Gridiron Gods 7

Wide Receiver

Secrets and love don’t mix…

Desperately poor Dustin Brooks thought he’d won a scholarship to

Twin Pines College, but instead, he finds himself tricked into a

blackmail scheme he doesn’t want to participate in, but can’t get

out of.

Mitch Gay loves learning, football, and sex—not necessarily in that

order. When Mitch finds out a reporter is joining the team for an

away game, his suspicions and libido are equally aroused.

Determined to uncover the truth, Mitch goes after Dustin with a

hunger that shocks them both.

Casual sex play on the bus turns surprisingly intense for both men

at the motel, but Dustin’s secret inhibits a deeper connection.

Dustin has never met a man like Mitch, but falling in love goes

against his secret mission. However, when love is on the line,

Dustin makes the right moral call, but will he be too late to claim

Mitch?

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Paranormal, Shape-shifter
Length: 35,921 words

WIDE RECEIVER

Gridiron Gods 7

Anitra Lynn McLeod

EROTIC ROMANCE

MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED:
Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to
only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on
your own personal computer or device. You do not have
resell or distribution rights without the prior written
permission of both the publisher and the copyright
owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any
format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer
to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer
program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest.
Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright
Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part,
online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method
currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you
do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from
your computer.

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution
of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright
infringement, including infringement without monetary
gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book being sold or shared
illegally, please let us know at
legal@sirenbookstrand.com

A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ManLove

WIDE RECEIVER
Copyright © 2012 by Anitra Lynn McLeod
E-book ISBN: 1-61926-324-6

First E-book Publication: January 2012

Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without
express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance
to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of Wide Receiver by Anitra Lynn
McLeod from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you.
Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or
group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing
rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying
readers high-quality reading entertainment.

This is Anitra Lynn McLeod’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please
respect Ms. McLeod’s right to earn a living from her work.

Amanda Hilton, Publisher

www.SirenPublishing.com

www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION

For the one who wanted silence, hoping that would hide his true

nature. You screamed the loudest without speaking a word.

WIDE RECEIVER

Gridiron Gods 7

ANITRA LYNN MCLEOD

Chapter 1

“So you’re the reporter?”
Dustin Brooks turned, and his gaze hit the middle of the biggest

and widest chest he’d ever seen. Working his way up, he finally found
an angular face with sky-blue eyes and dirty-blond hair. It took Dustin
a moment to find his breath and stammer, “Journalism student. Yes.
I’m Dustin Brooks. But, uh, I’m not here for that class.”

“What class are you here for, then?”
Whoever he was, his drawl was slow and sexy, just like the way

his gaze ate up Dustin’s five-foot-eight-inch frame. With hands the
size of catcher’s mitts, this man could pick him up, bend him over,
and do all kinds of unspeakable things to him.

Dustin gulped.
Given the man’s massive build, there wasn’t anything Dustin

could do to make him stop if he were so inclined to manhandle him.
And maybe Dustin wouldn’t want to.

Ever so slowly, a grin broke up the severe angles of the man’s

face. “Oh, you are definitely sitting by me.”

Dustin was nudged onto the Grizzlies’ team bus. The massive man

behind him kept right on nudging until they came to the very last row
of seats in the back.

Wide Receiver

Dustin noticed puffy coats filled one seat, but the other was

empty. Obviously, Dustin was supposed to sit back here with this sexy
giant. Just who was this hunk gently pushing him toward the very
back and very private area of the bus? Dustin turned his head toward
the front. The average bus was thirty-six feet in length, but the front of
this bus, where the coach sat, seemed over a mile away.

“It’s a little isolated back here, isn’t it?” Dustin asked.
Leaning over him, the man drawled, “Back here I’ll be able to

show—I mean tell—you everything you need to know about the Twin
Pines Grizzlies.”

Dustin shivered so hard his glasses almost fell off. Pushing them

up the bridge of his nose, he slid into the seat, tucking his backpack
between his knees.

For a moment, the massive football player looked down at him

while Dustin looked up.

“You have to be the cutest little puppy I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Dustin blushed so hard his whole body must have turned red.

“Who are you?”

“Ah, right, where are my manners? I’m Mitch.” When he tossed

himself down onto the bench seat, his weight shook the entire bus.
“Mitch Gay. And yes, that’s my real last name. It’s also an entirely
fitting adjective for my sexual orientation. It’s also a pretty good
description for my overall attitude about life. The Gay part, not the
Mitch part.” Mitch smiled so wide a dimple developed on the right
side of his mouth. “Now, tell me all about you.”

Dustin’s mouth fell open, but nothing came out. Mitch’s stats

rolled through Dustin’s mind in an instant. Mitch was a first string
wide receiver. Mitch was six foot four and two hundred twenty
pounds of intellectual athlete who had a line of successful football
teams behind him and a perfect GPA. Mitch Gay was a renaissance
man who loved sports, academics, and sex. Not necessarily in that
order. He was everything Dustin wasn’t. Dustin knew all of these
details because he’d been studying the entire football team since the

Anitra Lynn McLeod

school year started, but not for the reason he had told his teacher. No
one knew what he was really looking to uncover. Well, one man knew
besides Dustin. All of this was his idea. Dustin would rather be just
about anywhere but here.

Mitch lowered his head until their eyes were on an even level. “Is

your mission here a secret one?”

Oh. God. He’d just barely settled in and already his cover was

blown sky high. His backpack slid from his knees to his feet, making
a dull little thud on the metal floor.

“I guess you can’t be a reporter if you can’t talk.”
Realizing that he was overreacting, Dustin took a deep breath and

said, “I can talk.” Dustin tried to regain some equilibrium, but that
was almost impossible with Mitch so close, and smelling so good, and
his thigh was pressing against Dustin’s, and Mitch’s was all muscle,
and— “How long have you be playing?” Dustin pulled the question
out of thin air since he had to think of something to ask or he’d look
like an even bigger idiot than he already did.

“I’ve been playing ever since my dick could get hard.” Mitch

cupped his crotch. “Or did you mean football?”

Dustin realized he was staring at Mitch’s considerable bulge and

licking his lips. Mortified, he yanked his gaze away so fast his glasses
flew off.

Mitch caught them with strong, dexterous fingers. “You can look

all you’d like, pup. Believe me, I’m not going to go ballistic on you
for checking me out. I’m encouraging you to look.” Mitch handed the
glasses over, and when their fingers touched, a spark jumped from
Mitch’s hand to Dustin’s.

“Static electricity,” Mitch noted. “Dry air and maybe something

else. What do you think?”

Dustin slipped his glasses back on and changed the subject as

quickly as he could. “I’m here to observe the social impact of athletic
competition at the collegiate level.” To his own ears that sounded
boring as oatmeal and totally rehearsed. He hoped Mitch didn’t notice.

Wide Receiver

“You want to find out if we’re buddies on and off the field?”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed speculatively.

“Well, no, not—I’m trying to determine if team sports build

individual esteem.”

“The more I play with my buddies, the better I feel about myself?”

Mitch lifted one brow, and Dustin almost creamed his jeans.

“Something like that, I guess.”
“Have you ever been on a team?” Mitch settled into the seat, and

Dustin realized he wasn’t going anywhere for the next four hours, not
unless he wanted to climb over Mitch. Dustin had a feeling if he tried
that he’d get about halfway and Mitch would snag him and...Dustin’s
brain hit a roadblock. He had no idea what Mitch would do to him.
Something super hot and sexy. But damned if his brain just seemed to
edge right up to a fantasy and then fall woefully silent.

Recalling Mitch’s question, Dustin answered, “No. I’ve never

been on a team.” He pointed to his face. “The glasses.”

“What about them?” Mitch reached up and stroked the earpiece

from the lens to the curved section right above Dustin’s ear.

“I couldn’t play because of them.” Dustin’s voice was all

stammered and breathless. He felt like a jiggling bowl of gelatin.

“That’s silly. Who told you that?” Mitch continued stroking

around the curved earpiece right to the end. Once there, Mitch
smoothed the tip of his finger around the outer edge of Dustin’s ear. It
was the least sexual touch in the world, yet it was turning his dick
hard and the rest of his body into mush.

“My mom told me that. My mother, I mean,” Dustin corrected

hastily. He thought mother sounded more grown up than mom. But
frankly, both made him sound like a dweeb. And his glasses had
nothing to do with why he’d never played sports. Money did. Money
had made more decisions in his life than everything else combined.

“Your mommy wouldn’t let you play sports because of your

glasses?” Mitch moved closer so that the heat of his breath caressed
the same ear he was fingering. “Please tell me she also picked out this

Anitra Lynn McLeod

style that you’re wearing.”

“You mean my clothes?”
“No, sweet stuff, your glasses. In the army they’re called BC

glasses.”

“BC glasses?” Dustin echoed.
“Yeah. They are a fantastic form of birth control, what with them

being so incredibly ugly.” Mitch moved incrementally closer.
“Although, to be fair, you and I aren’t going to have that problem.”

“We’re not?”
Mitch chuckled. “No matter how diligently I try, I simply won’t be

able to knock you up.”

Dustin’s brain was like an old vinyl record that kept skipping and

replaying knock you up, knock you up until he shook his head and
jiggled the needle onward. In order for Mitch to even try that,
diligently or otherwise, he’d have to insert his penis into Dustin’s
body.

“Oh. God.” Dustin melted into the seat. Mitch was fucking huge,

which meant, statistically, his penis was likely to be huge as well.
Dustin hadn’t had anything put anywhere in his body, and just the
thought of starting with a guy like Mitch was as arousing as it was
flat-out terrifying.

“Sweet little puppy gets all aquiver at the slightest thing, now,

doesn’t he?” Mitch stroked his finger down from Dustin’s ear to the
side of his neck, causing goose bumps to wash over his arms.

Dustin opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
“Close your mouth, puppy boy. You don’t have anything to say

right now.”

Dustin closed his mouth and his eyes. Below his bottom, he felt

the faint rumblings of the bus’s engine. They were on the move. No
turning back now. Not that he could even if he wanted to. Dustin had
no choice but to drill the team for answers. Who knew that he’d end
up getting hit on by the hunkiest guy he’d ever seen? Screw the report.
Dustin was going to enjoy this moment to the fullest.

Wide Receiver

Mitch’s finger continued from his collarbone to the open placket

of Dustin’s polo shirt.

“Hunter green. My favorite color. Did you wear this for the team

or because it makes you look fucking hot?”

“I wore it for you.” Dustin had no idea where the words came

from or why he said them. When he slowly opened his eyes, he found
Mitch watching him, a crooked grin on his face.

“Did you now?” Mitch continued down the front of Dustin’s shirt,

right down to the waistband of his jeans. “And what did you wear
down here?”

“Tighty-whities.” Again, the words popped out from some alter

ego that Dustin couldn’t seem to stifle.

“Aw, fuck.” Mitch’s finger trembled against the topmost button of

Dustin’s jeans. “You really did dress for me, didn’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, not the way Mitch phrased it. Playfully,

Dustin asked, “What are you wearing?”

Mitch took Dustin’s hand and placed it smack dab on top of his

bulge, which was getting appreciably larger the longer Dustin held his
hand there.

“I wore absolutely nothing for you.” Mitch flicked his hips

suggestively.

The thought that Mitch was bare below his jeans sent Dustin’s

senses reeling. All he had to do was get Mitch’s jeans down a bit and
he’d be able to see his cock. And maybe touch it. Or lick it. Dustin’s
tongue slid to the corner of his mouth at the thought.

“Want me to show you?” Mitch offered.
Dustin’s brain was now stuck repeating yes! yes! yes! like a crazed

cheerleader, but nothing came out of his mouth.

At that moment, Danny Jones, waterboy and team equipment

manager, apologized about the wonky heaters on the bus. To
compensate, Danny passed out blankets. Mitch rose and took one,
saying he and Dustin would be happy to share. While he was up,
Mitch made a point of readjusting his bulge. Dustin tried not to react,

Anitra Lynn McLeod

but he did anyway. His eyes got big, and his mouth went dry. Mitch
was simply huge. From his hands, to his chest, to the massive hose in
his jeans—Mitch Gay was simply gigantic.

Grinning, Mitch dropped himself back in the seat, causing the bus

to bounce.

As Mitch fluffed the blanket over their laps, Dustin shivered. Was

this really going to happen? Rather than getting the information he’d
been after, was he going to get the first sexual experience of his life?
Maybe, if he was really lucky, he’d get both.

Nervously, he looked up at Mitch, who looked back at him with a

subtle smile and the narrowed gaze of a wild animal who has just
spotted his prey. Hunger filled his blue eyes, making them more
predatory and less friendly.

“Are you afraid, Dustin?”
Rather than answer, he nodded. He would never admit it out loud,

but frankly, he was scared shitless.

“Do you want me to stop?”
Dustin realized he could end this right now. If he said yes, Mitch

would probably let him up and allow him to find another seat. If he
said no, Mitch was probably going to keep right on going down this
road of aggressive seduction. Oddly, it wasn’t like he was forcing
Dustin to do anything. More like he was simply a forceful man who
knew what he wanted and went after it with everything he had.

“Yes or no. Stop or go.”
“No.” Dustin swallowed. “I mean, I don’t want you to stop. I want

you to—”

Mitch lifted one thick finger and placed it against Dustin’s lips.

“Have you ever kissed a guy?”

Unable to speak against his shushing finger, Dustin shook his

head.

Mitch’s grin deepened. “Have you ever touched a cock other than

yours?”

Again, Dustin shook his head no. Rather than looking

Wide Receiver

disappointed by his lack of experience, Mitch looked pleased. In fact,
he looked downright jubilant.

“Well, then. We’ve got a lot to accomplish in this four-hour bus

ride, now don’t we?”

This time, Dustin nodded yes. Bobbing his head up and down

allowed Mitch to ease his finger suggestively between his lips.

“Open your mouth.”
Parting his lips, Dustin separated his teeth, which allowed Mitch

to slip his finger inside.

“Ooh, Dustin. You do make a grown man cry.”
Dustin blushed so hard his face hurt.
“Don’t stop, puppy boy. Suck on my finger. Show me what you

want me to do to your cock.”

Dustin’s eyebrows rose so high they almost shot off the top of his

head.

“What? Did you think I was going to make you suck me off?”

Mitch leaned very close. “I already know what it feels like to have a
hungry mouth wrapped around my cock. Before I have you do that for
me, I want to show you just how good that feels.”

Tentatively, Dustin sucked at Mitch’s finger. He tried to think

how he would want Mitch to suck his dick, but each time he imagined
that, he couldn’t seem to do anything.

“Sweet puppy boy is so shy he can’t even pretend.” Mitch

withdrew his finger and then did the most erotic thing. He lifted his
finger and proceeded to lick and suck at his own digit while Dustin
watched.

Seeing what he did to his finger and picturing those same actions

on his cock caused Dustin to squirm in his seat. The blanket was too
hot, so he pushed at it. Mitch yanked the blanket away with one hand
and tossed it on top of the pile of coats in the other seat. Dustin
swiped at the crotch of his jeans, hating the stiff fabric for scraping
against his erection despite the protection of his underwear. A part of
him wished he was as bold as Mitch and had the confidence to just

Anitra Lynn McLeod

stand up and adjust himself, but he didn’t, so he wriggled uselessly in
his seat.

“Now,” Mitch said, giving his finger a final lick. “Let’s start with

something a little safer until it gets dark.”

Behind them, the sun was going down, filling the bus with

shadows. Back here, no one could see them. Even if the coach rose up
and looked directly back, there were too many tall guys with broad
shoulders to give Coach a clear line of sight. But a more thorough
darkness would help Dustin to feel safer. Not that anything was going
to stop him. If they got caught, there wasn’t much the coach could do
to him, and it was doubtful he’d do much more than verbally dress
down Mitch. No way would he kick him off the team.

“Once the sun goes down, so will I.” Mitch waggled his brows,

leaned over, and kissed Dustin.

As Mitch’s words caught up to Dustin’s brain, and registered that

Mitch was only waiting for the dark to wrap his sexy mouth around
Dustin’s virginal cock, Mitch’s strong lips took control of Dustin’s.

Slow and sweet and then his tongue was sweeping across Dustin’s

lower lip, seeking entrance, which Dustin granted only to be utterly
spellbound by the taste and feel of him. For a first kiss, it was a
knockout. Hungrily, Dustin returned the kiss, wrapping his arms
around Mitch’s shoulders.

Clearly confident in not only his skills, but Dustin’s reception,

Mitch leaned into him, pressing Dustin down and back against the
window so that Mitch’s broad back gave them more privacy.

The harder Dustin got, the more his erection rubbed against the

crease of his jeans. All the pleasure Mitch was giving him was sadly
being turned into twisted agony as his dick was pinched and
practically rubbed raw by his cheap jeans.

Pulling back, Mitch looked down, realized what was wrong, and

pulled Dustin to his feet.

Feeling terribly exposed, Dustin looked down the long length of

the bus full of guys, but no one paid him any attention. Guys were

Wide Receiver

listening to music, reading, talking, or playing with handheld gaming
devices. For all they noticed Dustin standing up, he could have been
invisible.

“Here, let me take care of this for you. Lean on the seatback.”
Dustin crooked his elbows and rested his weight on his arms,

which hunched him over a bit, allowing him to hide behind the rows
of guys. There was one guy in the seat in front of Dustin and Mitch,
but he was out cold and snoring lightly.

Mitch maneuvered Dustin around as if he weighed nothing.

Eventually, he had Dustin’s legs spread around his lap.

Dustin wasn’t sure what Mitch was going to do until he felt hot,

moist air against his ass. Looking over his shoulder, he discovered
Mitch had pressed his mouth to his bottom and breathed out slowly so
that he heated the fabric and then shot that same heat straight through
his jeans to his hole.

“Yes.” Arching his back lifted his buttocks and allowed Mitch

more access.

Mitch slipped his hand between Dustin’s legs, cupped his bulge,

and forcefully rearranged him.

“Better?” Mitch asked, keeping his mouth close to his bottom.
Dustin nodded.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes, yes. Please, don’t stop.”
Using his big hand, Mitch cupped and stroked along Dustin’s cock

and then all the way down to his balls. Meanwhile, Mitch was
breathing out against his ass. It was so arousing that Dustin couldn’t
even squirm. He held perfectly still, hoping against hope that Mitch
wouldn’t stop.

Never in his life would Dustin have ever thought something like

this would happen to him on the away-game bus. Hell, he wouldn’t
think this would have happened to him anywhere. Especially not with
Mitch of all people.

“Sweet little puppy is so eager.”

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Blushing at the name, because Mitch could have no idea how

ironically apropos that moniker was, Dustin gave up trying to figure
out why this was happening or what he should do to return the favor.
Instead, he surrendered completely. If Mitch rose up and started
banging him right here, by God, Dustin was going to let him.

Into his mind crept that visual, of him bent over the seatback and

Mitch digging his fingers into his skinny hips, holding him up for a
thorough fucking. Eventually the guys would notice. And they’d
watch. Maybe even cheer Mitch on. And then they’d all want to give
him a go, but Mitch wouldn’t let them. They could watch, but they
couldn’t touch.

As that visual played out in his mind, Dustin realized he was on

the verge of climax!

He struggled against Mitch, which was ridiculous, given the

difference in their sizes.

“What’s wrong, pup?” Mitch burrowed his thumb between

Dustin’s buns and pressed right against his hole. “Too much?”

“I’m gonna come!” Dustin hissed over his shoulder.
“Yeah?” Mitch yanked him down onto his lap, pressed his mouth

to his ear, and whispered, “I thought that was rather the point of this.”

“I don’t want to make a mess all over my pants.” Dustin only

owned three pairs of jeans, and since he was traveling light, these
were the only pair he’d brought for the Lone Pine trip. “I don’t have
another pair.”

“Shhh, relax.” Mitch popped the button then eased the zipper

down. “I’ll take care of you.”

The skipping record was back with care of you, care of you, care

of you, and Dustin almost winced. No one had ever taken care of him.
Everything he had he’d had to work hard for, if not downright struggle
for, and almost always he had to fight to defend what little he’d
managed to gain. Why in the world should this be any different?

Down that big hand went into his tighty-whities. Mitch wrapped

his forefinger and thumb around the base of Dustin’s cock. Mitch

Wide Receiver

squeezed. Slowly but surely, the urge to climax abated.

“There. See? I’ve got you.” Mitch nuzzled his ear. “I’ve got you,

pup. I’m not trying to make you mess your pants.”

“No?”
“Hell to the no.” Mitch turned his head so that Dustin was looking

at him over his shoulder. “I don’t want that wasted in your trousers
when I can have you gushing in my mouth.”

Gushing in my mouth, gushing in my mouth, gushing in my mouth.

As the record skipped, so, too, did the image of Mitch eagerly sucking
as Dustin’s hips flicked, shoving his cock into that wickedly perfect
face. The urge to come returned with a vengeance. Just the thought of
putting his dick in Mitch’s mouth was climax inspiring, but the notion
that Mitch wanted to suck down his jizz was even more so.

“Relax.” Mitch stopped Dustin’s climax again with his snug

forefinger and thumb. Once his breathing calmed, Mitch eased Dustin
back until his buttocks parted around the bulge in Mitch’s jeans. Hard,
hot, and hung. Those were the three words Dustin was going to use to
describe Mitch. His spinning record of a brain screeched to a halt.
Dustin wasn’t going to be describing Mitch or anyone else in such
terms. Dustin was here to uncover the truth about the Twin Pines
Grizzlies, not hook up with any of them.

“I think I should—”
Mitch never let him finish. Lifting him up bodily, like Dustin

weighed no more than a random thought, Mitch turned him so that
Dustin now stood with his buttocks against the seatback. Yanking
down his underwear, Mitch exposed his cock.

“You’ve got a good-sized cock, pup.”
Stunned, Dustin looked down to find Mitch looking up.
“It’s dark, puppy boy. Time to go down.”
And then Mitch sucked Dustin’s cock into the wet heat of his

mouth.

Flabbergasted, Dustin stood mute, watching Mitch bob his head

over his prick. Sliding his hand under his balls, Mitch started rubbing

Anitra Lynn McLeod

the spot between Dustin’s sac and hole, which caused Dustin to
whimper in earnest.

“Fuck my mouth, puppy.”
Afraid of hurting him, Dustin made a series of shallow thrusts, but

Mitch placed his free hand against Dustin’s buns and showed him
what he wanted.

“Fucking, puppy, not flicking.”
Mastered by Mitch’s strong hand and arm, Dustin had no choice

but to pour his prick into Mitch’s willing mouth. Rather than gagging
on his length, Mitch angled his face up so he could take all of Dustin’s
cock down his throat.

Timing his finger strokes to his mouth pulls, Mitch punctuated

Dustin’s whimpers with aggressive growls. Before Dustin even
realized what was happening, he came. If not for Mitch’s mouth,
Dustin would have shot his load a good ten feet. It didn’t ooze out. It
blasted forth as if he were trying to plant his seed as deep as he could.
Mitch didn’t stop sucking until Dustin was utterly drained. Shaking,
exhausted, Dustin collapsed.

Mitch eased him down so that Dustin was sitting on the edge of

Mitch’s knees. Cupping the back of his head, Mitch drew Dustin
close, kissing him deeply, allowing him to taste himself on Mitch’s
lips. His cock gave one final twitch and went as limp as the rest of
him. At the moment Dustin felt like he could sleep for a week.

“Now,” Mitch said, licking his lips, “why don’t you tell me why

you’re really on this bus?”

