Friday, January 22, 2016

 Aloha everyone :) This was a wonderful promo and competition I got to participate in. We all had to write a short story about this picture for the winter edition of ManLove Fantasies. And I hadn't written for a while but I loved doing this. It was really fun. So have a wee read and all the stories are over at :) 
Aloha Meg :) 

Despite growing up in the tropics, I can’t get used to winter in Hawai’i. I’d come out from the cold, hard winters of Michigan where we didn’t see sunlight or even blue skies for weeks on end. But here on the Big Island of Hawai’i, it feels like an affront to my senses. Every day I wake up to sultry warm air, and birds chirping. The summer scents of ripe tropical fruit permeate the air, and the impossibly aqua blue water of my pool and the ocean is just outside my bedroom slider that opens onto a private lanai.
It’s paradise but I’m still wallowing in the “winter of my discontent.” I’m not ready to “hang loose” and go “native.” Aloha shirts and slippahs. Partly because my ability to relax has gone the way of the dinosaur. I can’t unwind, and take little pleasure in things that once had my attention. Yes, I’m burned out, slightly cynical, and tired. God, I’m tired.
I stand out on the lanai in my boxers and survey my new kingdom. The sweet but subtle rich, velvety perfume of plumeria trees in hot and soft pinks, pure whites, and golden yellows cloak my nostrils. They look so silky, I want to reach out and pluck one, nibble on its delicate flesh. I laugh at my fanciful mind, making up childish images. The islands of my youth, a place I’d played as a carefree kid, but that kid is long gone.
I walk back inside and open my closet to grab something for work. A multitude of black on black, and discreet classical navy shades with the odd tiny white thread running through them invade my closet—suits. I can’t get out of the habit, and I’m not sure I want to. I like looking and feeling professional in my job. It’s a point of pride for me. I’ve worked too long and hard to get where I am. Maybe too hard.
I don a subtle lightweight charcoal one and pick an attractive flame colored tie with subtle flecks of yellow and reds in it. Against the black suit, it looks like a long tongue of lava—Madam Pele’s hair flowing down my chest. I look good.
I run my hand over my shaved head and wonder if I’ll ever grow it back. There aren’t any visible scars to cover up but I still feel exposed to the world. And I still look pale and non-Polynesian, even to myself. I need a tan, something to make me look healthy on the outside at least.
Turning away from my image, I grab badge and cuffs, adjust my shoulder holster and slide into my suit jacket. All set for another day in paradise.
We’re investigating a series of break-ins. Expensive homes occasionally visited by off islanders. Ripe for the plucking in a way. Today, I’m checking on properties that are isolated to see if anything looks disturbed or out of the ordinary.
When I round the corner of the monster house with an unimpeded view of Maui across the channel, I’m surprised to find someone swimming in the pool.
I hold up my badge. “Detective Marques Tuisamoa. Are you the owner of the house?”
“No, why?” he asks.
“Friend of the family, relative of some kind?”
He shakes his head, regarding me with some amusement. “Why are you wearing a suit?”
“I'm Samoan. It's part of our religion.”
He laughs, his green eyes twinkling, a wild mouth shows expensive American dentistry and a sexy pink tongue caught between them.
I’m trying hard not to smile, surprised I managed to make a joke, dry as it was—and he got it.
“It's too hot to be wearing a tie. You should at least take that off.” Another puzzled look as if I’m defying logic.
The truth is, I am hot. But I also don't like to expose parts of my body to public scrutiny. It makes me uncomfortable. A bullet with flying shrapnel had made a mess of my collarbone and part of my neck. I’m aware of not having the body beautiful in some of the clubs I like to frequent. I have calves the size of ham hocks like a lot of Samoans but my chest is a mess. I’m ashamed. I don't want to let it affect my masculinity but sometimes I feel less than. 
“What’s your name and address?”
“Duke and around.”
I sigh heavily.
“Full name, full address.”
“Edward Duke Kukeakalani Dole. Hawaiian Coastal Beach Access, Big Island, Hawai’i.”
I purse my lips at his smart-ass answer. He doesn’t look like he has Hawaiian ancestry but I bet he’s a local, not kama’aina with that last name. Hapa perhaps, half Hawaiian, half haole. And possibly homeless. A good candidate for the break-ins. He’s probably camped around here somewhere.
