Hot Male

by Lillian Grant

  Michael’s gaze shifted from Meg. He made eye contact with Sam and grinned as he let his now flaccid dick flop from his hand. “If your lady ever gets bored with blowing you she could join the circus swallowing swords.”

  Sam glanced at Meg. Her cheeks flushed when she looked at him. She tugged at the blanket to cover herself.

  “Fuck off, Michael. You’re the freak getting your rocks off watching other people.”

  Michael chuckled. “Says the man who ties his lady up and smacks her arse for entertainment. I think we both know who the perverts really are.”

  Meg pulled free from Sam and glared at Michael. “We’re not perverts.” Her voice shook.

  Sam tried to grab her leg but she was too quick for him. Without a backward glance, she fled to the bathroom and slammed the door. Sam flopped onto his back and pulled the blanket up to his chest. He stared at the ceiling. What the hell was wrong with him? Why had he let the bastard get involved in their relationship? And why did Michael have to needle him? He had spent weeks slowly getting Meg to come to terms with her sexual needs and to be comfortable with her body, and the Irish git had crushed her with just one word, pervert. Sam shoved the blankets off and crossed the room. He tapped at the bathroom door. “Meg, let me in, baby.”

  Chapter 34

  Michael poured himself another cup of coffee. Neither Maggie nor Sam would make eye contact with him, and breakfast had been a silent affair. After the unexpected morning delight, he’d turned his back on them. Sam had persuaded Maggie to let him into the bathroom, and Michael had gone back to sleep for an hour. They must have kissed and made up at some point. That was assuming it was Sam she was pissed off at and not him. He’d woken to the smell of bacon. After a quick shower, he’d followed the aroma to the kitchen. Maggie had shoved a plate at him and retaken her seat at the kitchen table. Sam slung an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. The message was far from subtle. Maggie was his and Michael wasn’t welcome. Funny, but Sam hadn’t put a stop to the game earlier.

  Maggie got to her feet. “I have some stuff to do.” She dropped a kiss on Sam’s lips, but he dragged her into his lap and all but ate her alive. The kiss was hot and Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His cock was up for round two already. He’d never actually considered Maggie as a package deal but Sam knew how to play her in a way Michael figured he never would. Sam could arouse her to the peak of oblivion, and then Michael could bury himself inside her until she exploded into a million pieces.

  The embrace ended and Sam set her back on her feet, watching her as she wandered from the room.

  Sam lifted his mug and took a long, slow drink, his eyes focused on Michael. “I know exactly what’s going on in that seedy little brain of yours.”

  Michael chuckled. “Maybe it’s because you’re having the same idea.”

  “I’ll never let you touch her. She doesn’t want you.”

  “Are you sure about that? Have you even asked her?”

  “I don’t need to ask her.”

  “So you haven’t, then. Maybe you’re afraid of the answer or maybe you’re worried because you want me to join in as much as she does.”

  “No one wants you to join in. No one wants to fuck you. No one even wants you in this fucking cottage with us.”

  “And yet you get off on me watching you screw her silly.” Michael leaned on the table. “And I would put money on the fact that you got off on her watching me masturbate earlier.”

  Sam snorted. “She doesn’t need you to get off, and neither do I. You’re full of shit.”

  “As are you.” Michael rocked his chair on its back legs. “I think you’re afraid of me.”

  “Oh yeah, the poor sod who has to take his clothes off to earn his living and spy on other people because he has no love life of his own.”

  “You’re afraid that you’ve started something with Maggie that you can’t control. The sexual mouse is becoming a tiger. How long before she tires of only having one man and sets her cap at another? How long before you have to share your bed with the likes of me?”

  “Bullshit. She doesn’t want a threesome with anyone and certainly not with you.”

  “You can’t know if you haven’t asked.”

  “I know what Meg wants and it’s not you.”

  Michael grinned. “You’ve got no idea how stimulating it is to watch her take a man deep into her throat, to see her orgasm as another man fucks her silly. That’s what really burns your arse. The thought of changing positions and becoming the voyeur while I do your lady, turns you on. Having me around turns you both on.”

