Death By C*ck (Fetish Alley Book 2)

by Susan Mac Nicol

  Tate burst into laughter. “Hell, the man has definitely got your measure. You’re nothing but a big ol’ Italian queen.” He blinked at Clay’s muttered, “Behave.” “What? I’m just saying.”

  “Anyway,” Aurelio said, ignoring Tate frostily, “he’s found a place, and is moving in next week. In the meantime, he needs somewhere to stay.” Aurelio gestured around him. “I offered here.”

  “So are things serious between you two?” Clay asked, clearing the crumbs off his lips. “Are you happy with the way things are going?”

  Relio’s reply was interrupted by a woman entering the room with a variety of dishes stacked on a trolley. She wasn’t anyone Clay recognised. She was young, dressed in baggy jeans and a t-shirt, probably in her early twenties with a riot of black curls framed around a heart-shaped face.

  “Siobahn, my love, thank you,” Aurelio exclaimed gratefully. “Please tell Greg I’m appreciative that he stayed to cook us lunch. I know the two of you have plans.”

  She smiled at Aurelio. “It was no trouble,” she said, clearly Irish from her accent. “We’re going straight from here to Dover, and we’ll get the ferry home from there.”

  She looked around the table and beamed. “Enjoy your lunch, gentlemen. Aurelio, I’ll see you when I get back.” She planted a swift kiss on his head and headed out the door.

  The aromatic scent of curry, rice, and naan bread floated across the table. Clay’s mouth salivated. He was suddenly starving.

  “Siobahn and Greg run the kitchen here,” Aurelio explained as he lifted lids of steaming dishes and handed over ladles to Tate and Clay. “They are going to visit family in Dublin, which is where they hail from. They are a delightful couple. I’d be lost without them.”

  “This smells delicious.” Tate ladled rice and beef curry onto his plate. “I’ve had some fruit this morning. Not like some of us.” He stared pointedly at Clay. “This one polished two hot dogs earlier. He’s going to get a fat gut and then I’ll have to put him on rations.”

  Clay chuckled as he too ladled food onto his plate. “I have a fast metabolism. Stop fussing.”

  After everyone had piled their plates with the delicious-looking food, they tucked in, and for a while all that was heard was forks on plates and appreciative moans.

  “Thank you for once again talking to my people and solving this horrendous crime,” Aurelio said as he tore apart his naan bread daintily and dipped it into the sauce. “I appreciate you taking the time to be there. It seems you two have become somehow part and parcel of Fetish Alley, and I for one could not be more pleased.”

  “Umm,” Tate muttered, mouth full. He swallowed. “No problem. I think I speak for us both when I say it’s a pleasure.”

  Clay nodded. “What he said.” He shoved more tender beef into his mouth. “Tate and I are the meat in the sandwich between the police and the patrons of the alley, and it seems to work. Let’s hope there are no more crimes for a loooong while.”

  Clay hadn’t forgotten Aurelio’s evasion of the question about him and Tomas. Clay figured it was probably best to let it rest. For now.

  The lunch was delightful, the company good, and soon Clay and Tate were saying their good-byes and promising to attend a cabaret show called “Meat and Greet” next week. Aurelio refused to tell them what it was about. He’d pressed a pair of tickets into Clay’s hands and told him he’d enjoy what he would see.

  Tate had mumbled something about being busy that night, but there was no way in hell Clay was going to that event alone. If he was going to suffer through it, then Tate would too.

  ***

  Later that evening, after a long, muscle-soaking bath and a read of the newspapers, Clay sat in the lounge in comfy sweatpants and a t-shirt, enjoying a large gin and tonic.

  Tate had gone to the local gym, which was a little surprising since it wasn’t one of his regular workout days, one of which was tomorrow. He’d said something about the plumbing not working tomorrow due to flooded toilet repair so instead he’d jogged down tonight. Tate loved to shower after gym, and missing that ritual would set him on edge.

  Clay heard the front door open, and Tate step inside, but there was a strange noise, as if something had squeaked, and he frowned. Perhaps it wasn’t Tate after all. He stood up to investigate and as he walked to the door, Tate appeared. Clay certainly appreciated the view.

  Tate was dressed in tight black workout pants, which no doubt delighted everyone at the gym, and a form-fitting short-sleeved black fitness t-shirt, edged with yellow. It showed off his body to perfection and Clay was more than ready to take advantage of that.

