Caught on Camera: Part One
A Totally Bound Publication
Caught on Camera: Part One
ISBN #
978-1-78430-358-7
©Copyright Lily Harlem 2014
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright December 2014
Edited by Rebecca Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Totally Burning
and a
Sexometer
of
3.
CAUGHT ON CAMERA: PART ONE
Lily Harlem
Part one in the Caught on Camera serial
When Reece Carter is caught on camera canoodling with hunky gardener Cade Davenport, a new, super-sexy opportunity presents itself that he just can’t walk away from.
Reece Carter is sweating in the dirt and feeling the heat. It’s a scorching hot day and he’s slaving away indoors. But at least he has a nice view from the window—sexy gardener Cade Davenport—no job too big or too small—who is mowing the lawn minus his shirt.
Soon thirst overcomes Reece and he finds himself swimming, kissing and getting frisky in the hot tub with the super-confident, seize-the-moment Cade, whose wit, humor and cocky smile is irresistible.
What Reece doesn’t know is that the walls have ears and the trees have eyes. His every moan, gasp and erotic move is being recorded in fine and shocking detail.
But what does that mean? And what about the intriguing offer Cade puts to him? Shouldn’t he just punch his lights out for filming him without permission? And will Reece’s life ever be the same again after being caught on camera?
Dedication
For fans of man-on-man erotic romance the world over whose kind words of encouragement have led to me writing more, more, more!
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Coke: The Coca-Cola Company
Calvin Klein: Calvin Klein, Inc.
Mercedes: Daimler AG
iPhone: Apple, Inc.
Chapter One
Reece dipped his brush into the magnolia paint then aligned it beside the window frame. He had to be careful because his concentration was wandering. His job for the week was to redecorate Mrs. Henley-Smythe’s bedroom and he was halfway through the task, but since the gardener had appeared, his progress had slowed considerably.
With the bristles held still against the wall, he allowed himself a moment to look down at the garden. It was bright outside—a brilliant, sun-drenched August day in Wiltshire and he couldn’t help but admire the view. But he wasn’t appreciative of the begonias or the gladioli or the neat topiary bushes, no it was Cade Davenport—or at least that was the name on the van out the front,
Cade Davenport, executive gardening services, no job too large or small
—who was on the receiving end of Reece’s admiration.
Mrs. Henley-Smythe had told Reece to expect the gardener by midday as she’d flounced out of the door to a charity lunch with her friends at the golf club. Reece hadn’t thought any more of it until one of the hottest guys he’d ever seen had strutted across the lawn to the shed and started hauling out tools.
Since that moment, his brain had struggled to think straight. He’d opened gloss rather than silk and had dripped a blob of paint on the windowsill that had needed to be wiped up.
He stroked the brush downwards a few inches then stopped.
His breath hitched and his belly clenched. Cade, the gardener, was now stooped over, fiddling with a mower and presenting his sweet arse for Reece to ogle. “Damn,” Reece muttered, as a familiar tingle stirred his cock. “That’s a sight for sore eyes.”
It had been several months since he’d last had any bedroom fun and that had been a one-night rebound. Since Matthew and he had split, there’d been nobody serious in his life. There couldn’t be, the breakup had hurt too damn much. Instead, he’d immersed himself in his one-man-band decorating business and although not rocket science or particularly challenging, it paid the bills—just—and kept him from wallowing in the agony of having been lied to and cheated on.
Reece wondered if Cade was gay. His radar wasn’t working from up here. If so, then Cade was a gift to mankind and a loss for women the world over. His shoulders beneath his red T-shirt looked thick with muscle and broad, his belly flat and his legs encased in scruffy denim jeans, long and strong. Reece adored the big, industrious boots he wore, a bit tatty and dusty—they signaled huge feet, which was always a good sign.
His hair was dark and a little curly, the ends touching his nape and the tips of his ears. Reece thought what a nice handful it would be, that head of hair, to hold, to pull, to gather into his fists. He had a cute face, too—a little stubbled and with heavy, dark eyebrows, tanned, likely owing to the hours and hours he spent outdoors.
