Hunter ran his hand over his ass-cheeks a few times as he glanced over his shoulder, watching intently in the mirror. It felt nice. He hoped someday a real man would want to touch him that way. To make him feel like he was worth something. One last stroke and he was done.
He needed to get dressed if he was going to meet Arthur at seven. He slid his tight-legged, skinny jeans on. Again, he paused to glance at himself. Next, he slid his tight T-shirt on. He thought he was almost cute with clothes on. Oh well. Off to dinner.
Arthur Westbrooke
Arthur had been nervously pacing in the private room. Wagyu Steakhouse had two main dining rooms and several private rooms. Arthur had insisted on a private room so that Hunter would not be ashamed of being seen eating with an old man.
The notion was probably ridiculous. Vegas was filled with preposterous people, and it was likely that no one would even notice. But he really wanted Hunter to be comfortable. And there was that thing about him ruining everything when he met people. Just like last night. Fewer witnesses are always better.
It was just after seven when Hunter arrived. The waiter escorted him into the small room.
“Hunter, thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure you would,” Arthur said.
“Actually, neither was I,” Hunter replied.
“Please have a seat. First, let me apologize for my conduct last night. I was wrong to try to give you a kiss. I assumed you were gay and… I’m not one to know how to handle social situations, let alone be romantic.”
“Well, you were right, I am gay. And you are very wrong. Look around us. Dim lights, candles, you in a suit and me in blue jeans. That’s more romance than I have ever gotten. I feel pretty silly though. I am way underdressed. I guess that explains the private room.”
“My God, I am so sorry. I hadn’t thought,” Arthur said. Before he had even finished speaking, he was on his feet. He removed the suit jacket and tie. He saw Hunter’s eyes widen as he began to unbutton the dress shirt. He removed it and sat back down in just his white T-shirt.
“There. Again, I am so sorry, Hunter.”
“Don’t be sorry. Also that was not necessary, you know.”
“I just want you to be comfortable.”
“I am. Thank you. Although I have to admit, I was a little worried that your pants were next!” Hunter laughed.
“Ha! The waiter probably would not care much for that. Although… “ Arthur leaned back in the chair and pretended to unbutton his pants. Hunter’s face lit up with a smile. “You have a beautiful smile. It is so innocent. You are lucky.”
“I’m lucky? Look at those arms! Arthur could see that Hunter was staring at his biceps. They were not huge, but big enough. He often got bored on his business trips and found the gym was a good place to burn off extra energy. Arthur blushed.
“No, really, it’s true. Those things are hot! You must have guys jumping all over you,” he said.
“Hardly. I’m… a bit awkward. Remember?”
“Listen,” Hunter said. “I didn’t leave last night because you tried to kiss me. I actually wanted that. I left because I… I have issues. Issues that I am sure you don’t need. Not just stupid kid issues, but real adult issues.”
“Hunter, if there is one thing you learn in life, it is that everyone has issues. You have to either accept that or check out of life!”
“Fair enough, but I might scare you with mine. Just a warning.” He laughed.
“Please order whatever you want. Tonight is on me. No funny business. I promise.”
The two went on and on over dinner. Each shared the battle scars of their lives. For some reason they both seemed at ease with each other. Like they were meant to be together. Arthur shared his issues with prostitutes and being older, and Hunter reciprocated, sharing his family issues and his time being a prostitute.
Neither was appalled by each other’s stories. They actually drew closer. Each one now knew what the other had been through. As dinner concluded, both Hunter and he were red from laughter. Both had cried, just a little, but laughed a lot.
“Arthur, tonight has been the best night of my life. You are a wonderful man. I have never told anyone the things I told you, and it was easy to trust you. When are you leaving Las Vegas? I have to see you again before you go.”
“I’m leaving on Monday. You better believe you have to see me again! I haven’t had this much fun in forever. Are you off tomorrow?”
Hunter smirked. “I am.”
“What is that look for?” Arthur asked.
