2016 Top Ten Gay Romance Read online

  It was a heavenly experience to be stuffed full of Sajah’s cock over and over again. But the pace was about to kill him. He tried to wrest control away from Sajah, tried to build a little more speed, but Sajah growled at him. The harsh sound vibrated everywhere, against his back and hips and even faintly through his full ass. He knew it was a reprimand and he had a fleeting impulse to rebel against it. Sajah strengthened his grip, enough to leave tiny dents in Justin’s skin, and Justin let the idea go.

  Sajah kept at his slow speed, seemed content with it even, and Justin could only pant and moan. Justin relished the feel of the huge head that constantly rubbed against his prostate, the friction of the shaft pushing and pulling against the rim of his hole. Soft fur whispered against his legs, his hands, his arms in a beautiful contrast, and the smooth, sweat damp skin gliding along his back set his body further alight.

  Finally, Sajah sped up and Justin wanted to thank his lucky stars. A subtle change in Sajah’s angle had his thrusts jamming against his sweet spot more firmly, as well as sliding in deeper than ever. Breathless groans tumbled from Justin’s slack mouth and filled the air in counterpoint to the surprisingly sexy rumble Sajah was making. But the tension was too much, the coil wound past the breaking point and he needed to come so badly, the tightening of his belly and the lightening that arced up his spine too good to ignore.

  Justin couldn’t let go of Sajah’s arms though, afraid that he would lose himself completely without that anchor of fur and muscle in his grasp, even just to stroke off. So, he held on, hoping to last.

  Sajah sped up even more, his growl changed to a deep and loud animalistic snarl as one of his hands left Justin’s waist to wrap tightly around his chest. The rolling thrusts morphed into harder, jarring lunges into his ass that tore loose a shout of ecstasy. Justin didn’t get a chance to make another sound.

  A last thrust and Sajah buried deep in Justin’s body and he didn’t move again. Instead, Justin felt both hot breath on the nape of his neck and a tingle of unease filtered through the hazy feeling of bliss a split second before Sajah’s wickedly sharp teeth sliced through the skin of his throat.

  The pain was a sharp, bright fissure for an instant that blotted out the slight sensation of sucking and then it faded back to a dull throb, but it did nothing to cool his lust. If anything, it almost pushed him over the edge. Sajah’s hand wrapped firmly around his cock and Justin squirmed helplessly in Sajah’s grip, regardless of the teeth still imbedded in him, and a single stroke had the wound coil of Justin’s orgasm exploding in a painful rush. Wave after blissful wave pulled him under. Justin spasmed around the hard shaft and then collapsed helpless into the cradle of Sajah’s body, wrung dry.

  Sajah carefully extracted the teeth and howled at the dark sky as he laid his seed deep, every pulse of it easily felt by Justin’s oversensitive body. Justin hummed in satisfaction.

  As the aftershocks of their lovemaking continued to race along his nerves, a new pressure started in his ass, right against his sweet spot. Justin thought it was his imagination at first, but in a matter of moments, he felt too full. The large tip of Sajah’s cock was thickening quickly and was well on its way to lodging itself solidly in Justin. It was too much, far too much for his exhausted body to handle after what he and Sajah had just done.

  Justin’s world went dark.

  * * * *

  Justin sighed as the first rays of dawn fell across the bed and woke him. Trying to stretch, he bumped into the warm, naked being behind him. He couldn’t help but smile as the furry arm around his bare waist tightened and trapped him where his was. Giving up any plans of moving from their bed, he settled down against Sajah and relaxed.

  “Rrih mahtehea,” Sajah murmured to the top of his head and rubbed his cheek over Justin’s dark hair. Justin smiled and threaded his fingers between Sajah’s.

  “Good morning, my mate.” Despite the busy day of patrols and picking a ripe crop of vegetables that could pass for Terran apples, Justin would rather lay in bed with Sajah all day. They couldn’t play truant, as much as Justin wanted to. Anuht would come roust them out if they tried.

