Welcome to My Sexy Saturday. Here's a few to get you in the summery mood from my new release Toy Boy, Kay has stumbled into the dark corners of a bar after her shock of seeing how young Sullivan is, the only trouble is now, she's drawn the attention of a rather creepy local who won't take no for an answer...
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Getting something unexpected can be a shock, but it can also be a wonderful treat, if you allow yourself to indulge, that is.
Kay is bubbling with excitement. She’s booked a sailing holiday of a lifetime in Greece with a man she’s fallen for hook, line and sinker. They met on the Internet. She’s from Oxford, he’s from Washington State. She’s a business lecturer, he runs his own successful business.
They’re perfect for each other, and she can’t wait to meet him and spend time in and out of his bed, allowing him to seduce her for real and not just with softly spoken words over the telephone.
But when she arrives in the idyllic port of Fiscardo, she’s in for a shock. There’s a reason Sullivan’s photographs were grainy, and it’s not because he’s sporting a potbelly or balding as she’d suspected. It’s because he’s over a decade younger than her and could rival any Greek god in the looks department. What’s more, his sex appeal and lust for her is off the scale.
Should Kay take what she can with her ‘toy boy’ and have some fun in the sun or hop on the first plane back to England? It’s a tricky decision for a woman who believed she couldn’t be surprised by life anymore.
“Why you want sunshine? It is so much more fun in the dark.” The candlelight at my table flickered creepily over the strange man's stubbled face and highlighted a scar on his right cheek.
“Because it’s too cold in here,” I said, suppressing a shiver. There was something about him that set off my alarm bells. His knee had nudged up against mine, and he was looking at my chest. “Please, excuse me.”
“You are English,” he said. “Tell me where you are from, if not your name.”
Not a chance. “I’m sorry, but could you move your chair? I’m leaving now.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You stay, talk to me.” He leaned forward, and his nostrils flared, as though breathing in my perfume. “I want pretty lady to talk to.”
A wave of panic went through me. He had actually refused to move and let me leave.
“I like you,” he said, “and I can tell you like me. Maybe we do some little jiggy, jiggy together later.” He rested his hand on my arm and squeezed. “I show you a good time.”
“I think not,” I said firmly and pulled from his touch. “I—”
The sound of chair legs scraping on the floor and the bang of my unwelcome visitor’s body slamming into brickwork echoed around the bar.
I looked up.
Sullivan loomed next to the table. He had Juan pinned against the wall—one hand gripping his right arm, the other around his neck.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Sullivan shouted.
“Get...off,” Juan gasped, wriggling.
“You gotta be kidding me, asshole.” Sullivan pushed into him harder, the muscles of his naked upper torso tensing and swelling.
Juan grunted and tried to shove at Sullivan.
I grabbed my wobbling wine glass, stood, then stepped farther into the corner, away from their grappling bodies. My heart was thumping wildly and my mouth was dry.
The other men in the bar had turned to witness the spectacle.