Enlightened (17 page)

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Murdo’s face was grey with exhaustion and despair, every line of his big body tense. He rubbed his whiskery face with his big hands while David watched and wondered what to say. The anger that had sent David stalking off to Blackfriars yesterday was already slipping from his grasp, despite the nagging feeling he ought not to let it go.

Was he a fool to think about forgiving Murdo for keeping his engagement a secret? Or was Murdo’s secrecy understandable? He couldn’t decide what was the more reasonable position, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he felt as tired as Murdo looked.

Well, perhaps he didn’t need to decide. Not now. Perhaps that could wait till more immediate concerns were taken care of.

He reached out his hand to Murdo.

“You’ve barely slept these last few days,” he murmured. “And I’m not doing much better. There’s no sense hashing this out now. Let’s go to bed and get some sleep. We can talk about things properly when we’re less exhausted.”

Murdo looked up at him, his expression defeated. “How can I go to bed, David? I’ve put you in danger. We need to talk about how we’re going to keep you safe. I don’t—”

“Later,” David interrupted firmly. “We can talk about all of that tonight. For now, you need to sleep. And in truth, so do I. I was on Euan and Elizabeth’s floor last night, and my hip ached so badly I barely slept an hour.” He gave a lopsided smile.

Murdo didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighed, stood up and set his hand in David’s. “Provided you come with me,” he said, “I won’t argue.”

Chapter Thirteen

When David awoke, it was late afternoon. He’d slept nearly four hours, dead to the world from the moment his head touched the pillow. Four hours probably shouldn’t have been enough to make up for two nights of missed sleep, but somehow it was. He felt refreshed and alert.

He shifted onto his side to look at Murdo, who was sleeping on his front, his face hidden in the crook of one burly arm. David smoothed his hand over Murdo’s almost-black hair, enjoying the soft feel of it below his fingers.

“Hmmm.”

He drew back at Murdo’s moan of pleasure, not wanting to wake him, but it was too late. Murdo stirred and, a moment later, turned over to smile lazily at David.

“Hello,” he murmured.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” David whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Murdo just chuckled softly, shifting himself onto his side so that they faced one another. He touched David’s cheek, then let his fingertips drift down, exploring David’s raspy jawline before moving down the column of his throat. The caress was a mere whisper, making David shiver, gooseflesh rising.

“I need to kiss you,” Murdo murmured. “It feels like forever since I kissed you.” He closed the remaining space between them, the warm, naked length of his body brushing David’s. His smile was warm and intimate, affectionate. David could feel the curve of it when Murdo pressed their lips together, and he darted out the tip of his tongue to taste it, to taste that smile and to know it. Their noses brushed in welcome, cheeks skimming as they deepened the kiss. Warm skin met warm skin and firm, muscled limbs tangled, and already they were beyond mere kisses, sliding into the heady rhythm of lovemaking as easily as two dancers taking the floor at a ball.

Making love with Murdo had become vital to David over these last months. Not just for the pleasure of it but for the give and take of it, the generosity and the joy of it. These were the things that showed David that, whatever he may have once thought, he wasn’t a criminal. Or a sinner. Making love with Murdo had turned David’s most shameful secret into his greatest joy.

Now that give and take, that push and pull, became a lusty sort of wrestling, a brief and delicious scuffle for dominance that ended when Murdo rolled on top of David, besting him with his greater strength even as he kept his weight carefully from David’s injured leg. Murdo grinned down at David, his wide smile denting his cheek with a deep dimple. He looked carefree and happy, and David wanted him to look like this always. His heart swelled with love and longing, and he put a hand to Murdo’s cheek.

“I don’t want you to marry Lady Louisa,” he blurted. “I want you all to myself.”

It was a painful admission, and he knew his expression must betray his agony to Murdo. Saying aloud, at last, what he wanted—desperately wanted—and knowing he couldn’t have it. Knowing that his old life in Edinburgh beckoned, and that these were the last days of the happiest time of his life.

