Hot Male

by Lillian Grant

  Warm lips nipped her earlobe, and Sam growled, “Over you go, baby.” Her mind and body shattered. Nothing existed beyond the rush of her orgasm tugging at his fingers, wanting more. Sweat prickled her body, and she yelled his name as the waves built to a crescendo. Finally still, she gasped for air. Sam pulled his hand free, and she mewed at the loss but was grateful when he lifted her into his arms before she collapsed in a boneless puddle at his feet.

  Meg stretched like a cat when he deposited her in the middle of the bed, and Sam grinned. “Keep your hands there.”

  She smiled at him. It was still game on.

  With a grace she could never master if she practiced for a million years, Sam unzipped his pants and slipped them to his feet. His rock-hard cock stood proud, and she chewed her lip as her insides clenched in anticipation. Sam grasped his erection and stroked up and down.

  A whisper of, “Oh God” escaped her and she held her breath, waiting to see if she would be punished.

  Sam grinned. “I heard that. But I’ll let it go … for now.”

  Her focus stayed pinned to his body as he turned and rummaged in his bag. The view of his gorgeous penis was replaced by toned arse, and she had no complaints about the view either way.

  Sam stood, and she watched as he ripped the condom wrapper open and sheathed his dick. Not waiting for an order, she opened her legs wide, pulling her knees up and giving him her best “come hither” look.

  “Wanton hussy.”

  She giggled, and he slapped her thigh as he settled between her legs, his cock bumping her still sensitive clit.

  Every nerve ending tingled as he ran his fingers down her body, brushing the sides of her breast. He moved to kiss one puckered nipple and then the other. She lifted her hips, grinding her aching bud against his swollen dick. Sam lifted his head and grinned.

  “I should make you wait, but hell, you’re glorious.”

  With no fanfare or warning, he lifted his hips and took her hard. Her legs squeezed against him, and she moaned. Sam set up a rhythm that drove her on, his body rubbing against her swollen and still pulsating nub until she thought she would die.

  With one last thrust he shuddered. Her pussy grabbed its gorgeous captive as another orgasm shook her world. Sam’s yell of “Yee haw” signaled his own release and she writhed to ride him until he had spilled all he had.

  Sam collapsed on top of her, and they lay damp with sweat as they both fought to draw in breath. “I love you, baby.”

  Meg sighed. Life couldn’t get better than this. “I love you too.” She opened to his hot mouth, drowning in his kiss, tongues tangling she fought to control her pounding heart and rising libido.

  He pushed off her and sat back on his heels. “I’ll just be a minute and then I’ll untie you.”

  When she shivered he pulled the bedspread over her and dropped a kiss on her nose before making his way to the bathroom. She heard water running and the toilet flush. Exhausted, she stretched and sighed, fulfilled and ready to sleep for a couple of hours.

  A crash sounded and she tensed. When a door slammed and footsteps sounded on the stairs, she squealed and tried to wriggle further under the covers.

  A female voice called out, “Sam, Meg, you up there?”

  Chapter 25

  Michael dragged his feet, not in any rush to speak to Brigit. He knew his fear was stupid. She had been a summer fling and the kid wasn’t his, Shamus had told him so. Still, he might have stuck around and helped out or at least asked Brigit the question.

  Finally back at the café, he shoved the door open.

  Brigit smiled. “At last. I thought I would need to come and fetch you myself.”

  “I guess I’ve been avoiding the issue.” He cringed at his choice of words. “Sorry, not really what I meant to say. You’re not an issue. Maybe I should have done something … back then.”

  Brigit smiled and placed her hand over his. “I could delight in standing here for hours torturing you but why don’t I put you out of your misery instead?”

  “What do you mean?” Sweat beaded on his top lip.

  “Brett’s working in the kitchen, why don’t you come and meet him and then we can talk.”

