Male Order Page 4

  He reached out, resting his hands on her waist. “Now you know this chair is where I like to ride the stallion best. There’s lots of room for two.” He patted the space on either side of his hips. “Climb on board, baby, one knee each side.”

  Meg did as he asked. She knelt poised above him, her arms wrapped around his neck, Sam’s hands still held her steady.

  “Now, you have all the power. Grab my steed and slide him inside as deep or as shallow as you like and I promise not to thrust into you. If it starts to hurt, you can stop, and we’ll try something else.”

  Meg chewed her bottom lip. His smile of encouragement and the soft brush of his lips against her throat gave her the courage she needed. She wrapped her hand around his throbbing dick and guided it to her entrance. Slowly, she slid down on him. Once he filled her up, she stopped, waiting for the pain. Nothing. His rigid cock stuffing her completely felt so good. Moving her hands to rest on his shoulders, she gradually took him deeper.

  Sam’s husky whisper, “Fantastic, baby. God, your pussy is so good, so hot, so wet,” encouraged her to slide up and down a little faster. Each time he filled her, she felt less stretched. Eyes closed, she concentrated on the sensations rippling through her lower body. When his mouth latched on her left nipple she tipped her head back and moaned. Each pull of his lips sent a quiver through her. He felt so good buried inside her.

  She only realized she had taken all of him when her arse started slapping down on his hard thighs. No pain, nothing like pain, just an ache to take him harder, faster. A gentle brush on her clit made her open her eyes and drop her gaze between her thighs. Her left nipple was still in his mouth, but he had moved his hand to massage her clit with his thumb.

  She watched as he rubbed harder and harder. Each massage sent a bolt of desire to her aching quivering pussy. She was so close, so close. Her second orgasm ripped through her pussy, driving her on. She needed to swallow him, take him further inside her. His cock filling her up intensified the pleasure in ways she’d never imagined. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she rode him harder and faster. He stiffened and yelled her name, sending a final huge pulse through her heated centre.

  Exhausted, sweating, but more than satisfied, she collapsed on top of him. Sam wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as she continued to quiver around his semi-erect penis.

  “Shh, baby. You were so good, so damn good.”

  Meg lifted her head and smiled at him, still panting to get her breath back. “I’m not frigid!”

  He laughed, running a hand over her hair before pulling her forward for a kiss. “I told you. Not only are you not frigid, you’re one of the most sensitive women I’ve ever been with. No wonder having sex without foreplay hurt you so much.”

  Meg collapsed back on top of him. Joy pulsed through her as he held her tight.

  Chapter Six

  Meg woke with a start. She sat up. Shit, she was still in Sam’s room. She was no expert, but ‘fuck buddies’ fucked, they didn’t sleep together. She must have nodded off in his arms after he carried her back to bed and pulled the blankets over them. He’d said he wanted to help her warm up, like she hadn’t been hot enough all ready. The last she remembered was his warm breath on her neck and his arm holding her tight against him as he spooned around her.

  Thank heavens he wasn’t in the room, she had a chance to tug on her sweats and make her escape. Not that she could avoid him forever, but a few hours to get her shit together and work out what had happened last night would be good.

  Crawling out of his bed, she realized she ached in places that had never ached before, well, at least not in such a good way. The sex had been mind blowing. Now she had to deal with the humiliation and knowledge his fingers, tongue, and everything else had been places she normally kept taped off with danger signs that read, approach with caution, blubber on display. He’d seen her in all her wobbly glory, and yet he had valiantly soldiered on. She should put his name up for an award. Presented to Sam Stephens for services rendered in the face of mountainous fat in an ongoing quest for Maggie Riley’s missing libido.

  Trackie dacks, t-shirt, and sweatshirt on, she shoved her bra and panties in her pockets and prepared to make a run for it. He must be having a shower. She would hide out in her room. When he was safely ensconced back in his own room, she’d lock herself in the bathroom until he went out. Assuming he did go out. He didn’t work on Saturdays as a rule. Hell, If he stayed home she’d be locked in the bathroom all day.

