed hard flesh back and forth over his wet entrance.
Hayden lifted his legs. He wrapped them around Dylan's back. Dylan kissed him as he pressed into him.
Their flesh stuck damply together. The head of his cock stretched Hayden open and he gasped, groaning, head thrown back. Dylan stayed still. He kissed Hayden on the throat and then rocked forward, sheathing himself inch by inch, waiting for Hayden to relax at every step.
Hayden's eyes were fiercely closed. He felt like he would split apart and yet at the same time… the stretch made his cock throb ever harder. The hard flesh in his ass was something Hayden had always wanted and had always denied himself. The way Dylan filled him made Hayden feel complete. He couldn't move or breathe. He hissed as Dylan drew back, impaled him again, stoking his insides into flame.
Hayden gripped at Dylan's back, his lover's flesh dewed with perspiration. He lifted his hips to meet Dylan's next thrust and Dylan groaned, kissed him, tongue tangling with his.
Hayden moved a hand between their bodies to capture his cock. He jerked off as Dylan took him all the way, pressing into him so deeply that Hayden cried out. But he held Dylan still as he tried to draw back, rocked against him as he pleasured himself with his own hand.
Dylan watched him. His eyes glowed golden in the lamplight. Hayden writhed and bucked, pushing down on Dylan's cock as he stroked himself.
Dylan's lips found his throat. He bit lightly, tongued the spot, then put a hand down over Hayden's, so they both worked his cock.
Hayden turned his mouth to Dylan's, gasped into it, grasped his muscular buttocks and pulled him forward, greedily taking him, noisy with every thrust.
The two men became a blur of movement, sweaty bodies sliding together, Hayden's cock straining, his ass clenching Dylan's cock as he felt himself start to blow.
"Oh God, oh God…"
The orgasm was so exquisite it was almost painful. Hayden bucked up, clinging, begging, his cock exploding white ribbons across his own body, spurting endlessly as Dylan pounded him, coming to his own climax with long, hard shudders.
Spent, both of them sank against the mattress, still kissing.
CHAPTER THREE
A phone shrilling in the still blackness awoke Hayden. He blinked, disoriented, as a dark figure shifted beside him, reaching over to the bedside table.
"Hello?" Dylan listened a moment. "Okay, I'm on my way."
Hayden reached out to still the lean figure that slid from the warm bed. "Hey." He knew it wasn't his wife he tried to coax back to bed, but his lover. Guilt had yet to intrude.
Dylan was busy pulling up boxers and pants. "I have to go out on a call. Go back to sleep." He took a sweater off the chair and pulled it on and then he left the room without another word.
Hayden lay listening to shuffles and bangs in the hall as Dylan put on his outdoor gear and boots before the door closed. A moment later an engine started outside and the car pulled away. Hayden fell back into deep sleep.
****
He didn't know how long Dylan had been gone when the bed dipped beside him and a cold body pressed against his.
"Jesus, you're freezing." Hayden pulled him close.
"It's minus fifteen out now."
"God." Hayden entwined his legs with Dylan's. His warm foot rubbed at a corresponding cold one. "How did it go?"
"Domestic disturbance, nothing to get excited about. Not looking like you're going to get out of here tomorrow, though."
Hayden didn't speak. Right at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to be too upset.
Dylan's hand smoothed down his back. He nosed Hayden's hair. Hayden felt the heat and length of him pressing against his thigh. He cuddled closer and was swiftly gone into sleep again.
****
Muffled music woke Hayden, followed by clattering in the kitchen below. He rolled onto his back and squinted in the semi-dark room, listening to the rock song he recognised on the radio.
Footsteps on the stairs grew louder. Dylan appeared in the bedroom doorway wearing a robe. "Hey, sleepyhead."
Hayden's stomach tensed. Last night hadn't been the wine-induced mistake he was about to tell himself it was. Dylan was just as hot and just as desirable the morning after. Hayden couldn't deny the night they had spent together had been the most magical of his life. He smiled shyly, not quite so bold without the alcohol.
"Want some
eggs and coffee?"
"Sure."
"Okay, be ready in ten. If you want to shower, be my guest." Dylan disappeared. Hayden asked himself if he was disappointed with Dylan's lack of affection. But wouldn't he have baulked anyway at Dylan coming on heavy that morning, instigating lovemaking again? He was sure he would. In the cold light of day, what they had done was shocking and wrong, no matter how good it had been. If Dylan chose to sweep it under the rug, he chose right, even if it hurt.