Murdo’s gaze travelled over David’s face as though he was measuring the words, or perhaps the sentiments behind them. His carefree smile ebbed, but his dark gaze glowed with what looked like satisfaction.

“I’m not going to marry her,” he said fiercely. “I’m not going to marry anyone.”

He leaned down and captured David’s lips with his own.

David welcomed him, thrusting aside all thoughts of the future. All that mattered right now was this. He slid his hands over Murdo’s big, warm body, loving every familiar line and curve. His cock was hard against Murdo’s thigh, a physical expression of his delight in his lover.

Murdo caged David’s body with his own, carefully keeping his weight off David’s injured leg. They ground together, kissing all the while, the slip and drag of flesh on flesh a madness and a joy.

“I want you inside me,” Murdo murmured against David’s lips.

David hesitated. They’d only tried this once before, and it hadn’t been a resounding success. Murdo had traumatic memories that made it difficult for him to allow a man to penetrate him, but he’d wanted to try with David, and whilst he’d borne the experience without apparent trauma, David had been able to tell he hadn’t enjoyed it much

“You don’t have to do that,” he murmured back. “You prefer it the other way, and I’m perfectly happy with that.”

Murdo levered himself up to look at David properly. “I want to try it again. I didn’t like not being able to see you last time—and I could tell you were uncomfortable too.”

A huff of laughter escaped David at that. He’d taken Murdo from behind, both of them on their knees, and despite the feather mattress, his hip and leg had ached like the very devil all the way through. “I thought I’d hidden that,” he said ruefully.

“Not really.” Murdo smiled. “We didn’t think it through properly, did we?”

“No. And you didn’t let me prepare you properly.” It amused David to see Murdo flush at that. When it came to tending to David, the man was utterly shameless, yet he’d been shy of David doing the same for him, insisting on preparing himself. “If we’re trying this again, you have to let me ready you. And how are we going to deal with my leg?”

“I’ll straddle you,” Murdo said promptly, betraying that he’d given this some thought already. “That way, I won’t feel out of control, and your leg won’t get tired.”

David gave a low moan. The thought of Murdo slowly impaling himself on David’s cock went straight to some deep-lurking and primitive part of him that secretly wanted to fuck the whole world. His reaction elicited a smile of amused pleasure from Murdo.

“You like the idea?”

“God, yes, but are you sure? It’s not easy to take a man like that, and you’ve not had much practice lately.”

“I’m sure. We’ll use lots of oil.” With that, Murdo scrambled off the bed to fetch the bottle from the armoire drawer.

David slid up the bed, wedging a pillow behind his neck so he could lounge against the headboard.

When Murdo returned, he handed the bottle to David, then eyed him uncertainly. “How shall I—” He broke off and gestured vaguely at the bed.

“It would be easiest for me if you knelt over me, facing the other way,” David said. When Murdo’s face reddened, he couldn’t resist adding with a grin, “Hips nice and high. Buttocks splayed.”

Murdo’s face burned. He gave a half laugh, but it was strangled with an overlay of mortification. “I don’t think I can do that. Can’t I just—”

“Come on,” David interrupted, more gently. “Let me—I want to. You’ve done it to me plenty of times. It’s only fair.”

For a long moment, Murdo stood there, undecided. Then he gave a sigh. “Fine,” he said, climbing onto the bed, his left knee brushing David’s chest as he got himself into the suggested position.

And ah, but he was a fine specimen, with those firm buttocks and muscular, meaty thighs. Christ above, what a sight.

David set the bottle of oil down at his hip and skimmed his hands up the backs of Murdo’s thighs, drawing a faint moan from the other man. Murdo’s skin was still sleep warm and dusted with hair that rasped pleasurably against David’s fingertips. Mouth dry with anticipation, he circled his palms over the firm globes of Murdo’s arse, urging his hips a little higher to reveal the entrance to his body. Murdo shifted, allowing it, but the sound that fell from his lips as he did so was as much protest as pleasure.

Such a vulnerable position, this. For anyone, but for Murdo especially, who’d been unable to allow it for so very long. Now that he was letting David see him like this, touch him like this, David had to make it pleasurable for him. Had to make Murdo’s gesture of trust worthwhile.

