Indulge Me

Indulge Me

by Kaenar Langford

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Overview

Keane Daniels has received an anonymous note summoning him to Indulgence, one of the largest gay spa and bathhouses in Toronto. Since he's in unrequited lust with his boss, Keane thinks a clandestine tryst might just take his mind off his gorgeous colleague.

Rayche Marquette has wanted Keane since hiring him, but being his boss means Keane's off limits...until Rayche decides he can wait no longer and reserves the Wet Area of the spa so the two of them can spend a Naughty Nooner together.

Rayche and Keane meet in the elegant shower area, but when Keane discovers the sender of the note is his boss, his reaction is not what Rayche expects. Keane rebuffs him, thinking the lunch hour adventure is a lark for Rayche, a meaningless liaison. For Keane, that can never be enough with this man. How can he convince Rayche to turn their Naughty Nooner into a lifetime commitment?

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780857150561
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group
Publication date: 03/22/2010
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 51
File size: 521 KB
Age Range: 18 Years

About the Author

Although born in Ireland, Kaenar Langford lives north of Toronto in rural Ontario, but that doesn't stop her from travelling the world in her mind and in her books. The love of romance and the exotic, as well as a decidedly off-beat sense of humour, are all entwined to produce stories that will not only seduce you, but also make you laugh. Her husband and two sons have grown used to seeing the back of her head as she sits at the computer, transported to wherever the story takes her. She has become immune to the teasing of friends and colleagues who are secretly delighted with this new adventure into writing erotic romance. Kaenar enjoys playing music and reading and has taken up the Scottish small pipes in the last few years. Of course, Irish music is what she loves to play.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Meet me at Indulgence. Noon today. I want you naked in the Wet Area.

Keane's heartbeat speeded up as he clutched the note in his hand. No need to look at it again. He knew the contents by heart. Too keyed up to sit, he strode to the door of his office and yanked it open.

"Who brought this note, Mrs. Sellers?"

Obviously startled by the unusually sharp tone of voice, his middle-aged secretary looked up from her keyboard. "I hope I didn't do anything wrong, Mr. Daniels. It was one of those bike messengers. I signed for it and he left. Wasn't that all right?"

Keane shook his head and forced a smile. "That's fine. I just wondered who'd delivered it, that's all."

"Of course." Mrs. Sellers acknowledged his acceptance with a nod of relief and got back to work.

Keane shut the door and crossed to his desk. He dropped into his chair and smoothed out the paper, wondering who had issued the invitation. No, not an invitation — a command. Who had demanded his presence at Indulgence? He'd only been to the place — one of the largest gay spas in Toronto — a few times, but somebody knew him well enough to be able to pinpoint his favourite spot in the luxurious bathhouse.

Could it be someone here at work? he wondered. Although he'd never hidden the fact he was gay, Keane had also never gone out of his way to advertise it. Marquette and Associates was a very well-respected architectural firm that had designed some of the more famous buildings that graced the city. The group had a world-wide reputation, their designs having won various prestigious competitions and awards. Keane enjoyed working for them, especially for Rayche Marquette, the head of the company.

Just the thought of his boss made his cock stir. The first time he'd seen him, he'd almost lifted out of his chair. He'd been afraid his erection would elevate the table, he'd been so aroused. Mr. Marquette had been nothing but professional during the interview, never giving any hint he was aware of Keane's interest or that he returned the sentiment.

So Keane continued to secretly lust after his boss. And what gay man in his right mind wouldn't hunger for him? he thought.

Before he had a chance to pursue his wayward contemplation of Mr. Rayche Marquette, a couple of sharp raps at the door had him quickly shoving the note into the nearest drawer and flipping open the top folder from a haphazard pile on his desk.

As usual, Rayche walked in without waiting. Keane was never sure if that was his custom with everyone or whether the man just liked to catch him continually off guard. He sometimes imagined what might happen if Rayche dropped in one day to find him stretched out, naked, on the long couch in his office. And who could blame him for thinking like that?