  A small niggling fear tugged at the back of his mind. Now, he might be up for father of the year with Shannon, he wasn’t so sure he should have trusted Shamus when he said Brigit insisted her baby wasn’t Michael’s. Well, now he faced the moment of truth. If he walked into the kitchen and saw a mini version of himself he’d do right by him and his ma. Heart pounding, he suddenly felt short of breath. Responsibility was a condition he’d managed to avoid. Besides, what if the kid blamed him, hated him. This was a bad idea. Maybe he should get everything all straightened out with Brigit first. “I don’t know what to say to him. Why don’t I meet him later?”

  “Don’t be a baby. You’ll know when you see him.”

  Reluctantly, he let her drag him toward a small door at the back of the room. He swallowed and wished he had shaved, or worn something that didn’t scream “male stripper.” Well, at least the long leather coat and tight leather pants did to him, but maybe Brett would think he belonged to the Hell’s Angels instead. No, that wouldn’t be good either. Heat pumped through him with each thundering beat of his heart and sweat prickled his skin. He’d never been more terrified of anything in his life.

  He stepped into the confined space beyond the door. A tall gangly youth worked at the sink, up to his elbows in suds. Whatever tune he had pumping on his iPod, it obviously had a rock beat from the way he moved his hips. The boy had rhythm, that was for sure.

  “Brett.” When she got no response, Brigit tapped him on the shoulder and he yelped. He turned as he tugged the earbuds out. Dark eyes scowled at Brigit before their focus flicked over Michael. Brett’s expression softened from anger to annoyance, and the quirk of his eyebrow suggested intrigue. Michael stared hard at the boy, drinking in his appearance. Recognition flickered and with the knowledge came a flood of relief.

  “Brett, this is an old friend of mine, Michael Monaghan.”

  Michael offered a hand. “Nice to meet you, Brett. Your ma and me go way back. She’s a fine woman.”

  The lad wiped his damp palm on the front of his T-shirt and accepted the offered handshake. “I’m sure you must be talking about some other woman. This one is too obsessed with grades and me getting a decent job when I grow up to have ever been young herself.”

  Michael chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

  Brigit clucked her tongue. “Don’t you be telling tales out of school. I’m going to leave Gillian in charge, any lip from you and I’ll know all about it.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just out for a wee while with Michael. If you’ve no objections?”

  “No, no, on you go. Nice to meet you. Maybe we can catch up without her and you can share some secrets.”

  “Lovely to meet you too, and I’m afraid my memory is not what it once was, lad.”

  Michael waited for Brigit to collect her coat. He helped her put it on before offering his arm, escorting her out of the café and into the daylight. The snow glistened in the watery sun that occasionally broke through the heavy bank of clouds. More snow was on the way, no doubt.

  Brigit led the way across a nearby field and they walked in companionable silence.

  “He’s not mine.”

  Brigit laughed. “What made you think he was? And what makes you think he isn’t now?”

  “I may not have been all that good at school but I can do math. He might have been. Shamus said you told him Brett wasn’t mine and I believed him. Recent events made me think perhaps I should’ve sought the answer from you and not relied on Shamus. However, Brett looks the spitting image of his da. I had no idea you knocked around with Fergal O’Brien that summer, and here I was thinking I was something exceptional.”

  He felt surprised to discover the relief Brett wasn’t his child was slowly being swamped by sadness that something he had conside
red special meant so little to Brigit. “I loved you that summer.”

  She smiled. “I remember, and you were very good at it.”

  He let out a snort, half amusement at her comment and half annoyance. “Not good enough, apparently.”

  They reached a stone wall and Brigit leaned on the top and stared into the distance. “See the barn?”

  Michael nodded. The stone building was the place he’d lost his virginity the first time he tumbled Brigit on a soft bed of hay. She’d been tormenting him for weeks and finally his seventeen-year-old body could take no more. The young wench had been planning the event all along, if the blanket laid out behind the hay bales where no one would see them was any indication.

  “Did you take Fergal there?”

  She turned her back to the view and gazed up at Michael. “Never. The barn was just for you.”

  “But you still went with him?”

  “You were a lad of seventeen, Michael. A grown woman of twenty had no business stealing your virtue. I decided I needed to put you aside and find someone my own age. One night I met Fergal at the pub and one thing led to another.”