But when I question him further, I don’t get the feeling he’s behind them. You get a feel for people over the years and this one just doesn’t strike me as a criminal of any kind. Other than the odd skinny dip in someone else’s pool. He’s young, early twenties maybe. Short hair with a striking tinge of red in it and dark eyebrows.
He pulls himself out of the pool, and I do my best to maintain my cop face. It's hard to, though, with what he barely has on. A pair of neon green bikinis mold over an impressive coil of cock and meaty plump balls. They're dragging his swimwear down slightly and dark pubic hair is tantalizingly displayed at the waistband. I feel myself responding and shove my hands in my pockets to tent my pants out and do some swift rearranging if need be.
There's a slight gape of fabric at his thigh, and my eyes are glued to it.
“You can't swim in here. It's private property.”
“Says who? There's no fence. It's not harming anything. No one uses it.”
For a moment I'm lost for words. He seems so sure of the logic of these statements.
“You should wear a lava-lava suit. Let your balls breathe,” he says like he’s been considering this for a while.
My brain busily dances around these images, and I imagine wearing a traditional formal pinstripe lava-lava sarong with an impressive erection tenting the fabric.
He adjusts his bikini, swiping his hand over his tasty looking package, and I want it to be my hand. My mouth. 
Duke grabs a nearby towel and dries himself quickly and efficiently, lingering slightly over his crotch. Rubbing his cock and balls with the towel, making them jiggle in the skimpy costume.
I breathe in sharply and resist the urge to lick my lips.
Like his namesake, Duke Kahanamoku, he has a powerful swimmers body. Heavily muscled shoulders. A solid, defined chest above ribs that look like they’ve been damaged at some point. I wonder how he can be okay with showing that in public. Belatedly, I wonder if it's why he chooses to swim in private pools. Away from prying eyes.
Intelligent green eyes regard me. Waiting to see what I'll do next.
“Well, you can’t just go around swimming in people’s pools that don’t belong to you,” I say, hoping to sound stern and authoritative.
“Why?” He’s toweling his head now. Then he drops the towel and adjusts his swimsuit. Cupping his balls, hefting the weight of them in his hand, snapping the waistband of his bikinis as they cover the pubic hair.
My mouth jets with saliva, balls tingling and already aching. I’m grateful for theform-fitting pair of boxers I put on this morning.
I can’t answer his question. “Just don’t do it again, there’s a whole free ocean there.” I point to the turquoise water gently rolling onto the golden sand beach. Then gruffly stomp off back to my truck, turning up the AC as far as it will go and spreading my thighs, palming my cock. The intense throb and need sends spikes of desire thrumming down my thighs.
Punk kid.
I keep running into Duke on the island. It’s not that big, so this isn’t that surprising but he’s got a knack of being around. I start to wonder again whether I have him pegged wrong. There’s a vulnerability under the casual, hang loose, da kine attitude. But I still don’t like him for the break-ins. The jobs are too professional; they know what they’re targeting.
We always have a funny conversation, and he always wants to get me out of my clothes but not in the way I’ve fantasized about.
“That’s a nice tie, I haven’t seen that one,” he comments as I once again catch him swimming laps in a borrowed pool.
I’ve given up telling him off because he’s rubbing off on me, and even I’m starting to wonder what the harm is. I must be finally relaxing; I realize with a start. I’m slowly defrosting from my painful past on the Mainland.
Besides it’s good security to have someone around these places occasionally. Give it a sense of someone living there. I notice he often does small jobs around the place, and in the end I co-opt him into keeping an eye out for me. He’s been giving me bits and pieces of information he’s noticing on his travels and some of the intel is checking out. We’ll get these cocky bastards soon.
“Call me,” I tell him.
“Don’t have a phone.”
I end up buying him a cheap throwaway one with some minutes on it and slip him a twenty here and there as a look out fee.
Every time I see him, he has on a different swimsuit. I thought he was probably boosting them but I didn’t have the heart to talk to him about it. Later, I realize he’s borrowing guest bikinis, which he seems to prefer, from unlocked pool cabanas. It’s Hawai’i. People aren’t always fanatical about locking everything up. I’m finally getting used to the casualness here but I’m no further ahead in this investigation, and it’s frustrating me.
I often pick up a couple of plate lunches or bento boxes in the hope of finding him somewhere. I’m seeking him out more and he seems in tune with my schedule too.
We now have long conversations about personal things I’ve never talked to anyone else about. There’s an anonymity in it, a safe feeling. Two lost men, nursing some serious wounds and confessing to all our inadequacies and guilt.