'Tall, dark and handsome' might have seemed like a corny cliché, yet those were exactly the words he would use to describe Rayche Marquette. At six-foot-two, he towered over most men, and his golden skin and brown eyes spoke of his French-Canadian ancestry. He kept his mahogany hair longer than was fashionable, long enough that Keane often fantasised about running his fingers through the silky waves. Sharp cheekbones accentuated his exotic good looks and more than once, Keane had wanted to slide the back of his hand along the sexy five o'clock shadow that graced that jaw line by the middle of the afternoon. But he didn't.

The two of them had been thrown together a great deal over the past few weeks. Some wealthy patrons had commissioned the company to come up with a design for a new art museum in Atlanta. Many late night sessions were needed as the team put the finishing touches to the plans.

Those conferences were pure agony for Keane. Rayche would invariably take off his suit jacket and throw it over the back of a chair. Then he'd loosen his tie and pull it off before undoing the top button of his shirt. He'd roll up his shirtsleeves, revealing his muscular forearms with their soft, dark hair. It was all he could do not to moan when his boss would lean back in his chair, hands behind his head, and stretch. Keane was sure he could see the outline of Rayche's nipples as his shirt pulled taut against his chest.

He spent every one of those meetings with a hard-on that could have serviced his boss all night long. One particular evening, Keane had made his way to the coffee urn, hoping no one noticed his perpetual arousal. Rayche apparently had decided he needed a cup as well. Keane had tried his very best not to moan as Marquette reached in front of him to grab some cream. It had felt so good when the back of his boss' hand had rubbed against his cock in passing that he'd gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. It might have been his imagination, but a quick sideways glance made him think Rayche had an erection as well.

Sometimes it seemed like the man was doing it on purpose, teasing him, as if he knew how turned on it made Keane. But other than an occasional smile, there was no encouragement.

If the group went for a drink afterwards, Rayche would usually make an excuse and decline the invitation. Keane was never sure whether to be glad or disappointed when the head of the company didn't join them.

Unrequited lust sucks, Keane had thought. And not in a good way.

And now here was the object of that unrequited lust standing in his office. Keane could feel his cock stretching, reaching out like a divining rod.

"I wanted to speak to you before I left for lunch," Rayche said, crossing to Keane's desk to stand beside his chair. "I'm heading out in a few minutes and probably won't be back for the rest of the day."

Keane stared at the papers in the open dossier without really seeing them. He was well aware that with just a turn of his head, his gaze would fall on the fly of Rayche's trousers. There was no way he could do that and not moan. Or not reach out and trace the outline of his boss' cock, as he imagined it stiff and potent behind the soft cloth. So it was eyes forward.

"There are some things we need to go over about the commission for the Atlanta museum, and I wondered if we could do that first thing tomorrow morning," he heard Rayche say as he felt his boss move closer. A quick sizzle skittered down his arm the moment Rayche brushed against him. It was as if the contact had been skin to skin, yet they were both fully clothed. But that didn't stop Keane's body from firing up just being near him.

Again, he tried to decide if he was merely imagining an interest on his boss' part. Am I the only one who feels this electricity between us?

"Does the design team have some final specs they want us to look at?" he asked, finally chancing a sideways glance. Should have kept myself 'eyes front'. He was certain he could discern a sizeable erection behind Rayche's fly.

Rayche's voice seemed completely normal, no indication that he was aroused. "Flanagan dropped the stuff off to me this morning, so I'll go over it tonight and share it with you when we meet tomorrow."

"Why don't you give me a copy and I'll check it out myself as well?" Keane asked.

His boss hesitated. "Well ... I don't have time. I'll just give you the highlights when we get together in the morning."

Now Keane was beginning to think Rayche had only been looking for an excuse to come and see him. Does he know about the note? Did he send it? He wanted to ask him, but the words wouldn't come. What if I'm wrong? It would be just too embarrassing.

"I need to get going. I'll see you later." Rayche headed for the door.

