Hay and Heartbreak (22 page)

Hector squeaked when Dan spread his ass cheeks.

“Let me look,” Dan asked, not pushing them very far apart.

Hector parted his legs and stopped clenching his butt.

Dan exposed Hector’s pucker. The skin looked pink and puffy, and as he watched he saw the glistening white cum begin to leak out.

Dan couldn’t restrain himself. He leaned down and licked over Hector’s asshole.

“Dan!” Hector yelped, shoving his head up, staring back with eyes made huge from shock. “What—”

Dan licked again, then again, surprised at how much he liked what he was doing. He was tempted to stick his tongue into Hector’s ass and lick him clean from the inside out, but thought he’d save that for a braver time.

Besides, he and Hector had a lifetime together to explore all the kinky ideas suddenly percolating in Dan’s mind.

He grinned and nipped at Hector’s butt cheek. They were going to have so much fun together.

Dan dragged his tongue over Hector’s hole again, then up his crack. He kept right on licking along the length of Hector’s spine. “I love you, so much,” he said as he reached Hector’s ear.

Hector huffed, his body relaxed under Dan’s. “My God, Dan, what you just did, I think I liked it. A lot.”

Dan buried his face against Hector’s neck. Yes, they were definitely going to do a lot of experimenting together.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Dan said a moment later, all of his focus on his heart, not his dick.

Hector rolled over, settling them both on their sides facing each other. He cupped Dan’s cheek. “I’m so glad you did, too, though I was chasing you before you ever got here.”

Dan smiled, joy lighting him up inside. “And you caught me.”

Hector beamed back at him. “Yes, I did.”

Also available from Pride Publishing:

Southern Spirts: A Subtle Breeze

Bailey Bradford

Excerpt

Chapter One

Ezekiel Matthers stood looking down at his mother’s grave. She’d been gone for almost four years now, and he still couldn’t get used to the fact that he wasn’t going to see her again, at least not in this lifetime. There were mornings when he stumbled into the kitchen bleary-eyed from sleep and swore he could smell her perfume, a soft, sweet scent he had never encountered on anyone else. It always left him with the feeling that he had just missed her, like she had slipped out of the door to head to work right before he could hug her.

“Enough,” he muttered, kneeling down to place the bouquet of yellow roses he’d brought with him up against the tombstone. “I sure do miss you, Mama. I bet you’re having the best birthday yet, dancing with angels on those golden streets.” Zeke closed his eyes as a soft breeze caressed his skin, bringing with it a faint fragrance that somehow soothed his soul. The loneliness that was his ever-present companion still gnawed at him, but he pushed it down, as always.

Zeke had all but given up on finding someone to share his life with. When his mama was still alive, he hadn’t wanted to risk bringing trouble down on them, on his mother and sisters, by having a relationship out in the open. There had already been too much such trouble once people found out he was gay, and his mama and sisters had been confronted in town on more than one occasion. Ezekiel had, too, but it had never concerned him like it did when it happened to any of his loved ones. On top of that, somewhere in the darkest corner of his heart, Zeke had held out hope that his oldest sister, Eva, would eventually ‘come around’, as Mama had said she would. That hadn’t happened, and when Mama had died, the chasm between him and Eva had grown into what he feared was an unbridgeable size. Zeke didn’t know if he even had the strength, much less the desire to bother with trying to fix that sad relationship.

That gentle breeze seemed to nudge him, almost chastising him for his melancholy and defeatist thoughts. Zeke shook his head at his fanciful musing, saying a silent prayer for his mama before opening his eyes and standing. He grunted a bit when his right knee popped, something that gave him problems courtesy of a fight—an assault really, though calling it a fight made it somehow seem less personal, less planned. The damage to his knee, caused by a pipe and a few homophobes, was not extensive, but it did act up on occasion. All things considered, he figured he was lucky that was the severest injury he had sustained from the encounter. If Elizabeth and Enessa hadn’t overheard the men plotting minutes before and rushed to follow them… Well, he had no illusions. Those men had intended to get him out of McKinton, one way or another.