He is homeless, kicked out for being gay, but still wants to try and make the Olympic swim team one day. The rib marks are past abuse and my stomach curls in horror for him. I gingerly show him my chest and he traces his fingers over it, examining, commenting, not letting me put my tie back on that day.
“Warrior scars. We all have scars, some are just more visible than others,” he says.
I clasp his hands between my thighs as I sit on the edge of the pool with my suit pants legs rolled up. We sit in companionable silence and eventually he rests his forehead on our hands, kicking gently in the clear blue pool water. I release one hand to gently stroke the back of his head and eventually shrug out of my hot black jacket.
I’m lulled into peace and feeling good with the intimacy when there’s an excited call over the radio.
We smile at each other, and he pushes off the wall to start swimming laps again.
I slide into my shoes, no socks, and take off at a fast clip, heading for my vehicle and a property a couple of miles away. I arrive in the middle of it, adrenaline pumping, gun drawn, but it doesn’t take us long to round everyone up. Surprisingly no shots fired. Welcome to the islands. Three guys from O’ahu—all with some serious form.
After we process them and get them situated in their new home for the night, I’m hot, aggravated, and tired. I’m glad to see the back of the little bastards.
The captain assigns us to a new case each, and I realize with a pang that I won’t be in the area to see Duke as much.
“You want to go for a surf?” asks my partner, who’s finally arrived back at the station from his training course.
“Sorry, man, got something to do, but another time.”
“No worries, yeah,” says Kukio. He gives me the shaka, his thumb and little finger jiggling as he ambles off.
I drive a little too fast for the island, where the tourists are easy to spot because they speed. Whereas the locals just cruise, often under the speed limit, taking their time, relaxed and laid back. I’m finally starting to do it myself.
But not now. I’m on a mission.
When I pull up to the property, I sit for a moment, hoping I have this right.
He’s swimming laps, his powerful, wiry body, cutting through the blueness. I lean down and put my hand in the water on the wall as he does a turn. He pushes off but stops, floating on his back, clearly pleased to see me.
“We got them.” I sit down on my ass by the edge of the pool. Legs akimbo, black regulation shoes lined up with the tile edge.
“You look like you need to cool off, get out of that hot suit.” He hooks his finger at me, an invitation. He’s wearing cute little black bikinis today with a pinky trim.
I hesitate and he swims toward me. He reaches up, grabs my legs, then my tie, and pulls me into the water.
The first kiss is hot and searing. My hands automatically reach for his sexy ass, sliding my big hands beneath the skimpy fabric onto his rounded cheeks as I hoist him onto my hips. His lips are damp and salty from the pool water, they pull mine slowly, then his hot pink tongue searches for mine.
Duke groans softly, nibbling my earlobe, shuddery lips pulling the soft skin, sending spikes of intense need into my groin. He rubs his crotch against my wet shirt, his cock already thick and curving up toward his stomach. I pull back to admire him and he loosens my tie enough to drag it over my head. His nimble fingers undo my buttons, pushing the suit jacket off my shoulders, letting it float away and sink into the pool.
He points, and I frown.
Oh! I wade across the pool to set him on the edge and carefully lay my service weapon on the side with my holster.
Quick fingers unbutton my shirt and it’s flung behind us into the pool.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, tracing his tongue over my scars, seizing a brown nipple. Flicking and tugging the nub until it’s hard and erect, so sensitive, it’s sending tendrils of intense need to my cock.
He’s sexy as hell, his cockhead defiant and proud above the waistband of the tiny bikinis. I squeeze his length through the wet fabric and he arches his back, lifting his ass, allowing me to slide them down. It exposes shaved plump balls that beg to be sucked and fondled.
Spreading his muscled thighs, I pull him closely for my first taste, running my tongue down his long slender length. Swirling his balls, lifting his thighs with my hands so I can lick all the way to his asshole. My tongue pushes at the tight sensitive pucker, and he cries out with pleasure.
Sucking and licking, his hands grip my shoulders, soft moans and impressive guttural sounds when I slide a mouth-lubed finger into his ass. “Yes, yes,” he whispers.
I heave myself out of pool and strip down for him. He lies back wantonly on the warm tile, thighs spread, his hands pulling his stiff dick and fondling his high, tight balls, trailing his fingers down to his sensitive hole and pushing a finger in. Fucking himself for me, inviting me in.