  She opened the door and fled blindly through it, bouncing off a damp and extremely toned body. Sam managed to maintain his footing but she toppled backwards, grabbing frantically at anything to save herself from landing on her recently bruised arse. Her fingers closed around something soft which did nothing to break her fall. With a loud—humph—she landed squarely on her butt in the middle of the hallway. She glanced at what she held in her hand. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She’d grabbed Sam’s bath towel.

  He squatted in front of her and, despite her best intentions not to look, her gaze dropped to the limp penis and pendulous testicles dangling between his thighs. Even flaccid, his dick was awe inspiring, and she’d had every hard inch of him inside of her.

  “If you want to see me naked you only need to ask, baby. I’ve got nothing to hide.” His tone teased.

  Her face heated as a crimson tide reached her scalp. This was so not happening. Her eyes were beyond her control, she didn’t want to watch but she couldn’t look away. As she continued to gaze at his dick, it lengthened and thickened. Oh heavens, he was getting an erection right there in front of her.

  Before she realized her lips had parted, a voice squeaked, “Oh fuck, you’re getting hard.”

  Sam’s deep throaty laughter filled the hallway. “You’re staring at him. He’s an exhibitionist and loves female attention. Now was that ‘oh fuck’ an exclamation of wonder at his beauty or an invitation?”

  She shook her head madly. “Neither.”

  He held out his hand and she shoved the towel at him, refusing his help as she struggled to her feet. Willpower had never been one of her strong points, as evidenced by her expanding waistline, but she fought valiantly not to notice his dick now stuck out at a ninety-degree angle from his body.

  His chuckles followed her all the way to the bathroom. She slammed the door shut, slid the bolt, and leaned against the wall trying to make her heart stop racing. All her ice cream munching and lack of exercise must be catching up with her—she was having a coronary. At least if she died now she would go happy in the knowledge that sex was better than any flavor made by Ben & Jerry.

  She turned on the taps, stripped off, and climbed under the stream of hot water. Soap in hand, she scrubbed vigorously at her body before massaging a huge dollop of shampoo through her hair. Finally clean, and the water now running cold, she knew she couldn’t hide forever. Taps turned off, she stepped into the steamy bathroom. In her haste to get away from Sam, she had failed to bring a towel or her robe with her. Her day was going from bad to worse. She had three options. One, put her dirty clothes on without drying herself. Two, dry herself as best she could with the hand towel and hope it was big enough to cover the vital bits. Or three, run wet and naked to her room hoping Sam had gone out or was still getting dressed.

  The idea of putting on dirty clothes didn’t appeal. She lifted the hand towel off the rail and dabbed ineffectually at her body and hair. Now it was cold and wet, she didn’t plan to wrap it around herself, not that it would cover much anyway. Maybe she should risk peeking out to see if the coast was clear.

  *

  Sam still had a grin on his face as he tugged his t-shirt over his head. The water had stopped in the shower a few moments earlier but he hadn’t heard the bathroom door open. Picking up his dirty clothes, he tossed them in the laundry hamper on his way out the door. Despite her double orgasm the night before she had lost none of her discomfort about seeing his body. If his progress wasn’t for naught, he needed her to accept wha
t they had done had given them both pleasure.

  Taking up position across from the bathroom door, he leaned his butt against the wall and folded his arms. With nowhere to go, he could wait all day for her to come out.

  He heard her draw the bolt back and watched as the door opened a crack. Two deep blue eyes peered at him and she squealed with fright. Before she had a chance to react, he shoved it wider, putting his foot in the door.

  “Sam, bugger off. I don’t want to see you.”

  “Are you sure?” He couldn’t resist grinning at her and raising an eyebrow.

  She groaned. “Oh, I can’t deal with this while I’m dripping and naked. I forgot to bring my robe and towel in with me. I can’t come out unless you go away.”

  She had given a little. Now he guessed it was his turn. “How about I go and get your robe and towel? But, you have to promise as soon as you’re dressed you will come to the kitchen and have a coffee with me. We need to talk about what happened last night.”