Wide Receiver

Chapter 2

Mitch watched as Dustin shook his head and stuttered around,

looking for an answer. He realized he probably should have held the
orgasm tauntingly out of reach until the cute little reporter told him
the truth, but as soon as he’d kissed him, Mitch had to taste him.
Mitch wanted to suck his cock to climax and then luxuriate in his
essence. He hadn’t been disappointed. No man had ever tasted as
good as this shy, bespectacled puppy boy.

“I told you, I’m here to study—”
“The social impact of athletic competition at the collegiate level.

Yawn. Yah, dude, I remember.” Mitch pointed to his head. “I have
eidetic memory.”

Dustin’s eyes went wide. Mitch didn’t have to be a memory expert

or a mind reader to know panic when he saw it.

“You’re not here to find out if team sports build individual

esteem, either. So tell me the truth.” Mitch put on his scariest face by
narrowing his eyes, lowering his eyebrows, and frowning menacingly.
He figured some student had put Dustin up to some ridiculous prank
about uncovering the truth behind the gay rumors. Not like anyone
would give a crap, really, but Dustin’s story simply didn’t wash. And
since Mitch had nothing else to do for the four-hour drive to Lone
Pine, he figured he’d teach Dustin a lesson about pranks by pulling
one on him.

Terrified, Dustin shot to his feet and tried to stumble away, but his

pants were down around his thighs, which were spread around
Mitch’s lap. All Mitch had to do was part his legs. This in turn
effectively locked Dustin in position.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“I’ll scream,” Dustin hissed, trying to pull up his underwear to

regain some form of modesty.

“Go ahead.” Mitch leaned back and put his hands behind his head.

“I’d love to watch you explain how you got into the position you’re in
right now.”

Looking down at himself, Dustin started to shake, and then his

lower lip started to tremble.

Oh, God, he’s going to cry!
Mitch felt lower than scum on a snake.
“Hey, whoa.” Mitch yanked his legs together and helped Dustin

pull up his jeans. When their combined motions tangled Dustin’s
underwear in his zipper, Mitch lifted him up and moved him over to
the empty part of the seat by the window. “Stop tugging. You’re only
making it worse.”

Mitch tried to unsnag Dustin’s tighty-whities from the teeth of the

zipper, but his grasping fingers ripped the white cotton as if it were
nothing but tissue.

“Shit.”
Dustin watched him helplessly.
When Mitch tried to remove the bits of cotton from the zipper, he

managed to mangle the fastener so badly it wouldn’t go up.
Frantically, he tried to find a solution. His goal had been to uncover
what Dustin was really looking for, not publicly humiliate him.

When Mitch looked up, he discovered Dustin was watching him

with the most bewildered expression on his face. It was almost like
Dustin expected to be treated horribly and embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry.” Mitch was an aggressive guy, always had been, but

he wasn’t a bully. The fact that he’d hurt Dustin hurt him back three
times as much.

Dustin yanked his backpack off the floor, used its bulk to cover

his lap, and then turned his face toward the window.

Mitch tried to find another solution. He had another pair of pants,

but he outweighed Dustin by fifty pounds. Even his sweats would

Wide Receiver

drown him. Mentally flipping through all the guys on the team, Mitch
thought he found someone whose pants would fit.

“I know you probably think I’m the biggest jerk on the planet.”
Dustin didn’t take his gaze off the window.
“And right now I’d have to agree with you.”
Very quietly, Dustin said, “I wouldn’t say you were the biggest

jerk.”

“No?”
Dustin slowly turned until he was glaring at him full in the face. “I

would have said you are, without a doubt, the biggest fucking asshole
in the universe. And with your eidetic memory, I’m sure you will
forever after be able to quote me.”

Mitch couldn’t help it. He grinned. “I swear I will have that

printed on a shirt and wear it whenever you tell me to.”

Dustin yanked open his backpack, fished around in the gullet of

the bag for a moment, then removed a fine-point permanent marker.
“How about I write it on your forehead right now?”

Dutifully, Mitch slapped his hand to his forehead and palmed back

his dirty-blond hair. “Go ahead.”

There was a distinctive snick as Dustin uncapped the marker and

the scent of butanol and diacetone alcohol filled the air. Mitch closed
his eyes, waiting for Dustin to make his mark.

“Aren’t you going to write a derogatory slur on my forehead?”
“I’m going to think about what I want to write.”
Mitch let go of his hair and opened his eyes.
Dustin recapped the marker and tossed it into his backpack. “Why

did you do that?” Dustin asked very softly.

“Seriously, I was trying to help you pull up your pants—”
“No, not that.” Dustin blushed and looked out the window. “Why

did you do the other to me?”

“You mean the blow job?”
Dustin winced. “Yeah, that.”
“Because I wanted to.”

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“Why?”
“Because I think you’re cute.”
Dustin frowned and cast Mitch a sideways glance. “Cute like a

stupid, loveable puppy?”

“No, whoa, wait.” Mitch leaned closer. “I wasn’t calling you that

to be an ass. I think you are cute like a puppy but I don’t think you’re
stupid.”

“You must, given how you’ve treated me.”
“Biggest fucking asshole in the universe,” Mitch said, pointing to

his chest. “But I seriously was just trying to figure out what prank
you’re here to pull.”

“Prank? You mean like the one you just pulled on me?”
“That wasn’t a prank.” Mitch cupped Dustin’s hand, but he

yanked it away.

“My underwear is ripped. I no longer have pants that will close.

Probably every guy on this bus was watching what you were doing to
me.”

“I’m sorry about your underwear, and I’ll buy you a dozen pairs. I

will replace your pants, too.” Thankfully, Mitch didn’t say that he’d
get him something decent. That underwear had to be the thinnest,
cheapest things ever, and so were the jeans. And then Mitch realized
the backpack Dustin carried had to be at least six or seven years old.
The straps were reinforced three times over with pieces of canvas.
Dustin’s glasses were old-fashioned, the lenses scratched. When
Mitch added it all up, he realized Dustin was just about dirt poor. And
in the span of sixty minutes, Mitch had destroyed half of what the
poor kid owned. Now he felt like the slime on the scum on the belly
of a snake.

“Before we get off the bus?” Dustin lifted his brows. “What are

you gonna do, order from instant pants online?”

Mitch snickered. “Ya know, when you’re pissed, you’re really

funny.”

“Ha-ha.”

Wide Receiver

“And contrary to what you think, no one could see anything that I

did to you. I swear. Stand up and look around. No one is paying any
attention to us.”

“Oh, right. I should stand up so you can then do something to the

back of my pants.” Dustin glared down at the floor. “No thanks. I’d
like to salvage what little dignity I have left.”

Mitch wanted to apologize about a million times, but he realized

that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Rather than saying he was
sorry, he needed to show that he was.

“Stay here.”
“Oh, right. Like I’m really going to flee. Just where the fuck

would I go? Maybe I can buy a getaway from instant vacations online.
I hear they bring the beach to you.”

Mitch tried valiantly not to laugh, but he just couldn’t help

himself. Dustin was snarky, and Mitch loved that kind of humor.
Rather than plead his case any further, Mitch rose to rectify the
damages he’d caused.

To his horror, Dustin cringed into the window, his eyes enormous

behind his glasses.

Mitch dropped back into the seat. “Shit. What the fuck did you

think I was going to do?”

“I thought you were going to hit me.”
Mitch’s mouth dropped open. “I would never—I am not that

kind—shit.” And without Dustin saying a word, Mitch knew someone
had hit him often, viciously, and thoroughly enjoyed watching him
cower. As gently as he could, Mitch reached out and touched Dustin’s
leg. “I would never hit you.”

Dustin looked down at his hand and then up into his eyes. Faint

hope edged around the consuming doubt in his gaze.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Just—give me a chance to put

this right.”

A doubtful frown twisted Dustin’s lips. “Okay. Sure. Have at it.”
By acting disinterested, Dustin protected himself from being let

Anitra Lynn McLeod

down yet again. Mitch swore he would fix this even if he had to go
naked the rest of the way to Lone Pine.

This time, Mitch scooted back a bit before he rose so as not to

startle Dustin. Working his way down the aisle, Mitch found the
equipment manager, Danny Jones. He was snuggled under a team
blanket with his boyfriend, Matthew Edwards. From the calm surface
of their shared cover, Mitch didn’t think they were doing anything
other than holding hands.

“Hey, Danny.” Mitch crouched down. “Sorry to bug you, but I

could really use your help.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Danny asked.
“I did something really fucking stupid, and I need to lay my hands

on some pants or sweats about your size.”

Up went Danny’s brows, but it was Matthew who asked, “What’d

you do, Mitch? Eat your way through some guy’s pants?”

“Naw, I turned him on so much his dick just ripped right through

the front of his trousers.” Mitch breathed on his nails and then buffed
them on his chest.

“Good, God, you two.” Danny rolled his eyes. “Reach under the

seat and snag my duffle.”

“Oh, like that doesn’t sound dirty.” Matthew snickered.
Mitch grabbed the first one he laid his hands on and hoisted the

bag up to Danny’s lap. “What the hell is in here, bricks?”

“He has chargers for every kind of electrical device you guys

might have.”

“Master of the equipment.” Mitch lifted his hands and bowed

down before Danny.

“Don’t mock he who has the pants.”
“I am not mocking.” Mitch said. “We all love how well you take

care of us.”

“Thank you.” Danny pulled out a pair of black sweats with the

team mascot emblazoned on the hip. “Will these work?”

“Yeah, perfect.” Mitch reached for the pants, but Matthew yanked

Wide Receiver

them out of reach.

“What are you going to do for them?” Matthew asked.
“What do you want?” Mitch asked.
Danny glowered at Matthew. “Shame on you.” He handed the

sweats over to Mitch. “Ignore him.” Danny pointed to Matthew. “He’s
trying to turn my work as the equipment manager into his own little
fiefdom.”

“It’s not a fiefdom. It’s more like a godfather thing without the

guns and stuff.”

“You’re still not doing that,” Danny said. “It’s my job to provide

for my guys, so don’t take advantage.”

“You are so noble.” Matthew gave Danny a sideways hug.
“That’s why you love me.”
“I do.”
When they fell to kissing, Mitch said thanks and left them to their

make-out session. As he walked toward the back, he wished he could
have that easy kind of give-and-take with someone. It seemed every
time he met a guy that he liked it just never panned out. Not that they
ended up hating one another or anything, just that they drifted apart,
and neither he nor the other guy cared enough to hold the relationship
together.

Mitch was tired of it and hadn’t hooked up with anyone since he’d

come to Twin Pines. Mitch studied, he played ball, and he jerked off
so much his dick was superhydrated from all the lotion. Hell, his dick
skin was so supple he’d practically regrown his foreskin. If he kept at
it, he might overhydrate the poor thing and drown it in rich
emollients. Well, at least that would put his dick out of its misery.

From a few seats back, Mitch was able to see the top of Dustin’s

head. He was still pressed against the window. Damn. Mitch cleared
his throat loudly so he wouldn’t startle Dustin. Even with that,
Dustin’s eyes went big and he clutched his backpack to his lap like
Mitch might just yank it away.

Mitch settled into the seat and handed over the sweatpants.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Dubious, Dustin lifted them up and inspected them.
“What are you looking for?”
“Holes. Itching powder. Fire ants. Nanobot technology.”
At the last, Mitch realized he was kidding. “No, nothing so

obvious like that. I put Spanish fly in them, though. But I hear that
crap doesn’t work.”

Dustin cracked a sideways smile. “Like you’d need an

aphrodisiac.”

“Yeah?”
“Do you really need me to tell you that you’re good looking?”

Dustin shot him a dubious frown. “Haven’t you ever encountered this
thing called a mirror?”

“Well, you did call me the biggest fucking asshole in the universe.

As far as I know, assholes aren’t notorious for being attractive.”

Dustin’s sideways smile deepened. “Where did you get these?”
“From Danny, the equipment manager.”
“Did he ask why?”
“Not really.”
Dustin nodded. “Please tell me you didn’t volunteer anything.”
“I jokingly said I needed them because I turned a guy on so much

his dick ripped right through the front of his pants.” Mitch almost
didn’t tell Dustin the truth, but he figured if Dustin had been punched
around, he’d probably been lied to his fair share, too. Honesty was the
best policy when dealing with someone who had been hurt. Mitch
wasn’t sure what reaction he was going to get, but when Dustin
smiled, he relaxed.

“I actually like that.” Dustin zipped up and dropped his backpack

on the floor. He’d fastened the top button of his pants but if he moved
at all the fly was going to gape open.

“Yeah?”
“Sure. Makes it sound like I’ve got one awesomely powerful

dick.”

“I certainly liked it.”

Wide Receiver

Dustin blushed. “I still don’t know why you did that.”
“Because I wanted to.” Mitch reached out and placed his hand on

Dustin’s thigh, which brought his gaze to his face. “I saw you
standing in the line to get on the bus. Something about you drew my
attention. I’m not sure exactly what, but I got hard just looking at your
backside.”

Dustin’s eyebrows lifted.
“I asked someone who you were. They said you were a reporter. I

figured it was a prank, and then I figured I could prank you and get
into your pants at the same time.” After spewing all that out, Mitch
took a deep breath. “What I wasn’t prepared for was how good you
were going to taste and how much having control over you was going
to crank me up.” Mitch dropped his gaze to his bulge. “I’ve been hard
now for well over an hour, so trust me, karma has really been paying
me back.”

When Dustin joined him in looking down, Mitch was ready for

him to flinch back and plaster himself against the window, but
instead, Dustin licked his lips.

In slow-motion replay, Mitch watched that gesture over in his

mind about three times, which hardened his cock even more. He
groaned and adjusted himself by giving the front of his jeans a quick
tug.

“You really didn’t mean to embarrass me?” Dustin asked.
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Mitch drew his finger over his

chest. “I swear, when I walked down the aisle to get those sweats, no
one even glanced at me. Seriously. Not a soul knows except you and
me.”

Dustin released a tremulous breath, like he’d been holding himself

in a state of fight or flight. And Mitch realized that was probably true.
Victims of abuse tended to see abuse everywhere, even in the palm of
a hand outstretched in friendship.

“Who hit you?” The question was out before Mitch could stop

himself.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“What? No one.” Dustin’s shoulders tightened up and his fists

wrapped around the sweats with a death grip.

Mitch placed his hand tenderly over Dustin’s. “When I stood up

fast, you thought I was going to hit you. No one cringes back like that
unless someone has regularly used them for a punching bag.”

“And what are you trying to be now, my shrink?” But Dustin

didn’t yank his hand away.

From what Mitch could tell, it was almost as if Dustin wanted his

help almost desperately, but he had been so conditioned to reject
before he could be rejected that he continued to react that way even
when he didn’t want to. In that moment, Mitch realized helping
Dustin was going to take a lot more skill than he possessed as a
layman psychologist.

“I’m trying to be your friend.”
Dustin’s dubious frown deepened.
“No, you’re right. I’m lying.” Mitch leaned a little closer. “I want

to be a hell of a lot more than just your friend.”

Wide Receiver

Chapter 3

Dustin peered up at Mitch, and his heart started doing the mambo.

Since he’d come to Twin Pines College, Dustin hadn’t made a single
friend. Not that the other guys hadn’t tried, it was just that Dustin
couldn’t trust anyone. Every time someone came into his sphere, he
sized them up for what damage they would cause. Not what damage
they could cause, but what damage they would cause, like it was
predestined that they were going to hurt him somehow. He couldn’t
help it. Dustin thought leaving his abusive family behind would free
him of his fears, but he’d taken them right along with him. Distance
did not equal dismissal. Worse, he’d gotten mixed up in a scheme that
was going to hurt a whole bunch of innocent people all because of one
man’s pathological need to destroy another man.

“Dustin?”
Pulling himself from his thoughts, Dustin said, “You want to be

more than my friend, huh? I think having my dick in your mouth has
already accomplished that.”

“Wow, you really have the snarky remark down, don’t you?”

Mitch laughed, but his hand atop Dustin’s never moved. God, but
Mitch’s hands were simply gigantic. No wonder he was such a highly
prized wide receiver. With those hands, any ball that he caught wasn’t
going anywhere until he wanted it to. Just like the way he’d been able
to move Dustin wherever he wanted him. Being bent around like a sex
doll had been insanely arousing, but he certainly didn’t want Mitch to
know that. Knowledge was power, and the big guy had plenty as it
was.

“Snarky remarks are my thing.” Dustin considered the sweats in

Anitra Lynn McLeod

his lap. Mitch did seem genuinely sorry for ripping his underwear and
destroying his jeans. Still, forgiving him wasn’t going to replace them.
Dustin didn’t have the money to do it himself. However, if he did
what he was here to do, he’d have money to see him through to the
middle of next spring. If he was careful, that was. And Dustin had
learned how to be extremely frugal.

“It’s a defense mechanism.” Mitch stroked one finger along

Dustin’s fist. It was a calming caress that actually got him to relax his
grip on the sweats. “Snarky remarks help you to stay emotionally
distant.”

“Do they?” Dustin pushed up his glasses. He recalled from his

study of the football team that psychology was Mitch’s major. Unlike
Mitch, Dustin didn’t have a photographic memory, but he employed
mnemonic devices to remember longs lists of information. Mitch Gay
was gay and he studied psychology. It almost rhymed, which was why
Dustin remembered.

“Yeah. But there are those who think humor itself is a defense

mechanism.”

“And what do you think?” Dustin was honestly curious.
“I think we use humor as a defense mechanism, but I also think we

use humor because laughter feels good.” Mitch lowered his voice.
“Just like sex.”

Just like sex. Just like sex. Just like sex. Dustin shook his head to

get the stuck needle to move along. “Well, if we can combine the two,
think of how defensive, or rather defended, we’ll be.”

Mitch laughed. “I don’t know if I could keep an erection if I was

laughing the whole time.”

“You’re keeping one now.” Dustin couldn’t seem to stop himself

from looking at Mitch’s bulge. With all the data he’d memorized
about the members of the Grizzlies, cock size was not listed among
the stats, but Mitch was clearly blessed in that department. Dustin
chuckled. Well, maybe not. Maybe Mitch had stuffed something down
there. Like two pairs of socks. Or three, given the prodigious bulk.

Wide Receiver

“Talk about giving a guy a complex. You look at my boner and

laugh? Ouch.” Mitch continued to stroke his finger over Dustin’s
hand.

“Show me.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Dustin wanted

to slap himself. This was a terrible idea. He shouldn’t get any more
involved with Mitch than he already had. When Mitch found out what
Dustin was really up to, he was going to be furious. Moreover, he was
going to be extremely hurt that Dustin had tricked him. Given how
much Dustin hated being hurt, he had no desire to inflict pain on
someone else.

“Show you what?”
Dustin realized he could stop right here and ask to see his tattoo or

something equally innocuous, but the words were out of his mouth
before he could call them back. “Show me your cock.”

Mitch’s stroking finger froze atop Dustin’s hand. Ever so slowly

Dustin looked up at Mitch’s face. What he saw was not what he
expected. Rather than the shit-eating grin of an overly sexual and
forceful male, Mitch looked concerned.

“You don’t owe me anything.”
Surprised, Dustin blurted, “I didn’t accuse you of demanding

anything.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Mitch started up with the calming

swirls of his fingertip again, which eased the stress right back out of
Dustin’s shoulders. Sometimes they got so tight it was like they were
trying to jump up into his ears. “What I meant was that you don’t owe
me a return of the sexual favor I gave to you.”

“I said I wanted to see it. I didn’t say I was going to do anything to

it.” Dustin grinned. “I’d say you have a severe case of wishful
thinking. I mean, really, after what you did to my pants, do you
actually think I want to do something pleasant to your dick? Maybe I
just want to write something on it.”

“Like what?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to see it first.” Dustin wondered who the

Anitra Lynn McLeod

hell had taken over his body. He’d never been playful like this in his
life. Despite what had happened with his underwear and pants, and his
sudden and totally irrational fear that Mitch was going to hit him
when he stood up, Dustin felt very safe with Mitch. He’d told the truth
about why he’d practically leapt on him, and he was genuinely sorry
for what had happened. Mitch was an extremely physical and
aggressive man, but he wasn’t a bully. Passion drove him, not
persecution. Mitch would never do anything intentionally to hurt him.
Ironically, that was as scary as it was sexy. Kindness and trust and all
things bright but dangerous.

“Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh,” Mitch said.
“I promise nothing.”
With a glance around, a little shake of his head, which tousled his

dirty-blond hair across his forehead, Mitch removed his hand from
Dustin’s and popped the top button on his jeans.

Dustin hummed some tawdry bump-and-grind music.
Swaying his hips a little in time with the beat, Mitch slumped

lower in the seat and eased his zipper down.

Abruptly, the music stopped and a long, low whistle emerged.

“Good lord! Do you have a license to pack that thing?”

As soon as Mitch had gotten his zipper down, the most perfectly

shaped and monstrously thick cock proudly sprang out of his jeans.
Dustin couldn’t help himself. He literally drooled. There could be
bombs going off and screaming multitudes all around him, and he
would be oblivious. His entire world became focused on Mitch’s
cock.

“So what are you going to write on it?”
“Mine.” Dustin startled at what he said.
“Like mine shaft? I don’t get the joke.”
Mitch didn’t get it because what he’d said wasn’t a joke. Dustin

didn’t mean mine like that. He meant mine like a greedy child laying
claim to the best toy ever. Dustin watched in awe as Mitch reached
down and adjusted his dick between the open flaps of his jeans. To his

Wide Receiver

astonishment, another inch and a half rolled out. Frankly, he could
write this cock is totally mine so hands off and have room to spare.

“Dustin?”
Yanking his gaze up to Mitch’s face jostled his too-big glasses,

and they bounced on the bridge of his nose and then slid down to the
tip of his schnoz. Over the black rims, Mitch’s face became a blur, but
when he looked down, his fan-fucking-tastic cock was rendered in
perfect detail.

“Do you remember how in kindergarten you had your name on all

your stuff?” Dustin pushed his glasses up as he lifted his gaze back to
Mitch’s face.

“Yeah. What does that have to do with mines?”
“Nothing. But I know what I’m going to write on your dick.”
Mitch cupped one hand to the base and cradled the tip with his

other hand. “Go ahead. Write whatever you want.”

“Seriously?”
“Seriously. It will come off eventually.”
Dustin grabbed his backpack, found his marker, uncapped it, and

then gazed upon Mitch’s prick again. Damn. He couldn’t stop
drooling.

Mitch pulled his hands apart a bit, which made the skin along his

cock tauter than it already was.

Leaning over, Dustin wrote out his missive.
“Fuck, that tickles!”
“Hold still. I’m almost done.” Finished, Dustin capped the pen and

tossed it back in his bag. “There we go. All complete.”

Mitch turned his dick this way and that. “Crap, it’s too dark back

here.”

From the depth of his bag Dustin retrieved his key chain, which

had a tiny LED light. He pinched the plastic and shined the blue-white
light onto Mitch’s cock.

It took him a moment to get oriented, and then Mitch slowly read

out what Dustin had written. “Property of Dustin Brooks.” There was

Anitra Lynn McLeod

a bit of a pause, but then Mitch looked up at him and grinned. “Is that
so?”

“Yep.”
“What makes you think you own my dick?” Mitch left off reading

it but made no move to tuck it away.

“After what you did to me, I think that’s a fair exchange.”
“Okay. For how long?”
“How long do I own your cock?” Dustin wanted to say forever,

but that was foolish. They’d just met. “How about until the ink wears
off?”