  In the months since the night Sajah had taken him as mate, and Justin was surprised as hell when he finally learned what all the pomp and voyeurism was about, life finally started to make sense again. Sajah had adjusted to their newly mated status far better, but then again, his lover had planned their mating from the beginning.

  Justin had coaxed the story out of him one night, a month or so after they had mated. How the first time Sajah laid eyes on the ruffled alien, like no other he had ever seen before, that had jumped out of the damaged ship, he was enchanted by the dark, bare skin and eyes as blue as the suns their world circled around. The days trying to learn about each other and listening to Justin’s quiet voice had Sajah completely smitten in short order. But it was the way that Justin was so kind and willing to integrate into the village, Sajah told him, despite the isolation to determine if he was a threat, which warmed Sajah’s great heart. Although some days he was sure Sajah cursed the stubbornness Justin was known to exhibit on occasion.

  Sajah passed his cheek one more time over his hair, and then buried his nose in the spot right behind Justin’s ear. It tickled like crazy when Sajah gustily sniffed at that spot and Justin ducked his head and laughed. Goofball.

  Then his mate squeezed him one last time before Sajah gave him a tiny nudge to get Justin up. Justin refused to get out of bed right away, wriggling as close to Sajah’s warmth as possible.

  Looking out of the glassless window of their home in the middle of the village, Justin smiled when he saw an arc of light burn just above the horizon. It was a going to be a great day and he was happy to cherish it with the being that had captured his heart.

  THE END

  Love Lost, Love Found by Rebecca James

  Chapter 1

  Rod tossed a package to Dane, and Dane put it on top of the stack of brightly colored presents in the day room.

  “Well, that’s the last of them.” Dane surveyed the boxes of gifts, all carefully wrapped and sorted, each promising a happy Christmas for a child in Riverbend.

  “The next shift will deliver them all. I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.” Dane zipped up his jacket. “I can’t wait to get home to peace and quiet. I’ll see you guys Thursday.” He waved to his fellow firefighters, clocked out, and hurried through the whirlwind of snowflakes to where he’d parked his blue Dodge Ram at the back of Firehouse 6.

  Dane pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road, the distant snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains looming in the distance. The radio played a steady line-up of Christmas carols, some old, some new. Dane found that this year he could listen to them without pain, although there would always be regret. Time really did make it easier. He found keeping busy helped, along with the “do unto others” motto Liz had lived by.

  Dane drove, windshield wipers on high to brush the heavily falling snow from the windshield, his backside warm and cozy. A seat warmer was a wonderful thing on a cold Colorado evening.

  When the truck rounded the next corner, Dane noticed a bundle of color beneath the overpass ahead. Had someone dumped a sack there? Had presents fallen out of an open trunk? The closer he got to the object, the more certain he became that it wasn’t a sack at all, but a person sitting with their knees up, head down, and arms wrapped around their legs.

  Dane pulled over, turned on his flashers, and got out of the truck.

  “Hey! You need some help?”

  The head came up, startlingly blue eyes beneath a red knit cap focusing on Dane. The overpass offered decent protection from the heavy snow fall and biting wind, but every breath Dane took came out as puffs of white, and he could see the stranger shivering under several layers of clothing.

  “I’m okay,” the man said. He had a dark scruff of beard, wind-reddened cheeks and nose, and lips that were obviously chapped by the weather. He sat on a small duffel bag, which appeared to be all he had with
him.

  “You need a lift to the shelter on Tenth Street?”

  “They’re full. I’ll be okay.”

  Dane let out a sigh and, closing the truck door, walked over to the huddled figure. “You can’t stay here overnight; you’ll freeze to death. Here, I’ll give you money for a hotel.” Dane reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

  “I don’t take charity,” the man said. “And you shouldn’t keep your wallet in your back pocket. Believe me, I learned the hard way.”

  “So, pay me back. You can mail it to Firehouse 6 here in Riverbend.”

  Dane counted through his bills.

  “Shit. I don’t have enough with me for a room.” He looked at the man, sized him up, and made one of those split decisions Liz used to tease him about.

  “Come on home with me.”

  The man opened his mouth to object, but Dane spoke over him.

