Special Delivery: Special Delivery, Book 1

Dedication

This is dedicated to my husband, Dan Cullinan, because he would not let me quit writing Sam’s story no matter how hard I tried. Dan, it’s all for you.

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Acknowledgments

Thanks to Dreamspinner Press for publishing this novel the first time and for Samhain Publishing for giving it new life and letting me give it a rigorous new editing pass. Thank you as always to Sasha, who let me get away with nothing, put me through my paces and helped me clean things up while still keeping the original story the same.

Thanks to my sister, Hillari Hoerschelman, for helping me with the Rio Grande Valley Spanish, and to Dan Cullinan, Catherine Duthie and Susan Danic for beta reading and helping me iron out the wrinkles. Thank you forever to Devon Rhodes who kept me from accidentally moving the Mississippi River in the first edition.

Thanks to Tom and Nina for the financial help for the trip we took west that helped me figure out where to send Sam and Mitch, and to Dan for driving through the mountains because
oh my God
, I could never.

And above all, thanks to the produce manager at Wheatsfield Cooperative, whose casual comment about a deliveryman pretty much handed me the plot bunny for this story.

Chapter One

In the deserted men’s restroom at the back of Middleton Community College, Sam Keller knelt on the tile, braced his hands against Keith Jameson’s thighs and broke his mother’s heart.

It didn’t matter that Sharyle Keller had passed away four years ago. Sam knew his mother would consider what Sam did in the handicapped stall a complete and total mockery of everything she’d ever taught him. Sam being gay wouldn’t have made her upset, and she wouldn’t have cared that he was about to give a blowjob at school and risk expulsion for having sexual congress on campus. What would have upset his mother was how Sam wasn’t at all attracted to his partner, that to be perfectly honest, Sam hated him.

“Sex is beautiful,” Sam’s mother had told him. “Sex is a union between two people. Sex is a merging of souls, a holy connection. Sex is sacred, and it should only be shared with those you love.”

When Sam’s mother had said this, he’d been twelve and horny, but he’d also been scared to death of sex, so when his mother told him he should wait for someone who loved him, he’d nodded eagerly. Yes, he would reserve his body for those who knew the worth of it. Yes, he would learn from her mistakes. He’d signed on for it all, trusting in his mother’s wisdom, wanting to be safe and wanting to please her too. After all, wasn’t he lucky to have a mother who looked
forward
to meeting his boyfriends? His mother had hoped he’d want to adopt or hire a surrogate to have his child someday because she’d be more than happy to babysit. It seemed such a little, easy thing for him to promise her he would give himself in love.

However, even before he’d realized what an incredible dearth of loving male partners there were in Middleton, Iowa, Sam struggled with his vow. His mother found him gay support groups and sex-tip sites online, but Sam found the porn. He’d lost days in the images of beautiful, slender men bent in submission and sometimes degradation, and to his quiet horror, he realized this was his fantasy: he wanted to be used. He wanted to be loved and cherished, yes. But he also wanted to be
fucked
. Sometimes he didn’t want it to be about love. He wanted it to be about sex, and about semen, and about not quite exactly being in control. He didn’t want to get hurt, no. But he admitted to himself he wanted to come really, really close.

As he swirled his tongue around Keith’s shaft and looked up at the blond boy’s unshaven chin, Sam acknowledged he’d have been a lot happier if he could have found a Keith at sixteen instead of twenty-one. He’d fucked Darin Yarvin his senior year of high school, but that was nothing more than a weekly appointment to kneel on a pizza box in Darin’s dirty apartment and take it up the ass. Blowing Keith flirted with so many taboos, Sam got himself off just thinking about upcoming encounters.

Keith was straight. He wasn’t bi. He wasn’t in the closet. He wasn’t even curious. He simply enjoyed having his dick sucked as much as Sam took pleasure in doing it. He was a big, buff boy, a small-town Iowa ideal, and it was Sam’s fondest wish for this ideal young man to bend him over one of the toilets and bury himself so deep inside Sam he’d see stars. Sam didn’t want to kiss him. He didn’t want to hold him or take him on a date. In fact, outside of arranging their sexual appointments, they didn’t speak to one another. The only conversation they had was the one they were having now, where Keith asked Sam if he wanted him to shove his big fat dick into his throat, to fuck his mouth, and Sam agreed yes, very much please, and thank you.

“You like sucking my cock, don’t you, bitch?” Keith would say, and Sam would nod, and shut his eyes, and let the incredible sluttiness of the experience wash over him in dark, beautiful waves until he thrust himself onto Keith as hard as Keith pushed into him, sucking so intensely he hurt his cheeks, moaning along with Keith as he cried out and exploded, hot and thick and salty into Sam’s open, waiting throat. Sometimes Keith kneaded Sam’s hair as he swallowed, which Sam enjoyed, but it was an unconscious gesture, and if Keith caught himself doing it, he stopped and pushed Sam away.

This more than anything else would have upset his mother, that he would know only such a fleeting bit of tenderness and from such a crude, cruel partner.

Keith’s abrupt removal today had left one last trail of semen to drizzle over Sam’s chin, and he wiped it away with his fingers and reached for some toilet paper. Keith watched him, but when Sam met his gaze, Keith looked away as he buttoned himself up.

Sam waited, remaining on his knees. This part was always the trickiest, and he held still, lowering his eyes, letting Keith decide when they were finished. If Keith had more abuse to hurl, he’d take it, because the last thing he needed was Keith nervous. Keith had to feel strong and satisfied and a little superior so he would want to do it again, which was what Sam wanted him to want. It wasn’t ideal, but in its own way, it worked. So he waited, docile, until Keith spoke.

