Male Order Page 7

The door swung open. She didn’t need to ask if he liked it. All the proof she needed was bulgingly evident in the front of his pants. Without a word he crossed the room and turned her to face the mirror. He slid his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her bare shoulder. “You look gorgeous. The dress is perfect. Now we need to do something with your hair, add a little makeup, and your mother will be speechless.”

  She might have started out looking for a dress to please her mother, but that was no longer the motivation. Sam said she could be his perfect wet dream and the look of desire in his eyes had just turned him into hers. “I don’t care what my mother thinks. I didn’t agree to this for her.”

  “Why then?”

  “I wanted to see your reaction.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Meg closed her eyes as Sam brushed his lips along her shoulder and up her neck. Her resolve started to waiver. His reaction to the new Maggie Riley was definitely positive.

  He nuzzled below her ear. “As much as I love you in the dress I think you should take it off, for now.”

  She fought back a moan when he pushed the spaghetti straps off her shoulders and pushed the bodice below her breasts. He cupped her left breast, flicking her nipple with his thumb before easing it free from her lace strapless bra.

  There was something she meant to discuss with him before they did this again. Oh yeah, the rules.

  “Oh Sam…stop, we need to talk first.”

  He used his free hand to unzip her dress then palmed her right boob. His voice deep and husky he whispered, “You can talk while I help you out of the dress but the shoes and underwear stay on.”

  The sensation of him tweaking her nipples sent ripples of desire straight to her centre. With him pumped and primed for action, it would be a shame to deny the stallion a trot around the paddock. They could always talk afterwards.

  He pulled his hands free and she wiggled suggestively as he pushed the silky fabric down her body until it pooled around her feet. Embarrassed to be dressed in such skimpy underwear and ‘fuck me’ sandals while he remained fully clothed, she turned and tugged his shirt free. He lifted his arms so she could pull it over his head. She tossed it aside, then palmed his solid pecs, and gently brushed her fingertips over his dark pebbled nipples.

  Obviously not wanting to wait for her to finish undressing him, he tugged his belt free of the clasp and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Meg swatted his hands away. She planned on having the pleasure of releasing his mighty steed herself. Shoving his jeans over his hips, she stared completely mesmerized by his prancing stallion. The deep pink monster reached clear to his bellybutton. He must be in agony and feeling decidedly lightheaded with so much blood throbbing into his engorged member. Hmm, maybe she should give it a little lick to help cool him off. She wrapped her fingers around his veined, steely shaft before bending and swirling her tongue over the smooth head and around the sensitive area just below. A moan and hiss from Sam were reward enough. The way the man was twitching she was afraid if she gave him anymore he would shoot his wad and she would go blind like the poor girl who almost stole his cherry.

  She let Sam go and watched as he kicked off his pants. Finally he stood before her completely naked. God, he was hot. Apparently lust was contagious. Fuck needing rules. He wanted to screw. She wanted him to screw her. What was there to discuss?

  He reached out and grabbed the back of her head, pulling her face to his. Happy to oblige, she opened her mouth and responded in kind to his searching lips and plunging tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed against him. Her body ached with need. Sam slid his hands under her backside and lifted her off the floor, dumping her unceremoniously in the middle of her bed. She squealed and he chuckled as he climbed on after her, burying his face in her cleavage, tickling her skin with soft kisses and gentle licks. Her insides ached for him to fill her. She’d gone from frigid to nympho in less than twenty-four hours. When he finally came up for air she pulled him down on top of her. She tugged his face to hers and kissed him. Her tongue danced with his, raising her temperature, and her need for sex. She wrapped her legs around his body, pushing his hard cock against her abdomen. Grinding beneath him, she rubbed her silk clad slit against his solid dick. He broke free, taking his weight on his hands and grinning down at her. Her efforts were not in vain, she was hot, wet and ready for him to impale her.

  “Someone seems to be in a hurry.”

  “And you’re not? You had a woody that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a stud race horse the minute you walked into my room.”

