HIDE: A DANGEROUS AFFAIR

FOUR

It started as another erotic dream. Strong, hard hands slide up his naked body, callused palms scratching his skin as he squeezed his n*****s, his thumbs rubbing against them.

He arched against him, feeling the warmth of his skin, the heavy weight of his powerful body pressing him into the mattress.

His muscular legs force his thighs apart, and his erection prods at his ass, the broad head sliding between the soft folds and exerting light pressure on it.

He moaned, rubbing against him, his inner muscles clenching with the need to take him deep inside.

He was dropping off pre-c*m and panting, and his hands grasped his tight, muscular ass, trying to force him in, to get him to f**k him.

Wilson laughed, the sound of a low, seductive rumble in his chest, and his big hands grasp Brandon's wrists, pinning them above his head.

“Miss me, my love?” he murmured in his ear, his hot breath sending erotic chills down the side of his body.

My love? Wilson never talked in his dreams—He gasped, his eyes popping open . . . and in the dim early morning light, he saw him.

Wilson.

Naked and aroused, he was sprawled on top of him, holding him down on the bed. His hair was cut shorter than before, and his magnificent face was taut with lust, his eyes glittering like diamonds.

Brandon froze, staring up at him, his heart thudding heavily in his ribcage. For a moment, he thought that he was still dreaming—that his mind was playing cruel tricks on him.

His vision blurred out, and he realized that he stopped breathing for a moment, that the shock had driven all air out of his lungs.

Brandon inhaled sharply, still frozen in place, and he lowered his head, his mouth descending on his.

His tongue slipped between Brandon's parted lips, invading him, and the hauntingly familiar taste of him made his head spin.

There was no longer any doubt in his mind. It was Wilson —he was alive and vital as ever.

Fury, sharp and sudden, spiked through Brandon. He was alive—he has been alive all along!

The entire time he mourned him, while he tried to mend his shattered soul, he has been alive and well, undoubtedly laughing at his pathetic attempts to get on with his life.

Brandon bit Wilson's lip, hard, filled with the savage need to hurt him— to rip his flesh as he ripped apart his heart.

The coppery tang of blood filled his mouth, and he jerked back with a curse, his eyes darkening with anger.

“Let me go,” Brandon hissed furiously, struggling against his hold. “You f*****g asshole! You bastard! You were never dead! You were never f*****g dead . . .” To Brandon's complete humiliation, the last phrase escaped as a choked sob, his voice breaking at the end.

Wilson's jaw tightened as he stared at Brandon, the sensuous perfection

of his lips marred by the bloody mark from his teeth.

He held him effortlessly, his hard c**k poised at the soft entrance to his body.

Enraged, he twisted to the side, trying to bite him again.

He transferred his wrists into his left palm, restraining him with one hand while grabbing his hair with the other. Now he couldn’t move at all; all he could do was glare at him, tears of rage and bitter frustration burning his eyes.

Unexpectedly, his expression softened. “Looks like my baby became vicious,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement. “I think I like it.”

Brandon saw red. “f**k you!” he shrieked, bucking against him, heedless of their naked bodies rubbing together. “f**k you and what you like—”

His mouth swooped down on him, swallowing Brandon's angry words, and his teeth snapped at him in another biting attempt.

He jerked away at the last second, laughing softly. At the same time, the head of his c**k began to push inside him.

Maddened beyond bearing, Brandon screamed—and his right hand released and weaved through Brandon's hair.

Wilson palmed Brandon's mouth, “Shhh,” he whispered in his ear, ignoring his muffled cries. “We wouldn’t want the entire motel to hear, now, would we?”

At that moment, Brandon couldn’t care if the whole world heard them.

He was filled with the primitive need to lash out at him, to hurt him as he hurt him.

Slowly, Wilson pushed deeper into Brandon's vulnerable opening, his thick c**k stretching him, penetrating him with its heated hardness, all of his muscles tightening to keep him out.

It was like their first time again— except that the twister of emotions in his chest right then was far more complex than the fear he once felt.

His struggles gradually dying down, Brandon gazed up at him mutely, reeling from the shock of his return.

Inside him, he stopped, slowly lifting his hand from Brandon's mouth.

Brandon remained silent, tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes.

Lowering his head, he kissed him gently, as though apologizing for taking him so ruthlessly.

His lungs ceased to work; as always, the peculiar mix of cruelty and tenderness. Turned him inside out, wreaking havoc on his already-conflicted mind.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing against Brandon's tear-wet cheek. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. You were mine to protect and I f****d up. I f****d up so f*****g bad . . .” He exhaled softly. “I never meant to leave you, never meant to let you go—”

“But you did.” Brandon's voice was small and hurt, like that of an a.wounded child. “You let me think you were dead—”

“No.” He let go of Brandon's wrists and propped himself up on his elbows, framing his face with his big hands.

His eyes burned into Brandon's so intensely, He felt like he was consuming him with his gaze. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that at all.”

Brandon's hands slowly lowered to his shoulders. “What was it like then?” he asked bitterly. “You could have let me know that you survived.”

“I’ll explain everything,” he promises, his voice low and thick with lust. There was sweat beading up on his brow, and he could feel his c**k throbbing deep within him.

He was holding on to his control by a shred. “But right now, I need you, Brandon. I need this . . .” He thrust his hips forward, and Brandon moaned as he hit his walls, sending a blast of sensation through his nerve endings.

“That’s right,” he whispered harshly, repeating the motion. “I need this. I want to feel your tight little ass sheathing me like a glove. I want to f**k you, and I want to f*****g devour you. Every single inch of you is mine, Brandon, only mine . . .”

He lowered his head again, taking his mouth in a deep, penetrating kiss as he continued thrusting into him with a slow, relentless rhythm.

Brandon's breathing picked pace, a rush of heat flooding his body. His fingers tighten on his shoulders, and his legs wrapped around his muscular thighs, taking him deeper into him.

After months of abstinence, it was almost too much, but he welcomed the slight burn, the exquisite pleasure-pain of his possession.

Brandon could feel the tension growing inside them, the delicious prickling. Pre-orgasmic bliss, and then he began to pump his d**k before he exploded with a strangled cry, hid inner muscles clamping tightly around his thick c**k.

“Yes, baby, that’s it,” he groaned hoarsely, his pace picking up, and then, with one last, powerful thrust, he found his peak, his shaft pulsing deep within Brandon.

Brandon could feel the warmth of his seed releasing inside him, and he held him close as he collapsed on top of him, his large body heavy and covered with sweat. His lover was back!