by Sabrina York
“Unh-hunh.” To his utter delight, Marty reached back and spread himself wider, exposing everything. “More.”
Eager to please his lover, Garret slid off him and took hold of his hips, encouraging him to prop himself onto his forearms. The swell of his ass, balls suspended by the darker, shaved skin of his sack, and the smooth opening—all of it made Garret’s mouth water. He gave Marty another slap, eliciting a chuckle from him. Pulling open his solid cheeks, he buried his face in between and kissed Marty’s hole, teasing his tongue over it before dipping inside to relish the dark flavor. Garret’s head spun from the heady musk of his body, the salty taste of sweat and man.
He took his time, savoring, probing as deep as he could, and using his lips to pull on the delicate curls swirling there. He held open those fleshy cheeks, kneading them in his urgency to taste that slick, waiting opening. Nothing had ever tasted so good, felt this perfect, as pleasuring his new lover.
“It’s been so long since anyone did this,” Marty whispered, gripping the back of his thigh and widening his legs.
Taking hold of the shaft jutting between Marty’s legs, Garret pulled it back slightly. Loving the way goose bumps of pleasure rose across Marty’s flesh and the way he moaned, Garret licked up his length and over his balls, the delicate skin like heaven on his tongue. When Garret laved his hole again, Marty wriggled, pushing onto his mouth and making wonderful little sounds of delight.
“Oh, Garret.”
The rolling Rs and the sexual drawl of Marty’s Scottish brogue inflamed his need. “Say my name again.”
“Garret.”
Blood and desire shot straight to his groin, and he spread his round cheeks again, tonguing him, reveling in the now familiar taste, wishing his own cum was up there to mingle their essence, their flavors. He’d never fucked bare, but damn, one day he would be that free with Marty—mark him as owned property.
“Please,” Marty begged, breathless. “Fuck me, please….”
That goddamn lilt made him wild. He fumbled for the lube and squirted some into his palm. Massaging it in, he slid a finger inside, honing in on the magic spot, teasing a bit before retreating. He stretched Marty with his thumbs, kneading the muscled ring and spitting inside. He Frenched Marty’s ass like he had his mouth, tonguing him deep then kissing him softly, loving the way he’d made him so wet, so red and gaping.
Squirming, Marty cast a sultry look over his shoulder, hair falling rakishly across his forehead. “Jesus, you know how to touch a fellow.”
“Your ass is just begging to be touched.” He kissed his cheeks in illustration as he fingered him. Despite the unwelcome taste of the lube, Garret added his tongue back into the fray, unable to get enough. “And licked,”—he tasted the tender crevice again—“and fucked,”—he drove a finger inside—“you name it.”
“Bloody hell!”
That cry pushed Garret to the limit of his patience. He donned a condom and arched over the trembling man, his dick nestled against Marty’s sack, the swell of his bottom cradling Garret’s groin. Burying his face in Marty’s neck, he inhaled the crisp scent of his shampoo mingled with the manly sweat still inundating his nostrils and dancing inside his mouth. The sinful combination drove his lust.
“Fuck me,” Marty demanded, jutting his hips back in command. “Now.”
Grinning, Garret sat back on his haunches.
So Marty thought he could give the orders, did he?
Without warning, he brought his palm down on Marty’s ass.
“Hey!”
Before he recovered, Garret did it again.
Chapter Seven
“If you don’t like it, tell me,” Garret said.
“I’ve never….”
“I know, baby,” he whispered, soothing the sting of those two slaps with a caress. “But you want to, don’t you?”
“Well….”
Garret swatted him, not really hard. It hurt, but Martin imagined he could take more…wanted to take more….
“Answer me, Marty. I will never do anything you don’t agree to first.”
At that moment, he would do anything Garret asked of him. He needed to please him—obey him.
Oh, bloody hell, I need it so bad!
He buried his face in his arm, cheeks in flames, and unable to believe his own daring. “Right, perhaps just one or two….”
“Only one or two, eh?” The deep rumble of Garret’s laughter ended with the sharp whack of two consecutive smacks.
