The Glass Knot is my newest novel and is set to hit the virtual shelves at Amazon on the 12th of October. (Buy Link)
It's a menage a trois story, one of my favourite sub genres to write, but a bit different to my others, like Shared for example...
Shared is about two guys and a girl, the guys fall in love with Ariane and are more than happy to share her in every sense of the word, though they're not into each other physically, not one tiny bit. It's all about her!
But in The Glass Knot Josh and Nick are a happily married couple, and it's Laura who comes into their already established relationship, causing friction and upset and releasing a whole host of pent up needs and emotions.
I adored writing the male/male scenes in The Glass Knot, as well as delving deep into the heart of a marriage and exploring what makes it possible for another person to exist within those vows.
The dynamics between the three characters are complex, and individually they all have their own demons to face, but it was quite a ride to write and I did enjoy my time with Josh, Nick and Laura, I hope you will to.
The dynamics between the three characters are complex, and individually they all have their own demons to face, but it was quite a ride to write and I did enjoy my time with Josh, Nick and Laura, I hope you will to.
What’s a girl to do when the guy she falls for is married to another man?
This is exactly what happened to me. Seeing Josh Kendal stroll out of the Mediterranean Sea wearing tight navy swim trunks and looking like a hot new James Bond was a truly delicious moment. Catching sight of his wedding ring was like a kick in the shin and meeting his gorgeous husband, phew, that was enough to make any girl groan at the cruel joke God was playing on her.
But all was not as it seemed, and when Josh needed a woman to sort out a ‘delicate predicament’ I was the one for the job – heck, what did I have to lose? Certainly not as much as him, literally.
Trouble is, emotions always get tangled, loyalties can’t help but be divided and with a night of memories so hot they'd have the devil sweating, there was only one thing for it—it was time to get honest, fight for what I wanted despite society’s constraints and open my heart to the people it needed most.
Below is the prologue and the first chapter of The Glass Knot. The prologue is written from Josh's point of view, the main body of the book from Laura's, and the final section, the epilogue, from Nick's.
Excerpts from The Glass Knot are 18+
“Here’s to us.” Nick clinked his glass against mine and gave a seductive smile, one that promised a night of sex hotter than the Costa Del Sol’s midday sun.
“To us,” I said, tapping the rim of my champagne flute against his, “and surviving against the odds.” I leaned forward over a plate of delicate canapés and kissed him. My stubble scratched his smooth chin, and I berated myself for not finding the time to shave before our romantic moonlit meal. All I’d done today was lounge on the beach listening to the lapping waves and losing myself in my Kindle. I’d had a beer and some watermelon at lunchtime and hadn’t even noticed Nick step away to book the best table at The Pier restaurant; the one right at the very end, set slightly apart and partially screened from other diners by a row of potted pink Acacia plants.
“Ten years since tying the knot,” Nick said, knocking back a slug of champagne. “And man, it’s been pretty up and down.”
I glanced out at the endless stretch of black water. A single strip of silvery light from the moon shone down, creating a magical sparkling path that tapered into the horizon. I popped a spicy battered prawn into my mouth and savored the sweet chili, so different to the rank, prejudiced flavor I’d had constantly in my mouth as we’d battled my father’s revulsion of our gay union.
Nick tipped his head and studied me. “I know I told you already but I’m so enjoying having this time with you here. Marbella has always been somewhere I wanted to bring you.”
I smiled. “It’s great, the perfect anniversary destination.”
Nick pressed back in his chair as a suited waiter set a whole sea bass before him. The crispy skin was blackened and sprinkled with crystals of salt. A vivid green salad tossed with olives and walnuts accompanied it.
“Thanks,” I said as my fillet steak, coated with creamy stilton sauce, arrived. Fat chips over-spilling a white bowl were set alongside yet more salad
The waiter topped up our glasses, and Nick nodded for another bottle of champagne to be brought out. I adored him when he was in this spoiling-me mood. Just occasionally, when he was feeling romantic he really splashed out. Not that he wasn’t always considerate, he was, but away from his office and in this luscious relaxed holiday state, I really got to enjoy him, all of him. Every last bit of him.
We dug into our sumptuous main courses, chatting about our Cotswold cottage and whether or not the new thatch would be complete by the time we arrived home. We also had a decorator in, freshening up the living room and scrubbing out the inglenook which had blackened over several winters of blazing log fires. Log fires that we’d thoroughly enjoyed sprawling in front of naked and sweaty, adoring each other’s bodies, from early evening until the small hours of the morning. The hearth rug had been replaced, twice, each one bigger and more luxurious than the last.