  When she nodded, he pulled his foot free and disappeared into her bedroom. Funny, she had been in his room dozens of times but he had never ventured into her personal sanctuary. Pink flowery wallpaper adorned the walls, thick cream carpet covered the floor, and her large double bed was covered in a cream and pink quilt. A pair of Winnie-The-Pooh PJs lay folded on the bottom of the bed; her pink fluffy slippers tossed in the corner. Romance novels and empty chocolate wrappers littered her bedside table. So, that’s how she dealt with sleeping alone. He was tempted to poke around and see what else he could find but he didn’t want to leave her waiting and risk her getting more annoyed.

  He found her towel and robe hanging on the back of the door. Grabbing them both, he crossed the hall and tapped on the bathroom door. It opened a crack and her arm and hand appeared. She grabbed her things but he kept a hold of them.

  “Kitchen in five minutes or I’ll drag you there dressed or not, deal?”

  She tugged at her towel and robe. “Deal. Now fuck off.”

  Chapter Seven

  Meg dithered for as long as she could. Clothes littered her bed. She had decided to lay off the tracksuit pants in favor of something more fetching. Standing in front of the mirror, she checked her arse in the skintight jeans. Not so bad, if you ignored the overflow at the waist. She had to lie on the bed to do them up, but they fit, sort of. She grabbed a loose fitting black shirt from the closet and pulled it over her head. Perfect. Long enough to cover the blubber hanging over her waistband but short enough to reveal some shapely arse.

  She tousled her hair with gel. No amount of product would help; it was spaghetti straight come rain, hail, sleet, or sun. Happy she had done the best she could with her appearance she took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen.

  The closer she got, the slower her steps. How should she approach this? Not by ripping his clothes off. The humiliation of what she decided to name, ‘the towel incident’, made her cheeks flame again. If she was going to get through coffee with him and move on the best way to deal with the situation was to pretend last night, and this morning, hadn’t happened. Or she could avoid the meeting altogether.

  Sneaking through the lounge, she grabbed her purse off the chair and headed out the front. Once he heard the door slam he would be on to her. But if she left the damn thing open, Mrs. Pomphrey’s tomcat would get inside and scent-spray everything. It took months to get rid of the smell the last time the little bugger had snuck indoors. She blamed Sam for feeding him. With a gentle tug, she pulled the door shut and made a run for her car.

  The front lawn had seemed much smaller the last time she’d strolled across it, but now the curb seemed miles away. Panting, she slammed into the side door and rummaged in her purse for her keys. By the time Sam arrived on the semi-dead, brown, grass the engine of her compact Korean car was spluttering to life and, without so much as a backward glance, she sped off.

  Now what? It was all well and good to run away but where the fuck was she supposed to go? The mall? Nope, with no breakfast inside her the Krispy Krème doughnut kiosk would be too much of a temptation, and she needed to lose weight. Wherever her destination she better get there fast. On reflection the jeans didn’t really fit, she had a wedgie from hell. The seam was digging in places still sensitive from last night.

  Oh hell, last night, what had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking, instead she had let her pussy lead her up the garden path, again. Although the journey had been thrilling, beyond anything she could ever have imagined, the aftermath was a fucking disaster.

  If she turned up at her parents’ house without an invitation, her mother would assume the worst. She would endure a grilling about whether she was pregnant, dying, or even worse, be forced into a heart to heart discussion about the advantages of moving back home. Her older sister, Sian, would be sleeping the day away, and anything short of World War Three would never be an adequate excuse for waking her up. That left Laura. She flicked on her indicator and took a right at the lights. She just hoped Laura hadn’t got lucky last night, she couldn’t handle seeing any more naked, buff, male bodies without a full dose of caffeine first.

  The houses thinned out, square patches of dead grass gave way to tree lined streets and manicured lawns surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges and herbaceous borders. Welcome to where the other half lived. Amongst the palatial family mansions the common man still managed a toehold here and there. Laura had snagged a two bedroom flat in a converted house.

