Entertaining the Delaneys
  When the Delaney twins need an evening's entertainment, Liam is more than willing to offer his help, in any way he can ...
 
 



Entertaining the Delaneys - Extract


Call me Liam. Mainly because it’s my name so it makes sense if you need to attract my attention and the good thing is you don’t have to worry about the whereabouts of any killer whales, thank God. But also call me Liam because these days, only a few short weeks after being fixed up, fooled and generally fabulously f****d by the Delaneys, I suddenly found people round here didn’t seem to need to ask what my surname was.

This was both a bad and a good thing. By nature, I preferred to keep my head down, in all senses of the phrase, but since I’d found myself in the spotlight of those Delaney twins, keeping a low profile hadn’t been a viable option on any level.

Take last night for instance. What a night. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I’d worked late at the gallery and didn’t get home till gone 7pm, my head spinning with picture orders and the new invoice system. An artistic life is so glamorous, you know. Letting myself into the flat, I realised not for the first time how empty it was and glanced at the phone. No messages, damn it.

Shrugging off the disappointment and letting my memory dwell over matters it was probably wisest to leave behind, I started heating up the stew I’d made the day before and opened the fridge to see if I had any lager left. I hadn’t. I swore softly and was calculating if I had the energy to nip to the supermarket to get some when my mobile rang.

I was so eager to get to the damn thing to see who might be calling, and more importantly if it might be them, that it slipped out of my grasp and spun across the kitchen floor. Never one to let dignity get in the way of desire, I leapt after it, banging my elbow on the nearest cupboard, and sliding to a halt near the oven.

I answered it on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Ah, Liam.”

The voice of Mark Delaney entered my ear like a warm breeze on a summer day, or would have done if I’d been at all poetical. As it was, I found myself blushing and remembering the shape of his cock inside me. His brother’s too. “Mr. Delaney, sir.”

“I trust you have a free evening tonight?”

Sitting up I leant against the oven. Thankfully it wasn’t on. “For you, Mr. Delaney, my evening is whatever you want it to be.”

I thought he gasped but I couldn’t be sure and when he spoke, his tone was crisp. “Good. There’s a car outside your flat. Get into it.”

“Yes, Mr. Delaney,” I started to say but he’d already ended the call.

Heart beating fast and cock not that far behind, I switched off the stew, shoved a lid on it and sprinted out into the hallway. Did I have time for a shower or shave? Probably not as when the Delaneys say jump, you jumped. Don’t even bother asking how high – if it’s wrong they’ll tell you. I did manage a quick check in the mirror though and allocated myself no more than two seconds to smooth down my hair and give myself a thumbs-up. Yes. My evening had definitely taken a turn for the better ...


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