The Men of Wesley Lake Box Set

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 dick 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 definitelybe 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 wasactually 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 fucks 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 na?ve 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 cock 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.