  “Hi, babe, everything go okay at the gym? No more toilet mishaps?” Clay leaned in for a quick kiss. Tate pressed his lips briefly to Clay’s then closed the door behind him and walked over to grab a bottled water from the mini fridge.

  “Nah.” He took a gulp of water. “They’ve got the offending toilet locked up, but at least the showers are working.”

  He flashed a smile at Clay and came over to stand beside him. Clay inhaled the fragrance of pure Tate—Paco Rabanne shower gel, fresh skin—and tasted a hint of sweetness on his lips from the sports drink Tate had consumed. He reached out and drew Tate closer.

  “What say you and I go sit on that couch and you can tell me all about your workout?” he murmured, delighted in seeing goose bumps form on Tate’s skin. “About how you worked those thigh muscles of yours, and the slip and slide of your fingers on the pull-up bars. Perhaps even a little chat about how tight you clenched your arse muscles on the leg press.”

  Tate’s eyes widened with desire, his hazel eyes darkening. Clay slid a hand down to his crotch to find him already semi-hard. He squeezed Tate’s balls gently, and Tate groaned, a sound that sent a thrill to Clay’s cock.

  “Maybe you can even show me some of those squats you’ve been doing,” Clay purred as Tate’s dick grew even harder under his hand. “I’m in the mood for seeing you work out on me while I work out in you.”

  “Christ, Clay,” Tate said unsteadily. “You are such a bastard. You know these pants are bloody tight and my dick feels like it’s sealed in concrete.” He moved away, heaving a shuddering sigh. “Give me a minute, will you, I’ve got a little something to do, but hold that thought. And hold this.” He pushed his bottle of water into Clay’s hand.

  Clay blinked in surprise when Tate turned and dashed down the hall to the front door. He stared down at the half-empty bottle of water.

  What the fuck? By now Tate would have Clay’s clothes off, as well as his own, and be stroking them both off as a precursor to the raunchier sex that followed.

  “Am I no longer attractive to you, babe?” he teased as he set Tate’s water down next to his gin and tonic. “Is there somebody else? You can tell me.”

  His words were interrupted by a shouted, “Fuck, come back here, you little shit,” and as the commotion down the hall grew louder, the door pushed open and the cutest little dog Clay had ever seen nosed into the room, trotted over to Clay, and rolled over on its belly, tail wagging madly.

  Clay stared down at what appeared to a black and white French bulldog puppy. It barked, a tiny sound like the squeak Clay had heard when Tate had come home. Then the puppy stood up and proceeded to walk over and pee against the potted yucca plant against the wall.

  Tate rushed into the room and stopped dead when he saw what was happening. “Christ, you flea-driven pup, what the hell?” He went over, picked the puppy up, and turned to Clay, with an apology in his eyes.

  Clay was trying hard to suppress his laughter as he wondered why his chest was tight, and why there was something in his throat.

  “Sorry about that. This little animal has a mind of its own and this wasn’t the way I intended for it to go tonight.” Tate scowled as the pup licked his face. “Yes, you little monster. I was going to put a bow around your neck, and then we were going to come in here and be all gentleman-like as I announced your arrival. And you had to go and mess it all up.”
/>
  “You really did have to see a man about a dog, didn’t you? It wasn’t a figure of speech at all.” Clay stared at the awesome cuteness of the scene before him. He thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest and he wanted to grab Tate and kiss the fuck out of him. Only something, more like someone, was in the way. “Did you even go the gym?”

  Tate shrugged. “I did, then popped down to the alley. Tyrone had puppies for sale, and you’d said you wanted a dog, so I thought I could bring the two of you together. I saw this little guy and I had to have him. His name is Archie, by the way. Well, that’s what Tyrone named him, but I guess we could name him something else if you prefer…” His voice trailed off as Archie let forth a huge fart, much bigger than the dog. Tate’s face screwed up in disgust.

  “Eww, that’s nasty. Christ, where did that smell even come from? You’re so small.”

  Clay hooted with laugher, and love, as he crossed over and stroked the puppy’s head. It wriggled and gave another delighted squeak bark.

  Clay cupped Tate’s chin. “You mean bring us together, babe. And Archie sounds like a grand name.” He looked into Tate’s eyes. “I can’t believe you did this. He’s perfect. Hell, you’re perfect. I want to kiss you right now, but someone’s blocking me. I don’t want to squash him.” He pretended to look shocked. “Oh fuck, does this mean our sex life is going to suffer? I can’t wrangle you down to the couch and fuck you anytime I want to?”

