Send Me An Angel

Excerpt from: Send Me An Angel

Wow. Ellie knew it was her birthday, but in thirty-two years, this was the first time anyone had ever given her a naked man—a beautiful naked man, who looked like he’d been created by some benevolent god, just to give women pleasure.

She was astonished that any of her friends would have had the nerve to pull off a trick like this. Ellie was not noted for her flexibility or her tolerance of the unexpected. She had rules, and she didn’t bend them for anyone. Surely her friends knew her first reaction would be to call the police. Some sort of decisive action was definitely called for. After all, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence to open your front door and find someone curled up, fast asleep and naked, on the top step. At the moment, though, he was harmless, so she stopped to think. After all, there was that saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Although that wasn't quite right because she wasn't looking anywhere near his mouth.

He groaned—a deep, painful sound wrenched from somewhere deep inside him. It shouldn’t have made her shiver with delight, but it did.

He moved, dragging himself into a crouch. Ellie completely forgot about calling the police. Her breath caught in her chest, her eyes widened, her lips pulled together and opened again with a decidedly lustful, smacking sound.

She clapped a hand over wayward mouth. What was she thinking? How could the sight of one man, no matter how outstandingly, amazingly gorgeous he was, so completely scramble her normally no-nonsense, decisive brain?

The man raised himself onto one knee. His forearm was draped across his other thigh. Ellie’s no-nonsense brain went into shock. To get from the sight of that one knee to the opposite thigh, her eyes had to take a long, scenic journey. And in the middle of that journey, she stopped. And stared. And smiled.

Tie it up with a big red bow, because that package was hers. Can we all sing, Happy Birthday to Ellie? Her birthday present braced himself on his other arm. The sight of the powerful curve of his shoulder muscles, the flex and bulge rippling all the way down to where his thumb and forefinger strained to push him up, for a brief moment took Ellie’s attention away from his penis, which hung, thick and inviting, between his muscular thighs.

Her breath caught in her lungs. Her entire attention was riveted on the man in front of her. She’d get to the bottom of this mystery…later. If her friends had set her up, someone would die, but not right now. Right now she was having trouble even thinking.

The stranger raised his head and his celestial blue eyes looked straight into hers. Somewhere in the distance Ellie heard the sound of harps being gently stroked. A sensation of absolute peace, absolute rightness, overwhelmed her. Control-freak Ellie, who needed everything and everyone to be slotted into the right place and stay there, fell right into those cerulean pools and forgot thirty-two years of caution, prudence and control.

He smiled and her knees sagged. Her back slid down the door jamb as she dropped to the floor.

He instantly scrambled to his knees, his hand reaching out to hold hers.

“Are you hurt? Have I frightened you?”

Ellie shook her head dazedly. “Not frightened. No.” She stopped, swallowed hard and began again. “Who are you? Where have you come from, and what on earth are you doing, naked, on my doorstep?”

He looked around him and then turned those amazing eyes back to Ellie. “On Earth. Yes, I am on Earth.”

Ellie had almost staggered to her feet but the impact of his gaze made her wobble. Instantly his arms were around her. It brought him into close contact. His naked body brushed hard up against hers as he supported her.

He yelped once and jumped back, looking into the small space between them, eyes wide with horror. “What is it doing? How do I stop it?” Fear made his voice husky. “How big is it going to get?”

Ellie looked down and smiled wickedly. His penis, impressive even at rest, was swelling and growing. It was an awe-inspiring sight, but he didn’t seem to appreciate it.

He pulled his hands up, well away from his groin. His face was pale and tense. “Please, what’s happening to me?”

The question achieved what nothing else could. It snapped Ellie’s fascinated eyes upwards. What she saw there confused her completely. This wasn’t a joke. The man was truly bewildered, and, if her judgment was correct, frightened. How could a fully-grown man be afraid of his own equipment? Had he lived his whole life in a monastery?

There was only one way to find the answers. She assumed her best don’t-mess-with-me look. The Ellie-glare had cowed everyone who’d ever been subjected to it.

In a voice that could make grown men tremble, she attacked. “What are you doing here, naked, on my doorstep?”

If he heard her, he didn’t flinch. His eyes remained transfixed by his penis. The distraction provided by Ellie’s question had stopped its awesome progress to full rigidity. As the potential hard-on subsided, the worry left his face and his attention returned to Ellie. “I fell.”

“Fell? Fell from where?” She gazed up at the empty sky. “And why does it involve being naked?”

He looked down at his body then back to Ellie. She glared back. The sound of a motor coming down the street broke the impasse and jolted her into action. No matter who he was, or where he’d come from, she couldn’t leave him standing on her front step.

She dragged him inside. Considerations of personal safety were less important than her reputation in the neighbourhood.

In her living room, with his tempting body so blatantly on display, Ellie couldn’t think. She snatched a blanket from the back of the lounge and threw it at him.

“Here. Wrap this around you. And tell me who you are and what you’re doing here, or I’ll call the police.”

The man smiled his astonishing smile again. Ellie shook her head to rid it of the persistent sound of distant harps.

“My name is Peter. I am an angel. I fell.”

A stripper-gram. That had to be it. One of her friends, maybe a whole bunch of them together, had sent her a stripper-gram, and somehow the poor guy had started his routine too early, fallen and knocked himself out on her step. He probably had post-traumatic confusion.

Of course, if her friends had had the temerity to send her a stripper-gram, they’d have been here to watch her get it. His car should be parked in front of her house. There would be some clothes scattered about. The man had to strip out of something, after all. And no man who had ever worked as a stripper was going to be afraid of a hard-on.