An elegant yacht broke through the shimmering path of moonlight at our side. We paused to admire the sails and speculate which celebrity might be cruising by. What decadent millionaire was holding a lavish party for a select few, and guessing the food and drink that would be served, what music would be played. Perhaps he even had a live performer, someone fabulous and talented, internationally famous entertaining his guests.
By the time my pineapple sorbet and Nick’s chocolate torte arrived I was feeling as mellow as I ever could. My sun-kissed limbs were relaxed and my mood chilled. A holiday with Nick, eating a beautiful meal on our tenth anniversary was about as perfect a moment as I could imagine.
“Mmm, try this,” Nick said, offering forward a dollop of his torte.
I opened my mouth willingly, as I always did for him, no matter what he offered. “Yum,” I said, licking my lips and letting the heavy truffle dissolve on my tongue. “That’s fabulous.”
“Do you still think of Her?” he asked suddenly. His dark gaze captured mine, and his expression fell serious.
“Her?” I knew full well who he was talking about. Her, She, was fictitious, and stemmed from a drunken conversation we’d had several years ago.
“I’m sorry, Josh.” He covered my hand with his. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, it’s fine.”
He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles and stared, unblinking at his caressing movements. “Seriously, forget it.”
I sucked in a deep breath. I couldn’t ignore the question, not now he’d asked it. Because the truth was I did still think of Her. In quiet moments She was conspicuous by her absence. I’d suspected I was gay in my mid-teens, but it wasn’t until I’d met Nick and fallen for him that I’d handed my body over to another person—Nick was still my one and only lover. “You know you’re the most important thing in the world to me, Nick, the pivotal focus of my every waking moment,” I said and then paused, my tongue stalling with words that might hurt. “But yes, I do sometimes still think of being with a woman.”
Nick pulled his eyebrows low and studied my face.
“It’s different for you,” I went on. “You had Cheryl before we met, Cheryl and others. For me there has only ever been you.”
Gnawing on his bottom lip, Nick shook his head. “The past is the past, but because of circumstances and our age difference, I would hate to stop you experiencing something you feel you should—"
“No, it’s not like that, it’s not because I feel I should, it’s just…” I struggled to put my feelings into words even though these were not new thoughts and emotions. In fact I’d discussed it recently with one of our friends who’d known he was into guys from a very early age. He’d said the idea of sex with a woman repulsed him and he would rather burn in hell.
Trouble was I didn’t feel like that, there had been girls, women over the years who’d caught my eye and I’d found myself physically attracted to them. Not that I’d done anything about it but the thought of sex with a woman appealed to me, even though I loved Nick and loved having sex with him, I often imagined being inside a soft, sweet feminine body. And, like a small crack above a door frame, over the years of that door opening and shutting—each time I fantasized about being with a woman—it just got bigger. Now it was so big, that crack, it was starting to spit little chunks of plaster onto the foundations of our relationship. Nick had been right to bring it up—it was time to face facts. I wasn’t as gay as I thought I was.
“It’s an urge isn’t it?” Nick said, with an understanding frown.
I nodded gratefully. “Yes, an urge, but I can control it. If you hadn’t mentioned it I probably wouldn’t have thought of it for days.”
“Days…?” His lips stayed parted as if about to say more.
“Yes, days.” I knew I’d surprised him with the frequency of my yearning, but it had to be said and it was, after all, him who’d brought Her up. He deserved the truth.
“Josh, I had no idea.”
I shrugged, withdrew my hand from his and scooped in a mouthful of my sorbet. I’d come to the conclusion there must be different levels of gayness. Much as some gay blokes were repulsed by women’s bodies, there was an opposite end to the spectrum, which I guessed was where I sat. And so did Nick. He’d been married to Cheryl, lived a straight life and had a whole pile of hetro sex that, he’d told me, he’d enjoyed—he just hadn’t loved Cheryl enough to spend his life with her.
“Well, that just proves something needs to be done,” Nick said in a steely tone. “If these are thoughts you’re having on a daily basis.”
“Not every day.”
“Just most.” He placed down his spoon, leaving a big chunk of his torte.