Hayden climbed out of bed and looked for something to wear. The robe he'd left downstairs had reappeared, hung on the wardrobe door handle and he shrugged into it before he went to shower.
With his hair still wet, he made his way downstairs. Dylan turned the radio down a little when he appeared and gestured Hayden to the table, where two plates of scrambled eggs were laid out, as well as a mound of toast between them, together with two mugs of coffee and two glasses of orange juice.
Hayden sat. He gulped some juice thirstily.
"How's your head this morning? We polished off a good amount of wine last night." Dylan sat down, grinning.
"A little delicate." God, was Dylan going to act as though nothing had happened? Hayden glanced through the kitchen window at the relentless snow outside.
Dylan followed his gaze. "I have to go to work in half an hour. Stay here and I'll get your car towed to the garage and fixed. While I'm out, I'll assess the road out of here and give you a call. It's still not looking good, though."
Hayden nodded. "Thanks."
"I'll need your car keys."
"Yeah."
"If you want to call work, tell them you won't be in…"
"I've got my cell, thanks."
"Okay."
They ate in silence. Dylan got up to remove the dishes. He stacked them by the sink, put the carton of orange juice back in the fridge. Finally he sighed, turned to look at Hayden.
"Look, last night…"
Hayden's stomach churned. He waited.
"That wasn't me. That's not how I normally behave. I don't usually take what I want and to hell with the consequences. You must think I'm a callous prick, but I'm not. I usually tiptoe around people's feelings, I usually go out of my way not to hurt anyone. I've never tangled with a married guy before and I never thought I would. I'm sorry."
Hayden swallowed. "It's not like I didn't match you every step of the way. You don't have to feel guilty for taking what I offered. It was my fault. I did it to her, not you."
Dylan looked deeply unhappy, stricken, as though he knew this faceless woman whose husband he had stolen. "Why wasn't she with you at the wedding?"
"We… had a fight. She refused to come."
"Was it serious?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Hayden lifted his head, realising how his words sounded. "It's not… I didn't do that last night out of any sort of revenge. I hope you believe that."
Dylan folded his arms and leaned against the counter, watching him carefully. "Why did you do it, then?"
"I wanted you." Hayden's voice was small, his confidence gone.
"How long have you wanted to play around with men?"
"A long time. Since my late teens."
"And you never have?"
"No. I never even kissed a man before last night."
A grim smile twisted Dylan's sensual mouth but didn't extend to his eyes. "I should feel flattered."
"But you don't? Are you mad at me?"
"Why would I be?"
"I don't know. You knew the deal."
Dylan nodded slowly. "Yeah, I knew the deal. I knew you weren't mine to have."
Hayden got up from the table. "Come on. Don't."
"Will you remember it?" Dylan asked. "When you're gone."
Hayden's throat was closed by a lump. "Yes," he said. "Always."
Dylan turned and walked out of the kitchen.
****
Hayden was still sitting, drinking his coffee and brooding, when Dylan returned to the kitchen, fully dressed in uniform. Hayden glanced at the badge on his chest, the gun rubbing one lean hip, and swore he would have a uniform fetish forever and a day after this.
Dylan shrugged on his parka. He took a cell from his pocket. "Give me your number."
Hayden recited it and watched the deputy's thumb move deftly over the keys. He pocketed it, zipped up his parka. "Give you a call later. Help yourself to anything you want." Dylan took the car keys Hayden had left on the edge of the table.
Still Hayden marvelled that Dylan would leave a stranger alone in his house. But Dylan was rather more intimate with Hayden now than he had been twelve hours ago. Perhaps they were strangers, but they knew each other's bodies well.
His face heated at his thoughts. He went back to drinking his coffee as Dylan walked away.
Hayden heard the engine start but the car didn't drive away immediately. There came the sound of metal scraping on concrete and he got up, went into the living room to glance through the window.
Dylan was using his shovel to free his back tyres from the snow piled against them so he could reverse off the drive. Hayden opened the door, stunned as a gust of frigid air buffeted him back.
"Want me to help?"
Dylan looked up. "No. Go back inside."