Martin faltered beneath him, but his cock remained like granite. Maybe it even got harder. His heart raced so fast he couldn’t be sure of anything—other than he wanted this.
“I think you can take a bit more.” Then Garret voiced Martin’s deepest, most secret desires. “I think you want to.”
“Um…right,” he heard himself say. “Whatever you decide, sir.”
Garret’s strong hand moved up Martin’s back, making him tremble. Not from fear, but sheer, erotic hunger. He paused at Martin’s neck and leaned close, his voice dark and sexy. “It’s not about what I decide, Marty. It’s about what you need.”
How does he know so much about me?
Martin began to shake, desire pooling in his middle.
Garret pressed on him, lowering his upper body into the sand. Martin went, following the instructions to, “…put your arms over your head…cross your hands and hold onto your wrists…good…that’s it, Marty...keep your ass up….”
Arms where he’d been told to put them, the side of his face pressed into the curves of sand beneath the blanket, Martin waited. His heart raced, not from fear, but suspense. The warm sea air wafted across his naked body, cold on the wet skin of his spread ass, but he stayed still, exposed to Garret and whatever he wanted to do to him.
“I’m going to spank you ten times, okay, Marty?”
Overcome with arousal and anticipation, he nodded, throat tight.
“Say it, babe. Speak up.”
“Yes, sir, please….”
Good God, was that whiney voice mine?
The flat of Garret’s hand came down on him, and Martin hissed.
One.
Two. He struck the other cheek.
By the fourth spank, Martin’s eyes watered, not from pain—not really—but from the intensity of his emotions, how raw and vulnerable he felt. During the cold nights alone at home, he’d dreamt of something this illicit, someone overpowering him, controlling him. But always, in the light of day, when logic reigned supreme and societal expectations told him those desires made him less of a man, he’d dismissed it as fantasy—not a need deep in his soul. But Garret had recognized his most base desires, and such understanding opened Martin’s heart to trust him.
Completely.
He gave himself over to Garret, to the pain and ecstasy of the man’s tender control. When the tenth spank came, Martin whimpered, begging, “Please, sir…don’t stop….”
Delirious and aching, Martin’s cheeks were opened then firm, glorious wetness stabbed at his hole once more, forcing entry, probing the sensitive flesh which remained stretched and ready. The scratch of Garret’s beard against the fire of his cheeks, the earnest way the man ate his ass, reduced Martin to a sobbing, shameless mess, desperate tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. “I canna bear it…. Please, just fuck me!”
Garret positioned him onto his back, the blanket scratching his sore ass. “I wanna see your face when I make love to you, baby.”
Martin nodded, throat too tight to speak, and raised his knees, making room for him to slip between. Garret’s face had flushed and his damp lips were swollen. Martin had never seen anything more exquisite than the wanton need and ownership in his green eyes. He ratcheted his inner thighs to Garret’s naked torso, loving how this wonderful man reached out to cradle his head, kissing him as he guided his latex-covered cock home.
When the first press of cock met his ass, Martin groaned with relief and pushed out, welcoming his lover, arms clinging to those broad shoulder
s. “You don’t have to be gentle.”
“I know,” Garret whispered, sliding in all the way with a few slow, firm pushes.
Martin moaned from the delicious joy of being claimed by this beautiful stranger who he imagined, in some other world—maybe even this one—owned him body and soul.
A warm, muscular torso covered him, and an arm circled his neck, enveloping him with amazing tenderness after such a show of force. Pressing Martin’s thigh higher with his other hand, Garret kept him in place, making sweet love to him. Shuddering, he gave in, opening his body so his lover could take what he needed.
Overcome with ecstasy, feeling that solid cock move inside him, Martin cried out for more. “Harder!”
Garret laughed, and those fingers dug into the back of his thigh. The grip around his neck tightened, too, and Garret pulled out almost to the tip then slammed back in. The fullness, the pressure felt indescribable, glorious. Total elation.
The sounds of their ragged cries, the rhythm of wet skin slapping skin, and the gentle splash of waves on the shoreline filled the air. The moon silhouetted Garret’s masculine body towering over him, shielding Martin from harm.