  He stroked her cheek and planted a soft kiss on her lips before staring into her eyes. “I was over the age of consent and you can’t steal what is freely given. There is no one else I would want as my first.”

  “I’m glad you still feel that way. I often wondered if your life would be different if I hadn’t chased and teased you mercilessly all summer until you gave in to my wicked ways.”

  Michael chuckled. “As I recall, you didn’t need to chase me very hard. No doubt, if it hadn’t been you I would have found another. I was too keen to taste forbidden fruit to hold off much longer, even if sex would send me straight to hell.”

  “Manny told me you became a male stripper. I worried your career choice was down to me.”

  “I dance. I’m not a prostitute.” He felt warmth flush his cheeks at the memory of his one-off foray into that field. The whole thing had been a disaster that had entangled his life with Maggie and Maud’s and probably brought him to where he stood now with Brigit. “I made my own choices. Rest easy, you did nothing more than teach a curious lad the ways of the world. I like to think your tutoring made me a more astute and caring lover than most.”

  “You didn’t need much teaching from what I recall. You took to sex like a duck to water.”

  Michael glanced back at the barn as he remembered the wonderful stolen hours he’d spent naked in the arms of a woman who knew how to let herself go. She’d been a fierce and magnificent lover but apparently she was not the mother of his child.

  “So, where is Fergal?”

  “By the time I found out he’d moved on. Last I heard, he was crewing in the Mediterranean.”

  “You could have tracked him down, made him do right by you.”

  Brigit smiled up at him. “Marrying someone out of duty isn’t doing right. I didn’t love him.”

  “What about Brett?”

  “I love the bones of the boy. So far he’s not asked who fathered him, but when he does he deserves the truth. What he does with the information is up to him.”

  “What about you? Did you not want to fall in love and marry someone?”

  “I’m not unhappy with my life. I’ve got my son, my memories, my family, friends, and my café. Anyway, enough about me, what about yourself? What brings you to Rosalie’s? I don’t remember her being your favorite aunt?”

  Michael scratched at his chin, wondering how to explain what he was doing without going into too much detail. The less Brigit and everyone else in the small village knew about what brought him to town, the better. “I’m traveling with friends.”

  “Ah, the gay male dancer and his lesbian sister, and what’s all this talk I’m hearing about you having your own ballet troupe?”

  Brigit laughed when he covered his face with his hands and moaned. “It’s complicated. I’ll tell you all if you promise to keep the details to yourself.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Aunt Rosalie might find out all the yelling at the back of the barn wasn’t you practicing to yodel. I can still hear you panting and shouting with the rush the first time I lifted your skirt.” Brigit flushed and he grinned. “You still look as lovely when you blush as you did the day Rosalie caught you with straw in your hair and your clothes disheveled.”

  “The yodeling was the first thing I thought of.”

  “Did you ever perform at the church social?”

  “No I did not. You should be grateful she believed me or you’d have been sent packing.”

  “That wouldn’t have been any fun at all.”

  “Don’t think I don’t know you’re stalling, Mr. Monaghan.”

  “Ma, Ma. You need to pay for the deliveries.”

  Brigit turned and looked over her shoulder. Brett stood in the distance waving his arms madly. “Looks like the angels are smiling down on you and your story remains your own.”

  He grabbed her hand. She’d stirred memories of an idyllic summer and he wasn’t willing to let her go so easily. “Come to dinner tonight and I’ll tell you.”

  “Dinner? And where would you be planning to take me? The weather’s closing in and the pub’s not a place for a private conversation. Besides, the boys would swallow you up and spit you out bloated with Guinness.”

  “The cottage. Come to Shamrock Cottage, around eight?”

  “And your friends?”

  “Will love to meet you. Say yes.”

  She sighed. “I never could resist those big brown eyes. Eight, then.”

  He lifted his hand to her face and smiled before dropping a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ll be waiting.”

  She made her way back to meet Brett, and he watched them until they disappeared and then checked his watch. He’d been gone long enough.