  “You can do something to earn your keep if you want, but I’m not letting you sleep out here in the cold, particularly not at Christmas.”

  The man stared at Dane for a full minute, looked around at the squalling snow, and finally nodded and got up off the ground.

  He was about the same height as Dane but of a slighter build, although it was difficult to tell in all those clothes.

  “Look, I don’t usually pick people up on the side of the road…you mind showing me you don’t have a weapon on you?”

  The man put his duffel down and pulled the pockets out of his coat. They were empty except for some tissue, a few bills, and another pair of gloves. Underneath his coat, he wore three sweaters.

  “You mind?” Dane asked, making it clear he wanted to pat the guy down. The stranger gave a nod, and Dane quickly ran his hands over the man’s torso, over the back pocket of the worn jeans, and then down the long legs.

  “Thanks. You can’t be too careful these days. Want to do the same to me?”

  The man studied Dane for a moment before giving a small smile.

  “I trust you.”

  “Okay, then. To the truck.”

  They climbed in, and Dane turned the heat on high.

  “My name’s Dane Cavendish.”

  “Sayer Mills.”

  “You on your way somewhere, Sayer?”

  “Thought I’d thumb to Boulder.”

  “Family there?”

  Sayer shook his head. He seemed tired, and Dane let him alone, concentrating on driving. When he turned off the highway onto the country road that led to his house, Sayer roused himself and looked out the window.

  “Maybe I should have patted you down.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re driving me out to the middle of nowhere. Should I be worried?”

  “No,” Dane laughed. “I just live out in bumblefuck, that’s all.”

  Sayer seemed satisfied and settled back for the ride.

  Almost fifteen minutes later, they reached Dane’s cottage nestled in the woods just outside of Blind Lake State Park. As soon as Dane maneuvered the truck down the tree-lined drive, the stress of the day seemed to melt away, as it always did. This was his oasis.

  Dane stopped the truck and turned it off.

  “Nice place.” Sayer got out of the passenger seat and closed the door. “It’s peaceful out here.”

  “Precisely why I love it.”

  A stone pathway led to the backyard. Sayer stood, knapsack thrown over one shoulder, and looked about.

  “I take it you’re an animal lover. I’ve never seen so many feeders on one property.”

  “Yep. Nothing like lying in the hammock with all of nature gathered ‘round you.”

  Dane walked onto the porch and got out his key. A plain balsam wreath, Dane’s only recognition of the holiday, hung on the wooden door Dane had painted blue because it was Liz’s favorite color. When Dane pushed the door open, two big, black, webbed paws immediately landed on his chest and a wet tongue licked his face.

  “Oh, my God.” Sayer took several steps back. “What is that?”

  “My dog. He’s a Leonberger. It’s a type of mastiff. Down, boy!” Dane shoved the hundred-fifty pound dog off.

  “It looks like a fucking bear!”

  “His name’s Boone, and he’s a gentle giant. Really. Sit, Boone.”

  Boone sat and stared up at them, tongue lolling and jowls dripping.

  “How long have you had him?” Sayer seemed to relax a little now that the dog wasn’t as tall as they were.

  “Since he was a pup. He belonged to my wife.”

  “Belonged?” Sayer’s eyes met Dane’s.

  “My wife died two years ago.” Dane pocketed his keys and closed the front door. He walked about the room, switching on lamps. Their soft light lent a cozy feel to the room.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you hungry?” Dane headed for the kitchen, Sayer following. “I usually cook a little something when I get home.”

  “Famished,” Sayer smiled. “Look, I really will pay you back for the hospitality. I’m just having a streak of bad luck right now.”

  “It’s no problem. Honestly. It’s kind of nice to have some company.”

  Dane turned on the stove and rummaged about in the refrigerator.

  “You like eggs?”

  “I like everything.”

  “We’ll just have breakfast for dinner, then. One of my favorites.”

  Sayer continued to look around, touching the magnets on the refrigerator and examining the photographs on the wall.

  “You take these?”