  He chuckled and wiggled his hips, bumping his cock against her throbbing clit. “I had it before I walked in your room. No matter how much I tried to distract myself I couldn’t get the memory of you sucking my cock out of my mind.”

  Meg smiled up at him; he had really enjoyed her efforts. “And you wanted a repeat performance?”

  “I could have jacked off but it would have achieved nothing. Some part of your body needs to cure me of this malaise before I die from lack of oxygen to the brain.”

  Giving him her best seductive smile, she raised her arms above her head. “Take whatever piece of me you like, except my butt.” A flicker of doubt momentarily doused the flame of desire burning inside her. “Sam, you will make it good for me too, won’t you?

  He smiled and nodded. “Absolutely, baby. I know the rules, no orgasm for me without at least one for you.”

  At least one, held the promise of more. His words rekindled the flame.

  Sam climbed off the bed, his eyes flicking from her mouth to the dark hair between her thighs. If they had more time she would have suggested he try both but the need to be at the barbeque on time played on her mind. No way was she going to be late and risk an interrogation from her mother. No one dared turn up late to one of her mother’s soirées without a good excuse, like a death in the family. Being late because she was fucking Sam would never make the cut.

  When Sam squatted and disappeared out of her line of sight she pushed herself up on her elbows. He rummaged in his jeans pockets. Finally standing up he held a condom in his hand. Ripping it free from the packaging, he grinned at her. It seemed he had decided her pussy was to be the recipient of his brumby’s attention.

  “Take off your panties.”

  Without a word, she did as he asked, tossing them to lie amongst the other clothes still scattered over her bed. She felt hollow and empty and was desperate to feel him inside her. He grabbed his cock, his hand squeezing around it, massaging the length before he sheathed himself.

  If she hadn’t been horny before she watched that performance, she would be now. The man was magnificent, and the sight of him stroking himself sent her into a frenzy of need. One day she planned to watch him jack off again just for her.

  Sam climbed back on the bed. “Turn over.”

  Meg stared at him. Didn’t he believe her when she said not her butt? “Why?”

  “Trust me. I won’t do anything you won’t enjoy.”

  Still reluctant, she rolled over onto her stomach. A shiver rippled over her skin when his lips brushed the back of her neck. The warm damp sensation of his tongue flicking down her spine made her quiver in anticipation. Sam played her perfectly. Every touch, every nip, every caress lifted her desire to another level. Her clit throbbed, her nipples hardened, and moisture pooled between her thighs.

  A nip on her butt made her squeal. Sam chuckled. “On your knees, baby, and spread your legs.” Meg did as he asked. When she tried to lift her head off the mattress he growled for her to stay put. The power in his voice brooked no argument and the thought of being at his mercy sent a pulse of lust to her abdomen. The sensation of Sam trailing his fingers up her calves then the back of her thighs made her push back. Why didn’t he just plunge himself inside her? His fingertips wandered ever closer to her aching pussy. He palmed the cheeks of her butt, his calluses from weight training grazed her skin. Unable to hold back a moan, she wiggled her arse in the hope of attracti
ng his attention.

  When his hard member slipped between her thighs, running between her lower lips, she closed her eyes. Every nerve ending tingled. Her pussy throbbed, still he teased her. The head of his cock bumped her already over sensitized clit, sending a shock wave through her centre. Another rock of his hips sent her closer to completion.

  “Please, Sam.”

  “You want me, baby? Are you sure?”

  Sure? Did he need a written offer? “Yes, I’m absolutely positive. Perhaps you don’t understand the role of a fuck buddy?”

  A hand appeared either side of her head, his body pressed tight against her back. He whispered in her ear. “Fucking, you mean? Oh, don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

  His body weight lifted off her. Where had he gone? This was torture. She needed him and if he didn’t fuck her soon she would wrestle him to the bed and take what she wanted. He rested a rough palm on her backside and she held her breath in delicious anticipation. The head of his engorged cock bumped her opening. Slowly he slipped inside. His hand braced next to her face.

