Men For Hire Read online
MEN FOR HIRE
ANTHOLOGY
TINA DONAHUE
BELLA SETTARRA
MICHELLE ROTH
JENNIFER DENYS
WWW.LUMINOSITYPUBLISHING.COM
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Got Muscle? by Tina Donahue
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Ménage at Mealtime by Bella Settarra
Dedication
Chapter One
Calculated Risk by Michelle Roth
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Marital Duties by Jennifer Denys
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About the Authors
Tina Donahue
Bella Settarra
Michelle Roth
Jennifer Denys
End Credits
LUMINOSITY PUBLISHING LLP
MEN FOR HIRE
Anthology
Copyright © September 2015
Got Muscle? © Tina Donahue
Ménage at Mealtime © Bella Settarra
Calculated Risk © Michelle Roth
Marital Duties © Jennifer Denys
ISBN: 978-1-910899-23-6
MEN FOR HIRE anthology arranged by Jennifer Denys
Cover Art by Poppy Designs
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this literary work may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
The authors acknowledges the trademark status and the following trademark owners mentioned in this work of fiction:
Google
Georgio Armani
Got Muscle?
Tina Donahue
Dedication
To curvy women everywhere and the hunks who love them.
Chapter One
Bree Winters needed a man. Well, muscle actually, since having a guy for the usual purpose—companionship, intimacy with a capital I, and wild monkey sex hadn’t happened, with the prospects looking dimmer each year. At twenty-seven, Bree felt time whizzing by in her personal and professional life, and was finally determined to do something about it.
On the floor of her studio flat were about a million pieces of the ExerMax Eight Hundred, the ultimate home gym that could do anything, except put itself together. She had that covered, having hired a man to whip it into shape. Once he arrived and did his thing, Bree could tone her body to a size zero from her current twelve, which converted to a fourteen in the UK. Lovely. Without having enjoyed one extra bite of pizza or even a thimbleful of chocolate cake, she was even bigger now than she’d been in the States.
If that wasn’t proof that she shouldn’t have moved to London from New York, then what was?
A rap on her door caught Bree’s attention. Her man no doubt, remarkably on time. Now, if only he and Jennifer Archer’s service proved as fabulous as Bree’s neighbor had gushed about, everything would be perfect.
“Jennifer won’t let you down,’ the neighbor had said last night, her eyes bright. ‘When my laptop needed a fix, she sent someone right over. He was the absolute best.”
Bree had never heard anyone rave like that about a computer geek. Could be he’d actually had a personality and did more than grunt like a surly teen when her neighbor had spoken to him.
Hopefully, Bree’s man would be middle-aged, sweet as could be, and non-judgmental. At this point in her life, Bree didn’t need a lecture about accepting herself for who she was or anyone nagging her to look better. Her last boyfriend had done that before he dumped her for a co-worker in their office.
On that happy memory, she stepped around the various guts of her home gym and went to the door but didn’t open it. Her New York wariness was still on full alert. She’d seen enough slasher movies to know that a seemingly innocent knock could lead to all kinds of crap. ‘Who is it?’
“David Shaw, from the service, for…” He paused as if checking his notes then continued, “Ms. Winters.”
Bree’s heart did another funny twist. Even through the barrier of the door, David Shaw’s voice was decidedly deep, nicely male, and nowhere near middle age. She glanced at her tank top and compression running shorts, both in black to make her look slimmer. Yeah, right. Sucking her lower lip, Bree chanced a look through the peephole and didn’t see much except David’s full head of hair—dark, wavy and thick—along with his impossibly broad shoulders that strained against his white tee. Hmm. Given her view of him, he appeared tall, six-two or better. He kept his face down, his attention on something in his hand. The work order? His smartphone? A mirror because he was so gorgeous?
Get real.
A nice head of hair didn’t make him a god. He was probably average at most, as Bree was, which meant it didn’t matter if she looked like hell, her hair in a sloppy ponytail, face moist with perspiration. The extreme July heat had turned her cramped flat into an oven. Too bad she hadn’t thought to buy any fans, having believed the landlord when he’d insisted air conditioning wasn’t necessary during the city’s mild summers.
“Are you still there?” David called out.
Bree smiled, liking his easy-going tone and elegant accent. It not only sounded British but also had an educated air, like Prince William’s. So why was he—David not Wills—doing temporary work like this? She wondered if the rotten economy had hurt him as it had so many others. “Yes, I’m here,” she called out finally. “Sorry for the delay. I need a sec to open the locks.”
She’d installed five, the New Yorker in her ever mindful of home invasions. After she’d thrown the last lock, Bree took a deep breath and opened the door.
David lifted his face.
Three things happened at once. Bree lost her breath on a wanting sigh, she gripped the doorknob needing it for support, and she stared, unable and unwilling to stop.