“Hmm. Okay. But quid pro quo.” Mitch considered him. “Yours

belongs to me for the same amount of time. Fair?”

“Wait.” Dustin got a little nervous at how eager Mitch was.

“Maybe we’d better discuss exactly what ownership means.”

“Super simple rules. You can’t put your dick anywhere without

my permission. And vice versa.”

Dustin considered that the only place he’d ever put his dick was

his own hand. Oh, and Mitch’s mouth. “Wait, does that include my
own hand?”

“Of course that includes your own hand.”
“How will I pee?” Dustin asked.
“Ah, that would be a mutually granted permission.” Mitch

waggled his brows. “However, neither one of us can beat off unless
we have permission.”

It was crazy. It was silly. And for some reason Dustin found the

notion of being the boss of Mitch’s cock unbelievably arousing.

“Deal.” Dustin stuck out his hand.
“Deal.” Mitch grabbed his hand, shook it briskly, then lowered

Dustin’s hand to his cock. “Why don’t you take a tour?”

Smiling, Dustin pulled his hand away. “No, I think you’re going to

give me a tour.”

“At your service, sir.” Mitch saluted. “Where do you want me to

start?”

Wide Receiver

Chapter 4

Mitch had played his fair share of kinky games, but nothing like

this. He’d been a little worried that Dustin would write something
horrid on his dick, but finding out he’d claimed ownership ran a spark
of lust through him so hard and fast he’d almost climaxed. Now he
understood what Dustin had meant when he’d said “mine.”

Rather than balk at his audacious claim, Mitch reveled in the

possessive meaning behind his actions. For once, his sharp and
sudden attraction seemed to be returned in fully equal measure. There
had been a moment while he was sucking Dustin’s cock where he’d
thought about laying claim to him. Mitch had dismissed the notion as
he hardly knew Dustin. However, if Dustin was feeling that tug, too,
then maybe it wasn’t as crazy as he’d thought. Some of the deepest,
most abiding relationships he knew of had started out fast and furious.

“I want you to start by pushing your jeans down so I can see all of

you.” Dustin settled back against the window with his backpack still
cradled protectively in his lap along with the sweats.

Mitch stretched his legs out so he could lift his ass off the seat. He

slid his jeans down to his knees then figured, fuck it, and pushed them
right on down to his ankles.

“Whoa, you don’t have to expose yourself that much.” Dustin

seemed concerned that Mitch might get in trouble if he got caught.

This wasn’t going to be any fun if Dustin was nervous the whole

time. Remembering the blanket he’d cast into the coats, Mitch leaned
across the aisle and grabbed the green-and-black cover.

Tucking the blanket against his hip, Mitch said, “There. If anyone

comes, I can cover up long before they can see anything.”

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Relief eased the worry lines off Dustin’s brow.
“Now, where were we?”
With his tongue plastered to the corner of his mouth, Dustin stared

at Mitch’s lap.

Teasingly, Mitch flexed his muscles, which made his cock bob up

and down. “Quick, give it a command before it runs away.”

Dustin chuckled. “Maybe I just want to admire you.”
Something about the way he said that, or maybe the look in his

eyes, told Mitch he was serious. Thinking back, Mitch couldn’t
remember a single guy who took pleasure in simply looking at him.
Mitch relaxed. While Dustin watched his cock, Mitch watched the
expressions move across Dustin’s features. Lust, longing, fear,
excitement, and then Dustin seemed overwhelmed, like he simply
couldn’t resist anymore. Mitch wasn’t sure what he was going to do.
In slow motion, Dustin leaned over and kissed the very tip of Mitch’s
cock.

A low sigh of ecstasy escaped from between Mitch’s lips. This

time his dick twitched all on its own. It bumped up into Dustin’s lips,
and for a moment, Mitch worried that Dustin would flinch back, but
he didn’t. Dustin wrapped his hand around the shaft and kissed the
head again. And again. And then he placed openmouthed kisses over
the head. That little hint of the hot wetness of his mouth had Mitch
practically writhing in agony.

Tentatively, Dustin flicked his tongue against the slit at the top,

and Mitch clenched his buttocks to stop his hips from flicking.
Something about the timid way Dustin touched him was hotter than
hell. He’d said he was a virgin, and Mitch hadn’t really believed him.
He did now. And knowing his was the first cock anywhere near his
sweet mouth was beyond erotic.

When Dustin darted his gaze up to see Mitch’s reaction, he must

have seen something that pleased him because he grinned and lowered
his lips back to torment the tip of Mitch’s prick.

Mitch glanced at his ghostly reflection in the bus window, and

Wide Receiver

now he knew what had delighted Dustin. Mitch looked utterly
spellbound. He honestly couldn’t remember another sexual encounter
that enthralled him so completely. This time, he was not letting Dustin
get away. His relationships always fizzled because neither partner
cared enough to pursue the other. Mitch wasn’t laying blame on the
other guys since he had a part in it, too, but this time, this time Mitch
was going to pursue Dustin with everything he had. Come hell or high
water, the sweet puppy boy was going to be his in every conceivable
way.

Dropping his gaze, Mitch watched as Dustin eased Mitch’s cock

up so that Mitch could feel and see what Dustin was doing. With
taunting slowness, Dustin extended his soft, pink tongue and swirled
it around the very tip of Mitch’s prick. And then he bobbed his lips
over the same spot like he was slurping a frozen treat.

“Now I know how an ice-cream cone feels.”
“How’s that?” Dustin asked, his hot breath adding another layer of

torment to the sensory overload.

“I can’t stop melting.”
Grinning, Dustin looked right into his eyes. “How odd. To me it

seems you’re getting harder.”

“Yeah. Bad metaphor. Or is it a simile?”
“I think it’s an analogy.” Dustin slurped the tip of Mitch’s prick

again, which didn’t help him think one damn bit.

“Okay, right.” Mitch tried to keep a handle on his thoughts and his

throbbing balls. “Maybe I’m a reverse ice-cream cone?”

“I’m thinking you’re more like a volcano. All hot, hard, and just

shaking the ground because you’re so ready to blow.”

“Oh, yeah. That works.” Mitch loved that analogy. He was the

mighty volcano ready to spew his hot magma all over the sweet
villager, who was Dustin. Luckily, Mitch wouldn’t damage him. His
eruption would be scorching but not violently so. Just hot enough—he
got himself away from that train of thought because he was just
turning himself on to a ridiculous degree by thinking of spewing all

Anitra Lynn McLeod

over Dustin’s innocent face.

“Well, you would be,” Dustin breathed out against his balls. “If I

was going to let you erupt.”

“Wait. What? You’re not going to let me go off?”
“Maybe yes. Maybe no.” Dustin lowered his head and licked from

the base right up to the tip. All the while he looked right into Mitch’s
eyes. “I haven’t decided.”

Mitch’s balls were already throbbing. He’d been hard for almost

two hours now. Just the thought of being tortured indefinitely had him
whimpering.

“Now who’s the puppy boy?”
“Is that what this is? Revenge?” Mitch tsked. “Just remember that

I own your cock, too, pup. Quid pro quo.”

“Hmmm. Good point.” Dustin drew the entire crown of Mitch’s

cock into his mouth and hummed.

“Fuck!” Mitch draped his arm over the seatback and dug his

fingertips into the pleather. If he didn’t, he was afraid he was going to
grab the back of Dustin’s head and start rocking his hips. No one had
ever given him a hummer. Frankly, he’d thought it was just a weird
name for a blow job. To actually have someone hum while sucking
his cock just about blew his shoes off!

With a pop, Dustin pulled his mouth away. Blinking his big brown

eyes innocently, Dustin murmured, “Oh, no. Did I do it wrong? I
should probably stop. The last thing I’d want to do is hurt you.”

Mitch almost cried. “Please don’t stop. Please.”
“I’m not hurting you?”
“Fuck yeah, but it’s a good kind of hurt.” Mitch took a deep

breath. “I mean, it will kill me if you don’t play this out to the end, but
what you’re doing is just—damn—I—are you sure you’re a virgin?”

Dustin grinned and used the tip of Mitch’s cock to push his

glasses up. It was undoubtedly the cutest and sexiest move Mitch had
ever seen. Mesmerized, he reached down, grasped Dustin’s chin, and
slowly but inexorably lifted him up for a soul-searing kiss.

Wide Receiver

“I thought you wanted me to erupt you.” Dustin resettled his

glasses with his index finger.

“I think you could do that just kissing me.”
“Yeah?” Dustin pushed the borrowed sweats into his backpack

then shoved the bag on the floor. “Let’s see what trouble we can get
into together.”

“Oh, yeah.” Mitch unbuttoned Dustin’s jeans and pushed down his

ripped underwear. Dustin’s cock wasn’t as long as Mitch’s was, but
Dustin’s dick was just as hard, and Dustin’s prick had amazing girth,
like the width of a soup can. Mitch had had to open wide to take him
all the way inside his mouth. The thought of taking Dustin into that
tight hole on his backside caused Mitch to grasp Dustin’s cock a little
too firmly.

“Ease up, cowboy.” Dustin wrapped his hand around Mitch’s

cock. “It might feel hard as steel, but I assure you it isn’t actually
made of metal.”

Mitch chuckled. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember an

encounter when he’d laughed so much and just generally had fun.
Well, after they’d gotten over the whole pants issue, they’d had a
bundle of fun together. Who knew that sex and humor could go
together and did quite smashingly?

“Sorry, pup,” Mitch said. “It’s hard, and thick, and I’d do anything

to have you ride my ass right now.”

Eyes wide with shock, Dustin pulled back. “You want me to...”
“Butt fuck me?” Mitch supplied hopefully. “I can draw you a

diagram if you need it.”

“Really?” Dustin couldn’t sound more shocked if he tried.
“You need a diagram?”
“No, smart-ass!” Dustin lowered his voice. “You want me to fuck

you?”

“Uh, yeah. Remember, I own this cock.” Mitch palmed Dustin

possessively. “If I want you to fuck me wild, that’s exactly what
you’re going to do.” He gave him a selfish squeeze. “If I want you to

Anitra Lynn McLeod

slap my ass, pull my hair, and fuck me until I scream, that’s exactly
what you’re going to do.”

Dustin chuckled.
“Damn, you’re laughing at me again,” Mitch playfully accused.
“You are so”—Dustin shook his head—“I don’t know what you

are, but I thought you were going to do all of that to me.”

“I sure am going to do all of that to you!” Mitch couldn’t be more

enthusiastic. In fact, he had to drop his volume down in order to avoid
undue attention. Cupping Dustin’s chin, he pulled his face close and
whispered right into his ear, “I’d love to ride your sweet little ass. I’d
be more than happy to slap your butt, pull your hair, and you can wear
a mask, too. You know, if you’re into that kind of thing, that is. So
what’s the problem here? I mean, besides the obvious that we can’t go
at the same time. One dick per one butt is the limit of this ride.”

Once Dustin stopped laughing, he said, “I thought one guy gave

and another guy got.”

“Yeah. That’s what I’m describing here. I really can draw you a

picture, pup, if you need it.”

“No, you load. I’m saying that most guys who give don’t want to

receive.” Dustin dropped his gaze. “Or that’s what I’ve heard.”

Lifting his chin, Mitch kissed Dustin lightly. “That is utter

garbage. Some guys are like that. Some guy’s aren’t. Lucky, lucky you
as I’m in the second group. I like to give and receive.” Mitch paused.
“How about you?”

Dustin shrugged. “I don’t know what I am. I mean, I’m gay. I

know that.”

“Yeah, the last few hours gave that away.”
Dustin swatted his arm playfully. “But I’ve never done anything

other than what I’ve done today with you.” Dustin’s brows lowered.
“And you’re so big compared to me.”

“So? Oh, whoa, wait. I really wouldn’t pound you and pull your

hair and stuff. I was just kidding. I’m big, and I know it, but I don’t go
around using my cock like a battering ram.”

Wide Receiver

“That’s good to know.” Dustin cast another look of longing and

fear at Mitch’s cock.

“Seriously.” Mitch angled Dustin’s face up so they were looking

eye to eye. “If you gave me the honor of being your first, I would go
slow. I would be very—nay—extremely careful with you. Some guys
really get off on hearing the man they’re with scream, but I’m not into
that. Unless you’re, like, screaming in ecstasy.” Mitch grinned and
winked. “That would be epically awesome. However, you crying in
pain would just shatter my heart.”

A little smile worked across Dustin’s face.
Dropping all the jocularity from his voice and expression, Mitch

looked right into Dustin’s eyes and said, “I would claim you with
caution, care, and respect. That’s no joke. Okay?”

“Okay,” Dustin agreed. And then he frowned.
“What? Be honest, please. If you’re not into me—”
“Don’t be crazy! How could I not be into you?”
“Well, I did rip your underwear, ruined your pants, and you did

call me the biggest fucking asshole in the universe.”

“I’m allowed to change my opinion.”
“Okay. So give. What’s going on in that cute head of yours?”
Dustin took a deep breath and then softly said, “I’m shorter and

smaller than you. We’re talking about eight inches shorter and fifty
pounds lighter.”

“Yeah. I noticed that. Remember, pup, you’re the one with the

glasses.”

“I’d look stupid fucking you,” Dustin blurted.
Mitch grinned. “Just how many people were you planning on

inviting to this event?”

“I—no—I wouldn’t invite anyone! That’s silly, and I—shit.”

Dustin closed his eyes, shook his head, and then grinned. “Kiss me
silent before I say something else stupid.”

Mitch did just that. He kissed Dustin until he was too bamboozled

to speak.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“Keep in mind,” Mitch said, “I’m called a wide receiver for a

reason.”

Dustin chuckled.
“See? We did find a way to mix laughter and sex.”
Soft kisses went wild, and their hands soon followed. By paying

attention to how Dustin stroked his cock, Mitch was able to learn
subtle things that Dustin liked done to his own cock, like the little
wrist-flicking thing at the top. When Mitch mimicked that, Dustin
leaned into him, whimpering in earnest.

Dustin broke away, whispering, “I’m going to come. I’m going

to—”

Mitch had his mouth down around his dick in less than a second.

Sucking with a slow, steady pull, Mitch pushed his hand under
Dustin’s fanny and forced his finger up through the layers of fabric to
rub his hole. Dustin came good, hard, and long. He was also utterly
silent, which was a good thing, considering where they were.

Before Mitch had even registered how amazingly good Dustin

tasted, even more so the second time around, Dustin dropped over his
lap.

Wrapping his lips around Mitch’s cock, Dustin matched what

Mitch had just done to him. Dustin sucked in a steady way but flicked
his tongue under where the head and shaft met. And then Dustin eased
his hand under Mitch’s ass, pushed his middle finger between his
buns, and pressed right against his pucker.

Lost in the madness of the moment, Mitch forgot where he was as

he rocked his hips and whispered a slew of dirty commands. Each
raunchy order was met by a stronger pull of Dustin’s lips, an increase
in the flicking of his tongue, and then the press of his fuck-finger right
inside Mitch’s ass. When Dustin mashed his digit onto Mitch’s
internal happy button, he felt his climax rise up and out the tip of his
prick.

“Oh, fuck, yeah!” Mitch lifted up when he came, which allowed

Dustin to flick his finger at the same rate as his tongue. The combined

Wide Receiver

actions rammed Mitch’s climax into the realm of orgasmically epic.

Mitch couldn’t remember coming so hard or so much. Dustin

didn’t miss a beat or a drop. Dustin kept right on milking Mitch until
he’d rendered him incapable of doing anything more than babbling.

Withdrawing his finger from his bottom, Dustin gave Mitch’s

cock a parting kiss then looked up.

“You realize you just screamed, ‘Oh, fuck, yeah!’ Right?”
Mitch’s eyes went wide. Leaving off the spectacular vision of

Dustin’s wanton mouth over his now softening prick, Mitch darted his
gaze down the length of the bus. Scanning along the rows of heads,
Mitch didn’t see one turned his direction. On the verge of giving a
sigh of relief, he noticed a face peeking around the side of a seatback.
It took a moment in the dark for Mitch to recognize the face, but
Mitch did eventually.

Danny Jones, equipment manager, and the bringer of the

sweatpants that would fix Mitch’s mistake and put Mitch back in
good with Dustin, well, Danny Jones looked right at Mitch. Danny
assessed Mitch for a timeless moment, grinned, then flashed him a
thumbs-up.

“Are we okay?” Dustin asked, keeping his head down.
“Yeah. No one heard, I guess.” Mitch didn’t see a reason to tell

Dustin about Danny. Odd, though. Why would Danny Jones of all
people be so glad that Mitch was getting off in the back of the bus?

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Chapter 5

Dustin watched as Mitch went off to room with three other guys,

none of which was Dustin himself. Bummed, Dustin entered his
lonely budget room, toed off his sneakers and socks, dropped his butt
on the narrow twin bed, tossed his backpack on the yucky floor, and
sighed. Clearly, the motel was used to hosting the out-of-town
football teams. The furniture was reinforced, industrial-grade metal,
the desk looked sturdy enough to survive an atom bomb, and
everything from carpet to drapes to the bedcover was washable
polyester. God only knew what had happened in this little room.

Dustin grinned. He looked down at his lap. Crisp, clean sweats

with the Grizzlies logo—a snarling, blond-brown grizzly bear—in
hunter green amid a sea of black, covered his lower half. Oddly,
Dustin felt almost like a member of the team. Well, Dustin felt like a
part of the Grizzlies until he remembered he was here to destroy the
very foundation of Twin Pines College. A true teammate would never
do something so vile. An honest man would never become enmeshed
in a dishonorable enterprise. If Dustin were noble, he’d go and tell the
truth right now.

Dustin rose as if to confess, and then he realized he couldn’t tell

Phillip Remson. Not now. Not from here. Dustin scanned the room
and noticed there wasn’t a phone. If Dustin was going to admit to the
founder of Twin Pines College what he’d done, he was going to have
to wait until he got back. If he had a cell, he could have called. But he
didn’t. And it was one call Dustin didn’t want to make on a borrowed
phone.

To get his mind away from the depressing situation he couldn’t

Wide Receiver

change, Dustin turned his attention to how he’d finally managed to get
himself into the sweats Mitch had gotten to replace his ripped
underwear and jeans. Dustin settled back on the edge of the bed and
recalled that pulling on his borrowed pants had been easy to do once
he’d gotten Mitch to stop helping.

Another grin slipped across Dustin’s face.
Mitch’s version of helping involved a lot of touching Dustin’s

dick, which was the only part of him that didn’t need help getting into
the pants. Funny, though, that after two spectacular climaxes, Dustin
had greedily wanted one more. Just thinking of doing what Mitch had
said—Dustin fucking Mitch’s ass hard—had Dustin’s dick at half-
mast and his brain stuck in neutral. No matter how hard he revved,
Dustin couldn’t get past the image of him fucking Mitch.

So what if he was shorter and smaller? Mitch didn’t care, and after

thinking about it, neither did Dustin. Just because he was smaller
didn’t mean Dustin couldn’t give as good as he got. And didn’t it beat
all that Mitch wanted what Dustin had to give?

Who would have ever believed the wide receiver actually wanted

to get fucked just as much as he wanted to fuck? The whole idea made
Dustin’s head spin. He thought for sure that Mitch would pounce on
him and want to bang him simple. To be honest, the idea of Mitch
ramming Dustin’s butt until he couldn’t see straight had his hole
quivering and his balls throbbing. But the very idea that Mitch wanted
Dustin to do the same to him was even more pucker shaking and nut
tightening.

It was un-fucking-real.
And it was the hottest thing Dustin had ever considered doing.
A giddy thrill of when and where either scenario might happen,

and which would be first—him banging Mitch or Mitch banging
him—had Dustin’s belly doing flip-flops.

“Either way, we are lucky we got away with all that action on the

bus. Nothing else is going to go down here or now,” Dustin told
himself while he glanced around his nondescript motel room. The ride

Anitra Lynn McLeod

back was going to have to be Dustin doing the job he’d come here to
do. As much as he didn’t want to, Dustin had no choice. If he was
interviewing members of the football team, Dustin couldn’t
simultaneously be fooling around with Mitch. They weren’t going to
be able to hook up on the way home. Worse, once they got back to
campus, they wouldn’t be able to hook up there, either. Both he and
Mitch lived in the dorms. There weren’t a lot of places or
opportunities to hook up in student housing. The resident advisors
made sure of that.

“Not unless we do something fast and frantic.”
Dustin considered. In a way, a quickie would be hot, but not for

his first time. And Dustin certainly didn’t want to rush through
claiming Mitch. Just the thought of him kneeling behind, considering
Mitch’s wide, muscular ass had Dustin’s balls tightening. Dustin
hungered for a long, lingering fuck the likes of which Mitch would
never be able to repeat with any other man.

As arrogant as it sounded, even in the confines of his own head,

Dustin wanted to give Mitch the fuck of his life. Dustin wanted to
slowly push Mitch up the passion hill until he was at the height of
ecstasy. Once Dustin got Mitch to the peak, he wanted to ease him all
the way down to the other side without release. When Mitch was
relaxed, Dustin would tease him right back to the top of lust mountain
again. Dustin figured three times of madness would put Mitch into
veritable erotic agony. Mitch’s torment would be followed by a
release so epic Mitch would never, ever be able to repeat the pleasure
again with any other man but Dustin Brooks.

“I want to be his addictive drug.” Dustin looked at himself in the

reflective surface across from the bed. Wisely, the proprietors hadn’t
put in mirrors—too easily broken by drunken frat boys—so they’d put
in shiny plates of metal. Dustin looked like a piece of pulled taffy. But
even from here, even with his glasses slipped down, Dustin saw the
hungry predator in his eyes. And truly, Dustin didn’t need to see the
hunter within. Dustin felt the beast inside. Something in Mitch awoke

Wide Receiver

a primal part of his soul. As soon as Dustin had caught Mitch’s scent,
his animal came to life, urging him to claim, urging him to—

Mate.
A knock at the door shot Dustin to his feet. He took a step and

almost face-planted into the door from tripping over his backpack.
After giving it a good kick, Dustin opened the door without looking
out the peephole, mainly because he feared what the proprietors had
fashioned the eyehole out of.

Mitch stood there, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. He

sniffed. When he did, Dustin growled. Mitch uttered a snarl and
stepped into the room and right up into Dustin’s face.

Like two wary animals, they circled one another. On his way

around the second time, Dustin locked the door. On his second time
around, Mitch shut off the overhead light. A pale, forty-watt bulb
from the bathroom threw a feeble ray of light across the pathetically
small twin bed.

With all his senses on high alert, Dustin didn’t hear anything other

than their softly padding footsteps and their heartbeats.

“Where are the other guys?” Dustin asked.
“After the guys got their room assignments, they went out to get

something to eat.” Mitch flicked his head and eyed Dustin like he
wanted to start at his feet and eat his way to the top of his ears.

“You’re not hungry?” Dustin asked.
“Not for food.”
Mitch picked up Dustin’s backpack.
Dustin’s shoulders shot up to his ears. Oh, God, no. Please don’t

let him be here to find out the truth. If he dumped the backpack out on
the floor and went through the contents, Mitch would know
everything. All his notes about the team, about Phillip Remson, and
the note with his contact’s phone number were in his backpack.
Dustin swallowed. That note also spelled out exactly what Dustin was
here to do. All Mitch had to do was read it and he’d know everything.

