[Siren Publishing: The Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection: Erotic Romance, Contemporary, Alternative, Paranormal, Shape-shifters, Romantic Suspense, MM, HEA]
Ollie Hughes has just moved to Willow Point, befriended by a guy who works at the local community center. Ollie isn’t sure about Blake. The guy’s a little too hung up on himself, which turns Ollie off. When the two visit the local bar, and Blake sees a guy he likes, he’s resentful when that guy spurns him for Ollie. Only, that guy is Ollie’s mate, and now Blake is out to get Ollie for the betrayal.
Ivan Milson knew as soon as he saw Ollie that the little bunny was his mate. When things start happening to Ollie, Ivan is sure he knows who is behind it all. Blake. The human doesn’t take rejection well, although they’d only had a ten-minute conversation. Talk about a fragile ego. Blake makes no bones about his hatred for Ollie, and now it’s up to Ivan to prove that Blake is the culprit behind the attacks while keeping Ollie safe in his arms.
Lynn Hagen is a Siren-exclusive author.
“Here’s to being single and loving it.” Blake held up his bottle of beer, so Ollie did, too. They clinked the bottles as Ollie looked around the bar. No prospects whatsoever. There were some cute guys, but none of them made his gut fill with butterflies.
None of them made fireworks explode inside of him.
None of them made his heart beat outside of his chest like some cartoon character who was in lust.
Ollie was just a forever kind of guy. He wasn’t looking for a quick hookup, even if he wanted a stiff one flirting with him. He was tired of the same scene. Things got stale after a while, and now he was looking for more. When you were as old as he was, you wanted something more than a wet ass and a good time.
“Hot guy ten o’clock,” Blake said as he motioned to the man who’d just walked through the door of Loose Lips.
Ollie had to agree. The tall and dark drink of water was definitely eye candy.
“I think I just found my next ex-boyfriend,” Blake teased. “God, why do all the men in this town look so effing good?” He stood. “I’m gonna try to wrestle a one-night stand out of him.”
“Good luck.” Ollie sat back and watched Blake approach the stranger. With his dark hair, the muscles for days, and just a bit of scruff along his jaw, he was exactly the type of guy Ollie went for.
But he wasn’t breaking the bro code. Blake had spotted him first and approached him first. Ollie turned away, grabbing a menu from the metal slot on the table. If Mr. Right wasn’t in the cards, the least Ollie could do was eat. Just because he was a bunny didn’t mean he went for the salad.
Ollie wanted meat. He wanted chicken wings smothered in barbeque sauce, a side of ranch dressing for dipping those wings, and boatload of onion rings fried to perfection. Maybe even a piece of garlic bread to compliment the wings.
And if his meal made him feel guilty, to hell with it. He’d order a side of carrots. If he had any ranch dipping sauce left, that is.
A server walked over and smiled at him. “I’m Milo. What can I get for you?”
The place wasn’t packed. It was a Tuesday night, and the crowd was thin, so when Ollie looked over at the bar, it was easy to spot Blake flirting up a storm with Mr. Stud. “I’ll have twelve wings and onion rings. Can you bring me a soda with my order?”
“Sure,” Milo said. “Coming right up.”
Ollie tossed the menu aside when Milo walked away. He noticed how his server gave the bartender a peck on the cheek. Everyone had someone except Ollie.
Not that he was hating on Milo. Or even Blake for trying to snag a one-night stand. Ollie just felt that loneliness in the pit of his stomach and that feeling had only gotten stronger over the past few years.
The kind of loneliness that had you dating the wrong kind of guy because you just couldn’t take that emptiness any longer. Only to find that emptiness still there the morning after you’ve made those bad life choices.
“Don’t you dare throw yourself a pity party,” he murmured to himself. “You don’t need a man to define you.”
God, now he was quoting his mom. He might be tired of random hookups, but it had been months since his last sexual encounter, and if Ollie didn’t get laid soon, he might start knitting like his mom, too. Wouldn’t she just love that?
He pushed his bottle of beer aside, glad he didn’t have to keep up the pretense any longer. He might not be able to get drunk off of human alcohol, but if he kept drinking, he would end up with massive heartburn.
When Ollie looked up again, he saw that Blake was still firmly seated next to Mr. Stud, batting his eyelashes, but Mr. Stud was turned on his stool, his arms resting behind him on the counter. He was staring right at Ollie.
What the hell?
The stranger couldn’t be looking at anyone behind Ollie since Ollie’s back was to the wall. There wasn’t anyone other than him, either. Blake glanced over his shoulder and saw that Mr. Stud was staring directly at Ollie. Then his friend narrowed his eyes and said something to the stranger while touching his arm, only for Mr. Stud to get up and walk across the room.
What on earth was going on? Did the guy know him from somewhere? Did Ollie have the kind of face that people always mistook for someone else?
He highly doubted that. It was rare Ollie ran into anyone else who had platinum blond hair, so platinum that it was nearly icy white. Ollie had always hated how that color looked on his eyebrows, so he dyed them, and now everyone thought his brown brows were natural and his hair was colored.
The truth was the opposite.
Mr. Stud slid into a chair across the small table from Ollie. His large form nearly blocked out his sightline of Blake. “I’m Ivan Milson.”
Blake now looked murderously at Ollie as though Ollie had punched the guy right in his nuts. Ollie wasn’t even sure what was going on.
“Ollie Hughes.” He took the beefy hand offered to him and they shook before Ollie snatched his hand away. “It’s rather rude to bail on my friend to come talk to me.”
Ivan looked over his shoulder at Blake before turning back to Ollie. “He’s not my mate. You are.”