If only Garret would protect him forever.
Overcome with a necessity to follow this man—anything to stay by his side—Martin seized his hair, rocking up with each thrust, hissing in magnificent agony as Garret claimed him. Every single nerve in his body centered on the ecstasy streaming through his bloodstream, the beauty of Garret inside him, his body sheltering him. Licking his fingertips, Martin grabbed his own cock and gave it a few fast wanks. That was all it took.
Pleasure constricted his balls, and his ass clenched down on Garret’s thick cock. Desire pulsed hot from his groin and when his load burst free, cum covering his hand, Martin screamed out his lover’s name. “Garret!”
Martin rode out the waves of orgasm, stroking his hot, sensitive dick as the last bits of cum continued to spurt, when all of a sudden, Garret pulled out of him. Hissing in shock, Martin watched him wrestle off his condom, and fling it to the side. He inched closer, his fist moving fast over his dick, and aimed it at Martin.
“Unh-unh, unh!” Face contorted, Garret groaned as a few short jabs brought him to release, too.
“Aye, yes!” Martin arched into the spray and it landed hot across his chest and abdomen, the gesture, on some level, marking him as owned by this sexy, wonderful man.
Panting, Garret collapsed on top of him, spreading cum between their flushed bodies, the weight exquisite. Martin never wanted to leave the sanctuary of his embrace. He hooked his legs over Garret’s calves, burying his face into his neck.
Perhaps discovering a man to give him the sexual experience of his most secret fantasies—or just all the smoke he’d inhaled—had affected his ability to be rational, but he didn’t think he could go on living without Garret. How could this have happened? He didn’t even know where Garret lived, yet he longed to follow him to the ends of the earth.
What if this night would be all they shared?
“Shhh,” Garret crooned, brushing the hair off his face.
He hadn’t even realized it, but his body had begun to tremble and his breathing had grown ragged with silent sobs.
“What is it?” Garret asked, lifting up, shifting their weight so he could look into Martin’s eyes.
What the hell could Martin say? I belong to you? I want you to own me? Garret would think he’d gone barmy. Hells, he probably had.
“Something happened….”
He didn’t have to explain. Garret understood. He always did.
“Shhh, don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you, okay?”
Nodding, Martin’s fears washed away at the confidence and affection in Garret’s tone.
“You won’t have to worry about anything anymore.” At that, Garret slithered down his body, dipping his tongue in the wet pool of Martin’s belly button.
“Oh, that’s efficient.” Martin squirmed from the ticklish feeling.
Garret licked his abdomen once more, cleansing the silky residue of their release. “Environmentally friendly, too.”
“Waste not, want not,” Martin quipped, snaking his fingers through Garret’s hair.
Propping his chin in the center of Martin’s stomach, Garret smiled at him. “We should clean off.”
“Right. Can’t imagine explaining to my boss how I ended up naked on the beach being shagged by a guest.”
Chuckling, they climbed to their feet. Martin assumed they would be going back to Garret’s beach house, but Garret pulled him toward the water. “Let’s go swimming.”
He eyed him dubiously. “What about sharks and jellyfish?”
Garret let out a bark of laughter. “Babe, you gotta start living a little.”
Steeling himself to whatever creepy-crawlies might live in the ocean, Martin followed him to the surf.
Without hesitation, Garret marched into the ocean, his naked arse glowing whiter than his suntanned body, calling to mind some ancient silkie returning to the sea after a night of making love with a mortal. Rooted to the spot, Martin longed to follow him, but insecurity, self-doubt held him back.
Had Martin been reading into Garret’s promises? What if he didn’t want some helpless fool following after him? What if Garret believed this was a holiday fling and nothing more? How could Martin return to Canada alone, knowing the other half of his soul was somewhere else?
And why in bloody hell do you think Garret’s the other half of your soul?
Before he could answer himself, Garret called, “C’mon, the water’s great!”
He splashed toward Martin, a few sprays reaching him. Though it might be crazy—pathetic even—just seeing at the other man eased his concerns. He didn’t have to worry. Garret would take care of everything.