“I’ve come here for you.” Mitch set the backpack on the desk.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“Me?”
“I own your cock, right?”
“Yeah. Just like I own yours.”
“I want yours in my mouth right now.”
Challenged, Dustin shoved down his sweats. Since he’d tossed his

ripped underwear away, he was bare below, and his prick sprang
forward, pointing at the floor by Mitch’s feet.

“Looks like it’s telling you where to kneel.” Right after the words

came out of Dustin’s mouth he figured Mitch was gonna punch him
into the next universe.

Instead, Mitch dropped to his knees and sucked Dustin’s semihard

cock into his mouth.

Stars exploded behind Dustin’s eyes. Mitch did things with his

tongue that felt impossible. At one point, Dustin swore Mitch had two
tongues, what with the way he was flicking seemingly everywhere at
once.

“Fuck!” Dustin yanked his cock out of Mitch’s mouth to stop

himself from blowing his load in—he checked his watch—a little
under four minutes. “You win, all right.” He dropped on the edge of
the bed. “You win.”

Mitch settled on his haunches and slowly asked, “I win? When the

fuck did this become a competition?”

“No, not like that, just you were gonna make me blow my load

like a fucking Quick Draw McGraw.”

“And what? The world would have come to an end?”
“I wouldn’t have been able to do anything else. Not for a while,

anyway.”

“Ah, right, because once your dick is drained, your mouth, hands,

and tongue don’t work anymore.”

Dustin frowned. What Mitch was saying was obvious, but he had

to know what Dustin meant. Quietly, he said, “No man wants to go
off like that.”

“Like what?”

Wide Receiver

“All fast and”—Dustin lowered his voice to a bare whisper—

“prematurely.”

Mitch exhaled a long, slow sigh. “I hear you.”
Dustin dared to look over at him. Mitch was kneeling on the floor,

watching him as Dustin sat on the bed.

The air between them still sizzled with that curious, furious

energy. It was primal and passionate but so pervasive neither one of
them quite understood what to do with it. Breathing in long, deep
breaths seemed to help diffuse some of the tension between them, but
Dustin knew that wouldn’t last long. One of them was going to claim
the other, right here and right now, and Dustin’s whole body was on
high alert because he was damn sure it was going to be him.

“I want to be good for you.” Dustin realized his dick was straining

out of his sweats and pointing at Mitch’s mouth like an eager puppy,
so he pulled up the edge of his pants. It was still hungering for him,
but at least he’d covered it up.

A slow, sweet smile lifted the edges of Mitch’s mouth. “You

already are.” He lifted his hand to cut off Dustin’s explanation. “But I
understand what you mean.”

“Do you?”
“You want to last. I wanted to make you explode. I had this drive

to just—I don’t know—blow your mind, and that way you’d be,
like—”

“Addicted to you.”
“Yeah.”
Dustin nodded. “I had the same thought just a few minutes ago. I

wanted to be your addictive drug.”

“Yeah?”
“Yep. But I was going to go the long, slow, erotically torment you

till you beg me to let you come route.”

“Ooh, you play hardball.”
“I play for keeps.” Right after Dustin spoke, his eyes went big in

the dark, and he stuttered around trying to find something to say to

Anitra Lynn McLeod

lessen the intensity of that comment.

But Mitch, sweet and savage Mitch, took pity on his mortification

and deftly changed the subject.

Mitch eyed the bed. “Wow. That’s the smallest bed I’ve ever

seen.”

“I think it’s just a piece of foam on a metal frame.”
They confirmed Dustin’s assessment when they lifted the

bedclothes. “Well, at least it’s sturdy.” Mitch gave it a shake. It didn’t
move.

Dustin bounced on it a few times. The metal mesh gave, but the

base was as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar.

“I think this thing could support the whole team,” Dustin said.
Mitch snickered. “I’m all for freaky but, uh, that’s a little too

much, don’t you think?”

Dustin laughed, too. “I think I’ll stick with one guy at a time.”
“Just one?”
“Just the one I’m looking at.” Dustin couldn’t seem to help

himself from making possessive comments. Something in him drove
him to lay clear and certain claim to Mitch, which he wanted, but he
didn’t want to send Mitch screaming the other direction. Being
pursued was one thing. Being treated like a possession was another.

“You’re not seeing anyone or anything, right?”
“Virgin, remember?” Dustin pointed to his chest. “No. I’m not

seeing anyone but you. I mean...” He dropped his gaze along with his
bravado. “I’d like to see you.”

“Oh, thank God.” Mitch practically tackled him he was so happy.

“I thought you were going to say the bus was just some thing, and,
never mind. I want to see you, too. Exclusively. I know it’s really fast,
but I feel like I’ve always known you and—”

Dustin cut him off with a kiss before he passed out from a lack of

air.

Dreamy-eyed, Mitch pulled back. “Sorry. I get chatty when I get

excited.”

Wide Receiver

“I like it.” Dustin kissed him. “I like it a lot.”
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah. I even like the way you ask that. The way you ask me

yeah. It’s so minor but so sexy.”

“Yeah?” Mitch lay back on the bed, dragging Dustin with him so

that Dustin was draped over his body.

“God, would you just shut up and kiss—”
Dustin didn’t get further than that. Mitch took possession of his

mouth as if he owned it. Dustin didn’t struggle. It didn’t matter who
went first or who made who climax faster. Not when they could do
this again. And again. And Mitch wanted to be together. He wanted to
be exclusive. If it were possible, Dustin’s heart would have swelled
with pleasure and pride.

Kissing and grinding against one another, they stayed in the same

position for awhile, but then very subtly, Mitch had maneuvered
Dustin to the bottom edge of the bed, on his back. Mitch rose to his
feet and stared down at Dustin.

Stark hunger filled his sky-blue eyes, making the edges dark with

menace. It was clear now that Mitch was feeling the same need that
Dustin had been feeling. Mitch moved like a beast that has already
found and pinned his mate. All he was doing now was assessing what
he would do with his prize.

With a flourish, Mitch yanked off Dustin’s sweats. But rather than

toss them aside, he folded them neatly and carefully placed them by
his backpack on the desk.

That gesture spoke volumes. Mitch was physical, passionate, and

totally alpha, but he was also intensely compassionate. That he was
taking extra care since he knew they were Dustin’s only pair just
melted the very last bit of Dustin’s resistance to letting go of his fears
and falling in—Dustin cut himself off from that. He couldn’t go there
yet. He just couldn’t get that emotionally entwined so quickly.

Dustin yanked off his shirt and settled back on the bed. He wasn’t

sure what Mitch was going to do, but by God, Dustin was going to let

Anitra Lynn McLeod

him do whatever he wanted.

Mitch tore off his shirt, toed off his shoes and socks, then eased

down his jeans. He did all this slowly, so Dustin could watch the
revelation of his beautiful body. Damn. Dressed, he was gorgeous, but
nude, he was a god.

Mitch dropped back to his knees, but this time, he was at the end

of the bed, between Dustin’s spread legs. Starting at his feet, Mitch
kissed his way up both legs while angling them over his shoulders.
When he reached Dustin’s inner thighs, he growled and bit the tender
skin. The bite wasn’t hard, but the primal nature of what he’d done
caused Dustin to shiver uncontrollably. Nipping his way down, Mitch
suddenly grasped Dustin’s legs and parted them wide.

Utterly exposed to him, Dustin couldn’t have felt more vulnerable.

And then Mitch lowered his growling mouth and licked Dustin’s hole.

His entire body went taut from shocking pleasure, but Mitch

didn’t miss a beat. He gripped up on Dustin’s legs, pushed them back,
and pinned him down. And then Mitch proceeded to give him the
tongue fucking of the century.

“Oh. God.” Dustin couldn’t think straight. All he could do was lie

passive as Mitch claimed him. His penetrating tongue gave way to a
plunging finger, which gave way to two fingers, which gave way to
the tip of his massive cock. But only the tip pressed against Dustin’s
quivering hole. “For the love of God, Mitch. Don’t stop now.”

Wide Receiver

Chapter 6

Mitch had such a grip on Dustin he wasn’t going anywhere unless

Mitch wanted him to. At the moment, Mitch didn’t want him to move
a muscle. Eating Dustin’s tight, innocent ass had been beyond
sublime. Tasting and fingering where he wanted to plant his cock had
driven Mitch to one step up from a wild man. Heaven help him, he’d
even growled at Dustin, just to keep him in his place. The hunger was
that great. The need gnawed at Mitch. Under no circumstances could
he let Dustin get away. Mitch had to stake his claim. And he had to do
it now.

“Mine.” Mitch pressed his prick against Dustin’s virgin hole.
Dustin’s eyes went wide. Through the lenses of his glasses, his

velvet-brown eyes seemed enormous, almost painfully fragile, and
then his lids settled low, giving his eyes a dreamy cast. Slowly but
surely, Dustin lifted his hands and placed them over his head.

Surrender.
Sweet, beautiful, and complete submission.
It was exactly what Mitch wanted from Dustin.
But.
Damn that tiny yet major little but.
Mitch hesitated because, as much as he just wanted to rush right in

and take what he wanted, he had to take with his mate’s permission.
Otherwise, this would be a dark enterprise. Mitch couldn’t abide
taking anything from Dustin that Dustin wasn’t willing to give.

So against his own clamoring needs, Mitch slowed down. And he

mentally moved back while keeping his cock plugged tight against the
hole he intended to claim.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“I’ve never done this without protection.” Mitch had to make sure

that Dustin understood that this—going bareback—was not the norm
for him. Mitch had never engaged in anal intercourse without a
condom, but he wanted to with Dustin. Hell, he needed to with
Dustin. Mitch had no idea why, but it was imperative that he mark
Dustin completely, inside and out.

In his head and in his body, there beat a pulse, a pounding rhythm

that ordered Mitch to claim, mark, declare, and conquer. Mitch was
compelled to do all of that, but only if Dustin agreed to those
primitive commands. By virtue of being bigger, Mitch could literally
pin Dustin down and take whatever he wanted, but that wouldn’t feed
his need.

Dustin had to give.
Dustin had to give what Mitch needed to claim.
There could be no other way.
“You have to surrender everything to me.” Mitch’s voice caught.

“I can’t take unless you agree to give.”

Dustin nodded. Understanding seemed clear in his eyes.
To Mitch, Dustin’s agreement seemed to say that Dustin got why

Mitch had told him what he had, and in his silent way, Dustin was
begging him not to stop by hitting him with the full power of his
winsome puppy eyes. But it wasn’t enough. They had to be clear with
one another. They had to speak the words. They had to give voice to
the clamoring needs inside.

“I need you to give me permission. Verbally.” Mitch peered down

at Dustin. His mate was so much more than he’d ever dreamed.
Dustin could be both submissive and dominant, but right now, Mitch
needed Dustin’s surrender. Moreover, Mitch demanded that Dustin’s
capitulation be verbal. Unsure why, all Mitch knew was that Dustin
had to give him permission with his eyes, his body, and his words.
“You have to surrender to me in total.”

Dustin blinked up at him. Clearly confused but willing to say what

his lover needed to hear, Dustin waited for Mitch to explain. They

Wide Receiver

would have wordless communication if they succumbed to one
another, but they had to muddle through this first. In and of itself,
Dustin’s obvious physical surrender was maddeningly close to what
Mitch needed. But there was that one step beyond. That one final
show of submission.

“You own my cock,” Mitch declared. “I need you to tell me—”
“Fuck me.” Dustin stated his wish in no uncertain terms.
“Yeah?” Mitch asked playfully.
“Yeah.” Dustin lifted his hands higher and spread his legs wider.

“I want you to take that glorious cock and fill me until you’re balls
deep.”

“Yeah?” Mitch wanted to do just that. But having Dustin verbally

compel him just pushed him higher.

“Yeah.” Dustin settled his hands behind his head. “I trust you

implicitly.”

“You do?” Mitch realized he’d broken the game, but Dustin didn’t

seem to care.

“I do.” Flexing his body below the power of Mitch’s, Dustin said,

“I know without checking that this is the first time you’ve fornicated
without protection.”

“I swear it is.”
“I believe you.”
“Why?” Mitch had to know.
“Because I trust you.”
“Why?”
“Because I know that just as I believe you that you’ve never gone

bareback before, you believe me that this is my first time ever.”

Mitch nodded.
“Quid pro quo.” Dustin grinned. “Have we now verbally declared

everything?”

Mitch returned his grin. “Oh, yes, I believe we’re clear.” He

lowered his voice as he lowered his gaze to where the prow of his
cock pressed against Dustin’s puckered flesh. “Your tight little hole

Anitra Lynn McLeod

doesn’t lie.” Realizing that what he’d said could be taken the wrong
way, Mitch met Dustin’s gaze and added, “I also know that you would
never lie to me.”

There was a flash of something unnamable that flared and died in

Dustin’s eyes, and for a moment, Mitch had the most curious feeling
that Dustin would make him stop. But whatever it was disappeared,
swallowed up by the hunger for completion that Dustin clearly had as
deep as Mitch did.

“Fill me. Take me. Claim me.” Dustin kept contact with Mitch’s

gaze. “I promise that I will forever after this moment hold true to
you.”

“Hold true to me.” Mitch surged forward, pushing into Dustin, but

then he halted. “I will hold true to you.”

“I believe you.”
Slowly, carefully, panting with restraint, Mitch eased his cock

inside Dustin’s welcoming body. Snug and hot, Dustin’s channel
pulled him in without Mitch having to do much more than hold
himself steady. After what seemed a timeless moment, Mitch was
buried inside his chosen. Raw animal pleasure gave way to
compassionate human love. This wasn’t just sex. It never was.
Unrefined, brutish lust had masked something much deeper,
something much more frightening. Mitch couldn’t remember ever
thinking that four letter word in connection with anyone he’d been
with before. And yet here, with Dustin, a man he hardly knew, Mitch
was already thinking love.

Was that what he’d seen surface and disappear in Dustin’s gaze?

Was Dustin thinking love, too? Watching Dustin carefully for any
sign of distress, Mitch saw only welcoming pleasure. Their bodies
merged together so perfectly it was as if they were puzzle pieces that
had found one another at last.

“You feel so good.” Mitch angled Dustin’s legs around his hips.
“So do you.” Digging his heels into Mitch’s buttocks, Dustin

pulled them tighter together and then shimmied his ass to the end of

Wide Receiver

the bed until they were so close they were almost one flesh.

Lowering himself over Dustin’s body, Mitch held his weight off

him by resting on his elbows. This way he could rock slowly and kiss
Dustin at the same time. His mouth tasted dangerously good, almost
unbearably sweet. If virginity had a flavor, Dustin was ripe with it.
Mitch found himself ravenous to taste all of Dustin’s innocence.
Everywhere. From his bottom to his cock to his lips to his—ah, yes.
The one spot that had escaped Mitch’s attention.

Mitch extended one arm so that he was balanced against the bed

and able to watch Dustin as he teased his nipples with his fingers.

Moans and groans turned to whimpers as Mitch tightened his

twists. Each solid pull caused Dustin’s dick to twitch and his bottom
to clench. When Mitch lowered his mouth to one of Dustin’s nipples,
and teased the other with nimble fingertips, Dustin thrashed in earnest
below him. But there was nowhere for him to go. Not with Mitch’s
bigger body pinning him down.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you sound?” Mitch

simultaneously bit and flicked Dustin’s nipples while ramming his
cock deep into Dustin’s no longer virgin bottom.

Dustin uttered a sound that was pure passion.
“That’s it, sing for me.” Mitch played Dustin’s body like a

musical instrument. Biting, licking, flicking, shoving, tonguing—until
Dustin was a squirming mass of longing below him.

“I need—I need—” Dustin gasped.
“I know what you need. You need what I need.” Mitch leaned

back, wrapped his fist around Dustin’s dick, and proceeded to stroke
down as he rammed his cock in. “You need me to fuck you with my
cock and fuck your cock with my fist.” Mitch did just that. “Say yes,
my love.”

“Yes. Yes.” Dustin nodded so vigorously he dislodged his glasses.

In his haste, Dustin failed to notice that Mitch dubbed him “my love.”
Mitch decided Dustin didn’t notice or didn’t care or maybe...Oh. God.
Maybe, just maybe, Dustin agreed with the sentiment. To test him,

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Mitch said it again. “Do you like this, my love?”

“Yes. Yes. More. More.”
“Hold on to your glasses. Lie there and watch me give you

everything I have.”

Dustin held his glasses to his head with a finger over each ear

bridge, and Mitch proceeded to fuck him. Slow, and sweet, and full,
and deep.

“Good?”
“So good. So good. Soooooo...” Dustin’s voice went off on a low

howl of bliss that crooned right to the animal heart of Mitch’s need.

“Tight. So sweet. So right. So open to me. So deep for me. So

wicked and hot and oh, my, God, I’m going to—” Mitch couldn’t
speak, not when he came so hard and so violently his entire body
curled over Dustin’s.

Below him, Dustin lifted up and crooned into Mitch’s ear.
Mitch pumped his pleasure deep into Dustin’s body, marking him,

claiming him.

When Dustin spewed against Mitch’s belly, he rolled across his

prick, spreading his scent over his flesh, determined to mark himself
as best he could.

As Mitch lay above his chosen, his love, listening to the soulful

music of passionate claiming and surrender they made together, Mitch
knew that this was just the beginning. No matter how much Mitch
thought that this would pin him and Dustin together, he realized it
wouldn’t.

Dustin had to mark him, too.
If Dustin didn’t mark Mitch, all this, all Mitch had done, would be

for nothing. The thought caused him to press down and kiss Dustin
passionately. He realized then what Dustin had said earlier was
prophetic. Once Dustin climaxed, he wouldn’t be able to go again, not
for a while at least. And with a game in the morning, Mitch had to get
some sleep. But not just now.

“You okay?”

Wide Receiver

“Yes.” Dustin grinned up at him. “You about fucked my glasses

off, but I feel awesome.”

“Yes, you certainly do feel awesome.” Mitch kissed him gently. “I

would have been proud to bang them right off you, but I really wanted
you to watch me.”

Dustin chuckled. “Without them, you’d be a fuzzy blur between

my legs. A cute, fuzzy blur, but a blur nonetheless.”

“Come on, sweet puppy boy. Let’s get cleaned up.”
Mitch withdrew his cock from Dustin, and they both winced at

how supersensitive they’d become.

After a bit of kissing, they ventured into the bathroom.
“Oh, wow. That’s the shower, huh?” Mitch pulled back the flimsy,

plastic cover and eyed the narrow space. “There is no way we’re both
going to fit in there, not together, at any rate.”

“You can go first,” Dustin offered.
“No, love, you go.” Mitch eased him toward the shower and was

on the verge of playfully swatting his ass when his hand stopped in
midair. “What the hell is that?”

“Oh, no.” Dustin clapped his hand to his bottom and tried to back

away, but there was nowhere to go.

“Let me see.”
“No.”
Mitch blocked the doorway just by standing in it. “Present your

fanny, Mr. Brooks. I demand to inspect you.”

Clearly reluctant, Dustin turned around, and with a big deep sigh,

he removed his hand from his buttock.

Lowering to his knees, Mitch inspected Dustin’s behind. “It’s a

puppy! Oh, my, God! It’s a cute little cartoon puppy tattooed on your
fanny!”

“Please keep your voice down.”
“Oh, but this is so adorable!” Mitch leaned over and placed a

hearty, smacking smooch right on the tattoo. “See? My calling you
‘puppy boy’ is entirely apropos!”

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“Yeah, but, I don’t—”
“Tell me how you got it.”
Dustin shook his head. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Hey, whoa, did you not get it on purpose?”
“Not exactly.”
Six foot four of possessive, protective male rose. “Did someone

mark you against your will?” Mitch would hunt them down and beat
them with their own arms.

“Whoa, easy, tiger.” Dustin lifted his hand. “No one marked me

against my will. I lost a bet.”

“You what?” Mitch relaxed a skosh once he realized his love

hadn’t been held down and forcefully tattooed. He thought the puppy
was cuter than hell, but not if it held bad memories for Dustin.

“It was after high school graduation, and me and my buddy

wanted to get tattoos. For the life of me, I can’t remember why. And
then we both wanted the same artwork, but we didn’t want to be twins
about it, so whoever lost the coin toss had to get something else that
we both picked out.”

“The puppy.”
“Yep.”
“Aw, it really is cute.”
“Yeah.” Dustin turned. “Please don’t tell everyone about this.”
“I won’t.” Mitch hugged him hard. “Your puppy butt is safe with

me.”

Dustin groaned. “I knew you were going to have a field day with

this.”

“Are you mad?”
“Not really.” Dustin’s voice was muffled by Mitch’s chest. “It is

funny. And it is cute. And I am proud to be your puppy boy.”

Mitch angled him up for a kiss that got totally out of control

within seconds. “Damn, but we’ve got the major hots for each other.”

“I’ve noticed that.”
“Into the shower with you.” Mitch gently pushed Dustin toward

the shower. “I’ll go after, and then we will have a blast trying to figure
out how to sleep in that bed together.”

Wide Receiver

Chapter 7

Dustin was bleary eyed with sated lust. Not ever in his life had he

felt this good. Mitch had claimed him. With Dustin’s permission. And
that marking behavior had pushed every hot button Dustin had. Hell,
Mitch had awakened everything Dustin had tried to keep buried so
desperately it was almost a tragedy. Dustin’s heart was so raw it
almost bled with shame.

Dustin stopped washing himself and peered through the shower

curtain at the man he loved. Dustin had picked so well. So wisely.
Mitch was everything and more than Dustin could ever want.

And yet there was the lie between them.
Dustin couldn’t accept Mitch’s love when Dustin held the truth

back like a nasty hand. It wasn’t fair for Mitch to fall in love with him
when he was out to do him a grave disservice. Mitch’s love wouldn’t
be true until he knew Dustin completely. And that included his
wrongdoings.

“Dustin?” Mitch’s voice was so heartbreakingly tender. “You

okay in there?”

“Yeah. Almost done.” Dustin gave himself a good scrubbing and

decided in that moment he had to put this right before he could go any
further with Mitch. A man like Mitch deserved to have his honesty
met with honesty. And the only way Dustin could do that was to go
back to Twin Pines, find Phillip Remson, and confess to everything.

Just thinking about that made Dustin’s shoulders tighten up to his

ears, but it was the right thing to do. Once he’d told Mr. Remson, then
Dustin would find Mitch, tell him the same tale, and hope with all the
hope in the world that Mitch would still want to be together.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

After shutting off the water, Dustin dried himself with a towel that

was surprisingly fluffy and new.

“Here, let me help.”
Dustin sidestepped him. “I know what your version of helping

entails, mister.” Dustin pointed at the shower. “Get in there and get
clean.”

“Yes, sir.” Mitch saluted. “Hey, wait, just one thing.”
“What?”
Mitch hooked his finger in the towel Dustin had slung around his

waist.

“I just want you to know that I...really love what we did.”
Dustin heard the other message behind Mitch’s words, and he

understood why he’d hesitated to state his heart so plainly. In a way,
Dustin was relieved. He didn’t want Mitch to say that he loved him
when there was a big lie between them. Once this was all over and put
to bed, Dustin was going to scream from the rooftops how much he
loved Mitch. But for now, Dustin lifted up on his toes, kissed Mitch
softly on the lips, then whispered, “I love what we did, too.”

Grinning, Mitch went off to shower.
By the time he finished, Dustin was long gone.

* * * *

The night wasn’t too cold, and hitching his way back to Twin

Pines wasn’t that arduous. Dustin had hitched a lot in his hometown.
It was safer than getting in a car with one of his drunk or high parents.
This late at night it was mostly big rigs, and the guys were happy to
exchange some talk for a ride. Staying awake on a long haul was a
bitch, so having a good conversationalist made the miles roll by.
Dustin could talk about anything, and the trucker who picked him up
was an absolute fishing fanatic.