He was beyond gorgeous, the stuff of female wet dreams. Most likely in his early thirties with masculine features, dark silky brows, deep blue eyes surrounded by unspeakably lush lashes, and stubble that made him one-thousand-percent male.
Bree’s nipples peaked so quickly, the tips stung. Her pussy continued to cream as her gaze prowled over him. He had a tat on his right arm, some kind of bold tribal design that trailed from beneath the sleeve of his tee to just below the bend of his elbow. Gripping the knob even tighter, she kept herself from stroking those black swirls or his faded jeans. Those babies rode low on his lean hips. Given the size of his running shoes, he had big feet. His hands were nicely large too with long, long fingers.
Every woman knew what that meant.
Powerless to resist, Bree glanced at the prominent ridge behind his fly, the promise of his thick, rigid cock and tight balls. She forced down a swallow.
After slipping his smartphone into the back pocket of his jeans, he offered his hand and a smile. “Hi.”
Bree wanted to speak but couldn’t form words. He had a deep dimple in his left cheek.
God help her, Bree wanted to kiss his dimple and lick the blunt tips of his fingers then suck them into her mouth along with the best parts of him. Dizzy with long
ing and lust that had been denied too long, she really didn’t want to admit she was his customer, not when she looked so bad, but there wasn’t much choice. No time now to lose a couple of dress sizes, take a shower, and fix her hair or face. Bravely, she slipped her hand into his and just about died at the wonderful warmth of his calloused palm and firm yet gentle grip. A man’s way of saying, “I’m powerful as all hell but I’ll never hurt you, baby.”
“Ms. Winters?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.
“Yes, hi. I am Bree—that is, Ms. Winters—Bree to you, please,” she said then cleared her throat, hoping to ease the wobble from it. “Nice to meet you, David.”
His smile widened, deepening his dimple.
A few more minutes of this and Bree figured she’d ask him to do her after he put her equipment together. Then again, maybe not. An attack of shyness hit as his attention slid from her mouth to her boobs and downward to her hips and thighs. She pulled her hand from his and hid her body behind the door.
A flicker of surprise and confusion crossed his handsome face.
Clearly, he’d never been called chubby in school.
“Please come in.” She gestured him past the door, hoping he didn’t notice how her hand shook.
David sidestepped the parts on the floor. Once he’d reached an empty space, he bent over, lowering his toolkit to it. All the spit in Bree’s mouth dried up. His ass was firm, his thighs brawny.
He looked over.
She rubbed the side of her neck, pretending he hadn’t caught her staring.
Straightened, he rested his hands on his narrow hips and regarded the equipment. “The service said you needed a device assembled.” He looked at her. “I take it this is it?”
Bree nodded, wishing she’d ordered three more to keep him here even longer. Once he was finished, he’d be out of her life forever. Rather than mourn that inevitability, Bree told herself to be grateful for now, a moment of pleasure in her otherwise drab existence. “It’s the ExerMax Eight Hundred.” Leaning against the door, she shoved it closed. The noise sounded loud to her.
David didn’t seem to notice how she’d trapped them inside as he toed one of the metal bars. There were dozens of them along with everything else.
“I have instructions,” she offered before he got too bummed by the project and decided to leave. Bree swiped the manual off the counter and handed it over.
As David took the instructions, his fingers grazed hers, sending a thrum of sensation up Bree’s arm. She trembled.
He glanced at the booklet and arched one dark eyebrow. “Looks like this is in Chinese. Unfortunately, that wasn’t my best language in University. Latin was my thing.” With a playful grin, he flipped through the pages and stopped finally. While reading, he ran his fingers through his hair, loosening a wave that fell over his forehead.
Bree would have given a year of her life to ease it back or to lick his prominent Adam’s apple shadowed with beard.
“Did you try to put this together before you called the service?” he asked.
Her face got hot. “I started, but I took it apart again when it didn’t look like the drawing. Everything’s just as it was when I opened the box.”
He studied a bar that had a dent in it from her whacking the thing with another piece of equipment.
Damn her impatience. “You will be able to put it together, right?”
“About that. I have good news and bad. Which would you like to hear first?”
Bree wasn’t certain if he was playing with her or not. Right now, she didn’t care. His scent captivated her, something clean and fresh that smelled of limes. “Good?”
“Very well.” He lowered the manual. “There’s a fully equipped gym in this building, next to the pool. You do know that, don’t you?”
Of course she did. Not that Bree was going to exercise in front of the babes with perfect figures. They were always ogling the cute guys who drooled right back. She was out of shape, not a masochist. “None of that equipment is as advanced as what I have here.”
“That brings us to the bad news.” He turned a slow circle, taking in the living area of her flat then pointed at a large cabinet against the wall. “Murphy bed?”