  Chapter 26

  Sam heard the voice and bounded out of the bathroom butt naked, determined to shout down the stairs and tell the intruder to go away, but he was too late. When he got halfway to the banister a giant pair of glasses and equally large eyes peered up at him. He stopped and let out a yell, backtracking madly to the bed where he tugged a corner of the blanket to cover his privates; privates that had suddenly become very public. Meg squealed and he shifted so he wasn’t sitting on her leg.

  With a wheeze and a final heavy step, his worst nightmare entered the room. He frowned at her get-up, not sure if it was a nurse or French maid’s outfit. Either way, the clothes showed way too much wrinkly flesh.

  “Did I interrupt something? No need to stop on my account, I’ve seen everything … now.” The old lady grinned at him, flashing a hideous set of dentures complete with gold front teeth.

  Sam pulled the blanket across a bit more to cover his thighs, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “Nope, nothing. We were doing nothing. What do you want, Maud?”

  “When Rosalie told me her favorite nephew Michael had turned up with two gay Australian friends, I figured it would be you two. Although, I never would have guessed you were gay. Shame really, you’ve got a nice set of family jewels. I bet they weigh a bit in your hand. Not as big as Mr. Bigelow but too much can be uncomfortable, or at least that’s what Millicent Brown told me. I remember her Harold was hung like a horse. She said it used to chafe her something shocking. Not so much when they were younger, mind, but once he got on the Viagra and went for hours she said he’d bring tears to her eyes. She needed to climb off for a bit and make a cup of tea.”

  Sam closed his eyes and let out a loud sigh. He didn’t want to discuss his tackle or anyone else’s with the old pervert. “Well done, Maud. You’re a genius. You found us and discovered our little secret. Now why don’t you go home and we’ll come over later.”

  “Don’t bother. Declan doesn’t want to see you or that useless piece of shit you’ve got hidden around here.” She glanced around the room like she expected Michael to step out of the wardrobe.

  “We don’t want to see Declan either. Yo
u need to come back to Australia.”

  “I can’t. I’m nursing Declan back to health. He hasn’t been the same since his wife died. Anyway, what’s it to you? Where’s Meg?”

  Sam shrugged. “Not here.”

  She took a step closer, and he moved away, dragging the blanket with him. A squeal from the bed made him shift his focus. In his panic he’d uncovered Meg’s shoulder and almost a whole boob.

  “I thought you said Meg wasn’t here? Is that one of those transgender people you’ve got in the bed then?” The old lady moved closer. “That titty looks great. Hey, Sleeping Beauty, where did you get the boob job?” She shuffled her own breasts in her outfit, leaving them decidedly lopsided. “I might want to get one myself. I keep forgetting I’ve got falsies and they fall out of my bra when we’re making out. It really kills the mood when a man plunges his hand in your underwear and can’t find your nipple without a miner’s helmet.”

  A deep voice interrupted the old ladies diatribe. “Clara’s not dead.”

  Sam and Maud both turned their attention to the top of the stairs. Michael stood there still wearing his leather coat.

  Michael continued, “But you will be if she finds you. She sent me to track you down and take Declan home.”

  “You and who’s army?” Maud crouched slightly and raised her arms so she looked like some geriatric Bruce Lee. “Come on, powder puff. No wonder your penis doesn’t work.”

  Michael frowned. “What’s she on about?”

  With a growl, Meg sat up, the blanket slipping to her waist. Sam rushed to her aid when he realized her hands were still bound and she couldn’t cover herself. She nudged him away and glared at the two interlopers.

  “We’re not gay. Michael is not gay. His penis works just fine and the size of Sam or anyone else’s dick is not your concern. I don’t care what happens to Declan, but you will be coming home with us. I refuse to live in exile because my mother thinks I failed her. Now both of you piss off and leave us be.”

  With that, Meg wriggled out from under the blankets and got to her feet. She tossed her hair back and strode with amazing dignity butt naked and still bound at the wrists to the bathroom before kicking the door shut behind her.