The Men of Wesley Lake Box Set

A Love to Remember This book is dedicated to those affected by Alzheimer’s. Chapter 1 Loud dance music poured onto the street when he pulled open the door and stepped inside the small bar, the blast of air conditioning cool against his heated skin. A quick flash of his ID at the bouncer and he was wading through the crowds in search of his friend, hoping like hell he’d found them a booth. The club was packed and he hated it when he ended up standing around. He never felt comfortable being out in the open like that. Yeah, he was weird about it, but his best friend Marc never seemed to mind when they hung out together. Spying his friend in a corner booth, he raised his hand to try and catch his eye, but Marc’s attention was elsewhere at the moment. So were his hands. And his lips. Graham eyed the hulking mass of muscles that sat in the booth next to Marc and bit back a groan. Black leather vest, tattoos traveling down both arms, shaved head, and large silver gauges in his ears. Graham didn’t have anything against the man—he’d never even met him. But his friend had a definite thing for men in leather—almost like an obsession with him. Show Marc a daddy wearing leather and he fell hard and fast. Marc always jumped in without looking and sank like a brick in the ocean. Gone, gone, gone. Inevitably it always turned to heartbreak and it was up to Graham to pick Marc up from the floor and help him get over the latest man. As he approached the booth, the two men untangled from each other and Graham wisely held his tongue when he saw the starry-eyed way Marc looked at the big guy. In his gut, he knew it was another disaster waiting to happen. Why was Marc always searching for love? “Graham!” Marc’s gaze landed on him and a smile spread across his petite face. The gloss on his lips shimmered from the dance floor’s strobe lighting. “You made it!” He slid from the booth and jumped up to hug him. “I’m so glad you came!” Graham wrapped his arms around Marc and smiled. For such a little guy, Marc always gave the best full-bodied hugs. He pulled back and fingered the electric blue highlights in Marc’s white blond hair. “New?” Marc nodded. “Yesterday. Come meet Buddy,” he said, pulling on Graham’s upper arm. One glance at Buddy and Graham knew Marc’s new friend wasn’t thrilled to see him. Still, he smiled. “Hi.” He offered his hand. Buddy nodded and shook his hand. “Baby, this is Graham,” Marc said, already back in the booth and so close to the guy he was practically in his lap. Not that Buddy seemed to mind. Buddy grunted. Well, I guess that’s all I’m going to get. “I’m going to grab a beer. You guys want anything?” Both men shook their heads, their attention—and lips—already on each other. Graham turned on his heels and made a quick getaway to the bar. Why the hell did I come again? His gaze swept the dance floor, to the torrent of bodies writhing in a hot, jumbled, chaotic mess of erotic need. His d**k twitched. Oh. Riiight. That’s why he was here. One last night of freedom. And he needed to make it count. Tomorrow was hurtling toward him like a train flying down the tracks, a crazy engineer at the wheel. Less than twelve hours and life as he knew it would crash and burn, and he wasn’t sure he was up to the change. No! He wasn’t going to dwell on it. Tonight was about getting what he needed and forgetting about tomorrow. He wasn’t ashamed to admit his needs to himself, and judging by the size of the crowd and number of hot men, he would definitely be able to find what he was searching for. He ordered a draft and leaned against the bar, his elbow braced on the edge, eyeing the scene as he sipped his beer. He may not be ashamed about what he wanted tonight, but a little liquid courage never hurt. One glance at the booth and Graham knew he wasn’t missed. By this time, Marc was actually in Buddy’s lap and Graham wondered how soon they’d be heading out. Unless they used a back room or hall. He doubted that. Marc wasn’t like him. No, Marc wanted the romance. The whole relationship thing. Not Graham. He was happy to get off where he could. Hurried f***s in a club’s back room, one-offs in the car. Never the same man twice. A rule he lived by. No relationship for him. Not since high school. First love and all that, albeit short-lived. But he’d been a naïve kid then. Now he knew what he liked, and what he needed was a man to take him from behind. Split him apart and thrust in hard and fast. Hot breath on his neck, strong hands on his shoulders, his hips. Fill him so full of hard pulsing c**k that he felt like the pain would never end. But it always did. And it turned into the most amazing feeling he’d ever experienced. Over and over, in and out. Sometimes there would be the awkward reach around and he’d get stroked off, but most of the time he did it himself. He knew what he needed to get off. Fuck, now he was hard and he hadn’t even finished his beer. He drained his glass and set it on the bar, then took a deep breath. Only one way to get his wish. Get out on the dance floor. He weaved through the crowd and stood on the edge of the dancers, the