"Okay," was all he could think of to say as his boss opened it and stepped out. He was still staring at the closed door when it popped open and Rayche stuck his head in.

"Keane."

"Yeah?"

"That folder on the Lazenby project you've got open on your desk?" Rayche said with a grin.

Keane felt a blush warming his cheeks. Busted! His boss knew the file was just a cover, a prop.

"That was all tied up last week." Flashing a wicked smile, he disappeared and the door closed behind him.

Keane shook his head. Well, that was certainly interesting. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but for some reason he felt Rayche had found out what he wanted to know. Too bad Keane hadn't a clue what that was.

* * *

A little while later there was a hesitant knock at the door. Mrs. Sellers poked her head in.

"I'm heading off to lunch a bit early today, Mr. Daniels. I'm meeting my daughter to look at wedding dresses. I mentioned it to you last week." She smiled hesitantly.

Keane checked his watch. He needed to leave as well if he wanted to catch the streetcar to be at Indulgence by noon.

"Yes, I remember. Take the rest of the afternoon off, why don't you, Mrs. Sellers? I'm sure you have lots to do to get ready for her special day." He grinned as he realised she wouldn't be there to notice if he took an extra long lunch hour.

She beamed. "Why, thank you, Mr. Daniels. I believe I'll do that. Are you sure you won't need me?"

"I'm sure I can make do," he said. "Have fun."

He didn't want her wondering why he was racing away early, so Keane listened for the sound of the outer door opening and closing before shooting to his feet. He grabbed his jacket, pulling it on as he crossed the room. His cock came to life just at the thought of what might happen during a noon hour encounter at the gay spa.

And who sent the mysterious note? he mused.

He couldn't wait to find out.

CHAPTER 2

Keane couldn't believe his eyes. Stationed at the entry to the Wet Area was Chandler, the manager of Indulgence. Keane knew who he was because a friend had pointed him out on one of his visits to the spa. But it wasn't the presence of the manager that slowed his steps. It was the floor sign beside the man, proclaiming the space to be 'closed for repairs'.

All the time he'd been in the locker room stripping off his clothes, Keane hadn't been able to stop thinking about the mystery man waiting for him. As he'd walked down the long hall, the music from the ceiling speakers pounding through his body, he'd felt his cock rising against the towel wrapped around his waist. It was as if an electric current had been vibrating around him, caressing his skin as he made his way to the shower area to meet the sender of the note.

Now it wasn't going to happen. All he could do was stare at the notice.

"Ah, you've finally arrived," Chandler said.

Keane looked up, startled.

"Pardon?"

"We've been waiting for you. Actually, I'm only here to make sure no one but you passes beyond the sign. Someone else is waiting for you."

"How do you know he's waiting for me?" Keane asked, frowning.

"His description was very precise. First off, he said you were beautiful."

Keane laughed as Chandler looked him up and down. Now he was even more intrigued to know the identity of the person who had penned the note.

"He also said you like to laugh, and you just proved that."

Keane couldn't help thinking it must be someone who knew him well, and he itched to know who that someone was.

"He also said you'd be very punctual and he was right. You arrived at the entrance to the Wet Area at precisely noon," the manager said as he moved the sign and motioned for him to enter. "This section is closed to everyone but you. My client has reserved this part of the spa for the entire noon hour. For the two of you. He wants you to take a shower and wait for him to come to you."

As Keane passed into the Wet Area, Chandler smiled and said under his breath, "Have a wonderful naughty nooner."

* * *

The moment he entered the room, Keane picked up the heady aroma of eucalyptus. The arresting scent flashed through his body, filling his senses, heightening the anticipation. That was the smell he associated with Indulgence, that and the smell of male arousal.

Is the mystery man close by? he wondered as he stepped into the shower area.

It was empty.

