Hot Male

by Lillian Grant

  Michael let out a low whistle. “Maggie’s one fierce woman. She makes a man’s blood boil.”

  Sam shifted his focus from the now closed door to Maud and Michael. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the Irishman’s observation. He was an annoying git but his comment about Meg was right on the money. She was fierce and passionate, and he was completely besotted with her. “You both heard what she said, get out.”

  Michael grinned. “Not so fast. Did I see what I think I just saw?” He glanced at the bedside table, which still held the bowl of water and the discarded wet razor. “Dear God, you didn’t, did you?”

  “Didn’t what? What didn’t he do?” The old lady looked from one to the other, and then at the bedside table.

  A plaintive wail of “Sam” echoed in the bathroom. He started to stand and then stopped. “Get out before she gets really pissed off and asks me to escort you down the stairs head first.”

  Grumbling under her breath, Maud headed toward the stairs, grabbing hold of Michael’s arm and dragging him with her.

  Sam sat and waited a moment, Maud was just as likely to come back to try and catch him naked again. He could hear her talking to Michael.

  “So, did he shave her patooty? Odd thing for a gay man to want to do, unless it’s part of a makeover. Do you think he would shave mine? I never would have guessed the three of you were gay. Although, I suppose that explains why you couldn’t get it up when you were handcuffed to the bed.”

  A deep voice protested. “I am not gay. I can get it up and I never want to hear another word about that bleedin’ awful day. I should never have signed up to be a prostitute.”

  “True, a gay man could never service a woman with my particular needs. Although, if you’d said something I’m sure I could have let you put your winky where you gay people normally put it. I’ve never tried anal sex but I hear it’s very stimulating. I might mention it to Declan when I get back.”

  Sam got to his feet and dragged the blanket around his waist, just in case. With a chuckle, he headed to the bathroom to untie Meg. He had no plans to rush. Maud could torture Michael for hours for all he cared.

  Chapter 27

  Meg struggled madly to get free. Being tied up for sex was fun but enough was enough. She had planned to meet Maud on her own territory and talk to her as sanely and sensibly as she could, not that any conversation with Maud was ever sane. Instead, she’d been caught in a compromising position and that Irish bastard had copped an eyeful of her naked, again.

  Her heart rate lifted as she recalled the look in his eyes. Sam was her sweetie but there was something primal and erotic about any man looking at you with that level of lust on his face. God, six months ago she had hidden away at home in oversized track pants. Her sex life had fizzled and died after a handful of less than stellar events, and now she took some kind of weird sexual delight in parading her goodies for all the men in the world to see. Well, not all the men. And what was with this whole being tied up thing? She must have the family’s hornyitus. If she did have the affliction it was definitely getting worse. The way her wayward body heated at erotic looks from a moron like Michael Monaghan was evidence of that. Before she knew herself she’d need a whole harem of men to keep her needs met.

  A knock sounded at the bathroom door. “Meg, it’s just me.”

  She slid the bolt and stepped back to let Sam in. “Are they gone?”

  He nodded. “Downstairs. For all Maud’s talk about wanting to be left alone she doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get back to Declan.”

  “Poor man will probably be grateful for a rest.”

  She held her wrists out and Sam tugged at the belt, loosening the leather off and then sliding it over her hands. Her arms felt odd and she shook them a couple of times to get the blood flowing. “Maybe that’s her weak spot.”

  “What?” Sam frowned.

  “If we can get to Declan, he might be ready to help us. He might want to offload her. You’re aware of how mentally draining she is to live with. No matter how good she is in bed the poor man must be gagging for a sensible adult conversation.”

  “I guess it’s worth a shot. So, have you got a plan?”

  Meg grabbed his face and planted a big wet kiss on his lips. “Absolutely. Now let’s get dressed, and then you and Michael can make yourselves scarce while I talk to Maud. Men are too much of a distraction.”

  “Where would we go?”

  She opened the bathroom door and crossed the floor to retrieve her clothes. “No idea, but I do know that as long as you two are in the house her mind won’t be on what I’m saying. Besides, do you really want her to start comparing the size of your dick with every man she’s ever known, or to start grilling you in depth about the sex life of a gay man?”

