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  Bear it All

  Copyright © 2011 by Deanna Wadsworth

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-011-1

  Cover art by Fiona Jayde

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  www.decadentpublishing.com

  Bear it All

  Deanna Wadsworth

  A 1 Night Stand Story

  ~Dedication~

  To Wendy—thanks for always being beside me when I jump up and down in public shouting,”Oh! Oh! I know! You should kill the priest!” and loving me even when I use the C-word. You are my favorite brainstorming partner and an irreplaceable friend. Huggles!

  Chapter One

  Damn, Madame Eve knew how to deliver.

  Unable to believe his luck, Travis Hunter half wondered if the woman had somehow snooped in his private spank-bank of fantasies to create the man just for him.

  John Godfrey—well, that was the name he’d given 1NightStand. Travis still couldn’t be sure if others had been as dumb as he was and actually given their real names to the service. Regardless, the name suited him. Simple and understated.

  Ironically, everything John was not.

  His date—he couldn’t bear to think of him as only a hook-up—arrived on the pool deck moments after Travis ordered his second mojito. The man’s unbound, sandy blond hair fell almost halfway down his back, just begging for Travis to run his fingers through it. Even as all the tanned beach studs frolicked with their bikini-clad girlfriends and kids splashed about, John still managed to turn heads. Then again, not every day did someone tower over the crowd with six-foot-five inches of ripped, hair-covered muscles.

  Travis swallowed back the drool when John gripped the back collar of his T-shirt with one hand and pulled it off before heading for the shallow end of the pool.

  “Hey, get a load of the Grizzly Adams,” a girl nearby whispered. “Ever heard of a back wax?”

  Travis shot the two girls a look as they fell into fits of hysterical giggles. He curled his lip in disgust, suppressing the urge to snarl at them. Bimbos. What the hell did they know about real men? Real men knew how to fix things. They drank beer and ate meat and potatoes—not salads and tofu. Big, masculine men could hold a guy up and fuck him against a wall so effortlessly he didn’t have to worry about being dropped.

  And most of all: Real men had hair.

  Lots and lots of delicious body hair.

  Well, except for Travis. As smooth and lean as the guys the giggling bimbos probably liked, perhaps his own lack of a pelt triggered his irrepressible fascination with hairy men. Of course, losing his virginity to a big ol’ bear probably hadn’t hurt.

  Sultry memories of his summer on the farm came back to him, stirring feelings of warmth and tenderness. No one had suspected Mr. Thompson was gay, but Travis had noticed the appreciative looks, felt the heat of his gaze. The nights they’d been together, he’d been so gentle, teaching Travis the ways of love. But he’d been separated from his wife and so deep in the closet the affair ended almost before it began. To this day, no one had ever made Travis feel as safe and cherished. And he’d been looking. My God, had he been looking.

  Who knew his deepest fantasy only waited a few emails away?

  While embarrassing to pay for sex, he’d planned this vacation as a way of celebrating the end to a stressful year studying for and completing the Ohio Bar Exam. And if one bought a gift for himself, he might as well guarantee he got exactly what he wanted, right?

  When he first ran across 1NightStand, he’d assumed it serviced hard-up fat guys who lived in their mom’s basements. But upon further investigation, he’d discovered it was the break he’d been looking for. 1NightStand claimed to be a matchmaking enterprise—Travis had checked into the legalities and read his contract carefully—and Madame Eve promised the fantasy. After a fee, she contacted the client and asked what he looked for. It had been like filling out the custom order form for a new car. But a whole lot more fun.

  Tall and hairy were a must. Sweet, handsome. Older than him by at least ten years. A smart man, if he could have one. But he’d be cool with pretty and dumb, too. He’d been anxious to find out what kind of guy his one-night stand might be since he’d signed up for this adventure. From what he could tell so far, his date looked perfect.

  Once she’d made the match, Madame Eve sent plane tickets and hotel reservation information for the Castillo Resort on historic Grand Turk in the Caribbean. On his first trip out of the country, not only was he eager to meet John but he couldn’t wait to explore the tropical, sun-soaked nirvana. Jagger Castillo, the sexy Cuban hotel manager, had given him lots of brochures about the Turks then personally showed him his room. The night of tropical, sweat-soaked fornication would be spent in John’s suite. Squelching a grin, and the subsequent swelling in his swim trunks, he could hardly contain his excitement.

  This will be the best vacation ever.

  Good thing he’d jerked one out before he came down to the pool, or he’d be sprouting an erection Paul Bunyan would have a hard time felling. He’d wanted to prevent ending the night in five seconds, but the longer he watched John by the pool the more he realized it might happen anyway. Especially when he imagined all that body hair tickling his flesh. The musk of his skin, the scent of his armpits, balls, the sweat on his neck—all of it filling his nostrils ’til he became drunk from it. Damn, his shorts tented further.