  When his other hand slid between her thighs, she moaned. With exacting precision, his fingertip rubbed her nub in time with each thrust. Desperate to take his entire length, she rocked with him. The head of his dick bumped her deep inside, sending wave after wave of pain and pleasure rippling down her pussy.

  Grunting, sweating, damp skin slapping against damp skin, she lifted her head and screamed his name when one last flick of her clit shattered her world into a million pieces. She barely registered Sam’s own moans of satisfaction as she milked his trusty steed dry.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Meg parked her car on her parents’ drive. Most of the other guests had parked in the street, no doubt wanting to be primed for a quick getaway. She reached across to the passenger’s seat for her dad’s gift and her purse. With as much dignity as she could muster, she climbed out of the car. Just as she locked the doors Sam pulled his motorbike up behind her. In one fluid move he switched it off, swung his leg over the seat, and kicked down the stand.

  She waited as he tugged off his helmet, stowing it with the bike. Her mother had told her to wear a dress but she was beginning to think she’d gone too far. After their naughty nooner, Sam had supervised operations. He’d hustled her into the shower, which she insisted she could manage alone.

  If he touched her naked skin again they would never have made the party. The man was addictive. Who knew horse riding could be so much fun. She wished she’d met him a few years ago. All those wasted nights. Once she’d cleaned up she slipped into her underwear, dress, and sandals. Sam had done her hair and makeup. He confessed he used to work backstage on school drama productions, he had even been enticed into a few dancing classes. After a couple of false starts, he decided on a French braid and smoky grey eye makeup. When he’d finished she hardly recognized herself.

  Now, standing on her parents’ front drive, she wished she’d stuck with track pants. Even though the dress ended mid-calf she knew her mother would glare disapprovingly at the two tiny triangles of fabric barely covering her boobs. If she leaned forward too far the girls would escape their inadequate refuge.

  Sam ran a finger down her cheek, smiling at her and raising an eyebrow. “I know what you’re thinking. You look perfect.”

  “Like a dream.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Your freakin’ wet dream. I should never have let you give me a makeover.” She pouted at him.

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  Maybe she should go home and change. Before she had a chance to run away, Sam slipped an arm around her waist and guided her toward the house. Meg opened the door with her key. Even though she’d moved out nearly a year ago, her mother insisted she keep a key in case she ever needed to come home one day. Now that she’d discovered there were more advantages to having your own flat than being closer to work, she doubted she’d be coming back anytime soon.

  The burst of noise that greeted them when they stepped inside the house indicated the party was in full swing. She checked her watch; they were on time. She so didn’t want to do this. As if he sensed her reluctance, Sam dropped a kiss on her cheek and took her hand.

  “You’re lovely. Come on, let’s go wish your dad a happy birthday.”

  She let him lead her through the house. It looked the same as ever, the air smelt of furniture polish. Everything gleamed, not a cushion or ornament out of place. If she took a picture she could get it published in her mum’s favorite magazine, House and Home. Sam walked with a sense of purpose. Apparently he remembered the layout. They had both been to Sunday lunch at her parents’ place not long after he moved into the flat. If she were Sam, she’d have blocked the whole memory from her mind. Her mother had cross examined him and her great aunt Maud had pinched his butt, declaring him to be just the sort of young man she needed to keep her pacemaker ticking. God, she hoped her mother hadn’t invited Maud.

  Sam seemed happy to be there, so she decided not to mention their last visit. He dropped his hand, placing it on the small of her back, guiding her out the sliding door into the garden.

  Her mother was nowhere in sight but her dad could just be seen in the back corner of the lawn behind a cloud of smoke. Apparently he couldn’t escape barbeque duty, even at his own birthday party. Freshly mown, the lawn looked like a bowling green, the borders stuffed full of rich green foliage and bright flowers. Her dad had must have spent hours making sure it passed inspection. A glance at the partygoers revealed the usual suspects were in attendance. Thirty or so people were dotted around the garden, including Maud, who had a wicked gleam in her eye as she winked at Sam.