I’m shaking so badly; I can barely undo my zipper. When I finally pop out of my sodden suit pants and wet boxers, he stills and squeezes his cock, lips trembling.
“Want you so badly,” I mumble, as I sink to my knees between his thighs.
“Yes.” he agrees and sits up to heft my balls in his hand, then sinks his hot mouth over my knob.
I push into his throat, whimpering with desire.
When’s he’s sucked and jacked my dick until I can barely kneel anymore, he pushes me over onto my back and crawls over to his backpack. His cock and balls swing beautifully in the encroaching sunset and he returns with lube and a condom.
He sits on my chest, facing away from me, and I nuzzle his sexy ass, licking the delicate asshole as he cries out with lust. I run long laps of my tongue from his pucker to his balls until neither of can stand it any longer. Lubing my finger, I push his pucker apart and squirt the silky fluid inside and he shudders deeply. Pulling his thighs apart farther, I shimmy him back and drop his smooth balls into my mouth, one by one, rolling them, sucking the skin through my teeth gently.
He sinks down onto my face, the male smell of him overriding the salty pool water now, and my dick is like granite. When he stops sucking my cock and slides the condom over it, lubing and jacking me, I nearly come on the spot. He turns himself around, and I hold his hips as he lowers himself over my aching hard-on, that’s begging for an ass to slip into.
“Fuck, your cock’s big,” he moans, grinning like crazy, sinking himself onto it inch by inch, pulling away, coming back for more, until he finally lets himself be filled by my shaft, balls deep.
He curls down onto my chest and tenderly kisses me. I rub his back and sweet ass cheeks, letting him ride me at his own pace. Licking his neck, watching him tremble, matching my shudders of need. Slow, hot kisses, tongues entwined, skin to skin, sensuous love making like I haven’t had in a long time.
His ass clamps, squeezing my cock and fire shoots down my thighs, my ass throbbing with the intense ache. Both of us moaning, the sounds drifting off into the dusky, heated air.
My hand is wrapped around his length, twisting and twirling the satiny head as it pushes up through my fist, the red tip urging me on. I push up into his ass and he cries out as he explodes, long white filaments shooting over my hand and our stomachs. Guttural sounds of deep need emit from us as I’m also pushed over the edge, feeling the sweet release into this sweet man.
Both panting hard, his damp head flops onto my chest, and I nuzzle his hair, wrapping him in my arms, enjoying the connection. Enjoying him.
When we finally come up for air, he points at my suit jacket and shoes at the bottom of the pool. “Don’t think you’ll be wearing those again.”
I laugh and laugh. A sound that breaks up the last hard pieces of defense in my chest.
Yes, it’s about time I trusted again and slipped back into my island roots where my inner self gets to exhale every day.
“Want to come and help clean out my wardrobe. Make some room in there for your sexy little bikinis.”
He stills, his eyes wide, questioning.
“There’s a pool that’s just right for you. I don’t like you living down here on the beach. It worries me. I want to know you’re safe in my arms at night.” I pause…“I think I’m in love with you…” I wait, worried I’ve given too much away, making myself too vulnerable.
But he smiles and says softly, “I love you too. I have for a while.” We stroke each other’s faces tenderly, eyes locked. I close mine as intense relaxation soaks into my soul.
“I’m only coming on one condition, though,” he whispers in my ear.
“Name it.”
“On Aloha Fridays, I get to choose what Hawaiian shirt you wear.”

available now!
Kulani is “The Orchid,” a young, insecure, pro-surfer who comes from a rough background on the Big Island of Hawai’i. He’s Beau Toyama’s cousin from Hawaiian Lei. But he’s also a healer and has a heart as deep as the ocean he’s part of. Like the great Hawaiians, who have gone before him, warrior Kulani Mahikoa epitomizes the spirit of aloha and love. Kulani’s not only healing his own wounds, but “The Lost Boys”—young, homeless, abandoned and abused gay boys he’s taken under his wing.
Rob Masterson is a wounded psychologist who’s trying to come to terms with his husband Tony’s death. When he died, they were separated but still living together. Can the lone and lonely New Zealand widower reconcile all the pieces of guilt and love, to heal and fall in love again? When he drops anchor in Kona Harbor and meets the exotic islander—young, bolshie Kulani—explosive heat makes sparks fly between them.
Is the age difference between them a barrier or something they’ll get past? Kulani has more layers than Rob ever bargained for. And Rob’s tangled knot of responsibility, grief and guilt with his New Zealand heritage and past life is something he needs to untangle.
