Free Born to Be Wylde by Jan Irving Page A

and ducking them both underwater.
Ken spat out some, sputtering, “You didn’t let me do you!” as Wylde sprang back from the falls.
“Sometime I make you do me,” Wylde said, and Ken’s mouth went dry as he pictured himself on his knees like a concubine, soaping Wylde. Oh yeah.
Wylde picked up their supplies and then put Ken over his shoulder. When Ken laughed in shocked surprise, he smacked his butt.
In response, Ken rubbed his erection against Wylde.
When they got to the cave, Wylde started the fire and lit a small lamp that Ken had previously missed seeing. It might have been his first clue he wasn’t the captive of a true mountain man.
As Ken sat on the bed, nude, skin still glistening with moisture, Wylde made his tea, though for some reason he used a tin cup and not the crudely made one that Ken had admired previously. Ken remembered drinking Wylde’s tea when he’d been so weak. It had felt almost like a ceremony, welcoming him back to life.
“You’re safe,” Wylde said in soft voice. “He won’t look for you here.”
“Wylde, I can’t hide forever,” Ken growled. “He has to live around here. It’s just… two small towns connected by one road.”
Wylde lifted a brow. “Then the road is the connection.”
“I know.” Ken finished his tea and put it back near the fire.
Wylde spread Ken’s legs and pulled out the lube and another condom, one palm flat on Ken’s lower belly, above his straining cock. Ken’s eyes widened.
“Oh,” he murmured.
Wylde rolled the condom on himself this time, obviously having learned from Ken doing it previously. Then he touched some lube on it, and then he mounted Ken.
Ken spread his legs wider.
“Warm you up,” Wylde said.
“Oh yeah,” Ken agreed, digging his hands into Wylde’s ass.
    “ H OW are we going to catch him?” Ken mumbled sleepily a thousand years later. He was a little sore, but the discomfort only made him semihard, reliving how full he’d been, how wanton.
    He’d always been so controlling with his partners, even slightly prim, calling the shots. But that didn’t work with Wylde, from the first moment his big palm had shoved Ken back on the bed, commanding him to rest because he needed to rest.
Only from Wylde would Ken accept such bossy behavior. “You said ‘we’,” Wylde said, his chin resting on top of Ken’s head, his arms wrapped around him.
    Ken blinked. Oh shit. Then he looked at Wylde. “One of the fellas who worked the fire this evening said he knows an Alec Danvers, a deputy in Sullivan. You know cops… we talk.”
    “Um.” Wylde’s expression remained impassive. “I lived with him and his fiancée. They tried to teach me how not to be a freak.”
    “I called him while you were helping with the fire in my studio,” Ken confessed. “He said you can handle yourself. Did he give you the bowie knife?”
    Wylde sat up, his long hair snaking over his nude body like a seductive merman who’d left the sea for his lover. “He made me promise never to use it in anger, Ken. Only to protect myself, to keep safe when I camp out here.”
    “You had a thing for him, didn’t you?”
Wylde flushed, looking shamed.
“That must have hurt, liking someone who was
    straight.”
“I was so dumb,” Wylde whispered.
“No, baby. I’ve done it too, and I didn’t grow up in the
    woods. I’ve pined for a few guys….” Ken sighed.
“No more pining, Ken!” Wylde sounded jealous. “No more,” Ken promised. Then he chewed his lip.
    “Look, if you can show me what you found earlier, I need to see it. Just understand that I have to take him down in the proper way.” He swallowed thickly, remembering his bruises, the pain and fear, his studio…. “I have to.”
    Wylde cupped Ken’s cheek. “All right, but I will be there, Ken.”
“Okay,” Ken said. “I love you.”
Wylde grunted something against his armpit, pulling the sheepskin over both of them, but Ken smiled. He didn’t need the words. He felt it against his skin.
N EXT