They talked rods, reels, the delicate art of hand tying fishing lures,

and where the best fishing in Colorado was. Fishing wasn’t Dustin’s

Wide Receiver

hobby, but he really could talk about anything.

Before he knew it, Dustin was back in Twin Pines. Getting a ride

up to Phillip Remson’s palatial estate was going to be a bit more
difficult. Since it wasn’t heavily traveled, hitching up to his house was
not the best idea, and that might leave him stranded at the top. Worse,
it was now almost midnight, which wasn’t the best time to go calling,
but Dustin couldn’t wait. He had to tell Mr. Remson tonight before he
lost his nerve. Moreover, Dustin had to tell Mr. Remson before the
man who had tricked him into this got wind of what he was doing. It
was creepy how that man knew things that he shouldn’t.

The dorms were pretty quiet since it was Saturday night. Most

guys did their partying away from the campus so those who were
around could study. Dustin asked the few guys there for a ride, but
most of them didn’t have wheels. In a little town like Twin Pines, cars
were pretty much unnecessary. Unless you wanted to get to the top of
a very tall hill.

Realizing he had no other choice, Dustin called information, got

Phillip’s number, and called. The man who answered had to be his
butler. He had a posh accent and was unfailingly polite. When the
butler suggested that Dustin call back in the morning, Dustin blurted,
“Please. This simply can’t wait. I have to talk to Mr. Remson tonight.
There is something he simply must know. There is someone out to
hurt him, and I don’t want him hurt.”

The butler had sighed, but something about Dustin’s tone or his

urgency compelled him to get his boss. After what seemed forever but
was probably only a matter of minutes, the butler was back, informing
Dustin that a car would be sent to the campus.

Thanking him profusely, Dustin hung up the phone, hiked up his

battered backpack, and then went out to the parking lot to wait. The
night was cold, and the skies were clear. He wasn’t sure when the next
snowstorm was coming, but certainly, it wasn’t coming tonight.

A sleek town car pulled into the lot. Before Dustin could grasp the

latch and let himself in, the driver stepped out and opened the door for

Anitra Lynn McLeod

him.

Dustin slipped into luxury unlike anything he’d ever seen outside

of a movie. Creamy leather seats, thick wool carpeting, tinted glass
windows, and a little bar made the back of the car a perfect little party
place. But Dustin didn’t feel like celebrating. Worried that he would
mar the spectacular opulence, Dustin gingerly settled himself on the
bench seat, put on his seat belt, then placed his backpack and his
hands in his lap.

All the way up the winding mountain road, Dustin rehearsed what

he was going to say. He was afraid as soon as he saw Mr. Remson he
was either going to spew everything out in one monstrous chunk or
become too terrified to speak at all. From what he’d heard around
school, Mr. Remson was exceedingly kind, well spoken, and almost
genteel. Single-handedly, Phillip Remson had revived the college and
brought football to Twin Pines. Well, apparently his father had
endowed the college. Dustin was pretty sure it was Phillip Remson Jr.
who had financed the Grizzlies.

Dustin had a feeling after he told him what had been going on

behind his back, Mr. Remson might just make him walk back down
rather than allow him to enjoy the plush luxury of his car for one more
second.

Eventually, they came to the top of the hill and entered the

sweeping driveway. The driver stopped so that Dustin’s door would
open right at the walk that led up to the front door. Rather than wait
for the driver to come all the way around to the back end of the car,
Dustin let himself out and thanked him.

The car pulled away. Dustin swallowed the lump in his throat and

walked up to Phillip Remson’s front door. Wow. The carved-wood
and stained-glass door was a work of art. Beside the two massive
center panels that opened were two smaller panels, but together, all
four of them showed a panoramic scene. It was a bear in the woods.
The artwork was simple, but something about the rendering touched
Dustin and almost brought tears to his eyes. Or perhaps he was simply

Wide Receiver

emotional over what he’d come here to do.

Tentatively he pressed the bell, and something classy jingled

inside the house. From his vantage point, all Dustin could see was the
foyer, but that alone was bigger than the trailer he’d grown up in.

A tall man in black came, and Dustin guessed he was the butler.

He granted him entrance and offered to take Dustin’s coat and bag,
which he almost didn’t give, and then he realized the butler probably
wanted to slyly check him for weapons. Dustin thought his repeatedly
repaired backpack and decades-old coat looked pathetically shabby in
the man’s manicured hands. True to his station, he didn’t sneer or
anything. He simply whisked the articles into a closet then ushered
Dustin through the house to what he guessed was a parlor.

A fire roared in the back of the room, casting dancing, orange light

over everything. Dustin figured with a fire like that going, he hadn’t
woken the man up. That was good. He really didn’t want to do this if
the man was already in a bad mood. From behind a large desk, a tall
and exceedingly handsome man rose. He was dressed in business
attire, but his tie was loose, and his jacket was off, placed over the
back of the chair he had been sitting in. If Dustin picked one word to
describe him, it would be elegant.

“I’m Phillip Remson.” He moved around the edge of the desk and

took Dustin’s hand. His handshake was firm and solid.

“I’m Dustin Brooks.”
“Please have a seat.” Phillip nodded to one of several chairs that

created a semicircle around the massive stone fireplace.

Dustin settled into a chair that was so comfortable he could fall

asleep in it, but for the fact he was so tense he almost jumped right out
of his skin.

“Would you like something to drink or eat?”
“No, thank you.” Dustin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I...”

He trailed off because he didn’t know where to start.

“Wilkins mentioned that you had something of vital importance to

tell me.”

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Dustin nodded.
“Before you begin, I insist you take a deep breath. Again, I would

feel better if you had something to eat and drink. You are terribly
tense, exceedingly pale, and your eyes are so enormous they might
just swallow your face.”

“I can’t take your hospitality, not when I’ve been helping a man to

destroy you.”

Phillip’s emerald-green eyes narrowed. “Be that as it may, I insist

you eat first.” Phillip turned to his butler, who was waiting patiently in
the doorway. “Please bring young Master Brooks something to eat and
drink.”

“As you wish, sir.”
Rather than sit in the chair next to him, Phillip moved to a table

covered with decorative glass bottles. He selected one, poured two
tiny glasses, and then returned to where Dustin was sitting rigidly in
his chair.

“Drink this.”
Dustin didn’t argue. He waited, though, to see how Phillip

consumed the liquid. When he tossed it back, Dustin mimicked him.
As the liquor flowed down his throat, the tension flowed right out of
his body.

“There. Now we are not so terrified, are we?”
“Not so much.” Dustin liked the way Mr. Remson spoke. He was

refined and looked almost smug, but for the warmth in his eyes and
his unfailing politeness.

After they’d had their quick drink, Mr. Remson returned the

glasses to the table and settled across from Dustin.

Shortly, his butler entered with what looked like the fanciest ham

sandwich in the world and a glass of milk on a little silver tray. He
placed the tray next to Dustin’s chair, bowed, and departed.

Mr. Remson waved off all Dustin’s efforts to speak until he’d

eaten the sandwich and polished off the milk. Dustin couldn’t
remember the last time he ate something that wasn’t a leftover from

Wide Receiver

the school cafeteria. It was against the rules, but Dustin hung around
where the trays were bussed and managed to snag enough to keep
body and soul together. Every time he did it, he prayed to God no one
would see him since he was a bare step up from eating directly out of
the garbage.

“Now we can speak at our leisure.” Phillip Remson settled into his

chair. “Tell me what is troubling you because, clearly, you are a
deeply troubled young man.”

“It shows?”
“It does, indeed.” Phillip sighed. “You’ve been doing something

that you know is wrong, and obviously, you don’t want to continue
doing whatever it is, but you don’t know how to stop.”

Dustin’s jaw dropped so fast it almost fell off his face. How had

Mr. Remson gleaned all of that just from Dustin’s appearance?

“Ah, I can see you are most surprised, but you shouldn’t be. I am

not a prognosticator by any stretch. I am simply a most keen
observer.”

“I’ve been helping someone to bring you down.”
“Have you?” Phillip sounded mildly curious and slightly amused.
“Well, I was supposed to, but I couldn’t. But he said if I didn’t do

what he wanted, he was going to make my life hell, and I’d rather that
than hurt someone like you.”

“I feel I have stepped into the middle of the play.” Phillip settled

in as if for a long story. “Start at the beginning, young Master Brooks,
and tell me everything.”

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Chapter 8

Feeling on top of the world, Mitch stepped out of the shower and

tumbled right down into hell. Dustin was gone. For a moment, Mitch
thought Dustin was hiding behind the bed, but no. His backpack, his
shirt, his shoes and socks, and the sweats that Mitch had so carefully
folded—gone. Along with Dustin. Besides the key on the desk, the
only things Dustin had left were in the garbage. And what he’d left
said it all. Dustin’s ripped-up underwear and ruined jeans were stuffed
into the little metal waste can by the desk.

Since there was no note, all Mitch could do was settle himself on

the edge of the bed—the bed where he’d claimed the man he
absolutely thought he would spend the rest of his life with—and try to
get a message from what Dustin had left. That he’d left the key said he
wasn’t coming back, but nothing spoke more loudly than the ruined
clothing. Mitch had embarrassed Dustin by destroying what few
things he had, and Dustin had retaliated by taking Mitch’s heart.

To Mitch, it seemed a monstrously unfair exchange, but maybe it

didn’t to Dustin. Looking back over the day, using his eidetic
memory, Mitch realized Dustin had very little. Each painfully obvious
clue that flashed in his mind made him wince because he should have
noticed earlier, and he had noticed, but he hadn’t put it all together the
way he was now.

Mitch remembered looking at Dustin’s beat-up backpack and

noticing how often it had been mended. Dustin’s jacket was clean, but
old. His glasses slipped because they were too big for his face. The
lenses were scratched, and Dustin squinted through them anyway, so
obviously the prescription wasn’t quite right. More likely than not,

Wide Receiver

Dustin had found the best pair of glasses he could at a thrift store and
used them even though they weren’t what he really needed. And the
last and most telling straw—Dustin’s underwear and jeans had been
clean but cheap. Very cheap. They had obviously been bought at one
of those giant chain department stores. And here came too-strong-for-
his-own-good Mitch Gay who practically destroyed what little Dustin
had in two minutes.

“I really am the biggest fucking asshole in the universe,” Mitch

reminded himself.

Mitch wondered if he’d taken Dustin’s virginity with the same

utter lack of care or finesse. His mind replayed that moment when
they’d come together, but he saw only welcoming bliss. The look in
Dustin’s eyes as he lay below him had been sizzling hot. The sounds
that he’d made had been eager. The way he’d literally wrapped
himself around Mitch like they belonged together...all of that was
faked?

“Dude should switch his major to theater arts.”
Or maybe he’d overwhelmed Dustin. Claiming him so thoroughly

and using the L word so liberally might have scared the crap out of
him. Mitch realized they’d just met today. It was like a slap to the
face. Intellectually, he knew that they’d only known one another
briefly, but emotionally, it had felt like he’d known Dustin for just
about forever. Like, somehow, he’d always known Dustin and had
simply forgotten until today. As strange as that was, it did help to
explain how Mitch could have fallen in love so fast and so furious.
But just because Mitch had fallen head over heels didn’t mean Dustin
had, too. Maybe all Dustin wanted was to get rid of his virginity with
a hot football player and then go and hook up with other guys. If he
was shy before, he probably wouldn’t be now, not after what they had
done.

Most people said they would love to have Mitch’s amazing

memory, but they would discover, much as he had, that at times
remembering sights, sounds, smells—everything that happened—was

Anitra Lynn McLeod

more curse than blessing. Mitch sifted through the entire day and
evening with Dustin, looking for clues, desperately searching for
something that would tell him what the hell happened in the tiny
increment of time while he’d been in the shower.

Mitch came up empty.
There had been hesitation in Dustin, and sometimes his eyes just

looked haunted. But by what?

And then it hit. Realization smacked Mitch upside the head. What

if Dustin knew how Mitch made his extra money? What if he’d just
wanted to score with him because he was one of the most downloaded
guys on Hot Jocks? What if those too-big glasses actually hid a
camera, and now that he’d gotten the shot he needed he was on his
way to sell them?

Almost as soon as he thought the notion, Mitch dismissed it. He

hit on Dustin first, not the other way around. Mitch was the one who
manhandled Dustin into sitting next to him on the bus, not the other
way around. He’s the one who came knocking on Dustin’s door
knowing that he’d be in here alone and Mitch could finagle his sweats
right back off.

Mitch gripped his fist into the flimsy bedcovers. The room

smelled like sex and cheap bath soap, but it was the smell of Dustin
that drove him to madness. Mitch had thought that Dustin had
forgiven him for the mistake he’d made. Honestly, he wasn’t trying to
ruin anything. It was just that he was exceptionally strong and
Dustin’s clothing had been almost tragically cheap. Mitch had done
his best to repair the damage for now. When they got back to Twin
Pines, Mitch was planning on taking Dustin shopping for underwear
and a new pair of jeans. But maybe Dustin didn’t believe him. Maybe
Dustin had been hurt just one time too many. Maybe Dustin was
going to hurt him first before Mitch could hurt him worse.

“Or maybe I need to find him and ask him what the fuck?” Mitch

liked that idea a whole lot, but his gut was telling him that Dustin
wasn’t hiding in the bus or in one of the other rooms. He was gone.

Wide Receiver

Mitch knew it as certainly as he knew his own name.

While he was sitting there, contemplating the meaning behind

Dustin’s disappearance and the ruined clothing, Mitch heard a group
of guys walk by. They were boisterous and filled with the excitement
that always seemed to strike the night before a game. When Mitch
realized they were walking away from the motel and not toward it, he
decided to join them. If Dustin didn’t want him, Mitch wasn’t going
to sit around being a sad sack for someone who didn’t give a crap.

In less than a minute, Mitch was dressed and out the door. The

group of guys was just crossing Main Street when he caught up to
them.

“Mitch, my man!” Derek Simmons gave him a hearty sideways

hug. “Decided to join us for the late-night meal?”

“Is that the plan?”
“Yep.” Derek let off him to pounce on his boyfriend, Brandon

Sanders, who playfully ducked, and then Brandon leapt on Derek’s
back. Bouncing him into a more comfortable position, almost like a
backpack, Derek added, “There were too many guys earlier, so some
of us decided to wait.”

“Was that why we waited?” Brandon considered then climbed

down off Derek’s back. “I thought it was because some of us had to
take showers after the bus ride?”

There was a loud chorus of woo from all the guys in the group,

and Mitch realized he and Dustin weren’t the only ones who had
hooked up on the bus. No wonder no one was paying attention to
them. They were all busy getting their own freak on. The thought
made him grin until he remembered Dustin had abandoned him
without a word of explanation.

“Where are we headed?” Mitch shoved his hands deeper into his

coat. The night was perfectly clear and almost painfully cold. That, in
turn, made him wonder where Dustin was and if he was warm. That
thin jacket of his wouldn’t protect him in this—Mitch forcefully cut
himself off from worrying about Dustin. His health wasn’t his

Anitra Lynn McLeod

problem. Ah, who was he kidding? Mitch had never been good at
hardening his heart.

“We’re gonna hit the pizza place.”
“Sounds good.” Mitch joined right in on the conversation about

the ass kicking they intended to deliver on the gridiron tomorrow.
There was nothing Mitch enjoyed more than trash talking the other
team to build up his team’s spirit. Tonight, it served the dual purpose
of pumping them up and allowing him to blot out Dustin from his
mind.

The pizza place was warm, mostly empty of people, but filled with

the smell of hot cheese and cold beer. As a group, they snagged the
enormous corner booth, ordered four different pies and three pitchers
of beer.

By his third beer, Mitch realized he was quite literally trying to

drown his sorrows. As much as he wanted to forget Dustin, he wanted
to be in prime shape for his team tomorrow, so he forwent anymore
beer. Like all the guys, he ate his share of pizza, and then they ordered
brownies, which were possibly the best brownies Mitch had ever had.

Feeling almost too full, they paid their tab, left a generous tip, then

walked back to the motel. As Mitch passed Dustin’s room, his heart
gave a little pull, but he knew he wasn’t in there. The room key had
been left on the desk, and that’s right where Mitch had left it, too.

Mitch went to his assigned room, slipped into some sweats, tossed

himself into bed, and proceeded to stare at the ceiling for a good hour
before sleep finally came and pulled him in.

* * * *

They were awakened by Dylan Peterson banging on the door and

telling them to get their shit together and get in the bus within twenty
minutes.

Everyone was on the bus in time.
First they went and had breakfast, and then they piled back on the

Wide Receiver

bus to drive over to the school where they filed out and suited up.

While they ate breakfast, Danny Jones, the equipment manager,

was already at the school unloading their gear. Basically, all Mitch
and his teammates had to do was show up, get dressed, and go. Danny
ran their gear so slick he made their lives easy.

And thinking of Danny sparked another memory. That curious

way Danny had peeked around the seat edge to smile at Mitch
replayed in his mind. What was that secretive little grin of Danny’s all
about? Had he known Mitch and Dustin were fooling around? How
could he when he was almost in the center of the seats? Moreover,
why in the world would Danny care one way or the other? The
curiosity gnawed at Mitch and gave his brain something to focus on
other than Dustin.

Mitch had lucked out and suffered no ill effects from his slight

overconsumption the night before. His heart still hurt, his emotions
were a jumble, but his body was ready. All he had to do was get his
head in the game. That usually happened automatically when he was
decked in his gear and saw the opposing team. Just the thought of
taking his aggressions out on the Lone Pine Wolves put him in a fine
mood.

“Damn, dude, you look ready to kill!” Kyle Water clapped him on

the back. Everyone called him Water because the man did run deep at
times.

“I am!” As Mitch got on the bus, his gaze went to the backseat,

and he quickly looked away. Mitch sat down next to Water, who
seemed as in need of distraction as Mitch did, so they yakked it up all
the way to the school and all while they were gearing up in the locker
room.

“Whoa, dude.” Water looked down, and Mitch followed his gaze.
“Oh, yeah, that.” A simultaneous burst of pride and sadness made

Mitch unsure how he actually felt.

“Yeah, that.” Water leaned near. “Who the fuck wrote on your

dick?”

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“It was a joke that got a little out of hand.”
Water laughed. “What does it say?”
“Property of Dustin Brooks.”
“Who is that?” Kyle glanced around the locker room.
“He isn’t a member of the team.”
“Oh.” Obviously sensing Mitch’s reluctance to talk, Water backed

off. The man did run deep, but he also ran wise. He wasn’t going to
push Mitch anywhere he clearly didn’t want to go. Water wanted his
head in the game, and that was right where Mitch was determined to
get.

As he dressed, Mitch thought about the writing on his dick and

that as upset and confused as he was, Mitch was still determined to
honor the deal he’d struck with Dustin. Until that writing wore off,
Mitch wasn’t doing anything with his dick until Dustin gave him
permission.

A very snarky idea filled his head. Mitch imagined himself ready

to penetrate another guy and calling Dustin for permission, just to rub
it in. But the idea fell apart effortlessly since there wasn’t anyone
Mitch wanted to put his dick in except Dustin. Moreover, Mitch
couldn’t call Dustin when he had no cell phone. Which was another
clear indicator that Dustin lived on next to nothing because damn near
everyone had a cell phone nowadays.

“Was that what drove him away?”
“What?” Water asked.
“Nothing. Sorry. I’m running plays in my head.”
“Good man.” Water clapped him on the back then left for a more

spacious area to put on his shoulder pads.

Mitch pondered this new idea while he layered himself in gear.

Was Dustin so mortified by his shabby state he’d bailed rather than
explain? But that didn’t make sense. Mitch hadn’t needled him or
made any overtures about money or anything remotely close. Well,
except for offering to replace the underwear and jeans he’d ruined.

“Stop!” Mitch snarled at himself. “You’re tying yourself up in

Wide Receiver

knots over something that you have no control over!”

“Yeah, you give yourself what for!” Derek Simmons bellowed

from the other side of the lockers.

“Blow me, Derek!” Mitch shouted over the row of lockers that

separated them.

“Whip it out, Mitch!” Derek returned.
“Hey!” Brandon interjected. “You’re not blowing anyone but me!”
“All of you shut the hell up, gear up, and get out on the fucking

field for warm-up!” Coach’s snarling baritone effectively ended all the
banter in the locker room.

On his way out to the field, Derek came up behind him. “So did

you get yourself in line?”

“I think so.” Mitch grinned. “Still willing to go down if I whip it

out?”

“Naw. I’m not into autoerotic asphyxiation.”
Up went Mitch’s eyebrows as the joke went right over his head.
“Everyone knows you have the biggest dick on the team,” Derek

said. “Sucking your cock pretty much guarantees the person doing the
sucking will choke.”

“Fuck.” Mitch chuckled and shook his head. “When did everyone

compare dick sizes?”

“Every time we’re naked in the shower,” Derek said, flicking his

platinum-blond hair out of his eyes. “Hello? It’s a group of guys!
What do you think everyone is checking each other out for—irregular
moles? We’re dudes, not dermatologists!”

Mitch really hadn’t given it much thought.
“Yeah, and with the head of your dick bouncing between your

knees, you obviously won the big dick award.” Derek slapped Mitch’s
back.

“Shit!” Mitch shook his head. “It’s big, but it does not bounce

between my knees.”

“Okay, maybe not that long, but close.”
And then the conversation got lost as they hit the field.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Warming up kept Mitch’s mind fully occupied, and then the game

was on.

As a wide receiver, Mitch was part of the offense, and he loved

the guys he played with. Brandon Sanders as the quarterback and
Derek Simmons as the center worked together with a synchronicity
that was almost telepathic. Running back Kyle Water was exactly
where he needed to be, and he made Mitch’s job as the wide receiver
even easier.

Once the game was on, all thoughts but for the current play left

Mitch’s mind. They were cleaning up against the Lone Pine Wolves.
Mitch couldn’t remember his teammates ever meshing quite like this.
It was almost uncanny. And then he saw the tight end, Ryan Stone,
wave to someone in the stands.

Since this was an away game that was four hours from Twin

Pines, the bulk of the fan turnout was firmly seated in the home
team’s bleachers. Only a handful of people were seated in the
bleachers for the Grizzlies.

Mitch looked over and up and saw a polished gentlemen waving

back at Ryan. And then his eyes settled on the guy sitting next to him.
There was no mistaking that battered coat or those old-fashioned
glasses.

Dustin Brooks.
Mitch’s jaw dropped about a foot, and a series of questions hit his

brain all at once.

What the fuck was Dustin doing watching the game after leaving

last night? Who was that elegant man he was sitting with, and why
had he been waving at Ryan Stone? A crazy kind of impotent rage
built in Mitch. He wanted to stomp his way up those wooden steps
and demand answers.

But the game was on.
Turning his confusion into energy, Mitch ran down the field with a

burst of speed. When the quarterback threw him a pass, Mitch caught
the football as if they were made for one another, and then he dodged

Wide Receiver

his way to a touchdown.

During the game, Mitch repeated this twice more.
“Holy shit!”
Mitch couldn’t remember who said it first, but it was repeated

throughout the game because Mitch was on fire. He ran, he caught,
and he seemed to be exactly where Brandon Sanders needed him to
be. He rushed more yards and helped in more passing strategies than
he ever had before. And each and every time Mitch did so, he looked
up into the stands to make sure Dustin was watching him.