  “Does not.”

  “Bollocks. You’re a pervert in denial.”

  Sam slammed his cup down on the table. “You call either of us pervert again and I’ll punch your fucking lights out.”

  “You and whose army? Come on, big boy, show me what you’re made of.”

  Michael stared at Sam. The man was a pussy. Like all muscle-bound freaks he was all brawn and no action. If he wanted a fight, Michael was happy to give him one. Maybe some fisticuffs would clear the air.

  Slowly, Sam got to his feet and Michael stood, shoving his chair backward. “Running away to hide behind the skirts of your lady? Maybe you should buy a tutu, it might just suit you.”

  Sam lunged and Michael never saw the fist coming. The punch connected with his jaw, making him stagger back. His leg caught the chair and he flailed his arms, desperate to stay upright and fight back, but another sucker punch from Sam sent him sprawling over the upturned furniture. He landed flat on his back on the flagstone floor. Dazed and surprised at the power behind Sam’s fist, he dragged the back of his hand across his lip. The bastard had drawn blood.

  Desperate to get a shot in, Michael began to scramble to his feet. Sam, fist still clenched, grinned at him, apparently ready for round two,

  A loud crash made them both spin around to face the door. Maggie stood on the threshold, a vase of flowers that had been in the house when they arrived shattered around her bare feet. Pink flowers and dark green foliage covered the stone floor and splashes of water darkened the bottom of her jeans.

  *

  Meg stared at the scene she had walked in on. Michael was bleeding, the leg had snapped off one of the chairs, and Sam looked very pleased with himself. What the fuck was wrong with men? Why did they have to behave like Neanderthals? If they thought kicking ten shades out of each other impressed her, they were very much mistaken. So, Michael could be a dick but that gave Sam no right to go around lumping him.

  “Get out.”

  Sam looked at Michael. “You heard her.”

  Meg glared at Sam. “Not him, you fucking moron. You.”

  “Me? What did I do? I was protecting your honor. He thinks you want him in our bed with us.”

  “Whether I want someone in our bed or not is not the issue.”

  “So you do, then? You do want him to fuck you?”

  Meg clenched her fists. This was not the time or place for this conversation. She glanced at Michael and growled with anger. How dare he try to force the situation, and how dare Sam assume anything about her. “I’m not talking to you when you’re like this. Right now I don’t want to fuck either of you. You’re a pair of fucking morons.”

  “Meg?” Sam moved toward her.

  She put her hand out to stop him, too mad to think never mind forgive him. “I don’t need you to smack people for me. Now get out. Take a walk and don’t bother coming back until you’ve cooled down. I think we both need some time apart.”

  Sam took a step toward Michael. “You’ll keep, mate.”

  Michael smirked. “Next time I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “You’ll never see me coming.”

  “Unlike your good self who enjoyed watching me come earlier.”

  A growl from Sam made Meg pounce. She grabbed his arm and screamed, “Get out. Get out.”

  “But he…”

  “Out. Out!” Meg shoved him toward the door.

/>   Sam stared at her for a minute. “You know what? Fuck you both, you deserve each other.” He then stomped out of the room, slamming the door as he went.

  A fist squeezed her heart and it took every ounce of willpower not to run after him. He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it. She loved him but violence was never the answer. Life with Sam was perfect until Michael showed up. No matter what her body wanted, the man was a freaking liability. She turned her attention to Michael. “And you can wipe that stupid fucking smile off your face. Get upstairs and start packing.”

  “Packing?”

  “Are you fucking deaf? Get your shit and get out. I want you gone by the time Sam comes back, and if I never see your smug face again it will be too fucking soon.”

  Michael folded his arms. “I’m going nowhere. I’m here to rescue Declan. Besides, I paid the bleedin’ rent.”

  The front door slammed as Meg lifted her bag from the side and rummaged for her purse. She tugged it free, pulled out some Euro notes and threw them across the table.