Giving one last glance to his mama’s grave, Ezekiel turned and headed for his truck, noting another vehicle pulling in to the cemetery. He squinted, recognizing Enessa’s little hybrid, which looked way too tiny for the number of people in it. Deciding he didn’t feel up to making conversation with whomever she had with her, Zeke waved in her direction and picked up his pace so he could leave before she even stopped her car. He groaned when he realized he wasn’t going to make it. Enessa parked and jumped out of her car, running straight for him.

“Zeke! Wait!” Enessa ran full tilt, almost careening into Ezekiel before stopping. He couldn’t quite hold back a grin. Nessa was just too sweet to stay irritated with for more than a few seconds. He caught her forearms, preventing her from teetering over courtesy of her sudden stop.

“Thanks, Zeke!” Enessa smiled up at him, eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. “Why were you trying to run off?”

He sighed, wanting only to get back to the ranch where he could keep himself busy with work. “Nessa, I’m really not up to having to play nice with your friends right now, and I have a lot of work waiting for me at the ranch.” Zeke tried to ignore the look she gave him, refusing to be guilted into hanging around.

“But, Zeke…I just wanted to visit Mama and my friends were here, and you know Gloria. The other…” Enessa trailed off.

Ezekiel put his arm around her shoulder, using it to steer her in the direction of her car, not paying any particular notice to the two people lingering by the hybrid.

“Nessa, go visit Mama. Take your friends with you, do what you have to, honey, but I am just plain not in any mood to be chatty with your buddies, okay? Not right now.” He watched her digest what he said, saw she wasn’t going to be hurt by it. “Go on, now. Your friends are waiting for ya.” Zeke tipped his head in their general direction, assuming that’s what they were doing.

Enessa surprised him with a big hug before she stood on her tiptoes and planted a smacking kiss on his cheek.

“I’m not sure they’re waiting on me, but okay. Since you aren’t feeling very friendly right now and have so much work to get back to, would it be okay if I invite my friends over for supper? I’m making fried chicken and mashed potatoes, gravy and biscuits and—”

Zeke laughed, shaking his head. One way or another, Nessa was going to make him meet her friends, and there was no reason he could think of not to do so this evening. Not without hurting her feelings, anyway.

“Nessa, if you’re going to fix one of your homemade meals for supper, you can bring over the entire college campus for all I care.” He hugged his little sister, maybe not so little now at twenty-three, but she’d always be little to him, especially as she was a good eight inches shorter than his own six-foot, three-inches.

“I’ll see you—and your buddies—at the supper table, okay?” Zeke let her go and headed back over to his truck, pushing aside thoughts of supper and company, already focusing on the tasks waiting for him when he got home. Soon his mind was making lists and shifting around priorities, leaving no room for him to dwell on things like his mama’s death or how lonely he was.

* * * *

“Oh, come on, Brendon, you can fit in Nessa’s car! I’ll crawl in the back.” Gloria’s voice held the pleading note that Brendon almost always caved in to, but this time he wasn’t going down so easily. The little hybrid his cousin Gloria’s friend drove might be economical, but there was no way it would be comfortable for his six-foot frame. He’d much rather take his gas-guzzling SUV over to the cemetery where Enessa said her brother would be instead of trying to cram into a tuna can on wheels.

“What is the problem with taking my SUV?” Because he certainly didn’t have a problem with taking it, even if it did contribute to ozone decay. That would be a slower death than compression and suffocation in a dinky car.

Gloria and Enessa exchanged looks, leaving Brendon to wonder what they were hiding, and why he had let himself get talked into this whole thing to begin with. He’d visited Gloria over Christmas for a few days, having driven up from UT at Austin before his last semester there. He hadn’t seen his cousin in years, since before she had moved to McKinton, and Brendon had looked forward to renewing their friendship.

Now he had his master’s in geology, and when Gloria had suggested he come visit her in McKinton again before he decided whether or not to pursue his doctorate, he’d thought it sounded like a nice break. He’d been in college for six years and figured taking the summer off would help him map out his future. Added to that, she mentioned that Enessa, whom he had met over the Christmas break, had a really hot and available older brother…and the whole idea had suddenly become very appealing.