Two wounded men have to learn to trust and love one another. Traveling between the South Sea Islands of beautiful New Zealand and the exotic Hawaiian Islands—they forge a sea change, finding a home for their shrapnel laced souls.

Hawaiian Orchid by Meg Amor
Edited by Heather Hollis
Cover Art by Syneca Featherstone
Published by Loose Id, LLC
All Romance Books ARe:
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Out in the living room, I get a fright to see Rob leaning on the kitchen island with his arms crossed.
“What do you want?” I snarl. Just fuck off, Rob.
“You,” he says, and Danny’s head swivels around. The twins stop cutting up the sandwiches.
I lick my lips. I don’t like being put on the spot like this.
Kaleho opens the screen door and steps inside. He touches Zane’s arm, and Zane takes the headphones off, standing behind Kaleho, clutching his shirt. His eyes big and wide, scared.
I turn to Zane so he can see my lips moving. “It’s okay,” I say, as smoothly as possible, though my heart is jackknifing, thumping hard. “It’s okay,” I say to everyone again. “This is Rob.”
Danny fist bumps him. The twins say “hi” in unison, then pile up their sandwiches on a plate and rush out the door to their ohana unit, leaving everyone else’s food scattered on the counter. I’m pissed off at Rob for intruding on my space. I divide up the sandwiches and put them on plates. Rob doesn’t move, and I’m trying to calm myself. The panic edges up into my throat. I rip off paper towels for everyone and pour glasses of milk.
“Come and get the sandwiches,” I tell them.
Danny piles everything on a tray and shuffles the other boys outside onto the lanai.
Rob has a million questions on his face.
“Do you want a sandwich?” I ask him. God knows why.
“No. I’m…I’m good,” he says. He rubs his nose, looking pained.
I realize he isn’t going anywhere.
Taking in a deep breath, I say, “Come down to my bedroom.”
He pushes off the counter and follows me. I shut the door and stare at him. He looks out of place. His elegant self in my flop house.
I indicate the bed, and he slowly sinks down. His knees come up around his chest on my soft bed, which sits on the floor.
I’m embarrassed when I look around. It looks like a teenage boy lives here. Surfboards lean against the wall, surf shit everywhere, clothes, my office stuff wedged in the corner. You can’t even see my desktop. The rest of the house isn’t any better. Half the kitchen doors are missing. I’m working on it slowly. The whole kitchen needs to be ripped out and refitted. Beau and I are going to do it. We just haven’t made time. It looks like shit. I’m seeing it all through his eyes, and it’s not an attractive picture.
“You flat with all these guys? Room with them?” he asks.
“Sorta, yeah.” I feel itchy.
“They’re kids.”
I nod.
“You rent this place together?” Rob’s clearly puzzled.
“No.” I know I’m being awkward, but I can barely talk. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in. I’m fighting for breath.
I see the concern on his face, but everything’s coming down a tunnel at me. Oh shit, fu—
* * * *
When I come to, he’s bathing my face with a cold washcloth. One hand on my wrist takes my pulse while Danny holds his phone, showing Rob the face.
“Let’s get him on the bed,” Rob says.
“He fain sometimes, when things too untens. Random,” says Zane, his voice high-pitched and frightened. He can’t hear himself with his hearing loss.
Oh fuck, just go, Rob. Enough humiliation for one day.
They lift me onto the bed. I feel helpless and woozy. He strokes my hair back off my face. The gentleness makes me want to cry.
Kaleho hands him some water. Rob’s arm pulls me up slightly so I can sip it. I feel like a weak baby. Everyone’s faces are worried. I don’t want the kids to be upset.
“I’m okay. I just got a bit overwhelmed. Rob’s a good person. Danny.”
He nods and ushers Zane and Kaleho out, shutting the door.
God, I’m exhausted. I haven’t had one of these attacks for months. They leave me wiped out. Fuck it. Another fucked-up thing to add to my list of faults.
“Go,” I say to Rob.
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m okay.” I feel like I’m slurring.
He sits, eyeing me up, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Probably that I need to be sectioned.
He stands up, and I figure he’s going, but instead he undresses himself and then me. Rolling me under the sheet, he slides in next to me. He pulls my body into his, spooning me into his groin.
“I want you to sleep. I love you. I’m right here. You’re safe. It’s all going to be okay. I’m not leaving you,” he whispers tenderly.