  “What about Declan?”

  “He’s not married to Clara, and he’s not your problem. Now go home before you cause any more trouble. I hate you.”

  Michael left the money where it lay and crossed the room. He stopped and stared at her until she made eye contact with him. Her stomach lurched and her breakfast almost made a comeback.

  “We both know you don’t mean that.”

  She swallowed and batted her eyelashes in an attempt to hold back the flood of tears threatening to overwhelm her. How could things have gotten so far off track? It was never her intention to get involved with Michael, but he’d wheedled his way into her life with his easy charm and outrageous behavior. She didn’t want him to go but she couldn’t have him and Sam. They’d kill each other. If she had to choose, then she would take Sam every time.

  The trill of the phone gave her an excuse to look away. She lifted the handset. “Hello.”

  “Maggie, it’s Brigit. Is Michael there? I need to speak to him.”

  The woman sounded desperate. Funny she should call now. Maybe it was a message from God. Brigit might just be the distraction he needed, another woman to screw around with so that he could forget all about her. A tear escaped and trailed down her cheek.

  She held the phone out. “Brigit, for you.”

  Chapter 35

  Sam hugged his arms around his chest, hands under his armpits as he stomped down the front path. Why the fuck had she taken the Irish git’s side and tossed him out? And why the fuck hadn’t he stopped long enough to put on a jacket and some gloves? He glanced back at the cottage. Even now the slimy bastard would be putting his case for the defense, pleading his innocence in the whole fiasco. He took a step toward the cottage, determined to pound the bastard some more. Never mind what Meg wanted, the toad needed to be taught a lesson. You don’t try and steal another man’s girl, and you sure as hell don’t shake your dick at her when she’s going down on the man she loves. He took another step and stopped. Meg was pissed off, really pissed off. If he’d stayed a second longer she would probably have punched him. He wasn’t going to beg for her forgiveness when he’d been in the right. He’d been defending her honor and she’d tossed him out into the cold like a stray cat. Well, if she wanted him she could come and find him.

  The cold air made him shiver as he followed the path back to the road. He should never have let things go this far. Despite his best efforts to hold the expression back, a smile teased his lips. His knuckles still ached and would be bruised tomorrow, but nothing had felt better than punching the grin off Michael’s face. Seeing him sprawling on the floor had felt even better. The smile slipped away and he sighed. The satisfaction was little compensation. He’d screwed things up big time, and now he’d left Meg wide open. Why couldn’t he have ignored Michael? Why hadn’t he insisted they stay back in Dublin? All too late now, the damage had been done. He was in danger of losing his girl, and she wouldn’t even give him a chance to explain.

  Snow started to drift from the sky and a biting wind buffeted his back. If he didn’t find somewhere out of the weather he would be frozen stiff. He glanced over his shoulder toward the path that led to the café. With the weather closing in he wasn’t walking that far in a sweatshirt and jeans. To the left stood the imposing gray double-story house that was home to Rosalie and the priest. Along the road to the right stood a carbon copy of their own cottage. Smoke belched from the chimney and the promise of warmth won him over. Head down, he trudged up the path and banged on the front door.

  When he got no response he banged harder and tried the handle. The door swung open and a blast of sound almost knocked him off his feet. Abba. Who the hell listened to Abba at a million decibels? Even worse, Dancing Queen was being accompanied by some weird wailing sound.

  “Hello? Declan … Maud?”

  He shut the front door and followed the noise to the kitchen. Dressed in bright red hot pants, thick white tights, a long-sleeved undershirt with a sparkly blue boob tube over the top, Maud bopped to the beat. A wooden spoon acted as her microphone and the wailing was apparently her version of singing.

  Sam crossed the room and flicked the OFF switch on the CD player. Maud spun around and glared at him. “What did you do that for? I was practicing?”

  “For what? To be the star turn at the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras? I think they might have already booked Kylie Minogue.”

  She ran her fingers through her long blonde wig. “I could give her a run for her money. My butt is as toned, don’t you think?”