I reached over and cupped his cheek, stared at his long face, handsome and strong and strewn with shadows. He usually sported a dark layer of neatly trimmed facial hair but he’d shaved it off saying he didn’t want an uneven tan. “I don’t want to risk anything or anyone coming between us,” I said. Rocking our peaceful existence terrified me considerably more than suppressing an urge—urges I could cope with, urges I had control over.
“But where is the risk?” Nick covered my hand with his palm and tipped his head so his cheek pressed more firmly against me. “What we have is so strong, so solid, how can you experiencing one night with a woman possibly break it?”
I thought for a moment then sighed. “I don’t think it would break it. I’m just scared about throwing a spanner in the works. We’re so happy and we have been for so long as tonight, ten years married, proves.”
“So what better time to do this, Josh, while we’re secure and strong?” He set his jaw in the determined way he did when sure of something. I felt it tense beneath my palm.
“I suppose you’re right.” I paused, my mind flooding with thrilling possibilities as well as hurdles. “But I couldn’t just have sex with anyone. That wouldn’t work for me I would have to…” I hesitated.
“She would have to have that certain something, make me feel comfortable and excited both mentally and physically. You couldn’t just hire me a prostitute and think that would work.”
He sat back, forcing me to drop my hand from his face. He folded his arms over his chest and tightened his fingers into his biceps creating little dents in his tanned flesh. “Of course I wouldn’t hire you a prostitute, what do you take me for?”
I smiled, scooped up a chunk of my sorbet and offered it forward. “Here, try this, you’ll love it.”
He narrowed his eyes, but a sparkle deep within them told me he’d been quickly placated. Yes, holidays definitely suited Nick’s moods. They were much less fractious.
“That’s fabulous,” he said, after taking the icy sweet treat.
“Yeah, it is.”
There was a long, thought-filled pause.
“But we don’t know anyone who would be suitable,” Nick said eventually with a sigh. “I work from home and you work with a bunch of burly guys. And let’s face it, even if we both worked with hordes of women, finding one who would be willing to go to bed with a gay man, just so he had the experience of fucking a woman, would be pretty slim.”
I shrugged. “I know, in fact, it’s virtually impossible which make this whole conversation hypothetical.” It was time to get back to just being us and take Her out of our special evening. I dropped my gaze downwards, as if undressing him with my eyes and said in a lowered voice, “Besides, you keep me more than satisfied, in every department.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, draining the last of his champagne and giving me the lopsided grin I adored, the one that dimpled his left cheek, right in the center and made him look so damn sexy. “But just so we’re clear, and I’ve said this before, we may be committed to one another, but if the opportunity arises for you to lose your virginity in the conventional sense, then you have my blessing. It might be tomorrow, it might be years from now, but I’m there for you when it does, one hundred percent.”
“Thank you, but the chance of Her existing are pretty remote.”
“She could be in Marbella right now, you never know, Josh.”
Once again I looked out at the inky expanse of ocean. Beyond the horizon lay Africa, with all of its exotic scents and sights, taste and delights. I’d experienced a small section of the vast continent as a tourist, though Nick, before we’d met, had traveled it extensively with Cheryl. They’d toured all over the West Coast, she’d been a doctor and he was an architect. They’d spent a couple of years helping set up hospitals in the poorest countries. And then he’d met me, one night in a bar in Notting Hill and acknowledged that he was gay. The marriage had come to an abrupt end.
Occasionally I felt bad about it, but I knew it wasn’t my fault. Nick had made his own decisions, and ultimately Cheryl was a happier woman now. We met up occasionally, with Cheryl. Nick stayed in touch and liked to ensure she had everything she needed. Although why he worried I had no idea, being that she was now a professor and married to a world class ophthalmologist. She had everything she wanted and more, including three children. Nick meeting me had saved her from a life that revolved around a lie.
“Anything else, sir?” a waiter asked, appearing at our side and directing the question at Nick.
Nick glanced at me. “No, I think we’re done. Just the bill, please.”
His foot touched my calf, just the tip of his summer shoe, and I knew he was thinking the same as me. After an evening of champagne and fine dining, and with a luxury suite awaiting us at The Peniche Hotel, there was only one thing left on the agenda.
Nick paid the bill, and we wandered back down the pier, hand in hand.
“I love walking with you like this,” Nick said, squeezing my fingers. “It’s so nice to be able to do it without wondering what people will be saying in the paper-shop five minutes later.”
“I know.” I brought his hand to my mouth and brushed his knuckles over my lips. “I adore living in Little Mickleton, but it would be nice if people were a bit more open-minded.”