My throat instantly closes up, and fat tears track down my face. I squeeze his hand, and he murmurs, “I know.”
* * * *
I wake thinking I’m alone, but he’s only in the bathroom. When he comes back, he slides against my ass again. The comfort of his warm skin on my back, his pubes and cock against my ass, drops me back into sleep.
When I’m awake again, the sun’s on its way up. He’s lying on his back now, dead to the world. I remember last night and cringe. But I also realize—he’s still here.
I lie with my head on my elbow, noting all the contours of his face and chest. He has sexy shoulders. Then I remember him saying I love you. He said it several times. Maybe that was just to comfort me. But I don’t think Rob would do that. He’s too straightforward. I want it to be real. I probably have it wrong. Fuck, my head’s messed up.
I slide out of bed and check on the boys. Zane and Kaleho are cuddled together in their bed. Danny’s asleep in his room. The twins will be okay; they weren’t here when it was all going down.
I switch the coffeemaker on. Cursing at whoever didn’t fill the dispenser or do the filter. I switch it off and start from scratch. While it’s gurgling and doing its thing, I check on what supplies we need. Fuck, how many sandwiches did they eat yesterday? The three fresh loaves of bread are all gone, and there’s none in the freezer. God, they can eat. Teenagers. Christ.
I grab a pen and find the grocery list. At least they’ve remembered to write down what we need. It’s Zane and Kaleho’s turn to come with me for groceries after school. I make them take turns so they get used to things like this. We need toilet paper, water, condoms, and bulk stuff.
I come back to the fact that Rob said he loved me—several times. Maybe I don’t have it wrong.
I want to say it back, but I’m too scared.
One time, I said it to my mom, and she’d rolled her eyes at me. Shoving that thought aside, I grab a coffee cup. When I’ve ladled in the sugar and cream, I go back to check on Rob. He’s still asleep. I look around my room, wondering if there’s any damage control I can do before he wakes up. Not really. I give up and slide back into bed with him.
When he finally wakes up, he reaches for me, cupping my cock and licking my lips.
“Coffee and cock—it’s a nice way to wake up.” He smiles. It makes me laugh.
“Do you want a coffee?” I ask.
“God, yes, please. I’ll use your toilet, and is it okay if I use your toothbrush? Wine always leaves me feeling furry.”
I laugh and nod. He kisses me and sits up, scratching his head and balls. I reach down and nip his ass. He grabs me around the neck, planting a kiss on my head.
When he stands up, I appreciate the view as he walks to the bathroom. Nice ass on him, strong legs.
I grab him a coffee and a fresh one for myself. I’m calmer now. My brain’s not so fuzzy and fucked-up.
He comes out of the bathroom and slides back into bed with me. “Thanks, babe. God, that smells good. Pure Kona. Yum.”
I let him take a couple of sips, not sure where to start.
“I’m sorry I fucked up last night,” I blurt out.
“It’s okay. We have to talk about some things, though. I’m not going anywhere, all right?”
I suck in air, and his hand rests on my chest.
“You’re safe. I would never want to hurt you.”
I put my hand over his and take some deep breaths, like I’ve been taught to calm myself. His finger grabs my thumb, and he nods in time with my breathing.
“How often do you faint? Is it from a panic attack?”
“Yeah. Um, just, you know…sometimes.”
“Weekly, monthly, every few months?”
“It depends on what’s going on. How stressed I get.” I shrug.
“Okay. Do you know it’s coming?”
“Yeah, mostly. I know I’m getting wound up.”
He nods, his warm eyes showing me only concern. I’m trying to breathe into this. Telling myself he’s still here, he didn’t leave me. He kissed me this morning, and he’s got his hand on my chest. He said nice things before.
“I can probably help you with those, if you’d like to let me try,” he says gently.
I shut my eyes in embarrassment. I hate them. How can this man keep on loving me when I’m this fucking broken? “How can you say you love me when I’m so fucked?” I burst out.
He sighs heavily. “Kulani, I find you beautiful in so many ways. You’ve got a special soul that’s captured me. I know things are hard for you sometimes, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
“I fuck up. I say the wrong things. It’s messed up.” Like now. He’s just told me nice things, and I’m mouthing off at him.
He smiles.
“I don’t mean to be rude all the time.”
“I know.” He strokes my face, love in his eyes for me.
“Why are you doing this with me? You can go out with anyone. You’re gorgeous and together. I’m just a fucked-up islander.”