  “I see your point.”

  Meg took her time pouring boiling water into the teapot. A hunt of the cupboards had revealed a beautiful sponge cake hidden in a gorgeous red and yellow tin. With precision, she put the plate of sliced cake and the full teapot on the table. She glanced at Maud. “Shall I be Mother?”

  Maud snorted. “Not on your life. No one can be your mother except Vivienne. You’re not randy or frigid enough, depending on her age and the mood she’s in.”

  Meg fought not to roll her eyes, not sure if Maud had really become more unbalanced since she’d run off with Declan or if her behavior was designed to keep those around her in a constant state of confusion.

  Pot in hand, Meg filled two mugs with tea. “Not what I meant. So, how are things going with you and Declan?”

  The old lady added milk and four sugars, and then slurped her tea and frowned. “What’s my love life got to do with you? I know Vivienne sent you to take me away from my honey. We love each other. I plan to keep him until I curl up my toes and croak.”

  “No one is trying to take him away from you. I came because we were concerned about your well-being. You’ve only just met him. Besides, what about the court case? Do you want to be a fugitive the rest of your life, looking over your shoulder for cops or Declan’s crazy wife?”

  “You’re not selling going back to me. Why would I want to live in Australia if Clara wants to kill me and the cops want to lock me up and throw away the key?”

  “Leave Clara to me, and the court is hardly likely to give you a jail sentence for a first offence.”

  “First offence?” Maud snorted.

  This wasn’t going well, time for a change of tack. “Well, if you’re determined to stay who am I to stop you? But can’t I at least meet the man you plan to spend the rest of your life with? I can’t go home unless I’m sure he is going to take care of you.”

  Maud stared at her through her enormous glasses. “What?”

  “Stay, whatever, but at least let me meet this famous Declan. Once I’m happy you’re safe we’ll leave you to it. So, how about dinner tonight?”

  “How about dinner?”

  “Bring Declan over to dinner. I promise to make your favorite pudding.”

  “You have no idea about my favorite.”

  “Spotted dick.”

  Maud grinned and let out a chuckle. “Never could resist any kind of dick. Okay.” She waggled an arthritic finger at Meg. “But no funny business. Nothing can come between me and my honey, and don’t even think of stealing him for yourself.”

  “Why would I want Declan?”

  “Because you’ve ended up with two powder puffs. I bet they’ve been at it all along and were using you for cover. If they get it on, do you think they’ll let me watch? Could be very educational.”

  Meg let out a loud sigh. Clearly the old bat was really losing it. She was aware that neither of the boys were gay. Maud had rumbled that Meg and Sam were shagging like some kind of sex starved rabbits before she ran off with Declan. Even if she wasn’t coming home, Maud needed to see a doctor, but Meg knew she had less chance of getting her to agree to that than she had of dragging her back to Sydney.

  “They’re not gay. Remember, Sam is
my boyfriend and Michael has had a reputation with the ladies for as long as I can remember.”

  Maud nodded, and Meg leaned back in the chair, relieved she appeared to be getting through to the old lady.

  “Bi-sexual then? Do you mind sharing Sam with Michael? I had a threesome once. Ned Baxter and Billy Daniels. Geez, the things those boys would do…”

  “Maud! I don’t want to know. Now about dinner tonight, we’ll expect you both over at around seven thirty.”

  Chapter 28

  Meg could see Michael glaring at her. She pushed her hair back from her face with her wrists before slamming the knife into the next unfortunate root vegetable. She stared at him. “What?”

  “You know what. Why did you have to invite them to dinner tonight?”

  “I’m not a mind reader, am I? You should have told me you invited some woman over.”

  “Brigit.”

  “What?”

  “Her name is Brigit, and she’s not some woman.”

  Meg stopped chopping carrots and looked at him. “So who is she then?”

  Michael shrugged. “She’s an old friend.”