“Let me show you.”
He scooped a small bit of vanilla ice cream off his desert, walked to Arthur, stretched the neck of his T-shirt and dribbled it on Arthur’s smooth chest. He gasped at the coolness.
“Oops.” Hunter untucked and lifted Arthur’s shirt before he sat on his lap. “I’ll get that.”
Hunter started his licking at Arthur’s belly button and moved up until his warm, wet tongue met with the cool ice cream. A series of small moans escaped Arthur’s lips. Licks turned to kisses and kisses turned to… more.
The waiter returned just as Hunter unfastened Arthur’s belt. He jumped in surprise and excused himself. Hunter’s beautiful smile returned and the two erupted into laughter. Hunter stood and adjusted his obviously hard manhood while Arthur did the same.
“Whoops.” Arthur laughed. “Guess we’re busted! Would you care to take this somewhere more private?”
“You couldn’t stop me if you wanted to.”
Arthur quickly paid the bill and the two rushed to his suite.
Hunter Grady
They burst through the door, feverishly smothering each other in hot, wet kisses. Guttural moans of pleasure escaped them both. Hunter literally ripped the shirt off Arthur, its white cotton shredding. He pushed Arthur backward onto the bed, kissing him down from his shoulders. He took each nipple into his mouth and sucked until it was rock hard.
Hunter kissed lower and lower until his tongue encircled Arthur’s belly button. His hands traveled down his smooth, tan body until they reached his belt. Arthur begged for more as Hunter unbuckled it.
His kisses followed Arthur’s beautiful V-shaped abdominals. First the right, then the left. He grasped Arthur’s hardness and stroked it momentarily before kissing his way to the tip. He engulfed it over and over before Arthur flipped him over.
Hunter watched as his pants slid down over his hips and disappeared onto the floor. Arthur licked and kissed his way up the nineteen-year-old’s body. Arthur buried his face in Hunters crotch, kissing all around the jock.
He felt Arthur guiding him over onto his stomach. He pulled the young man’s hips toward himself, lifting his ass into the air. Arthur kissed up the back of his thighs and across the bubbly cheeks before he devoured the tight hole.
Hunter could feel Arthur’s tongue exploring his depths for long periods of time before he had to surface for air. It was obvious that Arthur wanted to please him as he licked and stroked his flesh. It was too much.
“I need you inside me,” Hunter said. “Please. I want to feel you inside me.”
Arthur stood and lined his hardness up with Hunter’s wet hole. Hunter moaned as he felt Arthur begin to slide into him. They locked into the throes of passionate lovemaking. Arthur took Hunter from behind for a short period before demanding to see his face.
They adjusted position, and now, face to face, kissed as Arthur thrust himself inside Hunter. They locked eyes. Hunter smiled between moans. This brought Arthur to the edge.
“I’m going to cum,” he said and began to pull out of Hunter.
Hunter locked his legs behind Arthur’s blocking him from pulling out.
“Don’t go,” he said and pulled him back inside.
Arthur’s cock hardened and began to pulse with orgasmic delight. Hunter could feel him exploding deep inside. It was wonderful. It was the first time it had ever been like this and he didn’t want it to end.
Hunter felt Arthur relax and collapse on top of him.
The two kissed more and Hunter felt Arthur harden inside him.
“Again?” Hunter asked.
“Mmm.”
The two made love late into the night until they were both too tired to go on, and sleep overtook them both.
*
Hunter returned home the next morning to a nervously awaiting mother.
“And where did you go last night? Hmmm?” she asked.
“I met someone,” Hunter said.
“Ooh… Do tell,” she said.
Hunter began to tell the story and was just about to the part at the steakhouse when the phone rang.
“Sit right there, mister. You don’t get out of dishing just ‘cuz the phone rang.”
Hunter’s mom retrieved the cordless phone from the pouch on her wheelchair and answered it.
“Hello? Yes, this is her. What?”