“I think they’re pretty used to us by now.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
The stroll back to the hotel along the promenade was peppered with curiosities demanding our attention. A man dressed as a Roman Emperor and sprayed entirely in gold paint stood like a statue, moving only when children dropped cents into his urn. Another dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow, posed for photographs, Nick couldn’t resist. We stood for ten minutes and admired an enormous and incredibly intricate sandcastle before dropping several Euros into the artist’s green plastic bucket.
Keen as we were to get one another naked, the beauty of having been together so long was knowing that it would happen. The anticipation, the togetherness beforehand, was all part of the seduction.
Finally we reached our room. It was spacious and minimal, the bed enormous and covered in a cream and gold eiderdown, the piping on the delicate brocade a vibrant red. A huge expanse of glass opened onto a balcony, and when Nick flung open the doors the distant roar of the waves rolled upwards and filled the room, bringing with it salty air and the shrill call of a gull.
“I’m going to freshen up,” Nick said, toeing off his shoes and catching my eye in the mirror. “Make sure you’re naked when I get back.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” I said giving a mock salute.
He grinned and disappeared into the en-suite.
After quickly checking my mobile for messages—none—I turned off my cell. I shucked off my beige shorts and checked shirt and tossed them onto the chair. I didn’t wear boxers or any other type of underwear. It was a habit I’d adopted years ago, not long after I met Nick and they kept getting ripped from my body; now I just went without.
Sliding between the cool, Egyptian sheets, I sighed in contentment and waited for my lover. My dick was hard just thinking about his hot, granite body against mine, in mine. I locked my hands behind my head and stared up at the ceiling, resisted the temptation to start without him.
Luckily I didn’t have to wait long. The en-suite door opened and Nick stepped out, gloriously naked and his beautiful cock bouncing upwards from his wiry bush of black pubic hair. My heart rate skipped up a notch as he flicked off the light, allowing the moonlight to filter over the bed in a ghostly glow.
Throwing back the covers, I exposed my body, showing him my engorged need.
“You want the final part of your anniversary present?” he asked in a low, husky voice, his gaze scanning me from my toes to my head.
“Bring it on,” I said, fisting my shaft and sliding my thumb under the rim of my cock-head.
He kneeled on the bed and carefully unpeeled my fingers from my erection. “Allow me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and willed my hips not to jerk upwards as he tapped his tongue over my slit, scooping up a thick drip of pre-cum.
“My, you are ready for it,” he whispered, working the tip of his tongue over my glans in a zigzag pattern.
“Oh, yes, that’s it,” I moaned. I turned my head on the pillow and ran my fingers over his short hair. “Oh, Nick, you do it so good to me.”
He didn’t answer. In response he sank low, taking me on a perfect deep-throated ride. His mouth was warm and soft and his tongue a deep, strong groove that hugged my shaft. When he bobbed so low my glans touched the back of his throat I groaned, drawn out and luxuriously, loving the way the sound mixed with the crashing of the sea; it was so erotic and at one with nature, a wave of wet sensations and needy emotions.
He sucked back up, and his fingers joined the party, exploring and caressing the base of my shaft. He cupped my balls and squeezed gently, rolling them within their loose, wrinkled skin.
I groaned again and willed control. Nick’s skillful fingers combined with his talented mouth could easily have me reaching the finish line early, and I didn’t want that.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” Nick asked, his warm breath breezing over my belly and cooling my saliva-wet shaft.
“Yes, oh, yes.”
“Good, because I’m going to. I’m going to fuck your ass so hard. So hard to show you how much I love you.” As he spoke he circled a lubed finger around the tight rim of my anus.
I trembled, as I always did, just before he penetrated me. The anticipation of the pleasure I knew he could give was almost unbearable.
He sank back down on my cock, sucking and rippling his tongue. At the same time he delved one long, strong finger into my tightly puckered hole.
I gasped and stretched my legs wider across the mattress. Drew up my knees, and offered myself to him, as completely open as I could be.
One finger turned into two. He tunneled and probed, stroking over my prostate in a teasing, tickling way. I bucked my hips for more, my breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Behind my tightly shut eyelids fireworks exploded. The need to grab that first step to orgasm raged through me and I struggled to control it.
His mouth was busy, so was his tongue. My cock pulsed against his palate, the veins so engorged they ached. When he added a third finger I feared I might come. My bollocks were retracting, burying themselves up into the base of my shaft, the pressure inside boiling up to a bubbling throb.