  Travis perked up when John surveyed the Tiki bar. To his surprise, his gaze flitted right over him. Maybe the sun was in his eyes and he didn’t notice the Ohio State T-shirt he wore to identify himself and prevent John from accidently hitting on some straight guy. According to Travis’s correspondence with Madame Eve, John wanted this to feel like a clandestine meeting at a bar, rather than a made-to-order fuck. An innocent enough ruse. As long as it ended up with John’s cock buried balls deep in Travis’s ass, what could be the harm in a little subterfuge?

  John stepped into the shallow water. The golden hour of evening approached, the sun rendering his tanned flesh bronze. Travis couldn’t wait to get his hands on him. Sipping his mojito, he swiveled in his seat, surreptitiously crossing his ankle over his knee. Looked like the preparation masturbation hadn’t really helped.

  “Hey!” a kid cried when he and his friends caught sight of Poseidon entering their domain. “Can you do a cannonball?”

  Travis hid a smile as the kids gave John a cheer, egging him on. Yes, his bear definitely had the look of the guy at the pool who did cannonballs for the kids.

  John’s handsome face cracked a good natured smile. “Sorry, kids. Not today.”

  The kids pouted and Travis hid a lecherous grin behind his glass. Don’t wear yourself out, honey. That’s my job.

  He glanced at the clock, hoping the guy noticed him soon. The mojito went down smooth i
n the waning heat and the steel drum band filled the air with the tinny sounds of Bob Marley. But he came here for a different kind of sun and fun. Who knew? He’d only paid for the one night, but if John agreed, possibly they could have a whole vacation of man-on-hairy-man action. Desire simmered in his nuts just thinking about it, but he told himself not to get his hopes up.

  John had one more look around the pool—missing Travis again—then took a perfectly formed, short dive beneath the water. Like a dolphin, seamless and no splash. Definitely a man of slow and studied motions. The sort who made love like a long, wet dream rather than a pile driver.

  In his pursuit of the perfect boyfriend, Travis had been fucked by his fair share of big guys, most of whom had been Doms. Not that he couldn’t take it, but he preferred a little romance. He might like a bear, but he wanted a teddy not a grizzly.

  John surfaced, shaking long, gorgeous curls out of his face and blinking back the water from his eyes. Travis loved it when guys did that. Water sluiced over his open lips, catching in his goatee as he took his first breath and Travis tried not to groan as he pictured the scene in slow-mo, complete with swanky porn music. He slurped the icy remnants of his mojito, his mouth suddenly dry.

  “Another?”

  Travis offered the bartender a smile and shook his head. He didn’t want to be too drunk to appreciate the fine hunk of flesh he’d paid good money for. “I’m fine, thanks. I’ll be leaving shortly anyway.”

  He winked. “You let me know if you need anything else.”

  Attractive, but too thin and far too much smooth skin for his taste.

  John exited the pool and Travis’s hungry gaze zeroed in on the water running in rivulets through the luscious pelt covering his body, slicking beneath his swim trunks. God, he couldn’t wait to lick him from head to toe, ass to balls.

  “You sure you don’t wanna do a cannonball?” the kids asked in chorus.

  John gave them a kind smile, not irritated by the little twerps at all. “Maybe another time.”

  Swallowing hard, Travis watched him vigorously dry off his arms and legs, ruffling up his fur. He tipped his head to the side to wring the water out of his long hair. Those eyes—light green, maybe?—roamed over the pool area once more, a disappointed expression crossing his face. Travis had to restrain himself from jumping off the barstool and yelling, I’m over here!

  Not exactly the kind of discretion required at Castillo Resorts. It might be a rendezvous place for 1NightStand, but it was just a normal tropical resort.

  When John headed to the bar, Travis had a hard time looking away from the mountain of muscle closing in on him. His hair curled at the temples, complimenting the rounded, but masculine features of his face. His trimmed goatee, peppered by light blond, hinted at being gray near his full lips. The fine lines around his eyes—hazel, Travis finally discovered—spoke of laughter and kindness.

  Grinning, he opened his mouth to say hello, but John walked right past him.

  Travis frowned when his date tapped his knuckles lightly on the counter. He should’ve opted for the red OSU shirt. Maybe John didn’t see the Buckeye logo on the front.

  The cute bartender nodded in John’s direction, a flirtatious smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What can I get for you, big guy?”

  “I’ll have a Bud.”

  Of course you will. The slightly soft curve of his stomach spoke of a man who never wasted time on a light beer.

  Deciding to get the party started, Travis scooted one stool closer, until he sat right beside his date. The giant shifted and glanced over. Offering a slight tip of his bottle in greeting, John cleared his throat awkwardly and turned away.

  Oh! So he’s shy.

  Well, there was a damn good reason more than one of his lovers had called Travis an aggressive bottom. Nothing stopped him from going after what he wanted.

  Tonight, he was hunting bear.

  Damn, he loved a good game. He had a difficult time hiding his coy smirk. “You think there might be an Ohio State game on?”