“Kulani, you’re so stunning. You have no idea. Why do you want to be with me? I’m an old man. You can get some young, studly guy.”
He’s kidding, right?
“I don’t get on very well with young guys. I like older men.”
“I have gray in my hair.” He points to his temples. “I have gray in my pubes.” He searches for one to show me, and I laugh.
“So. What do I care?”
“I’ve got lines on my face.” He grimaces.
“Yeah, I like them. Sexy.”
He laughs. “What do you mean you don’t get on with younger guys? You’ve got a household of them. And actually, they’re really young?” His look is questioning.
“They’re just kids who need a break, you know.”
“Are they all gay?”
I nod. I see the realization sweep over his face, and he shuts his eyes, biting his lip.
“Are they all homeless?”
I nod, wondering what he’s going to say.
“Jesus, Kulani.” He runs his hand through his hair, making it spike up. I love that look. Then he grabs the back of his neck, like he’s trying to squeeze some tension out. I’m not so crazy on that look.
He swallows hard. “You’re a good man.” His voice catches.
“I just do what I can.”
“You feed them all? Look after them?”
I nod.
“Tell me about them, please.”
“The twins are fifteen. Haru and Kisho. Lived with mom—she’s a druggie, got a new boyfriend. Thought they’d be nice, fresh young meat for him.”
Rob’s mouth opens in a silent gasp, and I nod.
“Danny got thrown out when he came out. He’s seventeen. Good waterman. He was living on the beach.”
“Wow,” says Rob, taking it all in.
“Zane and Kaleho have been best friends since they were little keiki. They’re sixteen, nearly seventeen. Kaleho’s really good at school. He should get a scholarship. Zane has a harder time—he’s quite deaf and has been bullied. Kaleho’s dad threw him out when he found him cuddled up with Zane one night. They weren’t doing anything, but his dad threw a shit fit.”
Rob’s lips press together in anger.
“When Zane’s dad found out, he did his nut as well, and they were either forced to not see each other or suffer the consequences. They ran away, stole some things from me. We sorted it out. I’ve tried to talk to their fathers, but no one’s budging. One of them is really religious, and you don’t want to hear what he has to say. The other one’s just stupid. All Hawaiian he-man. ‘My son’s not gay; he’s been corrupted by that little faggot, retard kid, Zane.’ You know, the usual shit.”
“Bloody Nora,” says Rob.
“Who owns this house?”
“I do. My grandfather left it to me. It’s not great, but it’s okay for everyone. Needs some work, as you can see, yeah?” I grimace slightly.
“Just cosmetic stuff. Nothing major. It has good bones, fabulous view.”
I smile. He’s right. It does. My bed looks out on the lanai and down to Kona harbor.
“You’re a good man, Kulani Mahikoa.”
I screw up my face and shake my head at him.
“Yes, you are. You’re very loving and caring. You have a big heart.”
“I’m fucking broken.”
“No. You have some pieces that might need a bit of duct tape and tender loving care. But you, the person, are not broken.”
I frown. “How can you love me when you saw what I did last night?” I’m holding my breath, waiting for Rob to deny it, roll his eyes at me or something.
“Despite being a bolshie wee shit, you’re actually pretty easy to love.” He reaches for me, and I put both our coffee cups down. I want to cave, just give in to him, feel safe and loved…
Rob strokes my cheeks, his eyes never leaving my face. My cock’s already stretching, reaching for him. His lips pull my mouth, and I groan. Damn, he’s a sexy man. We fondle each other’s cocks and balls. I love his shaft in my mouth. Sucking his dick sends me off the charts sometimes. I push him onto his back and run my tongue down into the hollow of his throat. Cupping his neck, I work my way down to his tender pink nipples. I pump his cock while I tug the delicate treats for my tongue. He’s sensitive too. He’ll jerk, and his back will spasm when I play with him. It’s a turn-on.
Shit, this is arousing. He moans slowly, running his fingers through my hair, stroking my head. I like my hair being touched; it’s comforting. I lick down his stomach, dancing my tongue over his knob. “Ohhh fuck…” He sighs. I wrap my hair around his dick, using the strands to lever it into my mouth. I tie it around his cock and balls, like a present, and he laughs. “Stop teasing me,” he groans.