An unintelligible voice chattered on in the phone.
“How did this happen? You’re sure it was for me? Oh, dear Lord… Thank you very much. Uh huh, bye bye,” she said ending the call.
“Who was it?” Hunter asked.
“It was the bank. They said the house is paid off.”
“What? How?”
“They said a gentlemen named Arthur Westbrooke called them and made the payment. I don’t even know who that is.”
“Oh my God. I do,” Hunter said. “That’s him, Mom. The someone that I met. I had no idea he would do this. I have to call him.”
Hunter pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the Excelsior. “Please connect me with Suite 50-113,” he said.
The hold music came on and Hunter paced impatiently. A woman returned to the line and explained that no one was available. He thanked her and hung up.
Just then the doorbell rang. Hunter bolted straight for it, nearly toppling his mom. He yanked the door open and there, in front of him, was Arthur. Hunter Leapt into his arms and smothered him with kisses.
“Hunter, may I come in?” he asked after the kissing subsided.
“Of course you can, don’t be crazy.”
“Mom, Mom, this is Arthur.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, still in shock.
“How are you here? I mean how did you know where I lived? How did—”
Arthur cut him off mid-sentence, “There is a lot to explain, but there is little time to explain it in. To make a long story short, I received a call today that I must return home to deal with some work problems for a client. But there is another problem that I have to deal with first.
“There is no way I can leave here without you. I have never felt this way about anyone in my life. You are the one for me. I know it deep in my bones,” Arthur explained.
“Are you sure that’s not just arthritis?” Hunter asked through a huge grin.
“I’m fairly sure.” He chuckled as Hunter’s mom slapped him on the butt. “Now, I have another first class ticket in your name if you want to come,” Arthur said.
“But I can’t just leave my mom. She needs help here with the house and Rory. I really want to but—”
“Maybe I forgot to mention that a nurse from the hospital will be here in about an hour. There is a housekeeper due in first thing tomorrow and a part-time babysitter will be here to watch Rory. Oh, and I almost forgot. I took the liberty of ordering your mother a new electric wheelchair, and some new furniture will be delivered this afternoon. I hope you like blue, Ms. Grady. If not let me know and I’ll have it changed out.”
“But why? Why would you do all this,” Hunter asked.
“Because, sometimes you meet someone so special that you can’t ever let them go. Now, this trip is just for a few days, but I would like to eventually move your whole family to my home in Los Angeles if you’d come. I have a large casita for them,” Arthur said.
“Oh, I don’t know… I don’t want to leave them behind,” Hunter said, looking back at his mom.
“Don’t be a fool Hunter. Go! I will be fine. Better than fine. GO!” she said. “Take a chance. There will always be Vegas.”
7
love at the las vegas bake off
C.H. Admirand
U.S. Marshal Ben Justiss stared across the lobby of the Excelsior Hotel. He had a bad feeling that hadn’t gone away the closer he got to Las Vegas, and the woman he couldn’t get off his mind.
One year, six months, and five days, and he could still see Peggy McCormack’s sweet smile and taste her melt-in-your-mouth buttermilk pie. Damn sneaky tactic, overnighting him a fresh-baked pie from the diner she ran with her sister Kate in Apple Grove, Ohio.
He scanned the well-dressed crowd. It was going to be a logistical nightmare protecting Peggy during the First Las Vegas Bake-Off. He and his brother Matt had gone over the list of coordinators for the bake-off, the contestants, the media involved, and the hotel’s support staff. They’d narrowed down the suspects to a handful since receiving the frantic call from her sister Kate and the heads-up from his cousin Patrick Garahan and his wife Grace Mulcahy Garahan—on speakerphone. Damn hard to concentrate with two people talking at the same damn time.
His gut burned. They were out of time. “Why didn’t she call and ask for help?”
“Maybe she’s still waiting for you to call and thank her for that pie.” The deep chuckle from the other side of the potted palm separating him from his younger brother pissed him off.
“Didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Ben grumbled.
“Don’t worry,” his brother reassured him. “I don’t think the guy in the tacky plaid slacks and hot pink golf shirt heard you.”
Ben had spotted the guy in hot pink earlier. “This place is everything Tex’s intel promised.”
“I wonder if old Louie ‘The Lip’ LaFica is still kicking?”
Ben hadn’t given the retired mobster who’d built the hotel in the 1960s a thought. His sole point of focus had been weeding out suspects and protecting Peggy McCormack from harm. “Wasn’t there a rumor that he bought the farm back in 1975?”
“Unsubstantiated,” his brother told him. “I’d like to have a talk with him.”
“He’d have to be over one hundred years old,” Ben said. “Might not survive interrogation.”
“Maybe Tex’s intel is off by a few years,” his brother suggested.
“Even if it is,” Ben said, “1960 is fifty-six years ago! Give or take five years either way he’d still be over ninety years old.”
The lush potted palms and spiny cacti scattered throughout the lobby were a concern. But the number of additions to the hotel over the last twenty years had him wondering just how soon this job would be FUBAR.
“Have you spotted her yet?” Matt asked.
“Negative. I’ll feel better when I see her.”
Matt coughed to cover what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Sure thing, bro.”
Ben knew his brother wasn’t done ribbing him yet for not sending Peggy flowers. Matt sent women flowers for every occasion. “I was going to get around to thanking her.”
“In this millennium?” Matt asked.
Before Ben could snarl out a reply, his brother rasped, “Main lobby doors. Tall, blond, and curvy.”
Ben’s gaze swung over to the doors. His gut twisted and his throat went dry. He’d forgotten how stunning Peggy McCormack was. “I should’ve sent flowers.”
“You know it,” Matt agreed. “What’s the plan for contact?”
“According to the Ohio Garahans, this is a semi-hostile protection job.”
“Wait, what—do Tom and John know?”
“Not sure. Peggy’s sister Kate just called a few minutes ago,” Ben said. “Peggy isn’t taking the threats seriously.” Watching the blond beauty striding from the doors to the long line at the reception desk, he frowned. “Kate warned she’d be difficult.”
Ben moved closer to the front desk, while his brother circled around behind to make contact with the bodyguards they’d subcontracted for this job—two of their New York City cousins, Tom
and John Garahan, both with the FDNY. They nodded as Matt walked past and touched a fingertip to his right ear.
“Got your ears on?”
“Roger Wilco,” Tom answered, then said, “She looks different.”
“She’s not wearing jeans and her apron,” Ben answered.
“Yo,” John chimed in. “No ponytail.”
“Yeah,” Tom added. “She had long hair at Pat and Grace’s wedding.”
Ben’s gut clenched, remembering a sky-blue dress swirling in the breeze and long blond hair shimmering in the sunlight. “Yeah.”
Ben and his brother were the fourth generation of Justiss lawmen—U.S. Marshals. The code of honor and integrity was bone-deep and in their blood. It was similar to the cowboy code his Texas cousins lived by, and the brothers-in-fire code his New York City cousins lived by.
He moved into her line of sight and waited until she looked up. He touched the brim of his Stetson. “Miss McCormack.”
Peggy’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe she called you.”
“Right before Patrick and Grace called.”
Her blue eyes flashed fire before narrowing. “I don’t need a bodyguard. I need to win the bake-off.”
He wanted to shake some sense into her. “Pretty descriptive threats.”
She snorted and tossed her head, just like his favorite palomino filly at his folks’ ranch… and just as feisty. “Bogus threats.”
“Descriptive,” he said again. “Right down to which bones they would break in your hands so you could never pick up a spoon or bowl again.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing her pale. Not good enough. He needed her scared enough to trust him and his team. “Kate forwarded another email a few minutes ago.”
She was trying hard not to look interested. “I didn’t receive any email this morning.”
“It was sent to the main email address for the diner.”
Romantic Times Page 12