I’m showing off for my mate.
As crazy at it seemed, that was exactly what Mitch was doing. He

wanted to impress Dustin despite his anger and confusion. Surely,
Dustin had an excuse. Surely, Dustin had a damn good reason for
letting Mitch fuck his glasses just about off and then abandoning him.
Surely, Dustin wasn’t doing anything more than sitting next to that
guy who looked like he owned the house where those snooty cologne
ads were filmed.

Each time Mitch looked up, Dustin was on his feet, cheering.
Had everything Mitch thought been wrong?
Had Dustin left for a reason that maybe Mitch hadn’t considered?

What if Dustin had simply been overwhelmed by everything and
sought the advice of—his father? Mitch considered the stylish man
Dustin was seated next to. He was far away, but still, Mitch didn’t see
one lick of resemblance. And if that was his dad, it begged the
question of why was an obviously wealthy man withholding the most
basic needs from his son? But the idea that they weren’t father and
son begged only more questions.

Play started up again, and Mitch tried to get his head in the game,

but he looked up at Dustin one last time.

Through the bright sunshiny day, their eyes met, held, and Mitch

felt something like an explanation flowing into him. And then
everything went black.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Chapter 9

“I thought I’d won a scholarship to Twin Pines College.”
Phillip Remson frowned delicately.
“No, you don’t know me. I know now that I didn’t get a

scholarship. I know now that you personally review every applicant. I
know now that I got swindled, or suckered, or whatever you want to
call it.” Dustin hung his head.

“Mr. Brooks, please forgive the rather indelicate nature of this

question, but how old are you?”

“I’m eighteen.”
“You are terribly young.” Phillip’s sigh drew Dustin’s gaze.

“Please stop beating yourself up for thinking you should have seen a
con artist coming.”

“You would have.”
Phillip smiled without malice or superiority. “I’m quite a bit older

than you are. With age comes experience.”

At best, Phillip Remson seemed maybe twice as old as Dustin

was. However, he spoke as if he were decades older.

“What I got was a cash deposit into my bank account that covered

my first semester of tuition and books.” Dustin straightened in his
chair. Bound as he was to tell this story, he was going to get it out,
and be straight, and then take whatever punishment was coming to
him. “I figured I could get a job to cover the rest. I worked all summer
and saved up to pay the dorm cost, but I couldn’t swing the cafeteria.
Anyway, I thought the whole thing was legitimate until the man who
gave me the supposed scholarship contacted me once I was in school.”

Dustin looked up and saw that Phillip’s expression was concerned,

Wide Receiver

but not dismissive. So he took a deep breath and continued. “He told
me that I could earn the money I needed to buy a food card for the
cafeteria and stop—” Dustin cut himself off, but then thought he
should tell Mr. Remson everything, even the con man’s creepy way of
knowing things he shouldn’t. “He said if I did what he asked of me, I
could afford a cafeteria card, and I wouldn’t have to eat off the bused
trays.” Dustin couldn’t bear to look up and see horror or pity or a
combination of both in Phillip’s eyes. So he kept his attention on his
shoes.

Mr. Remson patted Dustin’s knee then softly said, “There is no

shame in doing what you had to do to survive, young Master Brooks.”

“I was practically eating out of the garbage.”
“Is that what he told you?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes.” It seemed disrespectful to say “yeah” to Mr.

Remson.

Rushing away from any further discussion of that, Dustin said,

“He said there were a few things he wanted me to do for him.” Dustin
wasn’t looking directly at Phillip, but he heard him tighten up almost
imperceptibly, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Nothing major, he just wanted me to ask some questions.”

Phillip sighed.
Dustin looked up.
“Forgive me, I feared he had asked sexual favors of you.”
“Gross, no way! I would have puked if he had. He’s way older

than me, and his lips are the color of old veal.” Dustin shut his gob
since Mr. Remson wasn’t interested in that. “Once I heard the
questions, I knew what he was digging for. He wanted me to help him
prove that you only gave scholarships to homosexuals, good football
players, or both.”

Phillip startled forward. Clearly, it was the last thing he had

expected to hear.

“He said that he wanted proof you were deliberately giving gay

guys scholarships. He also wanted proof that you were giving

Anitra Lynn McLeod

scholarships to ringers to create your own powerhouse football team.”

“And what was my reason for doing all of this?” Phillip asked,

sounding more surprised than angry.

“He said you were looking to make money on the team, but I

didn’t see how, unless you were betting in private.” Dustin looked
around at Phillip’s home. If Phillip was a betting man, he obviously
could afford to fly to Atlanta, Las Vegas, or wherever high-flying
gamblers went to bet. “Oh, yeah, he also said that you were looking
for a lover.” Dustin looked down at his shoes. “He said you liked
young men. He said if I could maybe get you to—to—” Dustin
couldn’t finish that thought. Phillip Remson had been solicitous, kind,
but not the least bit inappropriate. Even his hand on Dustin’s knee had
been concerned, not sexual. That Xavier thought Dustin could
somehow maneuver a man like Phillip Remson into the sack was
ludicrous.

Phillip did the last thing Dustin would have ever expected. Phillip

laughed.

“I don’t understand.” Dustin felt beyond foolish. Here he thought

someone was trying to hurt an innocent man, and he’d been tormented
for weeks, only to find out the man in question thought the whole
scenario was hilarious.

“Forgive me, young Master Brooks. I am cruel to laugh when you

are so clearly torn asunder by this, but I assure you, I am not laughing
at your misery. Truly I am not. I believe that this man had you most
thoroughly wrapped up in torment, for that is what his ilk is prone to
do.” Phillip reached out and placed his hand on Dustin’s knee. “I
forgive you for anything you did under his behest.”

“But you don’t even know—”
“I know that you did what you had to do in order to survive.”

Phillip patted him affectionately and withdrew his hand.

“How do you know that? You don’t even know me.”
“I have eyes, and I can see that you obviously have struggled for

every little thing you have. Your shoelaces are three times tied, your

Wide Receiver

glasses are far too big, and your hair is probably longer than you
would like it to be.”

Dustin was mortified. He thought he’d hidden his desperate

financial state so much better. God. Mitch with his eidetic memory
must have noticed all this as well! Clearly he’d taken pity on him by
claiming him. Was that all that was? Sadness and sorrow for the
lonely little puppy boy?

“I’m also certain that if you refused to do what he wished, he

would have harmed you in some way.”

Dustin nodded glumly. “He said he would tell everyone I

blackmailed him. That we were having a relationship. With the money
in my account, and no mention of a scholarship, he could have said
that money was for anything. Regardless of what he said, there would
be an investigation, and I’d be dragged into the light and then my
family—” Dustin had worked endlessly to break away from his father
and mother. The thought of being connected with them was terrifying
and compelled him to do just about anything to keep them buried in
his past.

“I’m not going to ask about your family as it’s clear to me the

association with them is motive enough for you to do what this man
demanded.”

“I thought I could, but you never did anything to me, and all the

guys who had scholarships were really good guys. They studied hard,
and they weren’t just taking a gift and giving nothing back. They all
really appreciate what you’ve done for them.” Dustin sighed. “Had I
known this was all a scheme, I would have applied for a real
scholarship, like Mitch.”

“All is not lost.” Phillip eased back in his chair. “This man,

describe his appearance to me.”

Dustin thought of Mitch, but realized Mr. Remson was talking

about the man who had given Dustin the faux scholarship. “I only saw
him in person once, but he was dressed very well, if a bit old-
fashioned. Dark trousers and a wool coat that had a lot of buttons. He

Anitra Lynn McLeod

was tall. Well, taller than me, and wider than me, but he had these odd
muttonchop sideburns, and his lips were oddly colored.”

Phillip nodded. “Xavier.”
“You know him?”
“I do, indeed.”
“Why does he hate you so much?” Dustin had never met a man

who despised another so thoroughly.

“I had something Xavier desperately wanted. Rather than wait for

his chance, as I now believe would have come to him in time, he
chose to be selfish. He refused to help others, thinking this would
hurry his chance at happiness along. All Xavier did was spread his
misery to others.”

“I don’t understand.”
“I know. And I am in a pickle, for I cannot in good conscience

intimate details to you. The only thing I can tell you is that Xavier is
dead.”

Dustin was so shocked he leaned forward hard enough to send his

glasses flying.

Phillip plucked them out of midair and handed them back.

Curious. Mitch had done the exact same thing in almost the exact
same way.

“Lest you think I am some kind of monster, I must be clear that

Xavier died in a hiking accident, and not at my hand.”

“He’s dead?” Dustin was relieved, and yet he felt guilty for being

glad that the man who had plagued him was deceased.

“A man like Xavier is not to be mourned. He took great pleasure

in hurting innocents. And you, young Master Brooks, are almost
painfully innocent.”

Not anymore, Dustin thought. Not after what he’d done with

Mitch.

Phillip stood. “But the tale of the sad and twisted Xavier is a story

for another day.” He extended his hand.

Dustin peered at his hand. “Oh, right, I guess I should go. Thank

Wide Receiver

you for hearing me out and—”

“Go? Why no, my dear Master Brooks. I have mistakenly given

you liquor. I had no idea you were under twenty-one, so I shall give
you a room for the night.”

Just the thought of sleeping in a house like this spun Dustin’s

head. “I can’t.” It was an automatic refusal. All his life he’d feared
taking handouts. His encounter with Xavier had only reinforced
Dustin’s innate fear of a friendly hand turning foul.

“Why?”
I don’t deserve anything this fine popped into his head, and the

damn broken record of his brain echoed it three times, but instead,
Dustin whispered, “I was out to do you wrong, and now you think I
should accept your hospitality?”

“Yes, I think you should.”
Dustin sat staring at Phillip’s hand for so long he withdrew and

settled back in the chair across from him.

“Dustin. May I call you Dustin?”
“Yes, please.”
“You may call me Phillip.”
Dustin nodded.
“Did you actually do anything that Xavier wanted you to do?”
“No, but I was—”
“The answer is no. You may have considered doing those things,

you may have even figured out a way to do those things, but in the
end, you did not do those things. You did not do them because you
have a strong moral compass. You know right from wrong. Is that
correct?”

“I got on the bus, but instead of asking questions, I—” Dustin’s

eyes got big, he felt a blush burn his face, and he hung his head so fast
his glasses flew off. They landed on the floor by Phillip’s feet. Dustin
had been on the verge of telling Phillip Remson that he’d been too
busy fooling around on the bus to do Xavier’s dirty work!

After retrieving his glasses from the floor, Phillip offered them

Anitra Lynn McLeod

out, and Dustin slipped them back on. He couldn’t look at the man.
He had a feeling Phillip knew what he’d been doing on the bus. How
he knew, Dustin didn’t have a clue, but Phillip knew.

“Did you meet someone on the bus?” Phillip’s voice was very low

and quiet. He asked as if he expected Dustin not to answer.

“Yeah. I mean, yes. I met someone. And I really like him.” Like

wasn’t the right word, but Dustin couldn’t think of that other L word
in connection with Mitch until he’d cleaned all of this up.

“Good.”
Dustin looked up. Judging by Phillip’s reaction, Dustin was free

and clear now to scream his love for Mitch from the rooftops, just as
he’d sworn he would.

“He’s why you rushed back here and had to tell me everything

tonight.”

It wasn’t really a question, not the way Phillip phrased it, but

Dustin nodded anyway. Why was it when Xavier knew things he
shouldn’t, it was creepy, but with Phillip, it was calming?

“Splendid. Simply splendid.”
Dustin had no idea why his relationship with Mitch, or anyone, for

that matter, would please Phillip Remson so much, but clearly it did.
Dustin couldn’t help but feel better about everything just because
Phillip had that kind of impact. If he was happy, those around him
would pick up and reflect his mood. Phillip just had that kind of
personality.

“I now doubly insist that you stay the night here so that you can

join me for an early-morning drive to Lone Pine.”

“What? Really?” Dustin just about felt like he’d won some kind of

crazy lottery where he almost did the most horrible thing, but if he
didn’t do it at the very last second, he got rewarded with everything he
ever wanted.

“I think Xavier was desperate to uncover the fact that I am dating

a student at Twin Pines, who is also a scholarship recipient and a
member of the football team.”

Wide Receiver

Dustin’s eyes went wide.
“Ryan Stone. He’s a senior and quite old enough, I assure you.”
“He’s the tight end, and he studies chemistry.”
“I see you did study up on the team.”
“I did. I thought if I knew who to ask, I could get it over with

quickly.”

“And yet you never got started.”
“No. Mitch totally distracted me.”
“Mitch Gay. The wide receiver?”
Dustin nodded. “Why do you seem surprised?”
“Surprised? No. Pleased. I think you two are quite well suited.”

Phillip offered out his hand again. “Please do not reject my hospitality
twice. I promise I offer you only a room for the night, breakfast in the
morning, and a ride to the game. I have no hidden agenda or ulterior
motive.”

With a guy like Ryan Stone sharing his bed, there was no way

Phillip would want skinny little Dustin taking his place. Ryan was big,
strong, and sexy. But every time Dustin had taken a handout, he’d
gotten hurt. Every. Single. Time.

“I am not offering a handout. I’m offering a hand up. I assure you,

the difference is profound.”

Dustin hesitated.
“I neither want nor expect anything from you in exchange.”
This time, Dustin reached out and took Phillip’s hand. His hand

was large, not as large as Mitch’s, but pretty close. His hand was also
warm while Dustin’s was sweaty, but Phillip didn’t mind. He pulled
Dustin to his feet and then let go.

“Now, would you like anything to eat?”
Dustin had a vision of entire cows and hogs dancing through his

brain, but he shook his head. “No, thank you. Probably couldn’t sleep
on a full stomach.”

“I imagine it’s a far cry better from sleeping on an empty

stomach.”

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Dustin nodded.
“How many nights have you done that?”
“Too many.”
This time, it was Phillip who nodded. “I will have Wilkins bring

something light up to your room.”

“I don’t want to be a pain.”
“I assure you, you’re not. One of my greatest joys is caring for

others, especially people who not only truly need my help, but
honestly appreciate it.”

“That sandwich was really good.”
“I shall have him make another.”
Again, Dustin had that quiver of fear that the bill would come due

for whatever kindness Phillip showed him, but just as quickly as
worry struck, it faded. Phillip wasn’t like anyone Dustin had ever met.
And it seemed quite unkind to hold Phillip accountable for the crimes
others had committed against him.

As he followed Phillip up the stairs and down the hall, Dustin

asked, “Do you live here all alone?”

“I do, but hopefully not for long. My dream is to have these rooms

filled with companions.”

Companions? Dustin wondered at the word but said nothing. It

really wasn’t his business who Phillip wanted to live with. But it was
clear he wouldn’t fill his house with a bunch of belching, farting,
groin-scratching frat boys. Still, if he filled the halls with students,
even very posh ones like Ryan Stone, the talk in the town would be
something to behold!

“This room is for you.” Phillip opened the door and turned on the

light.

“Wow.” Dustin felt like a clod. “I mean, it’s beautiful.”

Everything was decorated in shades of brown, green, and rich purple.
At first he thought the colors would clash, but they didn’t. All the
colors combined made Dustin think of high timber mountains, like the
Rocky Mountains.

Wide Receiver

“There are pajamas in the dresser there.” Phillip pointed to the

stack of drawers under the mirror. On the opposite wall was the bed.
The bed looked big enough for a party of five. Dustin couldn’t help
himself. He giggled and then blushed.

“What?” Phillip asked, leaning near as if they would share a

delightful private joke.

“The bed is big enough for the half the football team! I’m afraid

I’ll get lost in there.”

Phillip chuckled. “I’ll send in the hounds if you do.”
“You have dogs?” Dustin tensed. He’d never gotten along with

dogs, which was strange since he liked them, but they certainly didn’t
like him.

“Ah, actually, no. I’m allergic. But I thought it was rather

humorous.”

“Yeah. I mean, yes, it was.” Dustin stepped into the center of the

room and suddenly felt very small.

“You are going to be quite all right, Dustin. I assure you. I will

have Wilkins make and bring you that sandwich. Why don’t you dress
for bed? You’ll find new toiletries in the bathroom.” With that, Phillip
bid him good night and left him alone.

Dustin turned slowly around the room. The drapery and

bedclothes probably cost more than his family’s trailer. He was almost
afraid to touch anything, like somehow his touch would destroy things
this fine.

Dustin shook off the notion and went to the dresser. Just as Phillip

said, there were plenty of pajamas, and they were all in different sizes,
styles, but mostly made of silk. Dustin found his size in a simple cut
of blue silk. He disrobed, folded his clothes neatly, placed them on the
bench at the end of the bed, and then pulled the pajamas on.

“Holy moly.” Never in his life had he ever felt anything this soft,

this slinky, and this sexy. If Dustin could have any wish granted, he
wanted Mitch to see him in something like this. Dustin grinned.
Knowing Mitch, Dustin wouldn’t get to keep the sleepwear on for

Anitra Lynn McLeod

long. He was right in the middle of a pretty racy fantasy when there
was a knock at the door. Dustin shot up about three feet in the air then
remembered the butler.

Dustin let him in. He set a tray on the desk by the window, asked

if there was anything else, to which Dustin stammered no. Kindly, the
butler said if he needed anything, all he had to do was ring the buzzer
by the bed.

Nodding, Dustin said good-night and then closed the door.
He stood there for a moment, listening, but the man walked so

quietly Dustin couldn’t hear his footfalls. Dustin locked the door.
Then he felt guilty for not trusting Phillip and unlocked it. Then he
felt uncomfortable with it unlocked. Dustin realized he’d been
standing at the door debating whether to lock it or not for at least
fifteen minutes. He decided he would lock it and then unlock it before
anyone found out in the morning. That way he could sleep
comfortably, and no one would be insulted.

Once the door was locked, Dustin consumed another stunning

ham sandwich and the glass of milk. He hadn’t ever had anything so
good. He rinsed out the glass in the bathroom sink then left it inverted
on the tray so the milk wouldn’t leave a ring on the bottom of the
glass. Returning to the bathroom, he smiled at himself, checking his
teeth, then found several wrapped toothbrushes in a cup by the sink.
He took one, vowing to replace it. After flossing and brushing his
teeth, Dustin turned off the lights and crawled into bed.

As soon as his eyes closed, he pictured Mitch slowly but surely

taking his pajamas right back off. Mitch kissed every bit of flesh he
exposed, but for Dustin’s cock. That, he said, he was saving for later.
By the time Mitch got his silky pants down, Dustin was so hard he
was almost in pain, and Mitch grinned down at him, pleased with how
he’d tormented him into a state of frantic need.

Mitch parted Dustin’s legs, shoved pillows under his bottom, and

then tongue fucked him until Dustin was whimpering. Calling him his
lovely puppy, Mitch then proceeded to fuck him until his glasses flew

Wide Receiver

off. Rather than letting him put them back on, Mitch swore he would
fuck Dustin until he could see straight.

Trapped below his massive body, all Dustin could do was cling to

Mitch. His body was one long line of muscle that pounded, and thrust,
and pushed until Dustin was screaming from an orgasm that started at
his fingers and toes and rushed to the tip of his dick.

Simultaneously, Mitch exploded within the depth of his body as

Dustin blasted between their bellies. Claiming his mouth, Mitch
kissed Dustin so deeply they were practically one.

Blinking, Dustin looked around the room then felt the wetness

against his hips. Hell. He’d creamed all over his borrowed pajamas.
Mortified, he climbed out of bed, cleaned them as best he could,
grabbed a fresh pair, dressed, and then got back into bed. What the
hell was he going to do with a cum-stained pair of pajamas?

Dustin decided to take a page from Phillip’s book. He laughed.

Considering everything he had to contend with, what was essentially a
laundry issue wasn’t that big of a deal. It was unlikely Phillip would
be shocked. He was a man, too, and he and Ryan probably put cum
stains all over the house. That idea made him laugh so hard he had to
roll over onto his side to muffle the noise. Refined Phillip fornicating
like an animal with Ryan Stone. Well, Dustin thought, they were all
human after all.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, Dustin realized he’d not left a

note for anyone at the motel. For all poor Mitch knew, he’d
disappeared into the vapor. Panic bolted him up, and he almost
reached for the buzzer, but Dustin calmed when he remembered that
he and Phillip would be at the game tomorrow. Dustin could explain
everything then. Dustin just hoped like hell Mitch was as
understanding as Phillip had been.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Chapter 10

Mitch had never been so confused. He couldn’t count the number

of times he’d been tackled, since that pretty much came with his
position as a wide receiver, but he’d never been tackled to the point he
couldn’t figure out which end was up.

And then he was rolled and discovered the sky was up.
Someone he didn’t recognize was talking to him and asking him

questions, but Mitch couldn’t answer. His mouth felt full of cotton,
and his ears were packed with sand. His brain seemed to be made of
gelatin, and all the electrical circuits were going haywire. Nothing was
working the way it should. When he tried to blink, he drooled. When
he tried to speak, his fingers flexed.

After what seemed an eternity of him lying on his back, staring up

at the most beautiful blue sky he’d ever seen, a gang of guys in blue
uniforms descended on him.

Convinced they were tackling him, Mitch tried to fight them off,

but when he tried to move his arms, his face twitched. Without much
struggle, they strapped him down to a board that was under him. He
couldn’t remember how that got there. Maybe before he rolled over?
Damn. Everything was fuzzy. He couldn’t remember the
chronological order of events at all.

At that point Mitch finally got it through his thick skull that he

was injured. And pretty damn badly considering how many people
were fluttering around him like freaked out birds.

They pecked at him, talked to one another, pecked again, talked,

and all Mitch could do was lay there wondering what the fuck had hit
him.

Wide Receiver

He’d been tackled a lot. In high school, he suffered a concussion

that put him out of commission for two weeks. This felt three times as
bad as that. Worse, he couldn’t feel his right leg. He tried telling the
medical birds, but he didn’t seem to speak their language, so he gave
up. All Mitch could do was lie strapped to a board staring up at the
sky.

Eventually, the sky gave way to something with a white roof.

Mitch knew he should recognize this vehicle, but the exact word
eluded him. There was a moment where he heard a commotion around
him, and a voice managed to pierce the haze, but it was gone once the
white van swallowed him up. A bag of fluid was dangling above him,
but it didn’t fall, and then the fuzziness got fuzzier, and the last thing
Mitch remembered was wondering why he was worried about dust.

* * * *

Mitch woke up to another white ceiling, but not the same one he’d

fallen asleep to. He could hear more clearly now, but all he heard were
blips and beeps. His entire body was numb. Everything below his
chest felt heavy, almost like it was cast from cement and not flesh. His
eyes felt gritty, and his mouth tasted like...damn it. There was a really
foul word that perfectly described the flavor in his mouth, and he
couldn’t remember what the fuck it was. Fuck? No. That was close,
though.

“Shit!” Mitch cried triumphantly.
“He’s awake.”
White birds now fluttered around him, pecking and backing away.

This time Mitch didn’t fight them because this time he understood a
bit more of what they were saying, and none of it was good.
Neurological this, swelling brain that, and then a slew of things that
scared the fuck and shit out of him. Mercifully, someone injected
something into the fluid bag, and he went back to sleep.

Each time he started to surface, they put him back down. Mitch

Anitra Lynn McLeod

wasn’t certain, but he heard medically induced coma, and that made
sense to some part of his brain. But there was that issue with dust.
What the hell was that about? For the life of him he couldn’t recall
ever being concerned about keeping anything clean. Why would dust
mean anything to him? And that’s when a real ripe terror set in.
Normally, Mitch’s memory was pristine perfect. He could recall
sounds, sights, and smells with absolute faultlessness. But not now.