“Oh, God, Nick, please, be careful, I’m going to…”
He must have heard the desperation in my voice for he eased the wild fretting of his tongue and slowed his wicked, pumping fingers.
I grabbed a deep breath and sought my control once more. Found it, just, and hung on.
“Come here,” I said, tugging at his shoulders, “Please, come here.”
Keeping his fingers buried in my ass and scissoring gently, he released my cock and began to spread kisses up over my flat belly, dipping into the indentation of my navel then licking up toward my nipples.
“I want you so much,” I said breathlessly. “Nick, please, fuck me, hurry.”
He responded by giving my right nipple a sharp bite.
I fisted the sheet with one hand and gripped his head with the other. The sting of pain when I was so aroused was an extra blissful sensation. I harnessed the endorphins the sore spot produced and added them to the heightened state I was basking in.
He treated my other nipple to the same bite. Sank his fingers knuckle deep in my ass, twisting and turning them industriously as he went.
“Ah, ah,” I panted, arching my back and knocking my hips into his warm, muscular body.
“Oh, I love it when you want me so much,” he said, licking his way along the taut tendons of my neck. “It makes me feel so alive.”
“I want you all right.” I wrapped my hand around his nape and pulled him in for a hot, panting kiss. My tongue searching and needy, slippery and desperate.
He fed me wild kiss for wild kiss. Pumping into me and rubbing my excited prostate with unrelenting fingertips.
I tore my mouth from his. “Please, your cock. I want to come with your cock in me.”
He stared into my eyes. The silvery glow of the moonlight made his sparkle and look so brown they appeared black.
Without a word he pulled his fingers from my tight hole, and sat back on his haunches. He reached for a tube of lube and quickly greased up his dark, jutting cock. Had I not been feeling so desperate, I would have snapped forward and done it for him, but my hunger to have him sinking into my ass was overwhelming and I wanted nothing to get in the way of Nick fucking me.
I clutched my kneecaps, drawing my legs up so my thighs were pressed against my torso.
“That’s it, baby, just relax,” he said in a growling voice and directed the wide, mushroomed head of his cock at my up-tilted anus.
Relax! I was a coiled spring about to unwind—spectacularly.
I held my breath and studied his face as he pushed in past that first barrier. The heat of his cock and the chill of the lube was exquisite, a beautiful contrast. I watched his lips pull back over his teeth and his eyes shut tight. He loved this first bit, the stretch, the entry, he often told me. So did I. We’d made love a million times in a million different ways but it was always special, he always made me feel so adored.
“Ah, yes, that’s it, fuck, Josh, yeah, squeeze me tight, tighter, yes, yes.” He hissed in a breath.
I clamped my anus as he slid in, a smooth glide that filled me to bursting point. He didn’t stop until his bollocks hit my ass cheeks, the sparse hairs tickly and the soft skin cool.
My fingernails dug into my shins, my hips were stretched apart, and as he dropped his weight to kiss me, my knees clamped against the sides of his torso.
Instead of setting up a pulling in-and-out rhythm, Nick began to rock, the hard stalk of his cock massaging my special internal place perfectly, my own shaft trapped between our bodies.
“You like your final present?” he asked into my mouth.
“Yes, yes, oh, God, yes.” I held his cheeks and cupped my palms over his wide, angled jawline. “Yes, Nick, oh God, I love you so much.”
“And I love you, more than anything else in the world. Now come for me, come hard and long, and don’t hold anything back, let me hear how good I, your husband, makes you feel.”
He deepened his entry and dropped his weight farther. I gave myself up to him. Nothing else existed except for Nick and the glorious way he made me come. His big, solid dick up my ass, and the coarse hairs on his abdomen scraping deliciously over my engorged shaft was my own personal heaven.
“Ah, yes, fucking hell, I love you, yes, yes, yes,” I cried out. Deep within me there was an explosion and my ass pulsed into a series of powerful contractions. My bollocks fired out the pressure that had been building, shooting it up my shaft and jettisoning it between our frantic bodies.
“Ah, you sound so fucking awesome when you come,” he groaned.
“Oh, you’re so deep, don’t stop, keep going, take every last bit of me.”
This seemed to tip Nick over the edge, and instead of rocking he lifted up and began to pound in and out of my quivering ass. Slapping up against my butt cheeks and thighs with each devastating thrust.
I stretched my arms up and grabbed hold of the slats in the headboard. Allowed him to own my body. Use it to take himself to an ecstatic high.