Pushing his thighs apart, I take long, lingering licks along the soft inner part of his thigh. I cup his balls in my mouth, one by one, rolling them around, sucking them in and out. He grips my hair hard. It’s a pleasure to take him up to the edge, then roll him onto his stomach. He lets me spread his thighs as far as they’ll go and pull him slightly onto his knees, so his ass is exposed. His dick swings beneath him. I want that shoved in my ass, but I also want to rim him, make him squeal. Touch his secret hot spot.
Normally we go faster than this, but today I want to explore the territory of his body, open him up.
I lap him from his ball sac to his pucker. He clenches slightly, and I tease around his rosebud with my tongue, flicking and licking. His thighs are shaking. I suck one of my fingers, wetting it to slowly penetrate him. He gasps sharply, and I add more natural lube with my tongue. I still my finger, then slowly vibrate it until he pushes back onto me, and I can enter him farther. He’s shuddering, his breath shaky, but I want to hit his hot spot. I push his spine down and lick along his backbone. He’s panting, pressing back into me, letting me probe him more. When I slide in another finger, he fists the pillows.
I hit the prostate, and he squeals into the pillow. Now he’ll let me fuck him with my fingers. I nuzzle his face and suck his ears.
He’s groaning, “Yes…”
I’d love to slide my cock into him, but I’m not sure he wants that.
As if he’s heard my thoughts, he turns his face up to me, and I stroke his cheek. “Make love to me,” he whispers.
Fuck. Rob’s never this soft. It nearly makes me cry.
I work his ass open, so he’ll be able to take my girth. Kissing his soft lips, and inhaling his male smell. I’m squirting precum—my cock’s slick with it.
I open the bedside drawer to grab a condom and lube. His feet kick when I add more lube inside his hole. Deep moans as I widen him. My cock’s thick—not that long, but it’ll fill him hard. When I nudge my cockhead in, his back springboards. I tap his ass and push in another inch of my dick. I like watching my wood enter him, penetrating my man.
His hands are in fists, but he’s whimpering with pleasure now.
When I finally push into him all the way, I’m ready to come. He’s so tight, gripping me hard. My balls are slammed into his ass. I make love to him slowly until he groans. “Faster.”
I push him up onto his hands and knees to pump him deeply. His face drops onto the pillow, and one hand comes back to massage my nuts. I cry out, trying to keep it down, not wake anyone, but it’s agony. My orgasm rips through me. “Love you,” I rasp out, pumping his cock hard while he grips his balls, shooting cream all over my hand.
I clasp his chest; my sticky hand smears cum on his body. I pull out of him and burrow under his arms, on my back, letting the sexy spunk cover us. We kiss and mouth each other. Rubbing noses, stroking hot skin. Jesus, fuck, this is good. His weight settles into me, and I scissor him with my legs. He strokes my hair back from my face, his eyes on mine.
“Do you know, I think you’re beautiful,” he says quietly.
I shake my head. “I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. You just don’t see what I see.” He kisses my nose.
“I fuck up.”
“Yeah, sometimes, but so do I. Everyone does.”

Kulani is “The Orchid,” a young, insecure, pro-surfer who comes from a rough background on the Big Island of Hawai’i. He’s Beau Toyama’s cousin from Hawaiian Lei. But he’s also a healer and has a heart as deep as the ocean he’s part of. Like the great Hawaiians, who have gone before him, warrior Kulani Mahikoa epitomizes the spirit of aloha and love. Kulani’s not only healing his own wounds, but “The Lost Boys”—young, homeless, abandoned and abused gay boys he’s taken under his wing.

Rob Masterson is a wounded psychologist who’s trying to come to terms with his husband Tony’s death. When he died, they were separated but still living together. Can the lone and lonely New Zealand widower reconcile all the pieces of guilt and love, to heal and fall in love again? When he drops anchor in Kona Harbor and meets the exotic islander—young, bolshie Kulani—explosive heat makes sparks fly between them.

Is the age difference between them a barrier or something they’ll get past? Kulani has more layers than Rob ever bargained for. And Rob’s tangled knot of responsibility, grief and guilt with his New Zealand heritage and past life is something he needs to untangle.

Two wounded men have to learn to trust and love one another. Traveling between the South Sea Islands of beautiful New Zealand and the exotic Hawaiian Islands—they forge a sea change, finding a home for their shrapnel laced souls.

Hawaiian Orchid by Meg Amor
Edited by Heather Hollis
Cover Art by Syneca Featherstone
Published by Loose Id, LLC


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