“I missed you today,” Thorn whispered.
A flush of warmth filled his chest. Damnation, it felt good to be missed, to know there was someone out there—or more precisely, the man right beside him—who looked forward to seeing him. The edges of his lips quirked. “I just saw you this morning.”
He felt Thorn shake his head. “You didn’t wake me when you left, so I didn’t see you.”
Another stab of guilt to his gut. Arthur
had
been deliberately careful when he’d slipped out of Thorn’s bed. “It was not even dawn. Didn’t want to disturb you,” he murmured. He had a strong premonition he’d receive another invitation from Thorn to remain with him tonight, yet he pushed that worry from his mind and let the man’s hand command his complete attention.
“And I had such plans for the morning.” All traces of a pout vanished, replaced with a sinful, confident tease. “I guess I shall just have to indulge them now.”
One tug and Thorn had the placket undone. Arthur lifted his hips slightly, giving him access to reach inside. With an ease borne of near countless repetition, he pulled Arthur’s erect cock from the confines of his drawers and trousers.
Hand wrapped around the base of Arthur’s prick, Thorn bent his upper body over Arthur’s lap. “Love you.” Thorn’s whisper teased the head of his cock. Light and delicate, a ghost of a caress that nevertheless tugged at his heart. Then those full lips opened wide, and Thorn took him inside his mouth.
All thoughts that didn’t have to do with pleasure fled Arthur’s brain. Threading his fingers into Thorn’s hair, Arthur let his head fall back as he gave himself up to the decadent sensation of his lover’s mouth, let the combination of slippery wet heat and perfect suction coax the lust fully to the surface.
He blindly coasted his other hand along Thorn’s back, the sleek muscles hard as iron beneath the fine wool coat. Up and down, Thorn bobbed along his length, each stroke somehow better than the last.
To think not ten minutes ago he had longed for a quiet evening. What the hell had he been thinking? Definitely not about this.
“Your mouth,” Arthur muttered, suspended somewhere between utter relaxation and pulse-pounding desire. Of their own accord, his hips moved, nudging in counterpoint to those amazing strokes. “So good.”
Thorn’s purr reverberated against his shaft, adding another layer that nearly robbed him of all sense. In a long, slow glide, his lover pulled up to tease the highly sensitive slit with the tip of his tongue. Then he plunged back down his shaft. All the way down.
“Ah,
hell
, Thorn.”
The most luscious constriction squeezed the head of his prick. Thorn swallowed, the muscles of his throat working in a decadent massage. Arthur’s eyes rolled back. His fingers tightened in Thorn’s hair, and then he forced his hand to relax, to release the harsh hold on those silken strands. The last thing he wanted to do was cause his lover pain.
After a moment that felt like forever yet like the blink of an eye, Thorn eased back and resumed those bone-melting strokes.
Arthur tipped his chin down, drawn by the urge to watch those lips that felt like wet silk slide up and down his prick. Thorn’s long black lashes rested against high cheekbones flushed with desire. Each deep breath whooshed from his nose, tickling the base of Arthur’s cock, his focus absolutely and completely on lavishing Arthur with pleasure. He had been the recipient of his lover’s skilled mouth too many times to count over the past three months, yet each instance never failed to hold him in awe. And the sight alone of Thorn’s full lips wrapped around his length was enough to bring him dangerously close to a climax.
Tingling fingertips of sensation tickled his ballocks. The muscles of his thighs drew tight to the point of trembling. Just as the release began to coil down Arthur’s spine, Thorn pulled free.
Still crouched over Arthur’s lap, Thorn darted his tongue out to swipe his bottom lip. Unable to resist a taste, Arthur pulled the man up and kissed him, sweeping his tongue inside the hot depths of his lover’s gorgeous mouth. On a low moan, Thorn shifted even closer. What could only be an erection nudged his hip as Thorn met the strength of his kiss and then some.
Soft, eager lips, the hint of stubble from Thorn’s day beard, the enticing spice of his cologne… Arthur could have spent the entire night on the couch with Thorn in his arms, their tongues twining together, poised right on the cusp of an orgasm. Not so close to a climax that the need to spill his seed had crossed the line of desperation, but that perfect point where lust pounded through his veins, heated his skin, every sense heightened and consumed by his lover.
Thorn broke the kiss far before Arthur was ready. Arthur leaned forward, pursuing those lips, but Thorn shifted back just enough to stay out of reach.
“Do you want to bend me over the arm of the couch and fuck my
arse
?”
Hell, Thorn said the wickedest things. Crude and obscene and thoroughly erotic. A growl rumbled through Arthur’s chest.
“Yes?” Thorn asked, arching a dark eyebrow as he slid his hand along Arthur’s spit-slicked shaft.
Another tremor shook his thighs. “You damn well know the answer.” As if he could ever resist such an invitation.
Thorn’s lips, flushed red and wet, kicked up in a confident smirk. He got to his feet and moved to the side of the couch, one hand tugging at the placket of his trousers and pushing the garment down while the other slipped into a pocket of his iron gray waistcoat for the small glass bottle he always seemed to carry with him. He poured a generous amount of oil into his palm and set the bottle on a nearby table. Bracing his other hand on the arm of the couch, he reached back under the tails of his coat.
The sight of his lover preparing himself without a single inhibition pushed Arthur to his feet. He quickly unbuttoned his coat and shrugged it from his shoulders, letting it fall to the couch cushions. He didn’t miss the way Thorn’s hungry gaze tracked his every movement as he made his way behind the man—his cock bobbing with each step, the need to bury himself hilt-deep in Thorn cranking higher and higher.