Only he’d fooled himself that night into thinking things were going too fast. In Ollie’s opinion, this wasn’t going fast enough. He’d been too buttoned-up in life, always cautious, always following societal rules. It had felt freeing to tell Blake off. Ollie had never done anything like that before, like ever.
Finally, after kissing as if their lives depended on it, Ollie unwrapped his legs and slid down Ivan’s powerful body. He yanked his sweater vest off then undid his shirt, cursing at how many buttons he had to undo, ready to just rip the dang thing off.
Ivan gave a low, throaty chuckle. “Need help?”
“This shirt has way too many buttons,” Ollie complained. When he finally undid the last one, he tried to take his shirt off, only to remember the buttons as his sleeves. Now his shirt was caught on his wrists, his arms behind him.
“Mmm. I think I like your arms trapped.” Ivan twisted the material in one hand. “I like having you at my mercy.”
The way Ivan’s amber eyes turned molten made Ollie’s legs weak. He swallowed roughly at the wild look on his mate’s face. It was savage, maybe slightly unhinged.
“Afraid I’m going to gobble you up?”
“No,” Ollie whispered. “Afraid you won’t.”
Ollie had no idea what Ivan was doing when he moved him backward, guiding him toward the headboard. Ollie was still standing by the side of the bed, but Ivan took Ollie’s twisted shirt and trapped it on one of the bed posts.
Now Ollie couldn’t move, couldn’t pull his arms free. He watched in utter rapture as Ivan lowered to his knees and unsnapped Ollie’s slacks, sliding them and his underwear down his legs.
Ollie shivered at the coolness of the room.
Ivan stopped long enough to removed Ollie’s shoes and socks then finished undressing him. While his mate was still fully clothed, Ollie stood there completely naked except for the shirt that was trapped at his wrists, preventing him from touching, from carding his hands through Ivan’s hair, from gripping the base of his own cock and leveling the head toward Ivan’s soft lips.
“Now is the perfect time for a lesson.”
“Lesson?” Ollie’s brain wasn’t fully functional at the moment. He had no idea what Ivan was talking about. “You’re going to make me learn something right now?”
Ivan gave that deep, throaty chuckle again, sending ripples of goose bumps over Ollie’s body.
“Now that I have your full attention.”
“You have my attention!” Ollie was desperate. He wanted sex, not lessons like he was back in school. His thoughts scattered when Ivan cupped his balls.
“First lesson, you don’t go off half-cocked and not tell me what you’re up to.” Ivan’s hand slid from Ollie’s balls to the base of his erection. Ollie was so hard the head was weeping pre-cum. “If you’re not sure if your plan is sound, run it by me first. I’ll be your sounding board.”
At least he wasn’t telling Ollie that he needed permission first. That would have been a deal breaker. As much as Ollie respected his mate, he didn’t want anyone bossing him around.
“I can live with that,” he admitted as he yanked at his arms, trying to get the material from around his wrists but secretly loving the fact that he was unable to.
Ivan used the pre-cum to lube his palm then slid his hand up and down Ollie’s shaft. A groan vibrated in Ollie’s throat as his eyelids fluttered closed. As much as he was enjoying this, the friction wasn’t enough. “What’s… What’s the s-second lesson?”
“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”
Ollie forced them open then looked down at his mate. God, Ivan appeared so feral in that moment, the tips of his canines peeking past his upper lip, the amber in his eyes even darker than before. Ollie was on the brink of begging.
“Second, the next time you pull something like that, something that endangers your safety, I’m putting you over my knee and spanking that cute little ass of yours.”
That wasn’t a threat. Not if Ollie’s cock jerked in excitement at the mere thought. God, he’d turned into a perv. Never before would Ollie have entertained the idea of being spanked. He would have balked at the idea. Raged against it. Now he was damn near ready to ask for just that. What in the hell had gotten into him?
He was just about to ask if there were any more lessons—which were more like warnings—when Ivan parted his lips, keeping his eyes locked with Ollie’s, and took the head of Ollie’s cock into his mouth.
Ollie jerked and bucked, moaning so loud that even the most distant neighbors should have heard him. His hips shot forward, but Ivan gripped them, stopping Ollie from fucking his mouth.
It seemed Ivan had to be in control, and Ollie couldn’t have cared less. Just as long as things got started, he would submit at the drop of a hat. His toes curled as his fists clenched. Ollie was no longer able to keep his eyes open. They fluttered closed as he breathed in deeply while Ivan worked more of his cock down his throat.
Then Ivan purred. The sound vibrated up Ollie’s length, adding so much pleasure to what he was already doing that Ollie nearly came unglued. Although his mate was holding his hips, Ollie forced them forward, trying his best to bury his dick down Ivan’s throat.
Ivan dug his fingers deeper into Ollie’s waist then took him down to the base, using his throat muscles to clamp down as he moved slowly back up, wringing a cry from Ollie.
“Please,” Ollie said breathlessly. “Please make me come.”
Ivan seemed to ignore him. He placed a finger between his lips, alongside Ollie’s cock, and wet it. Then he pulled it free. Ollie’s breathing became choppy as he watched Ivan reach between his legs, that wet finger tapping at Ollie’s hole.
Ollie’s lips parted. He wasn’t a virgin. He’d had plenty of sex before now, but what Ivan was doing turned him on so much that Ollie found it hard to breathe. Never had he been with anyone so intense, so focused on his partner’s pleasure, making that pleasure his sole focus.
In that moment, Ollie felt worshiped, and they hadn’t even really started anything just yet. Sure, his mate was sucking him off, but he was doing it in a way that made the rest of the world melt away, leaving just the two of them behind.
A whimper passed his lips when Ivan inched a finger inside his hole. Ollie’s orgasm was cresting, growing closer. He yanked at the shirt still holding him back, still locking his arms in place, unsure how much more he could take.