  “I bet she is.” Meg snorted before returning to chopping vegetables. Suddenly he had found a woman of his own to play with. She should be happy. She should be freaking ecstatic. So why was her stomach churning and her chest aching? She wanted to get rid of him, and he had found someone else. She was no longer the target of his obsession. No longer special. Just yesterday’s news. Now she could get on with her life in peace. She stole a look at him. His eyes were dark and his expression grim. Probably because she had ruined his date by inviting Maud over. Well, fuck them all. She slammed the knife into a carrot, imagining it was Michael’s overworked dick.

  Michael opened the oven and slid the steak and ale pie inside, followed by the tray of potatoes.

  “I’m sorry if I screwed up your plans for some wild romantic fling but you do remember why we’re here, don’t you? If you don’t take Declan home Clara will have your balls in a noose.”

  “I like my balls where they are, thank you.”

  “Why don’t you call Brigit and put her off until tomorrow.”

  “Too late.” He sunk into a chair and sighed.

  Meg hated to cook, and especially with an audience. Everything she was responsible for was under control. Now Michael had done his part he didn’t need to be there. “I can watch your pie and potatoes. Why don’t you go and help Sam set the table?”

  Michael kicked at an empty chair. “He can do it by himself. He’s a big boy.”

  Meg left the obvious response unsaid. Michael wasn’t in the mood to laugh. In fact, she had never seen him so pissed off. The night was going to be a disaster unless they all pulled together. She needed to get him to lighten up. “Well, sort out some wine, then. Didn’t you say Rosalie had some somewhere around here? Why don’t we have a glass while we finish cooking dinner, to get us in the mood?”

  With a grumble he opened and slammed cupboard doors. Finally, he pulled out a couple of bottles of red and placed them on the solid timber kitchen table. After checking the labels, he uncorked one of the bottles and filled two glasses he found in the Welsh dresser.

  Meg accepted the glass he offered and took a sip. The smooth liquid warmed her throat and her stomach but did nothing to relieve the headache that had been slowly building in the back of her skull. If she didn’t have a stroke by the end of the night, she would be surprised. Michael took his glass and swallowed a large mouthful. He hummed his apparent approval.

  With a sigh, Meg put the wine down, lifted the chopping board and upended its contents into the vegetable steamer. She was thankful Michael knew how to cook dinners because beyond vegetables she had no idea. Desserts were her specialty, probably because she loved to eat them. She’d easily skip the main course and have two or three puddings.

  Happy she had enough in the pan to feed six hungry people, she put the steamer over the burner. Everything was under control, everything except dealing with Maud. She returned to the table and lifted her glass, rubbing absently at the back of her neck.

  Michael stepped behind her and she figured he would fuss over the food. You’d swear to God the queen was coming to dinner. His Brigit woman must be someone special. Perhaps he had a romantic attachment to her. The thought skittered around her head for a moment before she booted it out. Michael didn’t do romance, only seduction and sex. He was a man whore.

  “Ahhh, ouch.” She let out a low moan as nimble fingers dug into her shoulders.

  Michael’s voice growled in her ear. “Want me to stop?”

  “No, God, no.”

  “Is this my fault?”

  “What?”

  “The tension, you’re wound tight.”

  “Maybe it’s you and Maud and the whole bloody mess. I want a normal life. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Be careful what you ask for, darlin’, you just might get it.”

  She placed her hands on the table and dropped her head as his massage shifted further down her spine. The man had a natural talent, and whatever the hell he was doing it was making the pain in her head dissipate.

  “You’ve got magic fingers.”

  He chuckled. “So I’ve been told.”

  A moan escaped her and Michael stepped closer, pressing against her back. He pushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. Goose pimples marched across her skin as he kissed a little closer to her ear. Her body sparked to life. No wonder he got laid as often as he did. Seduction was his middle name. She fought for control of her mind and her body. She loved Sam. No one but Sam. No matter how much Michael teased, touched and tormented her, and no matter how sweet he had been helping to set right what he had broken between her and Sam she was not going to get into it with him. Ever.

  “I’ve got a great cure for a headache. Are you wanting me to show you?”