strobe lights flashing on their faces for less than a second at a time. He felt the strong pull to join them. He loved dancing—something he was good at. He could lose himself in the music. His confidence always soared when he danced. Graham gave in to the chaos and jumped in. Bodies closed around him, pressing against him as the beat of the music pulsed through him. Suddenly, he felt alive. Firing on all cylinders. He closed his eyes and sank into the rhythm of the crowd. Songs blended. Bodies moved. Sweat poured from his skin, dripping down his back. The musky scent rolling off the other dancers acted as an aphrodisiac. Hands brushed against him. His body hummed with pleasure. Desire. Need. When a pair of strong hands gripped his waist and pulled him backward, he leaned into it. His back pressed into a hard chest, his head tucked under the chin of the man behind him. Graham’s hips moved with the man’s and the electricity raced through him—much more than he’d expected from just a quick dance. A hard c**k pushed into him, and Graham wanted a peek at the man. He tried to turn, but the hands held him in place. Graham gave up and grabbed the big hands, pulling them tighter around his waist as they moved together, the music and heat fueling his need. By the time the song ended, the stranger’s hands roamed Graham’s chest, his arms, his stomach. This time, when Graham turned, the man let him, and he found himself staring directly at a broad chest, covered in a tight gray T-shirt, n*****s poking the fabric. He lifted his gaze and his heart stuttered. s**t. That never happened. The stranger was gorgeous and built like a f*****g warrior. The man had to be at least six-five, a good eight inches taller than Graham. Eyes that could have been any color in the darkness drank him in. Through the flashing lights, he saw the blown pupils, and Graham’s heart thumped hard in his chest. Not thinking in time to stop himself, Graham stroked the chiseled jaw, shuddering at the light stubble. God, he loved a man with stubble. “Want to get out of here?” the deep voice rumbled. Graham could only nod. The giant grabbed Graham’s hand, nearly dragging him along as his long legs ate up the floor. Graham struggled to keep up as the guy led him outside, but he wasn’t about to complain. Cool air hit his skin. Graham didn’t let go of the man’s hand, allowing himself to be hauled toward the parking lot. Parking lot. That broke through the haze. What the hell am I doing? He never went home with a man. “Where are we going?” His voice sounded raspy and he cleared his throat. “Wait. Stop,” he ordered, tugging his hand. The man stopped, an eyebrow arching over one of those dark eyes. “My place?” Fuck, the man’s voice sounded so velvety, Graham felt like he was being enveloped in s*x. It took all he had in him, but he shook his head. “I don’t do that.” The man squinted, questions in his gaze, still holding Graham’s hand. Graham hurried to explain. “I mean, I don’t leave with men I don’t know.” The giant pondered for a moment before nodding his understanding. He scanned the parking lot and headed back toward the building, once again pulling Graham along. In seconds, they stood at the rear of the building, Graham’s back pressed against the brick, the scratchy cement rubbing through his thin shirt. The Sexy Giant—or S.G., as Graham now referred to him in his head—leaned down and captured his mouth in a heated kiss that sent jolts of desire down to his toes and up to his d**k. The stranger tasted of beer and cinnamon, and Graham moved his hips, grinding his c**k against S.G.’s leg and moaned. He wanted this. Needed this. Was ready for this. “How do you want it?” S.G. asked, his voice rough. “Do you have a condom?” The man nodded. “f**k me,” Graham said, the simple words belying his need. His heart hammered in his chest and he waited for S.G. to say something. The guy smiled and Graham’s belly flipped. f**k, the man was gorgeous. “Going to take some maneuvering,” S.G. acknowledged, gesturing at their obvious height difference. “Sure you don’t want to go to the car?” Graham shook his head and glanced around. He was ready now and he didn’t care how slutty that made him sound. He needed to get f****d, hard and fast. S.G. kissed him again, his hands cupping Graham’s ass. Graham moaned again. The man was all alpha, in charge and taking what he wanted, not that Graham wouldn’t willingly give him anything, anyway. It felt odd, though, because he usually didn’t do kissing. At least not like this. Too emotional. The kiss proved intense, and when S.G.’s tongue swept in to duel with his, Graham shuddered. He wanted to taste him for hours, so he wrapped a leg around S.G.’s and tried to climb the man. S.G. clutched his ass and effortlessly lifted him, and Graham wrapped his legs around the man’s waist. His heart slammed into his chest and he felt himself enveloped in safety, a weird thought as he prepared to f**k a stranger outside. Yet the man radiated safety. And warmth. And he wanted more. Graham slid down and opened his own jeans in record time. His hard d**k sprang out and he stroked himself, watching