“Fucking hell, that’s it, that’s it,” he shouted, forging in fast and hard then freezing at the hilt.
I peeled open my eyes and reveled in the sensation of his cock spurting into me, filling my ass with his need and his hot cum.
“Oh, my God,” he cried, gripping my waist and impaling me farther onto his spasming shaft. “That’s so good, so fucking good.”
Still clutching the headboard, I braced my heels on the bed as he rammed into me twice more, shuddering out his climax. He was so hard and long, sometimes I wondered how the hell he fit inside me when his cock was at its maximum length and girth, just before he orgasmed.
“Oh, yes,” he panted, dropping down and burying his face in my neck.
I allowed my legs to flop to the sides, released the headboard and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I held him close as he trembled and his heart beat wildly.
“Thank you,” I whispered into his razor-short hair.
“For such a wonderful anniversary. It’s been perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” he said, kissing my neck. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I would do anything for you, you know that.”
“The feeling is mutual,” I said, stoking my fingers down his damp back, dipping into the gutter of his spine and feeling the first rise of his buttocks. “We will be together forever, no matter what happens. You must always remember that.”
Okay, so Marbella had been a long way to go for a weekend and had maxed out the credit card, but I just had to escape the gray June London was offering. Where were the ice-cream-coated kids, the heavy, week-old smog, and the sun-screened bodies lounging in the parks?
Looking around the endless beach, it seemed all the sticky kids and the suntanned torsos had made the same decision as me—to get the hell out of the city and closer to the Equator.
I stretched back on my lounger and stared at the horizon. The sea was the color of a Ceylon sapphire, a pale crystal blue with just a few frothy waves breaking on the surface. The fine sand, a vivid gold, was interrupted only by bright bikinis, colorful swim trunks and the odd striped windbreak. It was a like a scene from a travel brochure, which was just as well since my latest photographic assignment was about the masses escaping the dismal British weather.
I clicked away on my Nikon digital. Took a shot of two children building a sandcastle, then turned and zoomed in on a waiter delivering an umbrella-and-cherry-strewn cocktail to a woman in a white bikini on a white sun bed beneath a white parasol. I studied the image, slurped up the last of my own fruity, rum-laced cocktail, then turned my lens to sea. A beautiful yacht broke the surface and I snapped its graceful profile; it was almost silhouetted because of the dense sunshine. I reduced my zoom and scanned the ebbing waves. Several kids splashed noisily, an elderly couple walked past hand in hand, and then, then a buff beach God strolled out of the water.
It was as if every cell in my body magnetically tuned in to him. A fizzing sensation of awareness buzzed over my skin. I caught my breath and skimmed my gaze over him. It was a Daniel Craig moment, but this was a million times better, because this perfect specimen of manhood was here, breathing the same air as me, walking on the same sand as my lounger rested on.
I clicked away, keen to immortalize that broad, angular chest the color of a perfect apple-pie crust. I needed to record that slim waist, wall of bricked abs and tight navy swim trunks. His thighs were wide with muscles, tensing with each step he took out of the waves.
My index finger went on overdrive as he scraped back his wet hair, the action causing his torso to stretch and amplify his sumptuous oblique muscles angling down to his shorts. I licked my lips, straightened my back and thought what perfect shots I’d have.
He was getting closer. He’d left the gentle push-pull of the ebbing waves and was now on dry powdery sand. Kicking up little clouds behind himself with each step.
Suddenly my mouth dried and I swallowed. He was staring straight at me. I took one last indulgent shot then lowered my lens. In an instant my heart rate shot to dangerous levels. By reducing my zoom the lens had fooled me into thinking he was farther away than he was. The glaring truth was his broad shadow was just about to engulf me. Swallow me whole.
I stared up into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. They were the exact shade of the cloudless sky above me. He pushed his hair back again; it was dark blond and several long tendrils flopped straight back over his forehead. His parted his lips, as if to speak, then closed it and tipped his mouth into a smile instead.
If I’d been hot before, now I was on fire. His smile was enough to cause my bikini briefs to spontaneously combust. Wide sensuous lips, the lower one a little plump, screamed sin. Good, hot, dirty sin. Oh, it had been so long since I’d enjoyed the benefit of a sexy man’s mouth on my body.
I matched his smile, lifted my shades to the top of my head and rested back on my lounger. Enjoyed his gaze roaming down my body and was glad I’d opted for my favorite red bikini that morning. It had tiny white polka dots and the halter-neck top was especially flattering on my small breasts.