The wall to his right had showerheads placed at intervals to allow eight or ten men to shower at the same time. Keane laughed to himself. The last time he'd been here, there'd been very little showering and a lot of fucking. Slippery hands lathered with silken soap caressing slick skin. The room had been filled with the moans of men bent over as their partners moved in and out of them, the sound of flesh on flesh as wet bodies slapped together while the water poured over them.

Today would be very different. Just the man who had demanded his presence and him. Keane wondered where he was. Is he watching from behind the darkened glass of the steam room? That's where I'd be, looking out at the shower area.

Keane had walked in there one evening, his body embracing the smell of eucalyptus as the steam rose around the naked bodies writhing on the wooden benches. He remembered the man who'd risen from the fog, his features hidden in its depths, and reached out his hand to pull Keane to him. Those open mouthed kisses, the tender bites along his shoulder.

With the haze filling the small space, the whole scene had seemed surreal, otherworldly. But the feel of that hard body against his had been anything but dreamlike. He couldn't forget the spicy taste of his unknown lover's skin or the smooth tautness of the man's belly as he'd fallen to his knees and nipped his way to the phantom's heavy cock. But when Keane had slipped his thumb over the smooth head, the moans he drew forth were very real. As were those first few drops of pre-cum he'd eagerly licked away.

And then Keane had done something he'd never done before. As the thick steam had swirled around them, he'd fantasised that this secret lover was Rayche Marquette. He'd imagined it was Rayche's shaft he'd encircled with his hand. With every tracing of his tongue along the heavy veins, he'd thought of those chocolate brown eyes and imagined that somehow they were looking down at him through the mist. When he felt the hands on his head, setting the rhythm, he pictured those strong forearms with the dusting of dark hair.

In his mind, it was Marquette who drew him to his feet and turned him to the bench. His voice that whispered to him to kneel on the hard surface, his fingers that slicked his tight hole with lube and his dick that pressed its way inside.

He fantasised it was Rayche Marquette who slid his cock so slowly, so artfully in and out, touching that sensitive gland, sending him soaring. When he'd pulled out, Keane had looked back, but all he saw was a powerful body being swallowed by the cloud of steam, like a ghost in the night.

And Keane hadn't been back to Indulgence since. It was Rayche he craved and no one else. But maybe this secret lover would make him forget Marquette.

As he loosened the towel from around his waist and let it fall, he thought he detected movement from behind the darkened glass of the steam room. Wishful thinking, or was the man he was to meet already watching him?

Moving to the wall, Keane grabbed one of the handles and pulled. He shivered as the cool water hit his overheated skin, and he stretched like a lion up into the stream as it began to warm. Getting soap from a nearby dispenser, he rubbed his hands together then closed his eyes as he smoothed the lather on his face and let the spray wash over him. He almost missed the quiet snick as the door of the steam room opened behind him.

Footsteps padded across the tile floor. He opened his eyes to see an arm reach past him. Muscles bunched as the hand pulled the lever and liquid soap spiralled into the large palm.

Did he recognise that sculpted forearm?

"Close your eyes," a voice whispered.

His heart gave a quick kick. Do I know him? Keane wasn't sure. The man spoke so quietly it was impossible to tell, but he did as he was told.

The stranger butted up behind him, rubbing his chest against Keane's back. The rough hair tickled his skin. Abruptly, the man pulled back.

"Wait," Keane said.

"Don't worry, we're just getting started," was the soft reply.

Those slick, soapy hands swept across Keane's shoulders, coming to rest at the nape of his neck where strong thumbs massaged tight muscles.

"Oh, that feels so good," he moaned.

The stranger laughed. "Then you'll certainly like this," he said, his tone remaining too low to identify.

Reaching around, he smoothed his hands over Keane's chest, pinching at the nipples as he made lazy circles on the wet flesh. Keane's knees almost gave out as the stranger bit along his shoulder blade. While the warm water cascaded down their bodies, the play moved lower. He clenched the muscles in his belly as the man skimmed his hands around his navel. And lower.

(Continues…)


Excerpted from "Indulge Me"
by .
Copyright © 2010 Kaenar Langford.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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