  “No, my wife did. Liz—that was her name. She was a talented photographer. Lived and breathed it.”

  “How did she die? Or—sorry, maybe you don’t want to go there.”

  “It was a brain tumor. She went really fast.”

  “That’s terrible. I mean that she had a tumor, not that she went fast.”

  Dane couldn’t help but smile. The guy had a way of blurting out what was on his mind. And it felt good to talk about Liz. Nobody ever did in Dane’s presence, and it sometimes seemed like she’d never been there in the first place.

  “How long were you married?”

  “A little over a year.”

  “That’s rough.”

  “Hey, the guest bedroom is down the hall to the right, with the bathroom right next to it if you want to put your stuff away and freshen up.”

  “I think I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  Sayer walked out of the kitchen, and Dane added milk to the eggs and whisked them into froth before pouring them into the hot, buttered pan.

  He almost had the bacon fully cooked when Sayer returned, cleaned up and dressed in a pair of jogging pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt that hugged his torso. Evidently, the three sweaters and coat Sayer had been wearing had concealed a fit body, and Dane found himself casting admiring glances Sayer’s way when he wasn’t looking.

  Without the hat, Dane could see that Sayer had thick hair several shades darker than Dane’s that curled around his ears. Sayer had shaved the dark scruff from his pale face, and the warmth of the cottage had lessened the reddened hue of Sayer’s cheeks. His eyebrows were two dark slashes above blue eyes that sparkled beneath dark lashes.

  “That smells delicious.”

  Dane thought he heard the other man’s stomach rumble.

  “It’s ready.” Dane put the bacon on a plate covered with paper towel to soak up the grease and took the toast from the toaster.

  “This is a feast.” Sayer looked over the spread with more awe than the small, quickly-thrown-together meal merited.

  “How long’s it been since you’ve eaten?” Dane asked.

  “A while.” Sayer glanced at Dane, who motioned for him to dig in. He could tell Sayer was pacing himself—that he really wanted to shovel the food in as quickly as possible—and wondered again how long it had been since he’d consumed anything worth eating. Dane kept to a small portion, wanting Sayer to be able to have a second helping and even a third if he wanted it.

  Wh
en they’d finished, Sayer offered to wash the dishes, so Dane lit a fire in the fireplace before taking Boone out the back door to do his business. The moon was almost full and shone over the treetops like a beacon, lighting the white bark of the aspens that surrounded the yard. Dane shoved his hands deep into his pockets, the cold, crisp night air cutting into his lungs.

  He thought about Sayer planning to sleep outside all night. It made Dane both sad and worried for the man. Not for the first time, he wondered what Sayer’s story was.

  The territorial hooting of a great horned owl broke the silence of the night, and a raccoon scuttled across the yard and into the safety of the nearby bushes before Boone could get to it.

  “Come on, boy. Inside.”

  Dane found Sayer sitting in the living room before the fire, reading the newspaper.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” Sayer looked up when Dane walked in.

  “Of course not. Help yourself.” Dane sat down in the large armchair and stretched his feet out before the fire, Boone settling on the floor next to him.

  “How did you wind up in this situation?”

  “The usual.” Sayer folded the newspaper. “Lost my job and could only live on my savings for so long. Not too many opportunities for hotel managers out there, evidently.”

  “You managed a hotel? I had you pinned as something a little more…outdoorsy.”

  “I wish,” Sayer smiled. “I’ve spent the last eight years with Frazier Hotels, and they gave my position to some ass related to the owner.”

  “That was shitty.”

  “Tell me about it.” Sayer gazed into the fire. “I hocked everything I had, but I was still confident I could pull myself back up.

  “When I couldn’t find anything in the hotel business, I started looking for work elsewhere. And then everywhere…I couldn’t even get a job at a fast food place—they said I was overqualified. I tried to sell my little house, and eventually the bank took it. After that, I lived in my car.”

  “Didn’t you have any friends willing to help you?”

  “The few good friends I had were newly married with families, and I couldn’t see imposing on them when I knew they’d never turn me out, no matter how long it took. I set out on my own to try my luck elsewhere.”