Playful, he followed his mysterious silkie out to sea, running into the surf, splashing. He fell into Garret’s open embrace. Before his new lover saw it coming, Martin hooked his heel over his ankle and toppled them both over. Garret’s cry of surprise was drowned by the next wave crashing over their falling bodies.
With a wet flip of hair, Garret surfaced and lunged for him. “You little shit!”
Shrieking with laughter, Martin didn’t run or struggle. He wanted to be captured by Garret because, as he had suspected, his punishment was another one of those earth-shattering kisses. A second wave pushed them, but they clung to each other, kissing and rolling with the flow, the water refreshing and cool, until they were once more able to stand.
When Garret scooped seawater and trickled it down his chest, Martin joked, “Right. Now, I’ll have to wash off spunk and seawater—”
Without warning, Garret tensed and pulled Martin into the water, cutting him off. His hand snaked out to cover Martin’s mouth before he could ask what was going on.
Garret pointed toward the beach and, heart racing, Martin’s brows shot up when he saw a man in far-too-short running shorts and knee-high white socks jogging past their blanket and picnic basket. The 1970s flashback didn’t notice the two naked men hidden in the waves of the Caribbean. Thank God!
After he disappeared, Martin said, “Bet he’s happy he waited five minutes to leave for his run, right?”
Garret fell into him, laughing hysterically. They collapsed together, a persistent wave pushing them toward the shore. Allowing it sway, they settled in each other’s arms, Garret straddling Martin’s lap. The soft sand didn’t aggravate his paddled bottom and cool water caressed his balls, feeling both sinful and amazing. Holding onto Garret while the gentle surf tossed around their coiled bodies, Martin savored the faint tap of Garret’s cock against his stomach from the waves moving them about.
Garret caressed his chest. “My God you’re beautiful.”
“You keep complimenting me, and you’ll never get rid of me.”
“You’re beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.” With each word, Garret delivered an impish peck on Martin’s nose. Pressing their foreheads together,
he whispered, “I’m so glad she sent you for me.”
“Who?”
“Madame Eve.”
The casual reply shocked Martin. “Where did you hear about her?”
With a strange expression, Garret sat back, the weight of his body forcing Martin to straighten his legs. “Because I hired her, ya goof. Just like you did.”
“I hired no one.” Another wave pushed them further up the shoreline before pulling them back down, and Martin had to hold Garret’s hips to keep him in place.
Garret appeared confused. “Then how…?”
When it dawned on him what had happened, Martin laughed out loud. How could he have been so simple-minded?
None of this beautiful night had been an accident.
Martin had always imagined Madame Eve had magic. He’d just never expected to be on the receiving end of it.
“This island be full of Fae magic after all,” he whispered, letting his lilt have full sway in honor of the old world spirits at work.
“Do you mean to tell me, you didn’t hire Madame Eve?”
“Aye, when I told you my job is tending to the resort’s exclusive clientele, I was referring to the customers who hire her services. I have never spoken to the woman, let alone hired her.”
“Then who told you to order my drink at the bar?”
Chuckling, Martin shook his head when he realized Jagger must’ve had a hand in this as well. No wonder he’d been acting so strange. “I picked it off a list the hotel manager gave me.”
A slow smile crept across Garret’s handsome face. “So you mean to tell me, that you went with me tonight, and you had no idea who I was? You didn’t think this was all a prearranged, safe encounter with a stranger?”
Martin chewed on his lower lip, feeling sort of foolish all of a sudden. “Um…yeah?”
His embarrassment eased when Garret’s grin widened. “You just trusted me?”
“Um…yeah, I suppose I did.”
Garret chuckled softly, his eyes full of wonder. “She really does know what people need. I left off I wanted a sub, but look at us. She sent you to me anyway.”
Though he had heard the word before, he didn’t fully understand it. Was Martin a sub? What did that mean? Garret was his Dom—his master? More importantly, why in the name of the Virgin Mother didn’t the notion of being submissive to another man scare the devil out of him, rather, seem perfectly normal?
