Chapter One

 

 

“BE QUIET now,” Andy said as he gripped Blondie by the hips and pulled him tight against his body. They both laughed as they stumbled through the service entrance of Hartley Manor’s back lawn, reeking of booze and sweat and everything that shouldn’t have made the situation sexy, but somehow did. “If the people sleeping in that house catch us, I’m screwed.”

“You scared of your daddy, little boy?” Blondie teased, nipping at Andy’s bottom lip as he ground his growing bulge into the firm crotch of Andy’s denims.

No, Andy wasn’t exactly scared of his father. He just wanted to avoid the confrontation. If Anderson Hartley Sr. caught them, there would be hell to pay. God only knew Andy’s dad hated a “fag” as much as he hated anyone who wasn’t white, American, and Christian. Not that Andy really gave a shit about his pop’s beliefs. He stayed away from Dear Old Dad, and the asshole stayed clear of him. Their father-son relationship just worked better that way.

“Where are we going?” The six foot, tattooed, muscled bombshell Andy had scored at the club asked quietly.

“To the pool house.”

“You’re going to fuck me in a pool house?” Blondie scoffed, nose curling in disgust.

“What? Did you think I was taking you to the Ritz-freaking-Carlton or something?” Andy smirked. “Yes, I’m going to ‘fuck you’ in the pool house and you’re going to enjoy every second of it. In fact, you’re going to beg me not to stop. Understood?”

“You’re a dick.”

“No, I’m privileged. There’s a difference.”

Andy held out his arm to stop Blondie once they reached the edge of the concrete path leading back to the pool house. The lights in the backyard were motion-sensitive, and if they made one single wrong step, the place would light up like Alcatraz. Then Pops would know someone was trespassing in his backyard, and if he didn’t come out guns blazin’, someone else would. Andy’s little secret would be out of the closet, and he hated to even fathom what would happen to him then.

He looked over his shoulder, not that he couldn’t feel Blondie and his impressive package pressed tight against his backside, and said, “Follow me. Don’t miss a step or we’re screwed… and not in a good way. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Taking one step to the right, closer to the azalea bushes his mother had been so fond of, Andy moved off the path, taking Blondie with him. Dew had already begun to settle on the grass, and it coated the hems of his designer blue jeans with wet rims. Bright green blades of fresh-cut Bermuda clung to his Italian leather boots, and he silently cursed his father for putting him in this situation.

Anderson Hartley Jr. was too old to be sneaking a man into his bedroom—or rather, the filthy pool house hidden at the back of the lot. That shit should’ve ended after college. The whole situation embarrassed him. He might’ve been the hottest bachelor this side of the country club. He might’ve been the man most men wanted to take to bed, but this sneaking-around crap was downright demeaning and didn’t do a damn thing to help his reputation.

He cursed his father again.

He stayed tight to the brick wall as they rounded the corner of the pool house, holding his arm out to brace Blondie against the wall. As soon as he reached the door, he felt around for the keypad and punched in a few numbers—the sexy Latino pool boy’s code—because everyone expected Jose or whatever the hell his name was to come and go at odd hours. No one would question it if they went back and looked at the security logs. Yes, Andy had this down to a science. He had to if he wanted to save his ass.

Andy jiggled the lock a bit and the door popped open. Andy pushed on through, dragging Blondie from the club with him. As soon as Andy shut the door, he turned on one of the small wall lamps. Then they both took to kicking off their shoes and fighting to get their jeans off. Andy stood there in his black button-down with his cock swinging. Blondie lost everything save for his cute little plaid boxer briefs.

“Calvin Klein, huh?” Andy said with a subtle purr.

Blondie smirked, reaching up to lock his fingers around the front of Andy’s shirt. He pulled both sides apart and tiny black buttons went flying.

“You asshole,” Andy growled. “That’s fucking Armani. Now Lupita is going to have to sew those back on and I’m going to have to lie about why they were ripped off.”

“Stop your whining and fuck me before I give up and leave,” Blondie retorted. “I didn’t expect you to be this much work.”

“Screw you. You’re lucky I wasted my time with you in the first place.”

Reaching up, Andy wrapped his hand around the back of Blondie’s neck and pulled him into a kiss before the asshole could say another word. He pushed his tongue deep in the guy’s mouth, reaching all the way back to tickle his tonsils and walked him backward toward the wooden bench in the middle of the room. It was nothing more than a place to sit and change, no back and no sides, and when the backs of Blondie’s knees hit the edge, he buckled and his ass hit the wood hard.