Thorn bent his upper body over the thickly tufted arm and spread his legs as far as the trousers around his ankles would allow. He flicked his coat and shirttail to the side, exposing his firmly rounded
arse
. Glancing over his shoulder, he winked. “Have at it, Mr. Barrington.”
Arthur’s palm itched to give him a smack on the
arse
. Instead he pushed his own trousers down so they hung low on his hips, far enough to prevent any unwanted oil stains. He palmed Thorn’s
arse
, pulling back one cheek to reveal his well-oiled hole, and pushed inside.
Thorn let out a short grunt. Then he thrust back, fully impaling himself on Arthur’s prick. “Fuck me, Arthur. Fuck me hard.”
The last three months had convinced him that when Thorn asked for hard, he wanted exactly that. No consideration. Yet Arthur held still for the space of three heartbeats, allowed his lover at least a moment for his body to adjust to the intrusion. Then he shifted his grip, hands splaying over Thorn’s hips to get a firmer hold on him.
“I fully intend to.” The words were a growl. He pulled almost all the way out, savoring the slick glide, and then snapped forward and picked up a hard, driving rhythm.
“Yes, yes.” Thorn moaned, bucking back, lengthening each thrust.
Grabbing Thorn’s shoulders, he slammed harder. Thorn took it all, begged for more. Hell, Thorn made him feel like a savage. Primal and base. Unable to resist the need to completely dominate him. To fuck him so deeply the man would be forever branded as his own.
The release once again began coiling down Arthur’s spine, drawing his ballocks up tight. Desperate not to come before Thorn, he tilted his hips, changing the angle of his strokes, trying to peg the man’s gland.
Thorn’s gasping moans grew more frantic, the sounds hitching in his throat. Arthur leaned over Thorn’s back and slipped a hand inside his lover’s coat pocket, fingers finding the soft linen.
He had just wrapped the handkerchief over the head of Thorn’s cock when the man let out a hoarse groan. His body clutched Arthur’s length in time to the liquid heat splashing against the fabric.
Thorn’s climax sparked his own. Searing pleasure flooded his senses. He set his teeth against Thorn’s shoulder to stifle the shout as he came, his hips sputtering to a halt.
He gave himself a moment to catch his breath, then tightened his hold on Thorn’s waist and straightened, taking his lover with him. Thorn sagged against him, lax and boneless, allowing Arthur to hold him upright. He nuzzled the side of Thorn’s neck, dragged his lips past the starched white cravat, over his jaw, and to his ear. “Kiss me,” he murmured, needing to feel those beautiful lips beneath his own.
“I fully intend to,” Thorn replied, the pleased, sated smile clear in his voice.
Thorn turned, his arms wrapping around Arthur’s waist. Their equal heights made them perfectly matched, and all Thorn needed to do was tilt his chin slightly to the side to claim Arthur’s mouth.
Soft and slow, with just a hint of tongue, Thorn kissed him. He had never been much for kissing before Thorn, the urge for that intimacy simply not there. Likely a by-product of his one and only other relationship. Yet with Thorn, he could never get enough. And the sounds the
man made
, those little rumbles of air in the back of his throat…
Arthur slanted his mouth more firmly over Thorn’s, swept his tongue inside, trying to get a taste of those delicious little sighs. His lover pressed against him, bare prick sliding along Arthur’s sated cock, and let out a groan. Before the residual hum from the recent orgasm could spark anew, Arthur pulled back, ending the kiss with a light nip to that plump lower lip.
“I could kiss you all night,” Arthur murmured.
Thorn’s lashes slowly swept up, revealing passion-soaked gray eyes flecked with midnight. “You’re more than welcome to do so.” He dropped his voice to a mere breath of sound that still managed to hold the full weight of his offer. “And many other things as well.”
Pliant and willing in his arms and with his cheeks still flushed with desire, Thorn was the very embodiment of temptation—sinful, wicked, lush temptation. And by the man’s own admission, he had absolutely no limits when it came to carnal pleasures. But they’d certainly draw the servants’ notice if they remained behind the locked door of the study until dawn.
A rueful smile teasing the edges of his mouth, Arthur gave his head a little indulgent shake. “Don’t tempt me, or we’ll never leave this room.” He stole one more kiss but kept it quick and light. Then he released Thorn so he could tug up his trousers. Handkerchief still clutched in one hand, he took the few steps to the hearth and tossed the soiled linen into the fire. God forbid Thorn spill all over the side of the couch, leaving an obvious mark of the proof of their after-supper activities. Arthur doubted such a stain could be easily explained to the servants.
As Thorn pulled his trousers up from his ankles, Arthur grabbed his coat from the cushion and slipped it on. “Your morning plans had involved being bent over the arm of a couch?” He knew for a fact Thorn did not have anything that approached a couch in his bedchamber.
Thorn lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “One must make do with what’s available.” A couple of deft tugs and he set his clothing to rights. He had a remarkable ability to go from appearing completely debauched to completely presentable in a handful of seconds. A skill no doubt learned from necessity.
Not something Arthur should really think about at the moment. In any case, Thorn had left those days behind him.
“My original plan involved straddling your hips and riding your cock until I came all over your stomach.”
The mental image formed in Arthur’s mind—his hands grasping Thorn’s hips, urging his lover onward as the man slammed hard and fast on his prick. He let out a low grunt, his sated prick twitching its approval.
Stepping closer, Thorn smoothed his hands over the front of Arthur’s coat. He tipped his chin down, his attention on Arthur’s coat as his nimble fingers righted the bottom button. “Stay with me tonight.”
With those softly spoken words, the exhaustion from the long day settled right back onto Arthur’s shoulders, his back slumping under the weight of it. Every trace of
postorgasmic
bliss vanished, leaving nothing but bone-weary fatigue. He felt every one of his thirty years. Hell, he felt damn near double that.
“I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”