Hard Wright: First Time for Everything

By B.T. Haiyes

Ben 

 

Accidents happen all the time. 

 

For example, lets say you accidentally made an online dating profile. And you accidentally happened to tick the box stating you're 'Gay' (instead of 'Straight' — which I completely am by the way).

 

And then lets say you happened to accidentally meet the handsome surly gay cop who replied to your profile.

 

Accidents happen all the time…right?

 

Josh

 

I've always had a very simple approach to relationships…don't get into them in the first place.

 

I'm a man who likes to get some, then get gone. What makes this time any different?

 

My job as a cop has meant that I've always kept relationships — and love — at arms length.

 

So, why can't I keep myself away from Ben?

 

Hard Wright is part of the 'First Time For Everything' series.

 

This book is a very spicy standalone straight to gay MM insta-love short story romance. If you love to read quick steamy stories about men finding the alpha-male love of their lives, then get this book today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.T. Haiyes
• Release date: Apr 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223728580

Book preview

HARD Wright

A Straight To Gay Romance Law Enforcement Story

(First Time for Everything Series)

By B.T. Haiyes

Copyright 2022 B.T Haiyes.

All Rights Reserved .

This is a work of pure fiction.

Names, places, business, characters and/or incidents mentioned in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or places is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

All rights not mentioned herein are reserved to the author.

Chapter 1

JOSH

Y ou ready to give up ? I stared down my opponent with a satisfied smirk.

My arm was bulging, the strength of my forearm pushed to the limit, as I held my opponents hand in place.

All around us the patrons in the bar let loose yells of encouragement — with my friends behind me loudest of them all.

I breathed slowly, keeping my cool even as the tabletop bit into my elbow, but I was determined to win this arm wrestling match.

My friends and co-workers from the police station were all cheering me on. I even heard someone behind me yell that I had to win this, or they’d never let me live it down.

I chuckled. I was confident I was going to win. So, I comfortably stared down the bulging-eyed red-faced man opposite, and held his hand firmly in place.

He, on the other hand, tried to put everything he had behind his.

When this guy tossed an open challenge of an arm wrestle our way — after he’d made a stupid remark about all police cops being unfit — I was the only one in my group who took him up on it.

This total stranger had wandered right up to me and my friends. We were all gathered in our favorite bar, raising one last glass in cheers to celebrate the fact that one of our own was retiring today.

Arthur, (my former training officer and a good friend of mine), was finally hanging up his hat. He’d lasted longer than most, calling it quits at the age of sixty.

So, when this kid — who looked barely a day over 21 — had come up to us with a chip on his shoulder, I figured I’d take him down a peg.

No way was I going to let some punk ruin my friends retirement party.

The kid  — Tate, I think his name was? — had done a double take when he took in my well built six foot four inch frame.

Tate was no slouch either, I’d give him that. He had the frame — along with the douche-level sleeveless teeshirt to match — of a bodybuilder.

But, one thing about all of those muscles on him, was that while they may be pretty, they weren’t as functional as the real strength I’d built up over the years.

Tate’s face was now beet-red, and I laughed when he refused to give up. I had to hand it to him, he was tenacious.

I felt Arthur place a hand on my shoulder, and I glanced up. Come on, Josh. Stop playing around with the kid, Arthur said with an amused look on his face. Waving a dismissive hand at my red-faced opponent, Arthur continued. Just take the damn win.

I nodded. Turning my attention back towards Tate, I flexed my forearm, and in one fell swoop, slapped his hand down on the table.

The entire bar erupted into cheers and applause, and I was immediately swamped with pats on the back and ‘atta boys’ from my friends.

You tried your best, kid, I said honestly, as the kid rose from his seat with a surly grumble. "But I was better. Not bad for a pudgy cop, I reckon."

Tate grunted noncommittally, and moved to rejoin his group of snickering friends. But, before he made it half a step, I spoke up. I think you’re forgetting something?

The kid looked at me confused, until he saw me rubbing my fingers and thumb together in that universal ‘money’ motion. Fifty bucks to the winner. That was our bet.

He let loose a low swear, and snatched his wallet from his back pocket.

Pulling a crisp fifty from it, the kid slapped it on the table, and then quickly hustled off through the jostling crowd to go lick his wounds with his friends.

Plucking the fifty off the table, I lifted it triumphantly into the air. Daisy! I yelled out, addressing the bartender.

Everyone at the station came here so often that we were on a first name basis with Daisy.

The next round of drinks... I clapped Arthur on the shoulder, as he raised his beer glass to me in congratulations, ...are On ME! I shouted.

The bar erupted with noise once again, and over the sounds of celebration, Daisy shouted back. I don’t think that’s gonna cover it, she said with a laugh, indicating the fifty in my hand. But I’ll put it on your tab.

I returned her smile, giving her a grateful wink, before turning to speak to Arthur. And what will you be having, old man? I gave his beer glass a short nod, another beer, or maybe something a bit stronger?

Arthur shook his head ruefully. "Enough with the old man. I can still plenty put you on your ass, he said with a chuckle. Just another beer for me. My wife, Sandra, made me quit hard liquor. Hell, even my son has me trying out some of his craft beers." Arthur mirrored my look of disgust at the thought of those artisan drinks.

Why would your son do that to you? I said in mock horror, giving Arthur a comical look of concern, as I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you need another drink to wash away