Page 17 of Waiting for a Prince (Island Tales #1)

Chapter Fourteen

“Where are you taking me?” Sam demanded.

Mark chuckled. “We’re almost there. I can’t believe you don’t know about this place.” He led Sam down the steeply sloping path, trees and ivy-covered banks to the right, and wooden fences to the left, behind which sat the cove’s holiday homes and beach properties.

“I’ve been past the cricket ground and the Ventnor Botanic gardens plenty of times,” Sam admitted. “But I never knew there was anything else.”

They turned left, and the path grew steeper. Ahead of them, the sunlight sparkled on the sea, and children’s voices competed with the sea gulls and the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks.

Mark stopped at the bottom of the path, pointing to the grey exterior of the Beach Shack café.

“This is it.” He loved coming down to the south coast of the island.

The café was nestled at one end of Steephill Cove, a quiet little bay comprised of a collection of cafés and holiday homes.

Below the railing of the café, waves crashed onto the green, algae-covered rocks.

The bay was a horseshoe of shingle-covered beach, surrounded by a perimeter of similar rocks over which children and adults alike clambered in search of rock pools.

At the other end of the bay stood a structure which resembled a lighthouse.

The holiday home wouldn’t have looked out of place in New England, its white boards and white picket fence glaringly bright in the morning light.

Sam’s smile told Mark he’d be back.

He led Sam through to the rear of the café that was open to the elements. Thankfully, a couple was about to leave, so they waited patiently until the table was free. Sam sat with his back to the painted wall, gazing out at the beach.

“This is beautiful,” he murmured.

“And very popular. We were lucky to get a table so fast.” Mark smiled when Richard approached, a notepad in his hand.

Richard grinned. “I don’t have to ask what you want, do I? Will that be one bacon sandwich, or two?”

“Two, please,” Mark confirmed. “And two lattes.”

“Got it.” Richard scribbled on his pad, then headed toward the kitchen. It wasn’t long before two cups of coffee sat in front of them.

“I love it down here,” Mark said with a happy sigh. “I think it’s the sound of the sea that draws me.” He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the music made by the waves as they frothed onto the rocks below.

Sam nudged him, and he opened his eyes.

“Two bacon sandwiches,” Richard said with a flourish, placing them on the table. “Anything else you want, Mark?”

Mark shook his head. “No, that’s all for the moment, thanks.”

“Then I’ll be back when you’ve finished, with your second cup of coffee.” Richard grinned at Sam and winked. “Never known Mark to ever stick at one cup of coffee.”

Mark chuckled. “You know me far too well.” He indicated Sam with a nod of his head. “This is my friend Sam. It’s his first visit down here.” Richard dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “How’s business?”

“Can’t grumble,” Richard said with a smile. “Andy’s pleased, so it can’t be bad.” Andy was the owner. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to your breakfast.” He flashed them another quick smile and walked away, pausing to collect cups and plates.

“How long have you been coming here?” asked Sam. He took a bite out of the sandwich and moaned. “Oh, that’s good.”

Mark stifled a groan of his own as the sounds Sam made went straight to his dick.

It was no use—as attracted as he was to Sam, it was now clear nothing was going to happen between them, so he really needed to organize a trip across the Solent one day soon.

“About three years,” Mark replied. “Since Andy took over the place.” He bit into his sandwich, savouring the crisp bacon.

The taste was divine. In no time at all the sandwiches were demolished.

Mark drained his cup of coffee, knowing Richard wouldn’t be long in bringing another one. He glanced across at Sam who was looking out to sea with a contented expression. Mark could understand that. He suspected his face wore the same look every time he came here.

“Was that what you wanted to tell me last night?” he prodded gently. “That you were gay?”

Sam nodded. “I felt awful, lying to you for the past three weeks. You were so open with me, and yet there I was, hiding. It felt so wrong.” Misery replaced contentment.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mark stressed. “It’s no shame to be in the closet, especially if coming out would spoil your relationship with your dad.” Heaven knew, Mark wished he’d stayed in there longer. Coming out had made his already strained relationship with his mother ten times worse.

Sam tensed. “There’s more to it than that, but it’s not something I can really talk about, okay?” Mark gave him a nod of reassurance, relieved when Sam relaxed into his seat.

“I know you said you and Rebecca have been together about six months. Was there anyone before that?” Mark itched to know more about what Sam was doing with Rebecca in the first place, but he didn’t push.

He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

“No, no one.” Sam fixed his gaze on a lone figure out on the water in a canoe. “I went out to a couple of gay clubs when I was in London a few times, but to be honest, I was scared to death. It wasn’t like I imagined.” He shivered.

“Tell me.”

Sam scrubbed his fingers through his short hair. “I don’t know, it was just so…. The music was loud and throbbing, the dancers… My God, the dancers were naked!”

Mark chuckled. “Oh, you went to a gay strip club. I’ve been to one a couple of times.” He didn’t mention the fact he’d hooked up with one of the strippers after the show for a lightning-quick fuck in the alley behind the club.

Something in Sam’s words registered.

Wait a sec.

“Sam… have you… what I mean is…” He cleared his throat. Oh, for God’s sake, just ask him. “Sam, what have you done with a guy?”

A slow tide of red spread upward from Sam’s chest, crept up his neck and across his cheeks. The blush was adorable.