  Tate scowled. “Watch the language in front of the boy. And hell no. This pup is going to have to learn nothing comes between you, me, and our sex life.”

  He stroked a finger across Archie’s back. “Hear that, Arch? No interfering with me and my fiancé’s happy times, or I’ll send you back.” His happy grin belied his last words.

  “Put him down so I can bloody kiss you,” Clay growled. “I don’t care if he craps everywhere, I need to kiss you. Now.”

  Tate bent down and put Archie on the floor. The pup immediately ran off to explore.

  “God, I love you,” Clay whispered as he drew Tate closer. Then his mouth closed over Tate’s and Clay tried to put every emotion he was feeling into the kiss he planted on Tate’s mouth: the love and respect Clay carried inside him, the desire and the need he had for the man in his arms. With every press of his lips against Tate’s, every lazy sweep of his tongue all promised Clay’s man the world and that he would always be there for him.

  The kiss was a benediction borne of joy that Clay had been the one to tame the wild man who pressed his body against Clay’s and held him fiercely with hands that also promised never to let go.

  When they drew apart to take a breath, they stared into one another’s eyes and Clay was sure the emotions he felt were the same as those he saw reflected back at him.

  “Wow,” Tate said huskily. “Remind me to bring you more puppies if that’s what happens.”

  Clay leaned his forehead against Tate’s. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

  Tate’s fingers caressed Clay’s jaw. “You’re welcome. And by the way, I love you too.”

  A high-pitched series of barks interrupted their conversation and they pulled apart and turned around to see that Archie had found the cable leads to the television and was busy chewing on them.

  There was also a present on the floor, a tiny one, but Clay supposed wryly they’d have to get used to it.

  “How do we do this?” he muttered. “As you brought the little brute here, I think you should be the one to clean up his first poop.”

  “Uh… I bought him for you,” Tate shot back, “So that means you clean it up.”

  They grinned at each other and moved to the snarling puppy. If such a tiny sound could be called a snarl, Clay mused. It was fucking adorable and he was enamoured with Archie already.

  “We’ve figured out bigger things that this,” Tate said as he scooped Archie up.

  His gaze, filled with love and amusement, met Clay’s. “I think we’ll figure this one out as well.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I’m enjoying writing this series and living in Fetish Alley with Clay and Tate, and the rest of the characters in my head, but it’s hard going writing right now. I’ve seen so many authors in this last quarter saying how difficult they are finding it to keep going when the returns are dwindling. Discouraging, to say the least.

  Readers, feel free to send a little bit of positive energy an author’s way when you see them struggling with their raison de être. You’re why we write and keep writing, and your enjoyment of our stories is what drives us to create new ones. I think I speak for every writer out there when I say we adore our readers and without you, there would be no stories at all.

  Smooches and hugs to you all.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  The ‘Official’ stuff

  Susan writes steamy, sexy, and fun contemporary romance stories, some suspenseful, some gritty and dark, and she hopes, always entertaining. She’s also Editor-in-Chief at Divine Magazine, an online LGBTQ e-zine, and a member of The Society of Authors, the Writers Guild of Great Britain, and the Authors Guild in the U.S.

  Susan is also an award-winning screenplay writer, with scripts based on two of her own published works. Sight Unseen has garnered no less than five awards to date, and her TV pilot, Reel Life, based on her debut novel, Cassandra by Starlight, was also a winner at the Oaxaca Film Fest.

  The ‘Unofficial’ stuff

  Susan loves going to the theatre, live music concerts (especially if it’s her man-crush Adam Lambert), walks in the countryside, a good G and T, lazing away afternoons reading a good book, and watching re-runs of Silent Witness.

  Her chequered past includes stories like being mistaken for a prostitute in the city of Johannesburg, being chased by a rhino on a dusty Kenyan road, getting kicked out of a youth club for being a bad influence (she encouraged free thinking), and having an aunt who was engaged to Cliff Richard.

  Connect with Susan:

  website: authorsusanmacnicol.com

  facebook: Author-Susan-Mac-Nicol

  twitter: SusanMacNicol7

  instagram: susiemax77

  linkedin: susanmacnicol

  www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

  If you enjoyed this book, please write a review. Our authors appreciate the feedback, and it helps future readers find books they love. We welcome your comments and invite you to send them to info@boroughspublishinggroup.com. Follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, and be sure to sign up for our newsletter for surprises and new releases from your favorite authors.

  Are you an aspiring writer? Check out www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/submit and see if we can help you make your dreams come true.