“Stay,” Andy commanded, pointing his finger down at Blondie.

He then turned toward a wall of cabinetry so fine most above-average people couldn’t afford to fill their kitchens with it. He reached toward the back of the cabinet, blindly searching for the lube and box of condoms he kept stashed there for situations just like this. Once he had what he was looking for, he went back to Blondie on the bench and waved the condom in front of his face.

“Put it on me,” he said, handing over the wrapper with one hand while he gripped the lube in his other.

Blondie smiled up at him, tearing the silvery package open with his teeth. He reached down and wrapped one hand around the base of Andy’s cock and started to stroke. It was half hard already, so Blondie didn’t have a whole lot of work ahead of him. Andy closed his eyes and gave into the feel of having another man fondle him in such a marvelous way.

Oh yeah. Heavenly.

It felt good, even as Blondie rolled the rubber down his shaft. The feel of it tickled his nerve endings and tugged his sac. Then he felt a warm, moist set of lips brushing against his balls and his thighs started to quiver delightfully.

“Roll over,” Andy barked in a husky voice as he opened his eyes.

Blondie lay facedown on the bench with his legs hugging the edges. He straddled it in such a way it pushed his gorgeous ass into the air and spread his cheeks so Andy had an unobstructed aim on his precious, puckered rosette.

Gripping the bottle of lube tight, Andy squeezed a generous portion onto his palm and started to stroke up and down his rubber-covered cock as he moved in closer. He aimed the head of his shaft at Blondie’s opening. And when the devilishly delicious man turned his head and Andy caught sight of his wanton stare, Andy eased on in.

Blondie hissed. Andy moaned. The tip of his erection pushed through the ring of muscle as the man beneath him fought to relax, and when he felt the fleshy walls around his shaft begin to loosen, Andy pushed in a little deeper.

It was a matter of a few minutes before Andy fell into a smooth rhythm. He rolled his hips, drawing his cock out of all that deep warmth and tickling the rim before diving in again. In and out, he kept a steady pace, gliding over Blondie’s special spot as his hand splayed out over Blondie’s lower back. He stroked the smooth nub, milking Blondie, pushing him right over the edge and into orgasmic bliss. And the louder Blondie moaned, the faster Andy pumped against him.

The muscled wall pulsed and waved, undulating and gripping Andy’s cock. With each tightened pass, Andy approached release and with the last quick, hard shove, a ripple coursed down his shaft and drew his sac tight against his body. Pressure shot down to the tip of his cock and a new heat beaded in the end of the condom.

And none of that shit made Andy feel any better about his situation. After he sent Blondie packing, he still had to go back into his house and face a father who thought he was straight, who expected him to hook up with some family friend’s daughter, who expected him to get his life together so he could run the company. He had to face a man who blatantly hated everyone who walked the earth.

“Get up. Just go,” Andy said as he ripped the condom from his spent cock.

Blondie lay on the bench still panting, eyes fluttering. “That’s it?” he asked in a ragged, airy voice.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Andy responded flatly as he leaned down and picked up the extra pair of jeans lying on the floor. He tossed the pile of denim at Blondie and said, “Be careful going out. If the lights come on, I’ll let them believe you broke into the house.”

And with that, Andy left Blondie in the pool house to compose himself. He eased around the edge of the backyard, careful not to trigger the lights. He rubbed his hand over the center of his chest as he glared up at the second floor window leading to his father’s bedroom… or suite or whatever the pompous old prick called it. He slipped out the side entrance and stopped right where he stood. Andy looked at his car, then back to the house, silently debating going in or just going away.

Somehow, a sarcastic laugh managed to fight through his pinched lips. If he had any balls at all, he would go up to that room and tell his father to go to hell, that he loved taking it in the ass and giving it in the ass, that vagina disgusted him and running the family business was an even bigger turn-off, that he hated Anderson Hartley Sr. as much as the bastard hated the rest of the world. But Andy didn’t have it in him.

Instead of going into the house, he went back to his Benz and grabbed the pack of smokes he kept hidden there and headed down through the trees, to the small stream on the bottom edge of the property. He sank down on the hard surface of a tree trunk and stared out at the shimmering water as he sucked the cigarette down to nothing but a butt. One just didn’t satisfy him and he lit another, then another and another. Andy stayed there, killing himself slowly, watching the sky above turn pink while he wished for something to give, something to change before he lost his shit and went insane.