orgasm seemed to spread from his cock to every cell in his legs and arms. Sweet God, it wouldn’t stop.

He fell forward to get Queen’s butt back on the counter so he didn’t drop him and then pressed his face into that lightly perfumed neck. “What have you done to me?”

The soft, sultry voice murmured, “Just a little Southern hospitality, sugah.”

Breathing. No easy task. He kissed Queen gently below the crystal earring dangling from his lobe. “Any chance you’d like to go home with me and do that again?”

Not sure why he’d said that, but he could use a lot more sugar.

Silence.

Micah pulled back and looked into those blue eyes. They looked—what? Wary? Sad? Micah tried a smile. “Sorry if I overstepped.” He gently pulled his happy, depleted cock from that pink, shiny butt and disposed of his condom.

Queen shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. But I actually have to go. I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Another date?” He frowned.

“No, nothing like that.”

Hell, this was supposed to be a one-nighter. Or a not-even-one-nighter. He should let go. Still. He tossed the condom. “Any chance I could see you again?”

Micah got fixed with a steady blue gaze surrounded by mascaraed lashes. “Do you have something to write with?”

Micah patted his pockets and shook his head.

Queen grabbed a piece of tissue, then reached into the front of his dress and pulled out a lipstick. He wrote a number on the tissue and carefully folded it. “This is a private number. My life is complicated so I may answer or not. Either way, I loved meeting you and I loved this.” He leaned forward and kissed Micah gently on the lips. “Why don’t I go first, darlin’?” He bent down and grabbed his panties from the toilet top, tucked them in with the lipstick, gave a small wave, and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Micah looked down at his dangling cock and bare legs.

What in the hell just happened?

Chapter Three

QUEEN WALKED into his bedroom and kicked off his stilettos. Oh lordy, he wasn’t used to them, and his feet were aching. But hearts on fire, what a night. One for the record books for sure.

He unzipped the dress and tossed it in the basket of dry cleaning he kept at the back of his closet exclusively for Queen clothes. A front snap took care of the padded bra and the panties tucked into it. It had been sexy driving home with his bare cock brushing the silk of his dress. Of course, compared to his hookup with that hot guy, Micah, everything paled in sexiness.

Would he call? Did Queen want him to? Hell’s bells, he didn’t need any more complications in his life. He created enough of his own. But, oh my, that man was hot. Hard, hard, hard to resist.

He sat at his dressing table and carefully removed the blond wig—his very best. Everyone thought it was real. He put the wig on the stand and then stood and carried it to the back cabinet of his walk-in closet and tucked it away. Who knew when he’d get to pull it out next?

Back at the dressing table, he creamed his face to take off the makeup and ran a comb through his head of wheat-colored curls. He stared at his bare face. Even with no makeup and his own hair, he knew he could pass for a girl. Not such a glamorous one as Queen. More of an ingénue. He took out the earrings and put them in his jewelry box. Time for a shower.

After a quick wash off, he pulled on his khakis and a white long-sleeved shirt and walked through the condo to the back door. A down vest hung on a hook, ready for a quick grab, and he headed out across the walkway to the next-door condo. He glanced at his watch. Only eleven. He felt like Scrooge or something, living a whole bunch of lives in a few hours.

He put the key in the lock and entered the kitchen. The sound of the television drifted in from the parlor. He walked toward it. “Hi, NeeNee. Sorry to be so late. Ready for bed?”

Mary Beth Allerton Darby looked up from her place on the sofa. “Hi, darlin’. Did you have a good time tonight?”

“I did, thank you, ma’am. Someone got their hair done today.”

His grandmother patted the curls she had passed on to future generations. The wheat color shared space with a lot of silver, but the face-framing style looked young and current. “Thank you for noticin’.” She patted the sofa and put the volume on mute. “Come tell me about your evening.”

Oops. He hated lying to his grandmother, but that wasn’t as bad as being a disappointment. “I went to a party at a friend’s house. He called it anti-Valentine’s Day. For all the people he knows who are unpartnered at this time of year.”

“How very cynical of him.” She laughed. “But I am delighted that you are making friends. How did you meet?”

“At a coffee shop.” The Shell gay bar probably served coffee. “We struck up a conversation.”

“How nice. But you left the party early. I could have gotten myself to bed. I am still fully capable.”

“I know, dear, but I enjoy helping you. Humor me.” It was true. Mary Beth pretty much defined his heart. She was the only parent he’d known since he was small. How he wished he could have been the man she wanted him to be, but that train had left. So doing small things for her was the best he could manage.

“Why don’t you invite him over sometime?”

“Umm. It’s not a close friendship, dear. I wouldn’t want to expose you to someone I barely know.” Like a rich gay guy who threw Valentine’s Day orgies.

“You know best.”

“Time for bed?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful. And you get some rest too.” She put her hand on his cheek. “You look a little tired.”

Oh my, if she only

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