But despite his appreciative expression he didn’t slow down. He kept on walking, stepped right past me, so close that tiny grains of sand from his passing feet sprinkled onto my magazine and beach bag. I stared at his long limbs, wishing I wasn’t such a sucker for a handsome face and mouthwatering body.
It was then I spotted his wedding ring.
Just my bloody luck.
I sighed and dropped my shades over my eyes. How typical was that? Though of course I should have known. The good ones were always taken. It seemed to be one of life’s irritating nuances, the older you got and the more keen you were to settle down, the less men there were to choose from.
I shut my eyes and tried not to feel jealous of the lucky woman who would be getting a drippy, salt-laden kiss from that beautiful mouth right now. Running her hands over sun-warmed, smooth skin and giggling as he whispered what dirty things he would do to her later, in bed. I squeezed my legs together and my clit gave a little tug behind my bikini briefs. There would be no man in my bed tonight, just my trusty Rampant Rocker vibrator. Rocky, as I affectionately called him, had been my only release for nearly a year now. A string of disastrous relationships with men who said one thing but meant another had led to a decision to take a year off from dating. But that year was nearly up, and I wouldn’t say no to a man again. Even if it was just for one night.
I drifted into an explicit daydream about what I’d do with a hot male body tied up before me. I’d start with long, slow kisses, move on to oral sex; perhaps I would sit on his face. Then I would ride him, hard and fast. Get myself off over and over, my pussy gorging on rock hard cock. Next I would let him strap me down, lay spread-eagled and surrendered, allow him to do what he wanted to my poor neglected body. In the end I would be crying for a rest he’d made me come so many times.
“I brought you a fresh drink.”
The deep voice at my side startled me from the erotic picture my mind had created. I opened my eyes, sat up and propped my glasses on my head. Hoped I hadn’t mumbled anything incriminating during my daydream.
Sitting on the empty lounger next to mine was Beach God. The very man, I now realized, who’d been the star of my recently concocted fantasy. Warm anticipation poured through me. He was truly beautiful and his smile devastatingly infectious.
But why is he sitting next to me?
“Oh, er thanks,” I managed, reaching for the large Pina Colada he offered forward. It had three straws emerging from white froth and two slices of pineapple balanced on the rim. “But how did you know—?”
“That you were drinking Pina Colada? I asked the waiter at the beach bar.” He nodded in the direction of a circular wooden hut with a reed-stick roof.
“Oh, well, thank you very much. I’d just finished mine.”
“I know.” He grinned and took a sip from a bottle of beer. When he lowered the bottle it made a soft sploshing sound. He held out his hand. “Josh Kendal.”
He wrapped his long, strong fingers around mine and squeezed gently. His skin was as smooth and warm as I’d imagined, though I noticed callouses on his palm.
“Laura Makay. It’s nice to meet you, Josh. Thanks for the drink.”
“Are you here alone, Laura?”
“Yes, just for a long weekend. I need pictures for an assignment so decided to take a working holiday.”
“Great place you’ve chosen to work. Marbella’s amazing.”
“Yes, it is.” I took a sip of my scrumptious cocktail, appreciating its coolness after the dregs of my last one that had warmed in the sunshine. “What about you. Are you here alone or are you with your wife?” I directed my gaze at his left hand, staring studiously at his silver wedding ring for a few seconds before re-settling my gaze on his.
He grinned. “No, not at all, I don’t have a wife.”
I raised my eyebrows a fraction and took another sip of drink. No wife but wearing a wedding ring? I would wait for him to explain that one.
His grin was still in place when he nodded in the direction of the beach bar. “I’m here with my partner, Nick.”
I followed his gaze.
“That’s him, sitting in the shade, catching up on emails,” Josh said.
I spotted a tall, dark-haired guy hunched over a laptop. He wore flowery swim shorts and had a broad, hairy chest. “Your partner. As in business.”
Josh laughed, a deep rumbling sound. “God no, I couldn’t work with him, he’s fanatical about detail, it would drive me crazy. No, Nick is my husband” He smoothed his index finger over the ring. “We’ve been together for ten years. That’s why we’re in Marbella. He’s treating me to a holiday as an anniversary present.”
I felt as though a ton of rubble had just been dropped inside my chest. Of all the luck. Not only was the delectable man at my side married, he was also gay. He couldn’t be more out of reach if he was living on the damn moon. “Well, er, congratulations,” I said, swallowing tightly. “On, your, you know, anniversary.” I gulped down several big mouthfuls of cocktail, ensuring the straw was right at the base of the glass to maximize the rum hit.