He tugged gently at Murdo’s hips, shifting his own body till he was close enough to lay a kiss upon his lover. He didn’t do it yet, though, merely huffed a hot breath into the tender groove between his buttocks, making Murdo shiver and moan, still with that note of uneasy protest in his voice.

Patience, then. He would begin somewhere less provocative.

David dipped his head lower, laying a trail of kisses from the tops of Murdo’s thighs to the lower curves of his buttocks then moving down to map the patch of taut flesh that led to his balls. He lavished attention there, loving the hoarse cry he finally drew from Murdo’s throat, and the deep groan that emerged when David suckled his ballocks. Neglecting his own iron-hard prick, he lavished attention on Murdo’s, squeezing his shaft with one hand while he mouthed the prickly purse of his scrotum, and soon enough every bit of Murdo’s awkwardness had fled. His head was down, hips tipping up higher, knees splaying a little more as he spilled cries of muffled pleasure into the bedsheets

Only then did David allow the kiss to become more intimate, drawing his tongue up again, all the way up this time to trace the outer edge of the crevice between Murdo’s buttocks. And this time, Murdo’s answering cry held no protest, only desperation for more, then gratitude—“God, yes, please!”—as David went deeper.

Murdo’s scent, earthy and male, was intoxicating. David held his lover open and lapped at the pinched edges of his hole, loosening and stimulating and downright worshipping. The near sobs of pleasure that guttered from the other man’s lips drove him on, the thought of bringing Murdo to his crisis like this consuming him. At last, though, he forced himself to draw back. Murdo was wide open now, open and ready.

“Christ,” Murdo whispered. “I need you to fuck me. Now.” He went to shift, to turn around, but David stopped him with firm hands.

“Not yet.”

David fumbled around for the bottle of oil, unstoppering it quickly and drizzling a thin, jewel-bright stream over Murdo’s hole. Setting the bottle aside, he gathered up the dripping oil in his fingers and began to probe the muscle he’d already loosened with kisses, until he was able to slide his finger inside. Murdo’s body gripped him, sucking him deeper, and both of them moaned. David’s cock was so hard it ached. Watching Murdo go from tight and embarrassed to loose and aroused, watching his own fingers effortlessly fuck in and out of Murdo’s body, then, even better, witnessing Murdo jerk and curse when David crooked his fingers and found the target he’d been seeking—it was enough that David was sure he could come without a single touch to his own cock. Just wringing a climax from Murdo would do it.

Another time. This time, Murdo wanted to be fucked.

“You’re ready now,” David said. “You can turn round.”

Murdo’s face, when he turned, was still flushed, but with lust now, rather than mortification. His eyes glittered like jet under half-lowered lids. He looked loose and debauched and very intent.

“I’m not going to last long,” he said as he settled himself over David, raising himself up on his knees as he sought to align his hole with David’s stiff mast.

“Nor am I,” David gritted out, hissing as Murdo finally touched his now-weeping cock. And then Murdo was sliding down, impaling himself, his body gripping David’s shaft with slick, living heat.

Oh Christ, and now David remembered this feeling from last time, only this was so much better, because this time Murdo was loving it too, his big chest heaving with effort, even as his eyes closed and his head dropped back in ecstasy. He planted one hand on the pillow, raising his hips high, then pressing them all the way down again in impossibly long, impossibly slow strokes, wrenching a series of groans from David’s throat.

Murdo’s prick bobbed between them, a sight that made David’s mouth water. He reached for it with a hand that was still slick with oil.

“God, yes!” Murdo gasped as David closed his fist around him and began to work his hand in rhythm with Murdo’s hips. “I’m so close—”

“Come on me,” David muttered. “I want you to mark me.”

Murdo groaned at those words, rearing back, and David felt the big shaft in his hand swell an impossible fraction more. And then Murdo’s seed was pulsing out, coating his hand, and Murdo’s body was gripping his cock, yanking a climax from David that had his back bowing and hips lifting from the bed.