  Ignoring the come hither looks from her great aunt, Sam took her hand and led her between the groups of guests. Her dad seemed absorbed in his duties as chef. Looking at him it was hard to believe he had just turned sixty. His hair was still dark like Meg’s, his dark blue eyes as bright as ever.

  Glancing up from the grill, her dad smiled at her. “Meg, I hardly recognized you.”

  She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Happy Birthday, Dad. You remember Sam.”

  “Happy Birthday, Mr. Riley.”

  “Robert, call me Robert, son.” He put the tongs on the side table and wiped his hands on his apron before shaking hands with Sam and accepting Meg’s gift. “I’d offer to get you both a drink, but I’m a bit tied up. You can go and help yourselves though.”

  Meg glanced at the drinks table. “You want a beer, Dad?”

  Sam put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you leave me in charge of the barbeque, and you and your dad go have a beer? Just make sure to bring one back for me.”

  Tugging the apron over his head, Robert thrust it at Sam. “Are you sure you can cope, son? Mrs. Riley is a bit particular about how the food has to be cooked.”

  “Leave it to me. Go, get a beer. Mingle a little. Enjoy the party.”

  Sam pulled the apron over his head and Meg leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks. We won’t be long.”

  He slipped a hand around her waist and whispered, “Cooking a barbeque is a small price to pay if the reward is to have you lean forward to give me a show and a kiss.”

  Heat flamed her cheeks and she shoved him off. His laughter followed her as she slipped her arm through her dad’s and led him to the drinks table.

  “I like Sam.”

  Meg smiled. “So do I.”

  He chuckled. “Glad to hear it; just don’t let your mother find out.”

  She felt the flush rise like a tide; did her dad think she and Sam were having sex? A wink from her dad when she glanced at him confirmed the worst, he did, and they were. If her mother found out they would both be toast and Sam could say goodbye to his winky.

  “You won’t say anything to Mum, will you?”

  Her dad chuckled. “Not on your life. I’m sure her reaction to your dress will cause heartache enough without adding to
the drama.”

  “You think I should go home and change?”

  He poured a glass of wine and handed it to her. “I think you should wear whatever you like. You’re beautiful, and look happier than I have seen you in months. Don’t let your mother scare you out of doing what you want to do.”

  Meg watched his face. Is that what her mother had done to him? Had he wanted to do something more with his life? “Are you happy, Dad?”

  He chuckled at her. “What’s not to be happy about? Beautiful girl on my arm, young man cooking my dinner, and friends and family gathered to celebrate my birthday. What more would an old man want?”

  What more did she want? Meg glanced back at Sam and he waved frantically at her. “I should take Sam his beer.”

  Her dad popped the top off a bottle and they made their way back to the barbeque. The closer they got the more relieved Sam appeared; surely he wasn’t that desperate for a beer? When they got within an arm’s length he tugged off the apron and stepped away from the barbeque revealing the elderly terror hidden behind him. How could her mother and Aunt Maud be related? The octogenarian was the polar opposite of her mother. Her hair was died a dark red, large gold hoop earrings hung from her drooping earlobes, her black leather pants were far from figure hugging, and the low cut top would have revealed cleavage a few decades ago before her boobs had headed south. Despite her age, and lack of a male companion for the last twenty years since Uncle Arthur passed away, she was still sexually active, or tried to be. Her efforts to get in the sack were seldom rewarded, but that could be because she was only interested in men under thirty. Even exposed to the whole party she grabbed a handful of Sam’s arse with her arthritic fingers.

  “Oh Meg, he’s so toned. I can only imagine how he got a rear end like that. Do you have one to match? I bet I would get a tight patooti too, given something to work with. You lucky girl.”

  First her dad, now Maud, did everyone at the party assume she was screwing around with Sam? Since when did her private life become public knowledge?