From very far away, he heard a voice, and someone took his hand.

There was a profound relief that he felt the hand holding his. Mitch
hadn’t been sure if he could actually still feel things anymore. The
hand that held his was a lot smaller and very warm. Mitch tried to
squeeze, but his grip was pathetically weak. How the hell could he
hang onto a football with that kind of strength?

The voice talked to him for a long time. He didn’t recognize the

person by the sound, but he heard the tears, and he was sad that
whoever it was seemed to be hurting terribly. Mitch hated to see other
people, or even animals, in pain. He was a big guy, but he knew he’d
always be a marshmallow. His mother said he wanted to fix the world,
and Mitch had certainly tried to keep his little corner of the universe
pain-free.

Again, he squeezed, but it was just as weak as before. This made

the crying worse, and then someone else came and took the crying
person away. The other person called the crying one Dustin. After
thinking on that for hours, Mitch finally understood he wasn’t worried
about dust. He was worried about Dustin. But no matter how deeply
he dug into his brain, Mitch couldn’t remember who the hell Dustin
was.

Wide Receiver

Chapter 11

“He has no idea who you are.”
Dustin gave a weary nod. “I’m aware of that, but you see, I know

who he is.”

The nurse argued against letting him in the room, and Dustin’s

patience was about to snap. He wanted to see Mitch. Every single time
he’d come to the hospital, he’d gotten the same runaround because a
different nurse was on duty.

“If you’re not family, you’re not allowed in his room.”
“All I want to do is hold his hand.”
Her muddy blue eyes peered at him over the edge of her reading

glasses. The look she gave him practically dripped with revulsion. The
very idea of one man holding another man’s hand sickened her, which
begged the question of why did someone like her go into nursing in
the first place? Weren’t nurses supposed to care about their patients?
This one seemed more concerned about the rules than Mitch’s well
being.

“Every time I’ve sat with him, his numbers have improved. Check

his chart.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she huffed, tucking back a strand of

hair so black it had to have come from a bottle. “If you’re not family,
you’re not going in, and that’s final.” She smiled victoriously,
revealing teeth so white they were almost bluish.

She stalked off, and Dustin turned away as if to leave, but he

didn’t. He waited until she’d gone off down the hall, and then Dustin
entered Mitch’s room anyway.

The first time Dustin had seen him motionless with wires and

Anitra Lynn McLeod

tubes everywhere, he’d burst into uncontrollable tears. The sight was
still just as shocking, but he held himself together. Mitch needed him
to be strong. So he was.

“I’m here, Mitch. And let me tell you, there’s a lot going on in

Twin Pines.” Dustin pulled a cheap plastic chair over to Mitch’s
bedside, settled down, and then took Mitch’s hand in his. “You feel
cold, big guy.” Dustin pulled the blankets up and tucked them around
his chest then sat back down.

Dustin told Mitch all about his day. He kept his voice light, his

comments positive. Only good news went into Mitch’s ears.

“You!” The nurse he’d argued with entered the room, her finger

pointed at him as if she would discharge it like a gun. “Get out of here
at once!”

She continued to screech at him as she pulled him away from

Mitch. Her voice was high, hysterical, and her blood pressure was
obviously hitting the stratosphere with the way her face turned
crimson. When she dislodged his hand from Mitch’s, the machines
hooked up to Mitch started blipping and bleeping like crazy.

“Please stop yelling.” Dustin took Mitch’s hand in his, and the

cacophony stopped. It was so sudden and shocking that despite her
snarling hatred, she had to take note. Another woman came in, an
administrator judging by the way she was dressed, and calmly took the
nurse out.

Dustin settled back in the chair. “Well, I guess that answers that.

You want me here.” Dustin was hoping for a hand squeeze, but
nothing happened. So he picked up where he’d left off with news of
the day, the school, the team. He kept talking long into the night.
When no one came to make him leave, Dustin decided that Phillip had
done what he said he would. Phillip was furious that Dustin wasn’t
allowed in to see Mitch. Waving his checkbook like a magic wand
made the impossible possible, and Dustin couldn’t have been more
grateful.

For once, Dustin was able to accept help without dreading the bill

Wide Receiver

coming due. Phillip cared about Mitch almost as much as Dustin did.
Since Mitch was harmed during a football match, Phillip’s insurance
was covering his bill.

Dustin repeated his visit every day without fail. On the weekends,

he stayed until he fell asleep, his hand twined with Mitch’s, his head
resting on his arm. Dustin left his side only to use the facilities.

As the days turned to weeks, and the hope of the medical staff

seemed to dim, Dustin refused to give up. Mitch was in there, and he
knew Dustin was out here, waiting for him. Dustin felt that if he
abandoned him, too, Mitch would just give up, so Dustin spent every
spare moment he had with Mitch.

And Phillip Remson, the very kindhearted Phillip Remson, made

sure that Dustin wasn’t bothered by the staff, and his butler sent over
sandwiches because without them, Phillip said he feared Dustin
wouldn’t eat at all. And he was probably right. Even when he had to
study, Dustin did so at Mitch’s side. To accommodate him, Phillip
simply paid for the other bed next to Mitch, so that at least Dustin
could get some sleep.

For the first time, Dustin was able to accept charity without

fearing for the payback. Phillip wanted nothing. He needed nothing.
He gave generously without any strings. Dustin wanted to grow up to
be like Phillip someday. And he wanted Mitch by his side.

Time moved on, the weeks became months, and the holiday

season gave way to the chilly grip of a new year. Twin Pines College
resumed classes and life went on, even for Dustin, but he still didn’t
give up on Mitch.

It was three days after the New Year when Dustin pulled up a

chair, settled in, and took Mitch’s hand in his. He had wonderful news
about passing all his exams, but he never even started. As soon as his
hand touched Mitch, Mitch squeezed.

Dustin shot to his feet and almost fell over into the bed.
“Mitch?”
He squeezed harder.

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“Oh, God, Mitch!” Dustin’s cry brought the on-call nurse, who

brought the doctor, who brought someone else until the room was
stuffed with medical personnel. When Dustin was moved out of the
way, Mitch’s machines went haywire until he took his hand back up.

“Stay there.”
So Dustin did, and they worked around him.
He heard a lot of I don’t know, and who knows what happened,

and there are stranger things, and it’s a miracle—all of it repeated
like a stuck record in his head. Through it all, Dustin clung to Mitch’s
hand, and for the first time, Mitch clung right back.

And then Mitch’s eyes blinked open. Dustin felt a thrill run

through him, and he clenched Mitch’s hand so hard Mitch looked
over, saw their linked hands, looked up right into Dustin’s eyes, and
asked, “Who are you?”

Wide Receiver

Chapter 12

“Come on, just one more step. You can do it!”
Mitch wanted to snarl a series of foul words at the woman who

was egging him on, but when he did, she only laughed, and dared him
to come and get her. She wasn’t intimidated by him in the least. And
why should she be? Without help, Mitch couldn’t do much more than
get his ass in a wheelchair. Even at twice his age and half his weight,
Missy Jensen could outrun him. As fast as his wheelchair could go,
she wouldn’t have difficulty jogging away, not with the shape she was
in. For a wife and mother in her forties, Missy could out exercise the
entire football team without raising her resting heart rate.

“Are you wimping out on me, Mitch?” Missy put her hands on her

hips. Her long, brown ponytail bobbed over her shoulder, her brown
eyes gleamed, and her perfect teeth glistened. There was nothing
worse than a happy, perky cheerleader that loved to bring on the
torture.

When Mitch growled at her, she growled right back.
“I’m not a fucking wimp,” Mitch snarled.
“Yeah? Prove it.”
Mitch was in the physical therapy room. When he’d first come in,

he’d been curious about all the apparatuses, and his kinky brain went
right into how the various items could be used for pleasure. Once he
was back he was going to put his cute little puppy boy through his
paces. That thought was smacked out of his head after the first ten
body-shaking, soul-pounding minutes of what Missy affectionately
called playtime.

Mitch had come to hate the room with a grand and abiding

100

Anitra Lynn McLeod

passion. Someone had painted the walls cheery lemon yellow in an
effort to mask that the room was really a dungeon. And the mistress of
pain was a perky mother of two who didn’t let him get away with
anything.

Sweat poured down his body as Mitch struggled to put one foot in

front of the other. That song from the childhood Christmas movie
played in his head with all the gayety of the season he’d slept through.
His body was between two long poles set at about hip height. There
was a belt around his waist to help take some of his weight off his
legs, which were about as useful as glitter on a turd. Pins and needles
shot through where his feet touched, the pressure almost agonizing but
for the fact it told him the nerves were not dead. He could walk. All
Mitch had to do was remind his body how to make his brain, muscles,
and nerves all work together again. Everything was there and intact,
but it was as if they’d all suffered amnesia.

Just like Mitch.
Or so he claimed.
At the end of the room, Dustin was watching, his face straining as

if Mitch’s effort were his own. Fire filled his gaze whenever he
looked at Mitch, the heat of which should have set his trousers ablaze.
Sadly, nothing happened down there.

Mitch had control over his bladder and bowels, but he hadn’t had

an erection since he’d woken up four weeks ago. He didn’t tell his
doctors that, but he’d tried to get his engine running late at night when
he had some privacy. Nothing happened no matter how he turned that
sexy puppy boy around in his mind.

When Mitch first woke up, he had no idea who the cutie was

leaning over him. Over the next few hours, the information exploded
in his brain at random intervals. But Mitch didn’t tell Dustin that. As
cruel as it seemed, Mitch wasn’t going to say that he remembered him
and then saddle Dustin with a cripple who couldn’t get it up.

It was one thing if his legs didn’t work because Mitch had the

upper body strength to move himself around. But if Mitch couldn’t get

Wide Receiver

101

his junk to work, he was not going to sentence that winsome puppy
boy to a lifetime of dealing with him. Mitch realized he could do all
kinds of things to Dustin with his hands, his mouth, and a small but
thorough collection of toys, but what was Dustin going to do for him?
A one-way love fest wasn’t going to cut it for either of them. Mitch
would rather be alone than be Dustin’s burden.

So rather than confess all of this to Dustin, Mitch kept their

relationship friendly, citing the fact that he didn’t remember Dustin
like that. In that way, Mitch kept him at arm’s length and prevented
their relationship from going any further than it already had. For now,
they were friends. And it was killing Mitch to not touch him or kiss
him. Ironically, having him in the physically therapy room was doubly
inspiring. Mitch wanted to walk because he thought if and when he
could, his cock would perk up, too. And then he’d walk right over to
Dustin, toss him over his shoulder like a caveman, and spirit him
away to a bed and not emerge until every single hormone they had
between them had been sated. Twice.

Just looking at Dustin as he struggled to take the last step broke

something buried deep inside. Mitch remembered the whimpers and
moans that Dustin had made in that crappy motel room. He heard the
crooning pleasure he’d breathed into Mitch’s ear as he claimed his
virginity. No man had ever tasted, felt, or sounded sweeter. Mitch
loved him. And Mitch wanted him.

“That’s it! That’s it!”
Mitch looked down and realized he’d taken two steps. He was at

the end of the parallel bars. “I did it.”

“You sure did!”
Dustin shot to his feet and applauded.
Missy wheeled his chair over. Using the belt around his waist, and

her own spectacular strength, she got him situated in the chair. They
had argued over this before, that Mitch could get back in the chair
himself, but she didn’t want him tossing himself down. That was a
ticket to another injury, and she wasn’t having that on her watch, no

102

Anitra Lynn McLeod

sirree Bob. So they did it her way. Mitch had learned that it was best
to do things Missy’s way.

“You have earned yourself a long soak in the hydrotherapy tub.”

Missy glanced over to Dustin. “You want to help him?”

“Sure!”
It was on the tip of Mitch’s tongue to request she help him, but

Missy had been checking the clock, something she never did, and
Mitch had a gut feeling she needed to get home. He thanked her for
kicking his ass and then wheeled himself out of the room and down
the hall to what was called the waterworks.

There were different sizes of hydrotherapy tubs, which for all

Mitch could tell, were just stainless-steel hot tubs. Still, after a session
with Missy, this was a reward he looked forward to.

With Dustin’s help, he was lifted by a crane arm and lowered into

a tub with warm water. Once he was situated, a technician adjusted
the jets to hit the sore muscles in his body, namely his back and arms,
then smiled and walked away so he could enjoy.

Dustin hung back but close on the off chance Mitch needed help.

What amazed him was that Dustin didn’t try to have a conversation
over the sound of the churning water. Dustin seemed to innately
understand that this was just as much mental as it was physical
relaxation.

Mitch closed his eyes and let the jets pound along his body. Damn,

but that felt good. When he lifted up just a little, the jet gushed water
between his buttocks. Ah...

Reaching down between his legs, he fiddled with another jet, and

discovered that he could flick water at a much softer rate over his
cock and balls. When he held himself just right, he got the swirling
water job of his life.

And then, a miracle.
Mitch got hard.
He was so stunned he let go of his holds on the sides of the tub

and slumped down. Gasping and splashing, Mitch couldn’t get a solid

Wide Receiver

103

enough hold to lift himself back up because he couldn’t push against
the far wall with his useless legs.

Dustin was by his side in a flash, grasping the back of the netting

that was still below his body for the crane to maneuver him around
with. Pulling him up stabilized him, allowing Mitch to grab the sides.

“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Mitch thought for sure his boner would die, but it didn’t.

Having Dustin close seemed to harden his cock. And his balls started
to ache. How long had it been since he’d had a release? Calculating
quickly, Mitch realized he hadn’t gotten off since that night in the
motel.

“Kiss me.”
“What?” Dustin looked around, and Mitch followed his gaze.
“The technician is in the back yakking on his cell. So, Dustin, kiss

me.”

Hesitating, Dustin slowly leaned over, but Mitch simply couldn’t

wait.

“I’ve gotta have you now.” Mitch grasped Dustin’s shirt and

yanked him close. Dustin’s too-big glasses fell into the tub, but Mitch
didn’t care at the moment. He covered Dustin’s stunned mouth with
his own and kissed him.

Gasping caused Dustin to part his lips, and Mitch slipped his

tongue inside. The taste of his mouth exploded memories in Mitch’s
mind, memories that had been buried for his entire life. Memories that
were tied to a collective of memories. Dustin was his mate. Mitch had
claimed him, but they hadn’t bonded because Dustin hadn’t given
himself completely to Mitch. There had been secrets between them
then that were cleared away now. They had to come together again,
and they had to do so soon. They needed to bond and then twin. “I
need you. God, Dustin, I need you.”

“You remember?” Tears filmed Dustin’s eyes.
“I remember.” Mitch kissed Dustin and then released him. “I

remember everything.”

104

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Chapter 13

“We’re gonna get caught.” Dustin darted his gaze around the

physical therapy room. With the overhead florescent lights off, the
room was filled with creepy shadows.

“You’re gonna need the sling to lift me into position.”
“I could just do you as you lay on your back.”
“No way!” Mitch rolled his chair over to the sling. “I want to

watch you claim me.” Mitch turned and faced him in the semidark.
“And I want to kiss you while you do it, too.”

Dustin grinned. All this time, all this waiting, pushing away the

fear that Mitch would never remember only to have all those concerns
wiped away by one dip in a hydrotherapy tub. Dustin touched his
glasses, which were none the worse for wear after falling in the water.

According to Mitch, the sling was used to demonstrate how such a

device could be used in the home for fully incapacitated patients.
There was a fabric seat that cradled the patient then they could be
lifted and lowered into a bed or chair with ease. It was almost exactly
the same as the one used in the waterworks room.

Dustin felt a little squicky using it for sex, but Mitch had pointed

out that surely patients had asked about that.

“If I’m stuck in this chair for the rest of my life, we are going to

get one of these things so that we can have sex. It’s that simple. And
I’m certain we’re not the first couple to give it a whirl.”

As Mitch was arranging himself in the fabric part of the sling, he

suddenly stopped.

“What?”
“I can’t do this with lies between us.”

Wide Receiver

105

Dustin swallowed hard. “I told you everything, I swear, except the

horrible details about my family, but if you need to know, I’ll—”

“No, not you. Me.” Mitch took a deep breath and faced Dustin. “I

didn’t recognize you that first night when I awoke, but throughout that
night I kept getting bursts of memories, and then I did know who you
were.”

Dustin’s eyes went wide. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t know what condition I was in.”
“As if that would matter to me.”
“It mattered to me.” Mitch cupped Dustin’s chin. “I knew I

couldn’t walk, and that was scary, but then, I couldn’t get it up, and
believe it or not, that was worse.”

Dustin shook his head. “I wouldn’t have cared.”
“I know. But I did. And instead of telling you, I kept it to myself,

waiting to see if I’d start functioning again.”

“And if you never did?” Dustin barely paused for breath. “You

would have continued on with this lie and kept us as just friends?”
Dustin couldn’t help himself. He pulled back from Mitch. “Remember
the night you claimed me, and you almost made me climax in four
minutes flat? When I said I didn’t want to go off prematurely, you
were the one who reminded me I still had hands, and a mouth, and
other erotic tools at my disposal.”

“I know.” Mitch had the good grace to look chagrined. “I should

have told you, but I was so afraid you’d stay with me out of guilt.”

“Right, because it couldn’t be love!” As soon as the word left his

mouth Dustin realized he’d just told Mitch he loved him by yelling it
at him. Remembering everything he’d learned from Phillip over the
months, Dustin saw the humor, and he let compassion fill his heart.
He laughed.

“You’re not angry?”
“Oh, I am. And maybe a little hurt that you didn’t trust me enough

to tell me the truth, but that’s not important right now.” If Dustin had
learned anything under the mentorship of Phillip Remson, it was that

106

Anitra Lynn McLeod

honesty was the best policy, and keeping his eye on the big picture
would serve him so much better than focusing on petty details.

“It’s not?” Mitch asked.
“No.”
“So what is important right now?”
Dustin leaned in and gave Mitch a long, lingering kiss that he

hoped tingled him right down to his toes. “I love you.”

Mitch grinned. “I love you, too.”
“And I’m going to make love to you.”
“You are?” Mitch asked playfully. “I was hoping you’d bang the

feeling back into me.”

“I’m certainly going to try.”
Since there was no way to lock the double doors to the physical

therapy room, they had to be quiet. They lucked out though, in that the
hospital was mostly empty, and the lift was tucked back in the far
corner of the room where the shadows were thickest.

Working together, they got a naked Mitch situated in the sling,

and then Dustin moved the arm over him, hooked him up, and lifted
him.

“Cripes! That thing is loud,” Dustin hissed, looking over his

shoulder at the door. If they got caught...Again he laughed. What
would the staff do? Probably give them a stern reprimand and then
chuckle to themselves about randy boys over their next coffee break.

“Just get me to the right height, and then we can shut it off.”
Dustin got Mitch so that his ass was level with Dustin’s hips, and

then he turned off the machine.

“Now you’re at my mercy.” Dustin parted his robe, revealing that

he wore nothing below.

Lifting his arms up and grasping the handles of the sling, Mitch

said, “Ravish me, young Master Brooks. Ravish me.”

“Oh, lord. Don’t call me that. Only Phillip calls me that, and this

is serious business here.”

“It is?” Mitch peered at him in the semidark. “Just what are you

Wide Receiver

107

planning to do to me?”

Dustin stepped between his parted knees, leaned over his body,

and kissed him. “I’m going to show you exactly how much I love
you.”

“I like that sound of that.” Mitch reached for him, but he couldn’t

maneuver much in the sling.

“Relax. Let me do the work.”
Mitch continued to try to hurry Dustin along, but he really

couldn’t do much of anything.

“Is it that difficult for you to be passive?” Dustin teased, sliding

his hand down Mitch’s chest.

“I’m afraid I’ll lose my erection.”
“If you do, we won’t worry about it.”
“But—”
“If you make a big deal about getting hard or staying hard, that’s a

pretty good guarantee you’re going to worry yourself right out of a
really good time.”

“When did you get so wise?”
“While you were sleeping.”
“I think it’s from hanging around Phillip.”
“That, too.” Dustin focused a lot of attention on Mitch’s neck and

chest since he knew that’s where he was most sensitive. He
deliberately avoided his cock. Regardless of what Mitch thought, that
was not the center of Mitch’s lust. Dustin knew the core of all his
passion rested in Mitch’s mind.

Watching Mitch for all these months and not being able to touch

him had left Dustin feeling like a kid with his face plastered to the
candy store window. All those sweet treats right there, just inches
away, and he couldn’t touch them. Until now. Freed, Dustin went on a
binge of kissing, stroking, licking, and loving every bit of his mate.

“You keep fighting, and I’m going to find a way to strap your

arms down, too.” Dustin grabbed Mitch’s arms and pushed them up
along the sling’s straps.

108

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“Kinky.”
“Don’t make me get medieval on you.”
After realizing he had no choice but to be passive, Mitch relaxed

in the sling, letting Dustin do as he pleased. It was heady to have
command of the bigger man, but all Dustin wanted to do was please
him. He wanted Mitch to stop worrying about his erection, so he took
all the attention to the other areas of his body, even his armpits.

“Damn, that actually feels good.”
With his arms up over his head, Dustin stroked the clean, soft hair

nestled there then pressed his fingers harder as he massaged up and
around his shoulders. Dustin knew his arms had taken a beating in the
last few weeks as that was how Mitch got himself in and out of bed
and his chair.

Rubbing and stroking and kissing put Mitch into a relaxed state

with his lids settled low over his eyes. Only then did Dustin ease his
hand between Mitch’s legs. Smoothing his hand over his bottom, he
parted his cheeks and pressed his middle finger against his pucker.

Mitch let out a moan that practically vibrated the windows.
When Dustin looked down, Mitch’s cock was standing at

attention, a drop of pre-cum pearled at the tip. Dustin leaned over and
licked it away.

“You taste so sweet.” Dustin continued to finger him gently as he

took occasional licks at his prick, but he went no further until Mitch
was groaning in earnest. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Please, I can’t wait any more. I want to feel you inside me now.”
“Such a rush.” But Dustin felt the need pushing at the primal part

of his brain. Claim him, claim him, claim him the broken record
skipped in his head.

“Please. Please.”
When Dustin looked up, Mitch’s face was rendered almost

tragically beautiful. Sexual torment had darkened his lips, intensified
his gaze, and almost enhanced his features. Dustin couldn’t say no
even if he wanted to, and he didn’t.

Wide Receiver

109

From the pocket of his robe he withdrew a bottle of lube and

coated his cock. Stepping into Mitch’s outstretched legs with the
intent to fill him caused a surge of dominant male pride. Dustin
understood exactly what Mitch had felt when he’d leaned over his
submissive body in that cheap motel. Lust, need, and base primal
pride surged his body forward until he pressed right against that sweet
puckered flesh.

“Don’t stop now.”
“Say it.”
“I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m—ah!”
Mitch had become Dustin’s broken record aloud, and he pushed

forward, easing into him, pressing past the tight sphincter that tried to
keep him out, filling his hot, snug channel.

“I can feel you! Ah, God, Dustin I can feel all of you!”
As pleased as he was, Dustin sure as hell didn’t want to get

caught. So he leaned over Mitch and kissed him silent.

Mitch wrapped his arms around Dustin’s shoulders, clinging to

him as Dustin rocked his hips. Dustin had to grip Mitch’s knees to
hold him steady for his rapidly increasing strokes.