“Thanks,” he said, pushing his hair from his face again.
I rested back and slotted my sunglasses down over the bridge of my nose. I didn’t want him to spot the disappointment in my eyes. Josh was by far the most lovely looking man I’d spoken to in years and suddenly finding out nothing would ever happen between us, not even for one night, created a twisting frustration in my gut.
“So where are you staying?” he asked.
“Just here.” I tipped my head to the towering hotel behind the beach bar. “At The Peniche.”
“Yes, so are we. It’s pretty special, isn’t it?”
“It’s lovely, but I really should have been kinder to my bank balance and gone for something a little cheaper.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Well, since I’m traveling alone I wanted to know my hotel wasn’t going to be on some dingy back street. Plus, this one has free airport transfers so I didn’t need to hire a car.” I shrugged. “And it’s just for four nights anyway.”
He smiled. “I think it does everyone good to be spoiled sometimes.”
“Definitely. Has Nick been spoiling you?”
“God yes. He acts like a hard nut but he’s a complete softy really, very romantic when the mood takes him and he’s not swamped by work.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s an architect. He’s got his own business which he runs from home, but it means he needs to keep on top of current projects when we’re away. He can’t completely forget about his clients.”
“It only takes him a couple of hours a day, though, and it suits me to go for a swim and laze in the sun reading. If he doesn’t do it he only worries and gets crabby.”
“I understand what that’s like. When I have an assignment I like to just get on with it.”
“What is it you do exactly?”
“I’m a freelance photographer.” I nodded at the camera by my side. “Sometimes I work to a specific request my agent has negotiated, other times I just snap away and sell what looks good.”
“Wow, that’s a pretty impressive way to earn a living.”
“Yes, it’s fun, but to be honest I could do with selling a few more pictures. Though if I don’t, it wouldn’t stop me being a photographer. I love what I do. Capturing an image, a moment in time, it makes me feel like I’m a documenter of history.”
He grinned, flashing neat white teeth and sending small lines darting from the sides of his eyes. “So what are your favorite types of shots?”
I thought for a second. “Hard to say. I like taking ones like I have been today. On a beach, everyone having fun, great light to play with, not much to tell you what decade it is except for the style of beachwear. Then other times I like to really concentrate on the detail, close ups, nature particularly, flowers, bugs, cobwebs on a frosty morning, that sort of thing.”
“Nice.” He took a sip of his beer. When he took the rim of the bottle from his lips they were coated with moisture. A small dot of white froth sat in the central bow of his top lip.
“You ever do portraits?” he asked, apparently oblivious of my intense scrutiny of his mouth, and luckily none the wiser to the fact that I was imagining what it would be like to be that speck of beer froth.
“Er, yes, I have in the past. It usually pays well, and if the subject is…” I paused, searching for the right words as I kicked my brain into gear again. On the tip of my tongue was a comment about being physically perfect and how that made portrait work so much easier, but I couldn’t say that without blushing, for surely Josh knew how physically perfect he was. Surely he was aware he was having an effect on me despite the fact he’d been honest in telling me not only was he gay but also married.
He licked his top lip and tipped his head, as if urging me to go on.
I sighed, and once again quashed that sludgy feeling of regret. “If the portrait subject is relaxed it makes it so much easier,” I said. “Plus if they have an idea what kind of mood they’re going for in the final shot it helps to get us both on the same wavelength.”
Josh smiled, nodded, then glanced over at Nick. “Looks like he’s finished. I’d best go and get him a drink.”
He stood and once again, I let my gaze travel down his body. He was honed and toned in all the right places. His swim shorts were fitted and I could make out an impressive bulge behind them; long and thick and dressed to the left.
Taking another sip of my drink, I willed myself not to stare.
It was impossible not to.
What a waste.
“Would you like to join us for dinner tonight, Laura? I guess you’re eating alone.”
A wave of surprise washed through me, and I looked back up at his face. “Dinner?”
He grinned. “Yeah. I’d love to hear more about your work and I’m sure Nick would too.”
“We have a reservation at the top floor restaurant at eight. I could easily call and change it to a table for three.”
“Well, if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.”
“You won’t be intruding. We’d love your company.”
I hope you enjoyed that first dip into this steamy novel which will be available on Amazon on 12th of October.