Hayden should have known by now that Dylan didn't seem the type of guy to accept help on anything but that didn't make him feel any better, sitting inside drinking Dylan's coffee, while the cop froze his ass off outside.
"Come on, have you got another shovel?"
Dylan paused a moment in his work, his pale face flushed with cold and exertion. "I said go back inside, Hayden." His tone was stony, as were his eyes.
Hayden retreated back inside, nearly slamming the door.
****
Outside, Dylan stopped and wiped his hand over his forehead. No way was he letting Hayden come out into the cold and help; he'd seen how bad his limp was last night when he'd been out in the snow a few minutes by his broken-down car. Even when Hayden had straddled his lap last night, Dylan had felt him wince in pain. Thinking of that made his blood heat with sudden passion. His cock stiffened beneath three layers as it remembered, too. Oh God, taking a stranger from the side of the road into his house and then into his bed. And Dylan didn't regret a single minute of it, apart from the fact Hayden was married. He scowled at the house, his ardour cooling. It would be better if the roads were passable today and Hayden could get away. Leaving this as a one-night stand would be best for them both. If Hayden had to stay tonight, it would become a two-night stand, that wasn't in doubt. Dylan wouldn't keep his hands off him tonight. Not now that he knew how good it was.
****
Hayden threw himself onto the couch and reached for his bag. His cell phone was in the outer pocket where he'd shoved it last night, dead. He dragged his charger from the bag and went into the kitchen, plugging the phone in at one of the sockets over the counter. He switched it on as it started to charge, waited for it to ready itself.
He dreaded what he'd find on it. It was unforgivable of him not to have phoned Julianna last night, no matter how pissed he was at her. She probably thought he was dead in a ditch somewhere.
The text messages started to roll in. Several from Julianna, a couple from his partners at the dental practice, Avril and Rose, one from the friend who had gotten married and was now on his honeymoon. He tackled the voice messages from his wife, the first icy and calm, telling him he could go to hell for not coming back and hoping he was screwing a bridesmaid to his heart's content. The second near hysterical and tearful.
He called her.
"It's me. I'm okay. The car broke down."
"You bastard. You bastard!" Julianna sobbed loudly.
"Don't, honey."
"Don't honey me. You go to that wedding without me, you don't call me for two days while you're there and then you let me think you're dead somewhere. Is this how you get back at me?"
"No."
"Where are you?"
"Somewhere in South
Dakota. Somewhere very cold. I had a blowout, crashed my car, got picked up by a cop who let me spend the night at his house." Was that convincing? Hayden's face flamed as it always did when he lied. Still, it wasn't a lie, it was an omission of the pertinent facts.
"When are you coming home?"
"I hope today. He's gone out to check the roads and sort out my car."
"He's a very charitable man, your policeman."
Hayden held his breath. As far as he knew, Julianna had never caught one whiff of him liking men, at least none that she'd admitted to him anyway. "Yes, he is."
"You went home with some strange guy in the middle of nowhere? He might have been some rapist and murderer."
Can't rape the willing. "Julianna…"
"He might have worn your skin as a suit."
His wife watched too many extreme films. "Okay, honey, that'll do. This isn't the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. He's a cop. He was hospitable and I was grateful." More grateful than you'll know. He introduced me to the side of myself I've hidden from forever. "I'll call you once I know about the roads, okay?"
"Okay and Hayden, don't ever do that to me again."
"I'm sorry, baby." Hayden hesitated. "I love you."
"I love you too, honeybun and don't forget it." Julianna hung up.
Hayden put his cell on the counter. He was the biggest shit that ever lived. He listened. The scraping had stopped and Dylan had gone, leaving perfect silence behind.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hayden shifted restlessly on the couch, his ass hurting when he moved. He had called his partners at work and told them he had no idea if he could make it back today. Then he'd emptied the clean plates from the dishwasher and stacked the breakfast dishes in it, wiping the table and counters with a cloth. It had been two hours now and still no phone call. Surely Dylan knew the state of the roads by now. He was fully dressed and ready to go the moment the deputy gave the word. That's right, run away, you coward.
Boots lay curled on the opposite couch, deeply asleep. Hayden sighed, sinking back, taking some deep breaths. When he closed his eyes he saw himself on his back, Dylan driving into him, making Hayden spill like no one ever had before. Oh God, what was he going to do? How could he go home a faithless liar to Julianna and how could he ever forget how last night had made him come alive?
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