“This is your first time?” Mitch asked between breathless kisses.
“Yeah. Why, does it show?” Dustin chuckled.
“Fuck no. It feels so good. I just, I wanted, can I touch my cock?”
“God, yeah.” Dustin would have, but he had to hold Mitch steady

or he’d be swinging around. “I want to watch you. I want to feel you
tighten around me. I want to come deep inside you. I want to mark
you.”

“Mark me. God, yes, that’s it, Dustin. Mark me.”
With one last thrust that buried him as deep as he could go, Dustin

climaxed. When he did, Mitch tightened around him—gripping and
releasing—almost as if he was determined to milk out every drop.

Below his belly, Dustin felt Mitch’s hand go still, and then a

warm, gushing jet splattered between them.

Dustin didn’t have to ask since he felt his mate’s relief. Mitch had

110

Anitra Lynn McLeod

been so worried that he’d never feel an erection or a climax again.
He’d been willing to give up love over the notion that a stiff dick was
more important than a loving heart. Dustin would take Mitch just as
he was without one quibble because he loved the man, not his body.
Yet, he was glad that Mitch had climax because it was important to
him.

They stayed still, kissing, panting, recovering for a long, quiet

time.

“Are you okay?” Dustin asked, touching Mitch’s face.
“I swear I almost felt my toes tingle.”
“Good.” Dustin claimed his mouth. Halfway through the kiss,

Mitch grinned. “What?”

“I was just thinking that next time you could drape me over one of

those yoga ball things and really go to town on my ass.”

Dustin couldn’t help it, he laughed, which unfortunately dislodged

him from Mitch. “I like that you’re already planning the next time.”

“And the time after that, and the time after that.” Mitch cupped the

back of Dustin’s head and pulled him close. “And then I’m going to
start planning how I’m going to claim you again.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”
Behind him, Dustin heard a snick. He looked over his shoulder

and realized someone had just come into the room.

“Shit!” Dustin and Mitch hissed the word simultaneously.
There was no way they were going to get Mitch back in his chair.

Even if they did, he was naked as the day he was born. Hastily, Dustin
closed his robe and then grabbed the blanket they’d used to cover
Mitch up and tossed it over him.

“Yeah, preserve what little dignity I have left at this point,” Mitch

snickered.

“Shhh.” Dustin watched the man peer into the shadows, and then

he began fumbling along the wall, obviously looking for a way to turn
on the fluorescents. Breathlessly, Dustin watched as his big hand
inched ever closer to the light switch.

Wide Receiver

111

Chapter 14

Mitch had never felt this good after sex. Maybe because it really

wasn’t sex with Dustin, but love. Unlike the last time, there were no
secrets between them. They had laid their hearts bare and still wanted
one another. Even the fact that they were about to be discovered
couldn’t put a dent in his epically awesome good mood.

Quite literally, Mitch had felt his toes tingle when he’d climaxed.

The only other feeling he’d had in his feet was that god-awful pins-
and-needles sensation when he tried to walk. That hurt, but this, what
he’d experienced with Dustin, felt good. In fact, Mitch felt so good, he
tried to move his feet. He figured nothing would happen, but to his
astonishment, they flexed at his command! However, this also caused
his ankles to pop, loudly, which drew the attention of the guy who’d
come upon them.

Oddly, he seemed familiar, and when he heard Mitch’s ankles go

off like shotgun blasts, he left off fumbling for the light switch.

“Mitch?” the man called.
“Who the fuck is that?” Dustin asked.
“I’m over here,” Mitch called.
Dustin’s eyes went so big around that they just about bugged out.
Mitch couldn’t help but chuckle. “If he knows me, he’s not going

to turn us in, right?”

“You don’t know that.” Dustin watched the guy warily.
The interloper made his careful way to them in the dark.
When he was about ten feet away, Mitch recognized him.

“Dylan!”

“Hey.” Dylan walked right up to where they were and didn’t bat

112

Anitra Lynn McLeod

an eyelash at the position he found them in. It was like he knew what
they were doing and that was why he was here. Strangely, there was a
feeling of knowing in Mitch, too. Dylan was here to help them. Mitch
couldn’t edge around exactly what Dylan was going to assist them
with, but the notion was so strong that Mitch trusted his gut.

“Finally, you two have bonded.” Dylan sounded pleased and

relieved. “I’ve been feeling your souls dancing around one another for
months. It’s been like having a low-level headache.”

“What are you talking about?” Dustin asked.
Rather than answer, Dylan cupped his head, pulled Dustin close,

and kissed him.

Mitch watched with curious detachment. It was like he knew what

all this was for and simply needed to be reminded.

After Dylan kissed Dustin, he leaned over and kissed Mitch,

blowing the breath he’d taken from Dustin into Mitch’s lungs. To
Mitch’s shock, his dick and his toes tingled despite the recent release.

Over and again Dylan kissed and breathed until Mitch felt

Dustin’s soul wrapping around his. Comparatively, this was even
more arousing than the love they’d just made. This was so profoundly
moving tears filmed his vision. When he looked up, he noticed that
Dustin seemed just as moved.

Dizziness hit, and Mitch was relieved to be in a sling supporting

his weight. Dustin had to lean on Dylan, who continued with his
kissing and blowing until Mitch climaxed again. Looking down
between his legs, he noticed that Dustin did, too. Given the shudder
Dylan made, Mitch was guessing he’d climaxed right along with
them.

“Gridiron Gods,” Dylan whispered.
That caused a series of memories and information to invade

Mitch’s mind so swiftly he twitched. Had Dylan not been there to
hold Dustin up, he surely would have fallen from the jolts that went
through him. And then, right there in his mind, Mitch felt a
connection to Dustin build and expand until he knew they could speak

Wide Receiver

113

without saying a word.

Luckily, the crane holding Mitch up was strong enough to move

around a thousand pounds because all three guys now had their weight
on it. Dylan clung to Dustin, who clung to Mitch, who clung to them
both.

“I think that is the most intense twinning I’ve done so far.” Dylan

tried to stand on his own, but he wobbled too much so Mitch didn’t let
go.

“We can be a bear?” Dustin shook his head, jiggling his glasses.
“Yeah, but some guys haven’t shifted yet. We don’t know why.

We’re all learning as we go along.”

“Oh, man, now that makes sense!” Dustin said.
“What?” Mitch asked.
“Phillip said he was in a pickle, that there were things he wished

he could tell me, but he couldn’t. He knew.” Dustin nodded
vigorously. “Phillip knew that you and I were destined to be a part of
the Gridiron Gods, but he couldn’t say something and mess with what
we had to go through.”

Dylan agreed with a subtle nod. “There’s a sacrifice for some. For

others it’s letting go of a deeply held belief, or simply an opening up
to the endless possibilities. You two—my God! You two had so much
to overcome we were all practically biting our nails waiting.”

“Sorry?” Mitch offered weakly. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound right at

all. Like saying sorry isn’t nearly enough.”

“It’s not your fault, and don’t take offense to what I’ve said. Each

couple is different. And while your souls were dancing around, I
inducted the other couples.”

“There are more?” But as soon as Mitch asked, the answer was

right there in his mind. “And now Danny’s look in the bus, his
happiness that me and Dustin were hooking up, that makes sense, too.
As the leader, Danny probably felt our souls dancing around in the
back of the bus.”

Very quietly, almost imperceptibly, Dustin was crying. He was

114

Anitra Lynn McLeod

trying to do so without either Mitch or Dylan noticing, but they both
did at the same time.

Dylan opened his mouth, but Mitch cut him off. “It’s okay,

Dustin.”

“I know. I know.” Dustin sniffed loudly. “It’s just that I’ve always

felt alone. Even with how kind Phillip was, I still felt that I had to do
everything myself. And now I’m part of this brotherhood of guys that
will literally lay down their lives for one another...”

“It’s overwhelming.” Dylan patted Dustin’s back.
“It’s awe-inspiring.” Mitch patted Dustin, too. He wanted to hug

him but didn’t want to topple out of the sling.

“No, you don’t get it.” Dustin wiped his eyes. “I’m crying because

it’s family. It’s what a real family is supposed to be like.”

And into Mitch’s mind came the horrible truth about Dustin’s

family and why he’d run so far so fast, and why love and trust and
kindness were so difficult for him accept. The only time his parents
were kind to him was when they wanted something. They took and
they took until there was nothing left. That’s why Xavier had found
Dustin such an easy mark. Dustin was desperate to escape the trailer
where he lived with his mother and her endless parade of drugs and
loser boyfriends who were really pimps. How Xavier had found him,
neither Dustin nor Phillip could uncover. Not that the detail mattered
now.

“You never have to see them again.” Mitch and Dylan spoke at the

same time, overlapping one another.

Mitch realized that Dylan was now privy to Dustin’s thoughts, and

so were the rest of the guys. Mitch sensed an immediate shame well
up in Dustin, but then Dustin deliberately shook it off.

“All the guys are right.” Dustin nodded. “I’m not responsible for

what my parents did. The fact that my father drove intoxicated and
killed an entire family had nothing to do with me.”

“No, that’s not your fault even if small-minded bigots tried to hold

you accountable for what he’d done, or for your mother turning tricks

Wide Receiver

115

to get drugs.”

Dustin winced and then let it go. “For the first time in my life, I

believe that. I know that I can escape them and not become them. I
don’t have to be afraid that people are only reaching out to me to get
something in return.”

“Well, I certainly want something in return.” Mitch waggled his

eyebrows.

“Yeah?” Dustin leaned over him, kissing him soundly. “I think I

can live with that kind of quid pro quo.”

116

Anitra Lynn McLeod

Chapter 15

Dustin watched as Mitch worked his way down the parallel bars.

Sweat darkened his dirty-blond hair and turned his light-gray T-shirt
charcoal, but he didn’t stop. Step by agonizing step, he walked from
one end of the apparatus to the other. When he reached the end, Mitch
had the strength to stand, lift his fist into the air, and give a victorious
cry.

“Fuck yeah!”
Missy and Dustin applauded wildly. It was a miraculous

improvement. Missy wheeled his chair over, but this time she didn’t
help him get in.

“You can do it.”
Mitch lowered himself with control into his chair.
Missy leaned over and detached the belt that would help support

him in the event he faltered. “Frankly, big guy, I don’t think we’re
gonna need this backup much longer.” Given the sheer size of Mitch
in relation to his physical therapist, she used the belt–and-pulley
system to protect herself and Mitch from harm if he should fall. If he
tottered, the pulleys would tighten up and stop him from falling more
than a few inches.

“Let’s go again!” Mitch looked ready to take on the world.
“Whoa, tiger.” Missy squatted down so their eyes were on the

same level. “You are making incredible, almost miraculous strides,
but you know as well as I do that rest is just as important as exercise,
right?”

Missy always framed things so that Mitch basically had to agree

with her or he’d look like an ass. Dustin thought she was the best

Wide Receiver

117

person to not only motivate Mitch, but keep him motivated.

“Right.” Mitch nodded. “So did I earn some tub time?”
“Absolutely.”
Dustin hung close but not too close while Mitch relaxed in the

hydrotherapy tub. He wanted him to get the full mental and physical
benefits. Their private workout would come later because today was
the day that Mitch was finally leaving the hospital.

Each time Dustin pictured what he had waiting for his mate, he

shivered. Keeping the information blocked from him had been easy
once Danny Jones had taught him a little mental trick. The guys could
and did keep secrets, but nothing of major import could be kept under
wraps for any length of time. It seemed that when a secret was pushed
down, it created a dark energy signature that radiated into the
collective memory. But surprise parties and birthday gifts were light
secrets that glowed, and the others knew they were there, but they
were clearly harmless. All day Mitch had been mentally pushing at the
golden secret in Dustin’s mind, and Dustin wondered if that’s what
had inspired him to work so hard in therapy today.

“Whatever it is, I’m going to earn it.”
And he had.
Dressed and seated in his new chair, Mitch said good-bye to the

people at the hospital, and then into the van he went.

“Hey, sweet ride.”
The van had a hydraulic lift so that Mitch could get in and out

without a struggle. Dustin used it to get him into the van, and then
Mitch got himself into the passenger seat on his own.

Since Dustin didn’t believe that Mitch was going to be in the chair

for much longer, he’d convinced Phillip to forgo the hand-operated
van that Mitch could drive.

“So, where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” Mitch thought they were going on a drive to get him

out of the hospital. He had no idea what Dustin was really up to.

“Mystery, huh. Damn that golden thought bubble.” Mitch pushed

118

Anitra Lynn McLeod

at the secret yet again, but Dustin wasn’t letting his shields down for a
second.

After a short trip, Dustin pulled into the driveway of a trim little

house.

“Cute. Whose house?”
“Ours.” Dustin shut off the van.
The only sound was the tick tick ping of the cooling engine.
“Ours?”
“Wanna see inside?” Dustin pulled the keys out of the ignition and

dangled them playfully.

“Wait, how is this, I mean—”
“Well, Phillip got tired of paying your hospital bills,” Dustin said

playfully. “And I got sick of trying to study while sitting in that god-
awful plastic chair, so—”

“This is Phillip’s house?”
“Technically.”
“Come on, be straight with me.”
“Dang. And I so loved being gay with you, but if that’s what you

want.”

“I swear I will get up out of this chair and pounce on you!”
Dustin lifted his hands in surrender. “Phillip owns the house. The

prior tenants were caught growing pot and cost him a lot in legal fees
not to mention causing a huge hassle. It’s just now been released back
to Phillip’s possession, and he’d like for some decent people to live
here.”

“Us?”
“I guess we fit the term decent.”
Mitch grinned. “If he only knew what perverts we really are.”
“It’s wheelchair accessible. There’s a whirlpool bath. Everything

is on one level.”

Mitch leaned across but couldn’t quite reach. “Kiss me. I swear

I’m gonna pop if you don’t.”

Dustin closed the distance between them. Mitch’s lips were hot,

Wide Receiver

119

possessive, and slowly turned up into a big grin.

“Happy?” Dustin asked.
“Hell to the yeah!” Mitch pulled his wheelchair up and

maneuvered himself in. “Come on, love, get me out of here and into
there. We’ve got to break the bed in.”

It didn’t take long to get into the house. As a one-story rambler,

the house was small but well laid out with an enormous wall of
windows that faced southwest and into the back of the property.

Mitch kept trying to drag Dustin toward the bedroom, but he

resisted, pulling Mitch toward the fully enclosed backyard.

“Trust me.”
The day was cool, but calm, and when Dustin undressed, Mitch

watched him, utterly perplexed for about ten seconds. And then Mitch
joined him. Off came their clothes.

“Fuck! If the neighbors look over the fence...”
“They won’t.” Dustin pushed up his glasses. “They aren’t home.

It’s only three in the afternoon.”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“No. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” Dustin took a deep,

calming breath. He had to trust. For once in his life he had to trust
without any guarantee of anything. Once Mitch was bare, Dustin
pulled at Mitch mentally.

Mitch flinched. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to shift us.”
“Why?” Mitch resisted just on principle.
“Because you need my help.” Dustin pulled harder.
Once Mitch understood why, he resisted with greater force.
Dustin pulled harder.
“No!” Mitch mentally dug in his heels. “What if this hurts you?”
“It won’t.” Dustin tugged Mitch into his body.
Mitch resisted.
“Let me help you.”
“Not if this will cripple you in exchange for me!” Mitch fought

120

Anitra Lynn McLeod

him tooth and nail.

“I had to bend to accept Phillip’s help, and that was almost

impossible for me. For once, let me be the one who helps.” Dustin
needed to do this. His heart, his soul, and yes, goddamn it, he even
admitted that his ego needed to be the bigger man. “Just this once let
me be the one who helps.”

“I can’t bear to hurt you.” Tears filled Mitch’s eyes. “I will die if I

hurt you.”

“You won’t. I swear you won’t. All the members of the Gridiron

Gods told me this will work, and I believe them.” Dustin laid himself
bare. That golden thought bubble that hid his secret popped. A shower
of sparks broke over the two of them.

Mitch let go so fast he literally collided into Dustin.
There was a timeless moment of confusion where nothing looked

or felt the way it should. Together, they blinked open their eyes.
Sights, sounds, and smells assaulted them.

“We are a bear.” Mitch’s voice was right there in Dustin’s head.

So near and dear and smooth he just melted. “You okay?”

“I am awesome.” Dustin mentally embraced him.
“This is without a doubt the trippiest thing that has ever happened

to me.”

It took a while for them to get the hang of moving their enormous

body. Eventually, they were able to lumber about and investigate
everything in the yard. Settling down on their butt, they looked into
the wall of windows and saw their reflection. They were a blond-
brown grizzly bear.

“Damn, we’re like, cute.” Mitch turned their big head this way

and that.

“What did you expect?”
“I dunno. Something scary and vicious and—”
Dustin stretched out a paw and roared.
“Yeah, okay, that’ll do.” Mitch swung their head around. “I hope

the neighbors didn’t hear that.”

Wide Receiver

121

“Gone, remember?”
“Right.”
Mitch made their bear body stand.
“What are you doing?” Dustin asked.
“I’m trying to see if we’re a boy or a girl.”
“I would assume we’re a boy.”
“Never assume.”
However they turned and bent and fumbled, they weren’t able to

see, not in the reflection of the windows, at any rate.

Dustin dropped them back on all fours. “No, that’s enough. I

don’t want to paw around down there. I don’t even know what bear
junk looks like, but I don’t want to swipe ours off by accident.”

When they heard a car door slam, they realized it was now after

five. Neighbors were coming home, and they had to shift back.
Pushing away from one another, they separated. Just as Danny had
said, when they shifted back to human, they were naked. Anything
they wore during a shift would be destroyed, so it was best to be
naked going in since that’s how they’d come out.

“Oh, my.” Mitch giggled.
“Oh, shit.” Dustin was almost afraid to say anything. Like if he

pointed out Mitch was standing on his own without any help, Mitch
would suddenly fall. Like in cartoons where a character could hang in
midair provided he didn’t look down.

“Oh. My. God.” Mitch noticed. He took a step and lifted his arms

as if for balance, but he didn’t need to. Mitch walked across the yard
and back with ease. “I can walk!”

Dustin was so excited he jumped up and down. He placed his

finger to the bridge of his nose to hold his glasses on and then realized
he’d been wearing them when they’d shifted. They had gotten
destroyed in the shift, but then, Dustin realized he no longer needed
them. “I can see.”

Mitch grinned. “Can you, puppy boy?”
Dustin matched his smile and turned as if to run.

122

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“Don’t even try it.” Mitch lowered his head, narrowed his eyes,

flared his nostrils, and flexed his foot in the grass. “If you run, I’ll
catch you.”

“And what?” Dustin asked tauntingly.
“I’ll make you pay.”
“Yeah?” Dustin considered running. “You realize I’m thinking of

running only so that you’ll punish me?”

Mitch strode over to where Dustin was standing. He scooped him

up onto his shoulder. “Mine.” Mitch patted Dustin’s ass as he entered
the house. He didn’t stop walking until he found the bedroom.

Once he’d carted Dustin into the simple green-and-cream room,

Mitch tossed Dustin down on the king-sized bed then leapt upon him,
taking the bulk of his weight on his powerful arms.

“I knew that night in that motel that I was claiming you.”
“I knew, too.” Dustin frowned. “But I was so ashamed I couldn’t

give myself to you, not entirely.”

“Is there anything holding you back now?”
“No.”
“Good.” Mitch started at his mouth and worked his way down. He

had Dustin panting and moaning, and then, as he parted his legs and
slipped his tongue in his ass, Dustin whimpered. “Ah, yeah. That’s the
sound I want to hear.”

Mitch teased him until Dustin was practically begging him to

finish him.

“For the love of my sanity, Mitch. Fuck me.”
“Your sanity?” Mitch rose up over him then descended into him

ever so slowly. “I’d hate for you to lose that.”

They started out at a leisurely pace, but that didn’t last long, not

when Mitch rediscovered all the muscles that he hadn’t used for
months. Mitch took Dustin in just about every position that was
physically possible before he finally settled on his back with Dustin
straddled over him.

“Ride me, puppy boy. Ride my cock.”

Wide Receiver

123

Peering down at him with his now perfect vision, Dustin said,

“Look at Mr. Dirty Mouth.”

“That’s Mr. Gay to you, puppy boy.” Mitch pinched Dustin’s

fanny. “Now ride, love. Ride.”

While Dustin did, Mitch wrapped his fist around Dustin’s cock,

and stroked in time to the thrusts of his cock in Dustin’s bottom.

Working together, they managed to hit a spectacular climax within

seconds of one another.

Dustin dropped, boneless and replete, across Mitch’s chest.
“Talk about physical therapy.” Mitch hugged Dustin hard.
Dustin snickered.
“What?” Mitch asked.
“I’m just glad Missy wasn’t here to cheer you on.”
“Oh, God!” Mitch laughed so hard he bounced Dustin on top of

him. “I can just imagine.” Mitch tightened his voice into Missy’s
demanding pitch. “Harder, Mitch. What do you think this is, a tea
party? You call that fucking? Pound that sweet little ass!”

They dissolved into giggles and then they sobered.
“Joking aside, Missy really is awesome,” Dustin said.
“Yeah. She’s gonna shit fucking bricks when she sees this level of

improvement.”

“Ah, no, she won’t.” Dustin leaned up. “I knew the shift would

probably fix you. The other guys told me it might, so today was your
last session with Missy. As far as the hospital thinks, you now have
your own private physical therapist.”

Mitch frowned.
“I swear, she was cool with what I planned to do, which was take

you away and encourage you privately.” Dustin kissed him. “If you
want to see her again, you can, but you have to be in the chair.”

It took a moment to sink in, but Mitch got it. “If I improved that

much, people would talk.”

“Yeah. There’s already some trouble in the sloth with nosy

neighbors and such”

124

Anitra Lynn McLeod

“Sloth?” Mitch asked, but as soon as he did, the answer hit.

“Right. That’s what you call a group of bears. Weird.”

“Hey, a group of crows is called a murder.”
“Ew! So I guess we lucked out.”
“In more ways than one.”
Mitch hugged Dustin hard. “Do you still think I’m the biggest

asshole in the universe?”

Dustin laughed and rose up. “No. But you still owe me underwear

and jeans.”

“I’m good for both.” Mitch lowered his head until his eyes had

that dirty-boy cast.

“What?”
“Well, just, you gotta let me buy you some extra underwear.”
“Okay. But why?”
“I wanna rip them off you.”
“You animal!”
“Damn straight!”
They dissolved into laughter, that dissolved into loving, that

dissolved into the beginnings of a long and happy lifetime together.

THE END

WWW.ANITRAMCLEOD.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Reading, writing, and white-water rafting are the three things

Anitra Lynn McLeod enjoys the most. You can visit her at
www.AnitraMcLeod.com.

Also by Anitra Lynn McLeod

Siren Classic ManLove: Gridiron Gods 1: Waterboy

Siren Classic ManLove: Gridiron Gods 2: Quarterback

Siren Classic ManLove: Gridiron Gods 3: Tight End

Siren Classic ManLove: Gridiron Gods 4: Defensive Guard

Siren Classic ManLove: Gridiron Gods 5: Linebacker

Siren Classic ManLove: Gridiron Gods 6: Running Back

Siren Classic ManLove: Dirty Cowboy

Siren Classic: Devil’s Due

Available at

BOOKSTRAND.COM

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

Document Outline

WIDE RECEIVER
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
- Mate.
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
THE END

Anitra Lynn McLeod Gridiron Gods 07 Wide Receiver

Document Outline