Born to Be Wylde Read Online Free PDF Page B

throat, giving Wylde a shy look under his eyelashes, as if he could read the sudden heat. “I occasionally take students,” he said. Then he lifted one white-stained palm. “Come here.”
Wylde hesitated. How was he supposed to act? He had figured out how to behave in school and in most places, like the grocery store, memorizing the scripts in his head, but he had no script for Ken or Ken’s studio.
Ken’s voice softened, like afternoon-sun-softened honey, “Come here, gorgeous.”
Wylde was up from his stool and next to Ken in about two seconds.
Ken laughed, reaching up to touch Wylde’s cheeks where they burned, then his lips so that Wylde parted them, closing his eyes to savor the imprint of fingertips where he was sensitive.
“God, you’re sexy.”
Wylde’s eyes flared open. “I am?” He swallowed. “Good.”
Ken lifted some of the loose hair snaking over Wylde’s bare chest, pressing it to his face and closing his eyes. “Cedar. Smells like cedar.”
“I burn it in the cave,” Wylde said, shrugging. He didn’t see why it was sexy, but it was good Ken thought so. Wylde wanted to be sexy for Ken.
“When I first woke up, I thought I was lost in one of my mother’s captive-and-captor romances. Have you ever read one of those?” Ken asked, flushing. He looked timid but also like he wanted to reach out. Wylde wanted to take his claysmeared hand and put it over his swollen cock. But it seemed Ken wanted to talk first.
He shook his head. “I couldn’t read. Only… small words.” Words he remembered his grandfather had taught him when he’d been a child. Josh had patiently tutored him so he’d caught up and been able to get his GED.
“Wylde, how is it you were camped out in a cave? You’re a mystery to me.”
Wylde’s head dropped. Ken did think he was strange, a freak. It was just like when he’d had a crush on that football player back in Sullivan, the town where his friends lived. He’d bought him wildflowers after a game one night, tonguetied, and the athlete had laughed at Wylde.
“I spent a long time….” Wylde let out a huff of breath. “A long time alone in the woods.” He felt the ache of that time in his chest, but he had no fancy words to express it.
    K EN reached up, as if seeing Wylde needed contact, reassurance. He cupped Wylde’s cheek, and Wylde closed his eyes, pushing his face into the caress and giving a soft groan.
    “You’re so responsive. Primal. When I touch you, it’s like you give yourself to me completely, like you are on the edge of coming,” Ken breathed.
    Wylde’s eyes opened. He couldn’t speak since his heart was pounding in his ears. Coming? If Ken kept stroking his hair, that would be all it would take. Because he was Ken.
“Why were you alone in the woods?” Ken asked in the same gentle tone, as if he knew Wylde was feeling gun-shy.
    “Grandpa…. His arm hurt and he grabbed it, and then he fell down. He didn’t get back up. I waited…. When he was cold, I went into the woods.”
    “Oh my God…!” Ken’s eyes widened. “Your grandfather had a heart attack?”
Wylde nodded, feeling the wrench of losing him again.
“How old were you?”
“Small.”
“And no one helped you, found you? You just… lived in the woods?”
“At first I was lost… for a long time, so I helped me,” Wylde said, not wanting Ken to feel bad. “Then I met friends and I lived with them.”
“Wylde, I’m so sorry! My family is everything to me,” Ken said. He pulled Wylde into a hug. “I’m sorry, baby.”
It was stupid, but the little boy who’d run away into the forest felt those words like a touch where he was hungry and scared and lonely. “My name is Steven,” he shared. “Steven Butler. Wylde is….” He shrugged.
“A nickname?” Ken pulled away to smile at him faintly, but his eyes were still so sad. “It suits you.”
“If I brought you wildflowers, would you like that?” Wylde swallowed thickly, remembering the laughter of the jock and his