  When she turned and wiggled the offending body part in his direction he closed his eyes. This had been a mistake. He didn’t need insanity, he needed a cup of tea and somewhere warm to hole up until Meg calmed down.

  Maud stared at him. “What’s up with you? You look like shit. Been up all night playing cops and robbers with my niece? I always fancied being tied up and spanked. The closest I came was when I got arrested. The cuffs chafed a bit, but not one of the boys in blue would punish me. Even the girls turned me down. Imagine that. I thought police brutality was an everyday occurrence.”

  Sam turned and headed back the way he came. Maud shuffled after him. “Hey, you never said what you wanted?”

  “Nothing. It’s not important. I need to sort it out myself.”

  “Sort what out? If this has anything to do with Meg it’s my business. Now get your hot little pattootie back in here and tell me what has you screwing your face up like a cat’s backside.”

  Sam hesitated. He was cold and wet and had nowhere else to go.

  “I’ve got cookies baking in the oven, double chocolate chip with a splash of rum. Besides, you’re hardly dressed to pretend you’re Scott of the Antarctic. You’ll freeze out there.”

  With a sigh he turned around. With no coat and no transport he was a prisoner until Meg was ready to forgive him, assuming she ever was.

  He followed Maud and sank onto the chair she indicated. She busied herself making a pot of tea, and he was glad of a few minutes peace and quiet to organize his thoughts.

  The smell of warm cookies wafted the air, and Maud plated them before pouring the tea and taking the seat across from him. “So, spill, big boy. What did you do to upset her?”

  “What makes you think I upset her?”

  Maud cackled. “You’re a man, aren’t you? At least you looked like one last time I checked.”

  Sam sighed. “I punched Michael … twice.”

  Maud whooped. “Man, I would have loved to see that. Fisticuffs. Did you bust his nose?”

  “No. I don’t think so. I shouldn’t have hit him.”

  “Why not? Did he deserve it?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  Maud dunked a biscuit in her tea and sucked the mushy concoction into her mouth. “What is then? When you get to my age time is precious. Get to the point before I croak, already.”

  Sam traced the wood grain on the table top with his fingernail. “He’s be
en busting my balls ever since I hooked up with Meg. Every opportunity he gets he spies on us and he keeps kissing her. I’d had enough.”

  “Does she kiss him?”

  “What?”

  “Hello … simple question. Does Meg kiss him back?”

  He shrugged. “I guess. Sort of, but only because he forces himself on her.”

  “She loves you?”

  “Of course she does.”

  “Then the problem has to be the curse.”

  “What?”

  “I was scared this would happen. Once she became sexually active it was only a matter of time.”

  “What was?”

  “Did you suggest the whole bondage thing?”

  “Is who did what important?”

  Maud grinned. “Not really. I just wondered.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “This is a waste of time.”

  “No, listen. You’ve heard about the sex drive of the women in her mother’s family?”

  “Hornyitus? Meg might have mentioned it.”

  “And you’ve been enjoying the benefits. Tying her up and spanking her and the like? As far as I know, Meg used to be celibate, thanks to her mother’s strange ideas about sex. You come along and bang, she’s a real hornbag. So, what changed? Why did you start sleeping with her?”

  Sam shrugged. He really didn’t want to relive his sex life with Maud. She didn’t need any more images for her weird imagination. He wasn’t ready to be the star of her smutty fantasies.

  “Let me guess. She begged you.”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “You begged her? Really? Gees, you need to get out more if you have to beg for sex.”

  “No one begged anyone.”

  “They didn’t? What, you lay there with a stiffy and she took a tumble and impaled herself? They do say more accidents happen in the home than anywhere else. Shame you didn’t at least ask her, but I guess when you’re a fruit, getting women to sleep with you is difficult. If you sleep with women, does that make you bi-sexual? You can get your dick up for a woman, can’t you? Or is that why you tie her up to get your juices flowing? Ah, is that why she’s attracted to Michael? I’ve got some pills around here somewhere that might help you get an erection.”