  The bottle of beer halted just shy of John’s lips. He looked at Travis, as if seeing him for the first time.

  Travis faced him fully, gifting him with a clear view of his T-shirt and the presence of his interest in the front of his shorts. Then he gave the best come-hither smile he could muster. “Hi. I’m Travis.”

  A flash of darkness crossed John’s face. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  The growled words sucker punched Travis and for a second he couldn’t breathe. He knew he wasn’t the best looking guy on the planet, but he’d never had any complaints. Especially from bears like John.

  “Excuse me?” Travis managed, once air snuck back into his lungs.

  John’s mouth tightened into a thin line, the longer whiskers below his lip poking out with the motion. He exhaled what sounded like a tired sigh. “Looks like we both got screwed.”

  “I thought that was the whole idea,” Travis replied, seriously confused.

  John didn’t appear to have heard him as he muttered, “I don’t know what that woman was thinking. I knew this was too good to be true.”

  Fire burned up Travis’s neck to scorch his face with humiliation. Could he be that disgusting to this hair-dusted, Herculean god?

  “W-what?” His throat tightened, imaginary fingers strangling him.

  Downing his beer in one long pull, John stood. Despite the situation, it left Travis imagining the same open throat taking his cock. But when John slammed the bottle down, the sharp sound jolted him back to reality.

  He rested a large, warm hand on Travis’s shoulder. The contact sent a hard, electric bolt of arousal down his back where it settled at the base of his spine. He couldn’t breathe again as all the blood in his head made plans to head south to his cock.

  John shook his head. “Sorry, kid. There’s just no way.”

  Chapter Two

  John wanted to kill that woman.

  No wonder Madame Eve did everything via email and never met clients in person. She didn’t want to run the risk of disgruntled customers identifying her. If she pulled this sort of crap often, 1NightStand could not have a list of happy customers.

  Slamming the door to his hotel room, he cursed the stupid idea once more.

  He had known about 1NightStand for some time, but only persistent badgering from his friend, Garret, made him believe the service might be what he needed. He’d read the contract very carefully but he should’ve known nothing came without a catch.

  What had he been thinking? He should’ve listened to his instincts at Detroit Metro and not gotten on the plane. But he’d ignored them, dismissing it as fear. He’d taken a deep breath and boarded. After all, John Godfrey did not shy away from a challenge. Hell, he came out in college when the irrational fear of AIDS meant “fags” got kicked off the football team. But he showed them when he graduated valedictorian and went on to become the university’s youngest law professor to receive tenure. He feared nothing.

  Well, that’s who he used to be. After Kurt died three years ago, he’d been none of those things. He’d been an empty shell. Work, eat, sleep. Not the person his partner had fallen in love with, and not the kind of man he would be happy John had become.

  He tossed his wet beach towel on the floor and grabbed his laptop. The cleaning staff had set up the spacious terrace per his requests. Fading sunlight bathed a romantic table with pinks and gold. Dinner for two. Soft jazz music played and fresh flowers perfumed the air. Candles lined every surface. It looked so damn romantic, Cupid himself would barf.

  At least some people did as they were paid to do. He’d have to leave them a nice tip.

  Irritated as all hell and still in soggy swim trunks, he sat at the table. Careful not to break anything, he picked up one place setting and moved it aside to make room for his laptop.

  While he waited what seemed like forever for the computer to load, he thought about what he would say to Madame Eve. Until his gaze swept the patio again. He
chuckled bitterly. What a waste.

  What exactly had he hoped to find in the Caribbean that he couldn’t find back home in Michigan?

  For so long he had been terrified to venture down the dating road and risk getting attached or falling in love. He’d convinced himself he couldn’t live through the grief of losing someone he loved again. At forty-two, he still had a lot of life to live, and Kurt wouldn’t want him to waste it. So John had come to Turks and Caicos to do something drastic—out of his comfort zone—to kick start his life.

  Too bad the attempt failed miserably.

  Finally, the browser opened. Righteous indignation flared inside him and with great determination he pecked the words, his key strokes hard and deliberate.

  Madame Evangeline,

  I don’t know what kind of operation you are running. I just met my date. What were you thinking? I requested a bottom, aged thirty-five to fifty, fit and tall. You got the dark hair right, but perhaps you’re unaware of a something called logistics. I am six-foot-five and two hundred eighty pounds. While Travis seems like a nice young man—young being the operative word—he couldn’t be a day over twenty or a hundred forty pounds soaking wet.

  If your business didn’t operate in the gray area of the law, I might be tempted to report you to the BBB. I know you have this aversion for anyone who dares bring up money, perhaps because you are running a scam. When I check my account in the a.m., I expect a full refund.

  John Godfrey, Esq.

  He hit “send” and gave the computer a “take-that” snort.

  Water trickled down his back, itching as it dripped from his hair and drawing him out of his victorious moment. After sending the email, he’d expected to feel better, but he didn’t. His arms tickled as they dried and he brushed them vigorously, irritation souring his mood further.