When it became clear Sam wasn’t going to answer the question, Mark persisted. “Okay, this is none of my business, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but… Have you and Rebecca had sex?”

More silence.

Mark sucked in a deep breath. “Sam… are you a virgin?”

Those cheeks were suddenly bright red—and Mark had his answer.

Holy fuck.

“Sam. You’re twenty-three.” Mark couldn’t imagine getting to that age and not having fucked someone , at least once.

“I’ve blown a couple of guys and been sucked off a few times. Besides, my parents brought me up to see sex as something that happens when you meet someone and fall in love.” Mark couldn’t miss the defensive note in Sam’s voice.

“Now hang on a minute—you had oral sex.” Mark arched his eyebrows. “Oral sex doesn’t count as sex in your book?”

Sam’s cheeks flamed. “Sorry. I guess I think of sex as being when someone actually…. you know…” The words trailed off.

Mark’s face tingled. “I think it’s great that you waited. Makes me wish I had.”

Sam jumped in. “Oh, but being experienced is good, too.” His face glowed. “I know I want my first time to be with someone who knows what he’s doing.”

All of a sudden Mark heard his mother’s voice in his head, the memory as clear as if it had been yesterday, not five years ago.

He snorted. When Sam gave him a puzzled glance, Mark explained.

“My mother’s idea of the birds and the bees talk?

‘Just make sure when you have sex for the first time that it’s with someone who has a clue what they’re doing.

There’s nothing more pathetic in this life than the idea of two virgins fumbling around together. ’”

Sam widened his eyes. “I… I don’t think that’s pathetic at all.”

Mark looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. A feeling of heaviness settled over him.

Things might have been different if his dad had been alive.

He was certain his dad wouldn’t have reacted to Mark’s coming out in the same way his mother did.

A familiar slow tide of rage threatened to surge through him, but he fought against it, determined not to let anything spoil the day and this time he shared with Sam.

He fixed his gaze instead on the figure who was tugging a canoe up onto the beach.

He recognized the young man clad in a bright blue wetsuit immediately.

Taylor Monroe operated a small business down in the bay, hiring out surf boards, kayaks and wetsuits.

Mark had just joined Ryde High School when Taylor had been about to finish his final year there.

He’d been a bit of a loner at school, a typical surfer who seemed to spend every spare minute out in the water.

Mark envied him his life. Taylor had a house right on the bay, a large white painted edifice with a porch where he would sit throughout the summer. Mark had often imagined living there.

To be able to open a window and hear the sea. Heaven .

“Just so you don’t feel too sorry for me.” Sam broke through Mark’s reverie. Mark gave him his full attention. “I do have a few toys.”

“Oh really?” Mark arched his eyebrows.

That flush was back again.

“I bought a Fleshjack.”

Mark cackled. “Which one?”

Sam bit his lip. “Levi Karter’s. Apparently he was a really popular porn star about ten years ago.”

Mark snorted. “Well, make sure you keep it out of sight. I can see how trying to explain to Rebecca why you have a replica of a gay porn star’s arsehole might be rather difficult.”

Sam stilled, and Mark had the feeling he’d put his foot in it.

I said the R-word again, didn’t I?

Mark looked at Sam’s handsome face and was seized by the sudden desire to reveal why his kiss had blown Mark away.

“Seeing as it’s confession time,” he began, after drawing in a deep breath, “I want to say thank you.” Sam cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. “When you kissed me earlier….” He dried up, ashamed to share the importance of Sam’s impulsive action.

Sam reached across the table and brushed his fingertips lightly down Mark’s forearm. The simple gesture brought him a measure of calm.

He took another breath. “You said experience was good. Well, my experience of sex so far has been confined to furtive hook-ups in club bathrooms. I meant what I said this morning—there has never been another soul in my bed until you slid into it in the early hours.” His chest tightened.

“I’ve had sex in bathrooms, alleyways, dark corners of the dance floor”—Sam’s eyes grew positively huge—“but never in a bed. And until this morning…” He pressed his fingertips against Sam’s and then looked into his eyes. “No one had ever kissed me.”

Sam caught his breath. “I was your first kiss?” Mark nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the joyful expression on Sam’s face. “Then we shared a first together. You were my first gay kiss, too.”

Warmth flooded through Mark. The silence that followed Sam’s words was a comfortable one, broken only by the appearance of Richard with two fresh cups of coffee. Mark gave him a grateful smile as Richard slipped quietly away.

Sam sipped his coffee and gazed out over the bay. The sandy beach was slowly filling with families: children running around, laughing and shrieking; dogs running into the waves, only to run back to their masters, shaking themselves violently and spraying water everywhere. It was an idyllic scene.

“Are we still okay?” Sam’s quietly spoken question broke through his contemplation. Mark gazed at him quizzically. “What I mean is, are we still friends?” Sam twisted his watch around his wrist.

Mark stared at him in surprise. “Of course,” he said vehemently. “Why would you ask that?”

Sam puffed out a breath. “Because of last night and this morning. What with me treating you badly, and then sneaking into your bed, and then?—”

“We’re fine ,” Mark stressed. “Honestly.” Sam’s friendship was important to him. “And Sam?” He grinned. “You’re a good kisser.”

Sam blushed profusely. “You, too.” He looked out to sea once more. “I love it here. This was a great idea.”

Sam may be older than I am , Mark thought, but he needs a keeper. Someone to take care of him .