S.G. ogle him. Graham swiped his finger over the swollen head and used the liquid to wet his hand. “f**k, that’s hot,” S.G. murmured. Their eyes met. “What’s your name?” “I don’t do names. No names. No relationships. No strings.” The stranger raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push. Instead, he unzipped his own jeans, then pulled a condom from his pocket. “You come prepared. Were you a Boy Scout?” Graham teased. “As a matter of fact, I was.” S.G. lowered his jeans a little, revealing his hard c**k. Graham’s mouth salivated at the sight of that large, angry d**k and fought the urge to fall to his knees. He loved taking a throbbing d**k in his mouth, but that’s not what he needed tonight. “Lube?” The thought of no lube made him shudder. S.G. grinned again and slipped a packet from his other pocket. “Gotta love a boy scout,” Graham said with a wink. “Turn around,” S.G. ordered, his voice low. He rolled the condom down his length as he waited for Graham to follow directions. Fuck. Nothing turned Graham on more than an alpha male. He obeyed and braced his hands on the wall, his ass pushed out a little. “Spread your legs a little more,” S.G. ordered, then slipped a slick finger down Graham’s crease, pulling aside one cheek and pressing against his hole. “You’re f*****g beautiful.” Graham trembled. When it came to s*x, he typically ignored emotions. But something about the way S.G. spoke made him feel…more than he usually did. He didn’t have time to ponder the implications, though, as S.G.’s finger breached his tight ring and pushed inside. He felt the slight burn and his breath hitched. “You okay?” S.G.’s hot exhale blew across his neck. “Yeah. Just…it’s been a while,” he admitted. Six months. The finger slid in deeper, then out, slowly, and the pain began to subside. When he added a second finger, the ache felt good, and Graham rolled his hand into a fist and pressed against the rough brick. “Now,” Graham hissed, and the man’s fingers slipped out. He thrust out his ass, chasing them, already missing the fullness. Large hands gripped his hips, and when he felt the head at his opening, felt S.G. push, Graham groaned, gritting his teeth as the c**k slid inside. He felt splintered, and his fist rammed the bricks, fighting the sharp burn. “Oh, God, you’re so f*****g tight. So hot,” S.G. said, his voice gravelly. The guy stayed still, but Graham pushed back, urging him to move. S.G. pulled out a little, inching back in, then thrust hard, sliding forward until his balls pressed against Graham’s ass. “f**k,” S.G. growled, his head resting on Graham’s shoulder. Hot breath on his neck made Graham shudder and he waited as his body adjusted to the intrusion. “God dammit, f**k me!” Graham cried when he couldn’t wait any longer. His fist hit the wall again, probably scraping his knuckles. “Fill me up over and over. f**k me. Please!” S.G. groaned and pulled out almost teasingly before he slammed back in, hard and fast, grunting with the exertion. When S.G. hit that special spot inside, Graham cried out. S.G. nearly lifted him from the ground and f****d hard. Graham lost himself in the sensations of being f****d. Being filled. He could feel the man’s c**k throb inside him with every thrust, and Graham stroked himself, painting the brick wall with his release just as S.G. shuddered, filling the condom. Graham felt the heat in his ass and loved it. Loved every second of it. This. This was what he had needed. His breathing ragged, he smiled when the man let go of his hips and eased out of him, leaning into him, his hands braced on the wall next to Graham’s. S.G. nudged his hair and softly kissed Graham’s neck. Graham could feel the man’s heart slamming against his back and knew it had been good for him, too. “Th-that was…off the charts…h-hot…” S.G. stammered as he nuzzled Graham’s neck. Graham had to agree. He sensed he would relive this night for many years. But now, coming down from the high, he pulled up his jeans. S.G. took care of the condom before fully dressing. They stood alone, light filtering over them from a nearby streetlamp. Funny, but Graham didn’t feel the usual awkwardness after a hook-up. No urge to run. No embarrassment. He just felt…satisfied. S.G. surprised him by gently kissing his lips, his hand cupping Graham’s cheek. “Are you sure about no names? I’d like to—” Graham held up his hand. He may not feel like running, but that’s what he was going to do. “No names. Thank you. It was hot and just what I needed.” The guy looked disappointed, but Graham had been upfront about what he’d wanted from the beginning. He smiled and turned away, wanting to find Marc and let him know he was heading out. He didn’t want to ditch his friend, but he was pretty sure Marc would be just fine with Buddy to keep him entertained. Graham couldn’t shake the feeling he was walking away from something important, though, and that irritated him. He didn’t have time for feelings. So he did what he did best—he shoved down his thoughts and forgot the hurt look he’d seen on S.G.’s face. His life was too crazy and he wasn’t about to add any more complications to it.