A pulse beat in Bree’s cunt, sending a flood of heat to her pussy before that warmth shot up to her throat and cheeks. Why was he asking about her bed? And why was that bad news? “Uh-huh.”
“Do you plan to keep sleeping on it?”
When? And with whom? “Ah, sure … why?”
“Once your ExerMax is put together, there’s not going to be much room in here for anything else.”
Ah, he was talking logistics. Bree had already thought of that. “I was going to slide the exerciser toward the door at night.” Another barrier against possible murderers, rapists, and whatnot.
David rubbed his fingers over his mouth but didn’t entirely hide his smile. “My guess is this thing’s pretty heavy. It’s doubtful you’ll be able to budge it once it’s together. Tell you what.” He tossed the manual on the floor. “Let me set up your bed to make sure there’s enough space for it and your ExerMax.”
Was he deliberately trying to tempt her? Who cared? This was more fun that Bree had experienced in months. “I’ll help.”
“I have it.”
With more ease than she’d ever experienced, David had the bed partially down when he stopped and looked at the parts beneath it.
Bree hurried to his side. “I’ll move this stuff.” On her hands and knees, she slid the items away to clear the space. When she looked up, her face was level with his groin. His fragrance, mingled with the faint scent of musk, washed over Bree, weakening her.
David smiled. “Thanks.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, the words falling out of her mouth.
Once the bed was in place, Bree forced herself to scoot back from too much temptation. David was gorgeous, nice, and definitely educated, given his comment about University, but he was still a stranger. One Bree didn’t want to see go. Of all the times for her not to have locked the door. How in the hell did she expect to keep him in here if there was a clear escape route from all this heat?
Already, he was sweating and finally ran his arm across his forehead.
“Sorry about the temperature,” she said. “I don’t have any fans yet. Can I get you some ice water?”
“That’d be great. Do you mind if I…?”
Bree was halfway to her feet when she stopped and looked over, wondering why he hadn’t finished. David gestured to his tee. She wasn’t certain what he meant, and then suddenly she did. “You want to take it off?”
“Not if it bothers you.”
Was he kidding? If he’d been stripping on stage, screen or the Internet, Bree would have gladly paid top dollar to see it.
“It’s really hot in here,” he added.
“I don’t mind—you taking off your tee, that is. Go ahead. Please. Get comfortable.”
He pulled the garment up, exposing his navel. A swirl of dark hairs surrounded the depression before dipping to his groin and disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. Bree could count each one of his abs they were that defined, his pecs nothing but hard slabs of smooth muscle. His tat decorated part of the right one, along with his shoulder and bruising biceps. The hair in his pits was as silky, thick, and dark as the stuff on his head.
The room seemed to spin.
Once he had the tee off, he mopped his face with it and let out a relieved sigh.
If Bree could have managed to pull in that much air, she would have been sighing too. On unsteady legs, she went to the kitchen and rested her forehead against the fridge to cool down and collect her thoughts. With David’s great looks, he had to be an out-of-work actor or model, doing these gigs so he could survive before hitting the big time.
He would too. Bree had no doubt of that.
She brought two glasses of water into the living area, handing one to him. Again, his fingers brushed hers causing something i
nside Bree to flutter. Giddy with desire, she gulped her water, not coming up for air until she’d finished it.
David sipped his slowly, watching her over the rim of his glass. She figured the heat, not her, had flushed his face. Even so, a girl could dream. Seeing how hot he still was and feeling bad about it, Bree grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and flapped it at him.
He lowered his glass. “What are you doing?”
“Fanning you to keep you cool while you work.”
A low chuckle rumbled from deep within him, the sound potently male. “You don’t have to do that.” He grabbed the end of the towel and used it to reel Bree in until she was sitting on the floor next to him, their knees touching. Even that small intimacy sent her pulse into a sprint.
“I want to help,” she protested, all too breathlessly.
“You can hand me stuff, read the instructions out loud, and answer any questions I might have.” He leaned toward her, delivering a waft of his wonderful fragrance. “Okay?”
Right now, Bree would have done anything he wanted, even exercising in front of the perfect people in the gym. “Sure.”
After a playful wink, he fished an ice cube out of his glass then ran it over his throat and pecs. This time his sigh was nearly orgasmic. Once he’d used up the cube, he grabbed the manual.
Bree couldn’t pull her attention from the moisture streaming over his tiny nipples. They were the color of freshly turned earth, a drop of water on one of the tips. It fell finally to his abs then trickled lower to his flat belly.
“So, you’re a Yank,” he said as he paged through the instructions. “My guess is a New Yorker, right?”
Bree grinned sheepishly. “My accent’s that bad?”
“Your locks.” He gestured to them then smoothed the page with the diagram on it. “This building’s in a good area, no crime to speak of. You in the country by choice or duress?”