Sunday, February 17, 2013

A Highlander in LA

An 18th century time travelling Scot finds the man of his dreams in present day Los Angeles.

When on duty LAPD officer, Darren Holden, is told to check out a possible dead body lying in an alleyway, he finds a man who is unconscious but very much alive. Not only alive, but gorgeous—and wearing a kilt. Darren is sure he knows the man, he just can’t remember where or when they might have met. It isn’t until that night, unable to sleep, that he realises the stranger is a man he’d been dreaming of for some time—a man who had made love to him night after night.

The Last thing Duncan MacGregor remembers is that he was home in Glen Ardor, Scotland, betrothed to Margaret MacAllister as a bond between their two feuding clans.

Darren isn’t sure if Duncan is playing a game, suffering from amnesia of just plain nuts, but his attraction to Duncan outweighs his scepticism and he takes him home, determined to find the truth.

Duncan believes he was enchanted by a witch who told him his destiny was not in Scotland, nor to be married to Margaret but to have a life of love and adventure with a man—the man he had dreamt of night after night—Darren.

As much as Darren wants to believe him, his common sense warns him of the sheer impossibility of Duncan’s story. Nevertheless, the overwhelming sexual attraction both men feel for one another leads to a night of passionate lovemaking.

Even then, Darren’s logical mind refuses to accept that such a thing is possible, but when a dangerous event threatens to tear them apart, Darren must be a believer or lose Duncan forever.


Darren fell silent for a long moment but didn’t let go of Duncan’s hand. More than anything he wanted to believe what this beautiful man was telling him, but it all sounded so fuckin’ out there, and yet he couldn’t come up with another explanation that sounded any less bizarre. Memory lapse, perhaps, but there was something else about him, the sincerity with which he told Darren his version of his past.

“I believe you,” he said quietly. He had intended to say, ‘I want to believe you’ but changed his mind at the last second. It seemed to him that more than anything Duncan needed to feel he hadn’t been thrown into some bewildering place with no one to help him—whatever the reasons might be. Even if it was just a case of memory loss, he imagined that to be pretty disconcerting. He put his free hand on Duncan’s shoulder and squeezed. “And I’ll do everything I can to help you sort things out.”

“Thank you.” Duncan inched closer to Darren and leant forward, matching Darren’s move until their lips met in a hesitant, gentle kiss. Gentle, but loaded with a fervour that set every fibre in Darren’s body on fire. He pulled Duncan into his arms and deepened their kiss, gasping with delight when Duncan eagerly responded.

God, but here’s my fantasy come true, he exulted. This gorgeous, incredible, slightly crazy man is here with me, holding onto me as if his life depended on it and kissing me like no one ever has before! Jesus, his lips, his tongue—wow, he’s amazing.

“Mmmpf…” Darren caught his breath and leant back just a little. “Where’d you learn to kiss like that?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone like this afore,” Duncan said, wrapping one arm around the back of Darren’s neck, keeping his lips just a tantalising inch or so from Darren’s. “You’re my first.”

“Really?” Darren locked eyes with him, looking for a teasing gleam. There was none. “I’m your first?”

“Yes.” Duncan ran his tongue over Darren’s lower lip. “I’ve never done this afore wi’ man or woman, except, o’course, my mam or my friend Fiona, but just a peck on the cheek, y’ken.”

Oh, my dear God—he’s a virgin. But the way he kisses, he’s a total natural! He slid his hands under the scrubs top. The firm flesh that met his touch was warm and smooth as silk. He moved further down over the bulge in the Scotsman’s too-tight pants. Duncan raised himself up and pressed against Darren’s searching hand.

“Oh, but that feels bloody wonderful,” he whispered in Darren’s ear.

“You feel bloody wonderful,” Darren whispered back, his own cock tenting the fabric of his jeans. “Can I take you to bed?”

“What’s wrong wi’ right here?”

“There’s more room on the bed.”

“Ah—and we do need to get oot o’ these clothes.”

“Yeah.” Darren stood and gave Duncan his hand. “I want to feel your amazing body all over me.” Hand in hand, they hurried into the bedroom.