Cade suddenly jerked his arm back and his biceps bunched and danced around the tight sleeve of his top as he pulled on the starter motor.
The mower’s petrol engine fired up and the sound invaded the silence Reece had been working in for the last few days. He didn’t like the radio on. He preferred to be lost in his own thoughts and daydreams.
And right now his daydreams were all about Cade.
He watched as Cade straightened his black wrap-around shades and moved behind the mower. He grabbed the handle and began to push it in a straight line across Mrs. Henley-Smythe’s back lawn. As he went, he left behind a neat pale green stripe.
Reece glanced at his paintbrush and continued with the stripe of paint he was midway through.
The noise of the mower engine changed. He looked outside again. Cade had turned it around when he’d reached the patio area by the swimming pool and was pushing it the opposite way, parallel to the first line. He was coming toward the house now. If he glanced up he’d see Reece standing at the window, brush in hand, his eyes a little heavy and his lips wet from where he’d just licked them.
Abruptly Cade tipped his head and appeared to stare straight at Reece. His shades caught a glint of sunshine and flashed like a beacon.
A bolt of self-consciousness zapped through Reece. He turned away, embarrassed to have been caught gawking, and quickly made several strokes with his brush. The paint was thick and gloopy and he frowned when it traveled onto the window frame slightly.
Again the mower noise altered.
Reece strained his eyes without turning his head and was relieved to see that Cade was now walking back toward the pool again.
He dipped his brush in the paint then wiped off the excess. As he straightened, a flash of flesh caught his attention.
Cade had stopped and was peeling off his T-shirt, slowly sliding it upwards and revealing the chestnut-brown skin on his back and shoulders that glowed under the sun’s hot caress. His muscles were, as Reece had suspected, impressive—defined and taut with ridges that ran down the gutter of his spine that looked perfect for licking. He had two small dimples, just above the waistband of his jeans that Reece would love to get up close and personal with.
Reece swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, as Cade again adjusted his shades then carried on with his task.
This time when Cade turned around at the pool, Reece didn’t look away. He couldn’t. It was like magnetism, and damn the man was stacked. His pecs were perfect, thick squares dotted with small dark nipples, and his abs were a row of bricks. His body hair matched that on his head, lustrous, a little curly and with a tantalizing line heading from his navel to his denims.
Reece could just imagine nuzzling his nose into that hair, smelling it, tasting it, drawing in the essence of Cade. He wondered what delights would stimulate his senses—sweat and dirt or maybe cut grass and flowers? He didn’t mind. He’d happily take either.
Cade looked up at Reece again, but this time Reece held the man’s gaze for a full ten seconds, or at least he thought he did. It was hard with him wearing shades.
Then, as coolly as he could, Reece went back to painting the section of wall by the window. His heart was beating fast and his skin prickled. He’d been hot before—the heatwave a constant burn—but now, with that long, sultry stare at a sexy, half-naked man, he was feeling positively steamy.
He decided to take a break and get a drink. Mrs. Henley-Smythe had told him to help himself to the cans of Coke in the kitchen fridge. After balancing his brush on the edge of the paint pot, he went down the wide stairs, across the marble floored hallway and into the kitchen, but he didn’t pause at the refrigerator. He went to the utility room and washed his hands. The house was spotless and pristine. Everything from the taps to the toilets and the stair-railings to the door handles was of the highest specification. Reece had no idea what Mrs. Henley-Smythe’s husband did, but they were clearly rolling in it.
Lucky buggers
.
Reece had just finished drying his hands on kitchen roll when he had an idea. He paused, thought for a moment then smiled to himself. There was one way to find out if Cade was gay and if that lingering eye contact had meant anything to him. He’d flash the goods and see if the gardener took the bait.
He slipped his arms out of the straps on his white overalls and let the loops of material hang at his hips. In one quick movement, he peeled off his white T-shirt and folded it into three, the end section he poked into his back pocket so it hung down, rag-like, by his arse. With a slide of his arms, he realigned the straps, so they sat as braces, beside his nipples. He had nice nipples, so he’d been told. Permanently erect, small and with a few blond hairs sitting between them in a neat triangle.