  A spotless black hatchback with spoiler and sports kit sat on the driveway, announcing to the world Laura was home. As it stood alone, Meg hoped that meant she hadn’t got lucky at the nightclub she frequented on Friday nights.

  Laura finally answered Meg’s frantic pounding on the front door. Sleep tousled, yawning, and wearing a black teddy that was barely there, Laura glared at her.

  “Where are the firemen?”

  “What?”

  “You turn up on my door at this ungodly hour, there must be a fire, and you better have brought some hunky firemen with you.”

  “Sorry. No fire, or men.” She pulled what she hoped was her best pathetic face. “Can I come in?”

  With a sigh, Laura moved back. After stepping inside, Meg shut the door and followed Laura to the kitchen.

  “You want coffee?”

  Meg tossed her purse on the counter. “I’ll make it. It’s the least I can do after waking you up at,” She glanced at the wall clock. “Fuck, seven thirty eight. I am sorry. I had no idea it was so early.”

  Laura slid onto a stool in front of the counter, stifling another yawn before resting her chin on her hand. “Since when did you start getting up early?”

  Good question, now what was a good answer? I woke up in Sam’s bed after an evening of orgasmic sex, accidentally ripped his towel off on my way to the bathroom, and watched him get erect before freaking right out and running away? Nope. Not going to mention the sex, or the naked penis, not to Laura. No way would she escape without giving a blow-by-blow account of Sam’s every move, with in-depth descriptions of his body parts along the way. She wasn’t ready to admit she had given in to him, never mind replay the whole night in slow motion.

  Meg switched on the kettle and rescued two clean cups from the drainer. “I just wanted to get a jump start on the day. I thought I might go shopping for some new clothes.”

  “Good idea. Those jeans must be at least two sizes too small for you. How can you breathe or sit down in them?”

  Meg added instant coffee and sugar to the cups. “Why are you so grumpy anyway? Didn’t you get any last night?” She bit her tongue before she blurted out, because this fat momma did, boo yah, banging the night away with the man of your panty-soaking dreams.

  “I wasn’t looking for any. Don’t you remember? Dean’s coming home on shore leave for the week?”

  That particular piece of information had slipped her mind. She wished it had slipped Laura’s as well. No matter what Navy boy said, no one had the names of their parent
s tattooed on their bodies. Okay, maybe ‘Barbara’ in a love heart on his excessively over the top bicep might be believable, but ‘Maurice’ tattooed on his arse wasn’t. She didn’t buy his bullshit, not even when he said he chose his arse because he didn’t get along with his dad. If you hate your father, you don’t have his name on your body. Either the boy had a wife, and Maurice was his kid, or he swung both ways. No matter which, Laura would be devastated, and Meg would be cleaning up the mess…again.

  “Oh yeah, Dean. So what are you going to do with Gerard?”

  “I told him I was busy this week. You can borrow him if you like. He’s an animal between the sheets.”

  Trust Laura to think she couldn’t get a man of her own. Apparently she could, for at least one night anyway. Meg ignored the comment. Adding another man to her suddenly overflowing sex life was not an option. She filled the cups with boiling water, put them on the counter, and fetched the milk from the fridge. Eyeing a stool, she decided against sitting. Her bits were still tingling from the drive over. One more false move and she might spontaneously orgasm, black shirt or not, she didn’t intend to spend the day stinking of cheap coffee.

  Laura sipped her drink and stared at her. “You explained why you’re up so early but not what you’re doing at my place. The mall is in the opposite direction, and the stores don’t open until nine, so I’m not buying it. What’s the real reason you’re here?”

  Chapter Eight

  Meg should have thought this through. Laura could see through any excuse. She would keep wheedling away until Meg finally blurted out the truth.

  Laura stared at her, waiting for a response. She sipped her coffee, desperately hoping for a stroke of genius, or a distraction. When the front door bell rang Meg glanced upward offering a silent prayer of thanks. She took a step in the direction of the hallway but Laura slid off the stool and held her hand up.