’ It was the man that the old woman had been talking to earlier that night. ‘What do you want?’ ‘It’s not about what I want Madeline, but ab...ut what the Lady wants.’ He sat on the end of the bed. She sat up, pulling the covers up to her chin. ‘Well, what does she want then?’ ‘For you to be, shall we say, ready . . . for her son.’ ‘I don’t know what you mean?’ He looked at her for a moment. ‘I think you do. In the end it doesn’t matter, you’ll do what the lady wants.’ ‘What about what I want?’. " Just the voice gave me goosebumps - husky and low, with a sexy bad lad accent - but then, when my eyes got used to the light, and I saw him properly … Oh fuck! He was standing there in just a pair of bright red y-fronts, and my eyes zoomed in on them like a laser. Of course I took in the body too - stocky but well-proportioned: light hair on the forearms, legs and belly, thicker over his muscly pecs - but oh, those pants, stretched taut, straining to contain the bulk of his colossal bulge! Oh. More

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