Not that Brendon needed to be hooked up. He was decent looking, though he didn’t dwell on it. Still, he knew his face was not a bad one. Attractive, even, with his light brown eyes framed in dark lashes, a straight, narrow nose, a full lower lip—and the dimple in his right cheek when he smiled drew its fair share of compliments. He kept his sandy brown hair short, minimizing the amount of time he had to deal with it. Working out and hiking on a regular basis kept his body in good shape, muscles toned and tight. Despite this, Brendon had to admit his sex life had been somewhat…lacking, but that was due more to the amount of time he had spent on his studies than anything else. With his summer free, he could have found someone on his own, but then Gloria had e-mailed him a picture of Enessa standing beside her brother, and Brendon had been sunk.

Ezekiel stared back at him from the photo with eyes such a deep green that Brendon had first assumed the picture had been fixed up, but Gloria assured him it hadn’t. She’d sent a few other pictures, and they all showed the same studious, sexy man staring back at the camera. Brendon’s cock had sprung to life as soon as he’d downloaded the first picture, and it seemed he had been walking around with an uncomfortable erection too much of the time ever since.

Zeke Matthers was tall, around six-three or four, broad shouldered and just sexy as fuck. His coffee-colored hair hung down past his shoulders, framing a face that belonged on a model. Dark eyebrows sat over those wide, slightly up-tilted green eyes surrounded with thick lashes. His nose was incredibly sexy, long and narrow, with a slight bump on the bridge where it had been broken at least once. And his lips… Ezekiel had full lips, the bottom one plumper than the top, and Brendon had spent plenty of time thinking about sucking on that lower lip—right after he ran his tongue through the dimple on the chin below it. All in all, he had it bad. Sunk, just like that.

“Brendon!” Gloria waved her hand in his face and he jerked back, wondering how long she had been flapping around him. “Have you heard anything we said?”

Embarrassed to be caught with his mind teetering very close to the gutter, Brendon shook his head. Gloria harrumphed, something she was quite good at, crossing her arms across her chest and giving him an irritated glare.

“Nessa said it’s better to take her car because Zeke will recognize it and probably not leave before we get out. If we go in your SUV, there’s a good chance he will just up and run before we can even park.” Gloria watched him, waiting to make sure he got it this time.

“Fine, fine. Let’s just go, then.” Brendon would have asked about the whole Zeke probably not leaving thing, except he knew, thanks to Nessa and Gloria, how hard it was for the man to come to town. The stories they had shared with Brendon about the harassment Ezekiel experienced in town had turned Brendon’s stomach. Having grown up in a much larger and definitely more liberal town himself, he hadn’t encountered very much gay bashing. Sure, there had been some name-calling and such, but on a whole, he knew he’d been a pretty lucky man.

Almost perversely, rather than make him afraid to come back to this town without trying to hide his sexual preference, the stories about the hell Ezekiel had been through had only fed Brendon’s determination to come stay the summer and be himself. Because, somewhere between the pictures and the stories, Brendon had felt a piece of his heart make room for Ezekiel. He didn’t know the man, but he knew of him, and he wanted to see what, if anything, they could have between them. At the very least, he wanted to slake the lust that had been raging in his body ever since he’d opened the e-mails from Gloria. If all he and Zeke could have was some really hot sex, going at it until they were both unconscious, that would work. He hoped. But for some reason, whether it was the sharing of information about the man, or the pictures, or a combination of both, Brendon really wanted something more with Ezekiel. Maybe it was everything, combined with the fact that the man had been so mistreated, so…hurt.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Brendon folded up into the front seat of the little car, not surprised to find that, once seated, his knees were practically in his armpits. Why did the choice have to be clean air or contortion? He was sure there had to be a third ‘c’—compromise—that should be thrown into the whole hybrid craze.

The drive to the cemetery wasn’t very long, and even before they pulled in, before Enessa and Gloria pointed and nudged him, Brendon had spotted the lone figure kneeling at one of the graves. The image tugged at his heart. Ezekiel looked so solitary, though not just in the physical sense. Brendon didn’t know how to explain it except that he could swear he felt the loneliness rolling off the kneeling man.