  Her heart rate lifted. From the bulge currently digging into the top of her arse, she had a fair idea what he had in mind. To date, his advances had stopped short of an out and out offer of sex. Her control was slipping. The family honyitus must have gotten a hold of her. Hot and bothered, she panted and fought for air. She didn’t want sex with him. Sam was enough. What woman could possibly keep two men satisfied? The vision of her sandwiched between a naked Sam and Michael slipped back into her mind and she let out a low “ooh” at the image and the heat it generated inside her.

  *

  Sam pushed on the kitchen door and stopped in the shadows, not quite sure he believed what he was seeing. The Irish git had his hands all over Meg and she seemed content to let him do as he would with her. Head down, she groaned as the womanizer kissed her neck and mumbled something to her. His hands pummeled her shoulders and she tipped her head to the side and whispered something back.

  The glow from the overhead light revealed her flushed cheeks. Michael’s chuckle filled the room as he continued his foray to paw every inch of her body. He stepped back and ran his hands down her spine, stopping just short of her arse. Sam wasn’t oblivious to the bulge in the front of Michael’s skintight leather pants, but it didn’t horrify him as much as the pump of blood to his own cock. He hated the slimy stripper. Meg belonged to him, and yet, the thought of her being pleasured by another man while he watched seemed oddly appealing.

  Michael looked across the room and grinned when Sam caught his eye. The pulse in his cock was halted by a rush of blood to his head. He shoved the door open, making it bounce off the Welsh dresser.

  “Am I interrupting something? You want me to come back when you two are finished?”

  Meg shoved Michael off. “No nothing. I was … I had a headache and Michael … just.”

  “You just what?” Sam folded his arms, waiting for an explanation.

  “You know what, think what you like. I’ve got other things to deal with. No wonder my sister Sian’s a fucking lesbian. You people have way too much testosterone.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow, and she looked at Michael
who shrugged.

  Her face flushed with anger, she marched to the door and shoved Sam aside before turning and glaring at him. “You probably think I’m over reacting, but right now you can both fuck off.”

  Head held high, she swept from the room before he had a chance to respond. This wasn’t Meg’s fault. The Irish moron never let up for a minute.

  He crossed the room until he got right in Michael’s face. He grabbed the front of Michael’s shirt and pressed his fist to his cheek. “If we weren’t expecting Maud I would beat you to a bloody pulp. But you touch Meg one more time and I’ll kick your arse so hard you’ll be shitting out of the top of your head. I’m watching you, mate.”

  Michael smiled. “So I could see.” His grinned widened. “Stimulating, isn’t it?”

  Sam growled and pulled his fist back. How dare the shithead even so much as suggest Sam was in the least bit interested in watching Michael touch his woman? He wasn’t. No matter how his body had reacted just now. He’d rather cut his own dick off than have that git involved in any kind of weird sexual thing with Meg.

  A wail of “Sam” sounded from the living room. Sam growled and shoved the Irishman aside. Punching Michael out would have to wait until later.

  Chapter 29

  Michael checked the gleaming brass clock on the mantelpiece again. Any minute now Maud should arrive with Declan. He had half an hour to get the old bat to leave before Brigit showed up. All he had to do was lay down the law. Declan was not hers, and she needed to give him up before someone died. Once she agreed, he could show her the door, although maybe he would be better to take things slowly. Better not to goad Maud, who knew what she might be capable of when cornered?

  He wandered to the table, straightened the cutlery and inspected the wine glasses for smears. Maggie had done wonders. The white linen tablecloth was embroidered with little leaves and berries. Candles flickered in tall glass stands and the room was already filling with the mouth-watering smell of food. Anyone would think having Brigit over to dinner was as important to her as it was to him. She would never have pushed the boat out like this for Maud. She would have served Vegemite sandwiches and a mug of strong tea at the kitchen table. She might not be any happier about him messing up her plans than he was about her doing the same to him. He needed to be more magnanimous. If she could make the most of terrible situation so could he. Provided Maud didn’t mention his short stint as a prostitute. If she breathed one word to Brigit, all bets would be off.