“You gonna suck it next Wednesday?”

Sam kept his head ducked to hide his smile, and he nodded. He held still until Keith exited the stall, and he stayed on his knees until Keith left the restroom altogether. Then he rose, adjusted his own erection in his pants and went to the bathroom sink to wash his hands.

Sam regarded his reflection in the mirror as he lathered soap across his palms. His mother’s face stared back at him, slender and pretty, brown hair tousled around large, dark eyes. The only differences were the length of his hair and the shape of his jaw and his chin, which in addition to being slightly more defined than his mother’s, sported the tiniest spattering of beard stubble. In his own face, he saw the face he loved so much, the face he had assumed, naively, would be around for a long, long time. He looked into its echo now, remembering what he had done. He acknowledged what she must think of him, and his heart grew heavy.

“Sorry, Mom.”

He wiped the last bit of Keith’s semen from his chin and went to class.

The problem, Sam decided later as he trudged home from campus, was that he really wanted kinky. Yes, he wanted love. He wanted to date and hold hands and make the squeamish conservatives in his northern Iowa town squirm in their twinsets. He wanted to get married. But he wanted hot sex too.
Hot
sex. He wanted to try it all, every position, every fetish. Well, not
every
fetish—a lot of them, though. He wanted an
orgy
, or at least a threesome. All the things about sex his mother had said were bad, all the objectification, all the cold, meaningless encounters—that was what he was after. He didn’t know why. He only knew he wanted it.

As he wove his way through the well-manicured lawns of Cherry Hill Estates, he admitted that so long as he lived with his aunt and uncle, kinky would be hard to come by.

Uncle Norm and Aunt Delia lived on Cherry Hill Court, their three-thousand-square-foot neo-Queen Anne sprawled over the top of
the
Cherry Hill. In the days when the development had been farmland, the crest had been lined with cherry trees. Delia, who hated mess, cut them all down and replaced them with red, green and yellow shrubbery spaced by perfectly rounded boulders and mulched them within an inch of their uninspired lives. They were the same boring ornamentation gracing every lawn in the development, but they had one advantage—the shrubs, combined with the lack of fences, made it incredibly easy to cut across country.

Sam did this now, singing softly under his breath along with the music playing on his iPhone, sometimes pausing to pull up the texting interface and read an incoming tweet or answer a text. He sighed over Kylie Minogue’s report on her next stop on her US tour, wishing he could be there, memorized the discount code from Los Dos Amigos restaurant, and with a low-grade arousal told Darin, yeah, he could swing by later tonight for a quick fuck.

When the phone rang, he checked the ID, paused his music and clicked
answer
. “Hi, Emma.”

“Are you on it?” Her excitement pushed her volume so high Sam had to pull the ear bud a little ways out of his ear. “Oh my God, are you on the
iPhone
?”

Sam beamed. “It is
so cool
. I mean, the headphones have a
microphone
. I’m totally talking into it
right now
.”

Emma squealed. “I can’t wait to see it. You’re bringing it in to work, right?”

“It’s never leaving my side. Ever.” He reached into his pocket and stroked the cool metal lovingly. “I have my whole music library on here. I can’t believe I was nervous about getting it. It’s worth every penny.”

“Yeah, now all you have to do is pay for the monthly plan.”

Sam winced. “Don’t remind me. It’s good this thing plays movies because I’ll never be able to afford going to the theater again.”

“You need to ask your aunt for a raise.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen right about the time she marches in the Pride parade.” Sam hopped over a patch of foliage and veered toward the highway, the last obstacle between himself and Cherry Hill.

“So, I have something to ask you. A favor.”

Sam paused in mid-step, instantly wary. “Okay.”

“I want you to ask your uncle if I can rent one of his apartments.”

Sam snorted and resumed walking. “You want a kidney too?”

“I’m serious. I’m tired of living in my parents’ house. Aren’t you? Of living with your aunt and uncle, I mean?”

“God yes. But I can’t afford to move out, and last I checked, neither could you. What are you planning to pay rent with? Your biology notes?”

“I had an idea about that, actually.”

The sugarcoating on her voice made Sam uneasy. “Yes?”

“I thought
we
could be roommates. Now
hold on
,” she said hurriedly, when Sam broke into peals of bitter laughter. “It could
work
. Come on, admit it. It would be so fun. We get along great, and your aunt—”

“Would never agree to this.”

“Would be happy to get you out of the house.”

Sam ran his hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. She hates me, hates having me living in her basement. But what she abhors above anything else is paying for me, and there’s no way I could afford an apartment without Norm and Delia’s help. My aunt already resents what she has to fork over for part-time classes, which is
why
I’m part-time, as you well know.”

“But if it’s one of your uncle’s apartments—”

“It’s still money out of their pockets, in their mind.”

“But
listen
.”

Emma launched into another round of arguments. Sam did listen, sort of, making occasional grunts and sounds of agreement or acknowledgment, but mostly he just let her keep talking because it was easier than trying to explain that his aunt and uncle would never go for this plan no matter how she sold it. It was too bad it wasn’t going to work because it
would
be great to live with Emma. It couldn’t happen, not until he got his own job, which he couldn’t get until he finished school, and at his current pace this might be when he reached retirement age.

He pretended anyway for Emma as he came up the last crest and onto the road. But between listening to Emma and glancing back and forth as he tried not to get hit by traffic, he almost ran smack into the semi parked along the side.