Accidentally Beautiful

by Deanna Wadsworth

Panting, Garret collapsed on top of him, spreading cum between their flushed bodies, the weight exquisite. Martin never wanted to leave the sanctuary of his embrace. He hooked his legs over Garret’s calves, burying his face into his neck.

  Perhaps discovering a man to give him the sexual experience of his most secret fantasies—or just all the smoke he’d inhaled—had affected his ability to be rational, but he didn’t think he could go on living without Garret. How could this have happened? He didn’t even know where Garret lived, yet he longed to follow him to the ends of the earth.

  What if this night would be all they shared?

  “Shhh,” Garret crooned, brushing the hair off his face.

  He hadn’t even realized it, but his body had begun to tremble and his breathing had grown ragged with silent sobs.

  “What is it?” Garret asked, lifting up, shifting their weight so he could look into Martin’s eyes.

  What the hell could Martin say? I belong to you? I want you to own me? Garret would think he’d gone barmy. Hells, he probably had.

  “Something happened….”

  He didn’t have to explain. Garret understood. He always did.

  “Shhh, don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you, okay?”

  Nodding, Martin’s fears washed away at the confidence and affection in Garret’s tone.

  “You won’t have to worry about anything anymore.” At that, Garret slithered down his body, dipping his tongue in the wet pool of Martin’s belly button.

  “Oh, that’s efficient.” Martin squirmed from the ticklish feeling.

  Garret licked his abdomen once more, cleansing the silky residue of their release. “Environmentally friendly, too.”

  “Waste not, want not,” Martin quipped, snaking his fingers through Garret’s hair.

  Propping his chin in the center of Martin’s stomach, Garret smiled at him. “We should clean off.”

  “Right. Can’t imagine explaining to my boss how I ended up naked on the beach being shagged by a guest.”

  Chuckling, they climbed to their feet. Martin assumed they would be going back to Garret’s beach house, but Garret pulled him toward the water. “Let’s go swimming.”

  He eyed him dubiously. “What about sharks and jellyfish?”

  Garret let out a bark of laughter. “Babe, you gotta start living a little.”

  Steeling himself to whatever creepy-crawlies might live in the ocean, Martin followed him to the surf.

  Without hesitation, Garret marched into the ocean, his naked arse glowing whiter than his suntanned body, calling to mind some ancient silkie returning to the sea after a night of making love with a mortal. Rooted to the spot, Martin longed to follow him, but insecurity, self-doubt held him back.

  Had Martin been reading into Garret’s promises? What if he didn’t want some helpless fool following after him? What if Garret believed this was a holiday fling and nothing more? How could Martin return to Canada alone, knowing the other half of his soul was somewhere else?

  And why in bloody hell do you think Garret’s the other half of your soul?

  Before he could answer himself, Garret called, “C’mon, the water’s great!”

  He splashed toward Martin, a few sprays reaching him. Though it might be crazy—pathetic even—just seeing at the other man eased his concerns. He didn’t have to worry. Garret would take care of everything.

  Playful, he followed his mysterious silkie out to sea, running into the surf, splashing. He fell into Garret’s open embrace. Before his new lover saw it coming, Martin hooked his heel over his ankle and toppled them both over. Garret’s cry of surprise was drowned by the next wave crashing over their falling bodies.

  With a wet flip of hair, Garret surfaced and lunged for him. “You little shit!”

  Shrieking with laughter, Martin didn’t run or struggle. He wanted to be captured by Garret because, as he had suspected, his punishment was another one of those earth-shattering kisses. A second wave pushed them, but they clung to each other, kissing and rolling with the flow, the water refreshing and cool, until they were once more able to stand.

  When Garret scooped seawater and trickled it down his chest, Martin joked, “Right. Now, I’ll have to wash off spunk and seawater—”

  Without warning, Garret tensed and pulled Martin into the water, cutting him off. His hand snaked out to cover Martin’s mouth before he could ask what was going on.

  Garret pointed toward the beach and, heart racing, Martin’s brows shot up when he saw a man in far-too-short running shorts and knee-high white socks jogging past their blanket and picnic basket. The 1970s flashback didn’t notice the two naked men hidden in the waves of the Caribbean. Thank God!

  After he disappeared, Martin said, “Bet he’s happy he waited five minutes to leave for his run, right?”

  Garret fell into him, laughing hysterically. They collapsed together, a persistent wave pushing them toward the shore. Allowing it sway, they settled in each other’s arms, Garret straddling Martin’s lap. The soft sand didn’t aggravate his paddled bottom and cool water caressed his balls, feeling both sinful and amazing. Holding onto Garret while the gentle surf tossed around their coiled bodies, Martin savored the faint tap of Garret’s cock against his stomach from the waves moving them about.

  Garret caressed his chest. “My God you’re beautiful.”

  “You keep complimenting me, and you’ll never get rid of me.”

  “You’re beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.” With each word, Garret delivered an impish peck on Martin’s nose. Pressing their foreheads together, he whispered, “I’m so glad she sent you for me.”

  “Who?”

  “Madame Eve.”

  The casual reply shocked Martin. “Where did you hear about her?”

  With a strange expression, Garret sat back, the weight of his body forcing Martin to straighten his legs. “Because I hired her, ya goof. Just like you did.”

  “I hired no one.” Another wave pushed them further up the shoreline before pulling them back down, and Martin had to hold Garret’s hips to keep him in place.

  Garret appeared confused. “Then how…?”

  When it dawned on him what had happened, Martin laughed out loud. How could he have been so simple-minded?

  None of this beautiful night had been an accident.

  Martin had always imagined Madame Eve had magic. He’d just never expected to be on the receiving end of it.

  “This island be full of Fae magic after all,” he whispered, letting his lilt have full sway in honor of the old world spirits at work.

  “Do you mean to tell me, you didn’t hire Madame Eve?”

  “Aye, when I told you my job is tending to the resort’s exclusive clientele, I was referring to the customers who hire her services. I have never spoken to the woman, let alone hired her.”

  “Then who told you to order my drink at the bar?”

  Chuckling, Martin shook his head when he realized Jagger must’ve had a hand in this as well. No wonder he’d been acting so strange. “I picked it off a list the hotel manager gave me.”

  A slow smile crept across Garret’s handsome face. “So you mean to tell me, that you went with me tonight, and you had no idea who I was? You didn’t think this was all a prearranged, safe encounter with a stranger?”

  Martin chewed on his lower lip, feeling sort of foolish all of a sudden. “Um…yeah?”

  His embarrassment eased when Garret’s grin widened. “You just trusted me?”

  “Um…yeah, I suppose I did.”

  Garret chuckled softly, his eyes full of wonder. “She really does know what people need. I left off I wanted a sub, but look at us. She sent you to me anyway.”

  Though he had heard the word before, he didn’t fully understand it. Was Martin a sub? What did that mean? Garret was his Dom—his master? More importantly, why in the name of the Virgin Mother didn’t the notion of being submissive to another man scare the devil out of him, rather, seem perfectly normal?

  T
hen again, if Madame Eve sent Garret special for him, worrying was unnecessary. She didn’t make mistakes.

  When Garret kissed him, it erased any last vestiges of fears or doubt. The man had a way with kissing that could bring about world peace.

  “How much longer are you staying in Grand Turk?” Garret asked.

  “Until Tuesday.”

  “You’ll have to change your flight to Sunday with mine.”

  “I will?”

  “Yes.” Once again, he spoke with finality, not bossy or aggressive, but confident. “You’ll be finishing up the rest of your vacation in Detroit, with me.”

  Martin grinned, and Garret cupped his cheek, saltwater dribbling down his neck. “Then you’ll have to call your boss. Insist on that transfer to Toronto, so you will be closer to me. But that’s still a four and a half hour drive, so we’ll eventually have to move you closer to Detroit.”

  “But there’s my job, and I’d have to get a visa….”

  “We’ll figure it all out, babe. Together. Don’t you worry.” Garret shrugged that detail off, his attention centered on his plans for them—plans which sounded more and more perfect by the second.

  He was right, of course. With Garret in charge of them, everything would sort itself out in the end.

  “But I would never ask you to give up your career. We’ll see if Detroit can become your home base while you travel to the different resorts.”

  “My travel is irregular, and I wouldn’t want to be a burden on you….”

  “That would never happen,” Garret assured him. “But my family owns a sports bar, so I could always put you to work if you wanted. Maybe I’ll even dress you in a kilt.” He chuckled then scrunched up his face in thought. “But you’d have to be behind the bar. I can’t have women trying to steal a peek underneath.”

  “I don’t wear kilts,” Martin said—no doubt causing all his ancestors to roll over in their graves.

  Garret wore a knowing smirk. “You will.”

  How could he argue with that? “Um…right. Okay.”

  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

  Bestselling erotica author Deanna Wadsworth leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her hubby of 14 years and three demanding little dogs. She has a fascination with the exotic and taboo but it is her infatuation with love in all its stages and incarnations which made her chose to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

  You can visit Deanna at:

  http://deannawadsworth.blogspot.com

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