Chapter Eleven

If anything happened tonight, it was going to have to be up to him, Avery realized after about fifteen minutes of sitting and talking with his guest. Not that he didn’t enjoy the conversation he’d promised to be content with, but at that precise moment, he craved physical connection too.

The way Connor licked a drop of brandy from his lips. The way his body seemed to dwarf even the generously proportioned armchair. The way his voice rumbled when he spoke, and his blue eyes caught and reflected the light. All these details compounded to create a surge of desire that made Avery actually tremble.

He knew this feeling wasn’t one-sided. The telltale signs of arousal—heavy-lidded glances and flushed complexion—signaled Connor wanted him too. Pretext about checking on Bertrand be damned, the man had come all the way across the city to seek Avery out. But his continuing struggle between duty and desire was all too transparent.

The right thing would be to allow Connor time to finish this battle and wait to learn which would be the victor. But Avery was too impatient. He stifled the inner voice that prompted him to change his ways and reverted to listening to the one that told him to take what he wanted.

He rose. “Come. I’d like to show you something in my study.”

Connor frowned but got to his feet.

“My father collected antique weaponry. At our house in the country, we had a room devoted to swords and battle axes and maces. Several suits of armor were displayed, including a specimen mounted on a horse dressed in battle armor,” he said as he led the way down the hall. “After he died, I sold most of the collection, but kept a few of Father’s prized pieces.”

Avery turned up the gaslight in the study and led the way to the display case. He pointed out various weapons and told the stories behind them.

“This particular sword was carried by a Knight Templar during the Crusades. Imagine! There’s a vast difference between knowing historical facts and coming into contact with something people actually used, be it pottery or blankets or instruments of death. Seeing such details of their lives makes history become real.”

He glanced at his companion. Connor wore a rapt expression that matched what Avery felt as he studied the weaponry.

“These are remarkable.” Connor added, “Were you close to your father?”

“I spent precious little time with him. He lived apart from Mother and me for many years, devoting himself to his political life,” Avery explained. “But I believe Father may have been even more devoted to a secret mistress, although I’ve never been able to find proof of it. Of course, he’d have kept her a deep secret in order to avoid scandal.”

Avery gazed at a ceremonial katana sword from Japan. “I feel if he’d been around, we would’ve got on all right.”

Connor gave a bitter laugh. “The brief time I spent with my father made me feel just the opposite. It was best for all of us when he got taken away. We were no poorer or worse off without him. What about your mother? Is she still living?”

“In spirit only. Oddly enough, she passed within a week of my father. Two people who never professed love for each other, who barely spoke or corresponded, and yet that coincidence of their deaths, as if something bound them together despite their attempt to remain separate.”

He shared private thoughts he’d never told anyone. Perhaps it was Connor’s quiet stillness that made it easy to confide in him. Probably the man was good at interrogating suspects and getting them to confess without lifting a hand to them.

Connor studied Avery as intently as he had the display. “Do you have other family members?”

“Not so much as a kindly uncle or crotchety grandmother,” Avery said lightly. “I do, however, have Chaney, my solicitor, who’s more than glad to reprimand me as a parent might and curb my spendthrift ways.”

“A man might be lonely even in the midst of family,” Connor said. “As you said, not to have anyone you can truly talk with is difficult.”

Had he said that? Avery wasn’t certain. But it was true enough, and this was Connor tentatively reaching out to him. Avery would reach back with both hands.

“That kiss the other night. You’ve been holding that in for a long time, haven’t you? The need.”

Connor bit his lower lip and didn’t answer.

Avery continued. “I understand your vow to uphold the law. It’s honorable you take your work seriously, but it’s a hard thing when one’s natural inclinations are at cross purposes with man’s laws. For example, would you fault a priest who realized he simply couldn’t maintain the vow of chastity he made to the Church?”

“Yes,” Connor answered.

“You’re Catholic. Should have thought of that.” Avery tried another tack. “Would you fault a man who stole a loaf of bread to feed his starving family?”

“I wouldn’t fault him, but I’d arrest him.”

Avery almost smiled at such stubborn determination. “You’re a very rigid man. How can I make you believe that what you do in private should have nothing to do with any laws? No one is being sold against his will. No one outside of the participants is affected. What right has the law to infiltrate a man’s privacy or the inviolability of his home?”

He moved a little closer to test the waters, and Connor did not back away. Avery reached out to brush the side of his face. Beneath his fingertips, he felt the flexing of Connor’s jaw. Would he push Avery’s hand away? If anything, he seemed to lean in to Avery’s touch as though he’d been starved of any sort of caress for far too long. Time to remedy that, Avery thought.

“You weren’t at home when I arrested you,” Tate murmured, but hardly seemed to pay attention to what he said as his eyes drifted closed.

Avery cradled that strong jaw and rubbed his thumb over Connor’s mouth. The man’s lips parted, and he made a small sound in his throat.

Avery didn’t kiss him. Not yet. He stroked that thick black hair with his other hand, the strands soft between his fingers despite how short it was cropped. He cupped the back of Connor’s head, allowing him to become accustomed to the touch, the way one would gentle a horse by slow degrees.

Still Tate didn’t stop him. Nor did he open his eyes. Like a young child who imagined closed eyes made him invisible, Connor seemed to believe he could deny what happened between them if he didn’t acknowledge it. That was fine. Let him indulge in self-deception so long as he also indulged in the pleasures Avery would give him.

Avery leaned in but stopped with his mouth mere inches from Connor’s. He waited there, letting the anticipation build as the man’s rapid breath gusted against his lips. Agonizing slowness would make a kiss all the sweeter when—

Connor pushed forward and stole the kiss before Avery could give it. He slid his arms around Avery and crushed him to his hard body. His eagerness and lack of finesse sent a flare of heat through Avery. It was his turn to make a little gulping, whimpering sound. All right, then, fast and desperate worked well too.

Avery gripped the nape of Connor’s neck and returned the sort of soul-shaking, bone-melting, cock-raising kiss the constable demanded. He moved a hand from Connor’s jaw to wrap it around his back and keep him close, determined not to let him run away a second time.

As Avery swirled his tongue around the other man’s, tasting brandy, he worked his hand under the woolen police jacket, but touched only a cotton shirt when he wanted silken skin. He wished he might take Connor to his bedroom where they could explore every inch of each other in peace. But to interrupt for a change of location now might doom the intense moment. Perhaps another time, Avery would have a chance to study Connor’s body at leisure. For now, he must be content with kissing and whatever snatches of flesh he could reach.

He moved his hand from Connor’s back to his front, slipping it between them to grip his erection through his trousers. He stroked the wool-clad length. This would not do. Though the pressure made Connor groan, it wasn’t enough to satisfy either of them. The fly of the trousers must come open, which required both hands and a cessation of kissing. Once Avery pulled away, would Connor come back to himself, recall his stupid vocation, and put an end to this?

No. He continued to stand with eyes closed, breathing heavily as Avery unbuttoned his uniform trousers and pushed down his drawers. Connor sucked an audible breath when his cock sprang free from confinement. Thick and flushed from the flow of blood engorging the shaft, it was an awe-inspiring sight. Avery’s mouth watered. He swallowed and slipped his hand around the object of his desire.

Connor gulped and tilted his chin up, exposing his throat. He wanted and needed this so much, Avery could tell. He dimly recalled his promise to take things glacially slow and to remain simply friends if that was what Connor wanted.

Too late to worry about that now. He dropped to his knees.

*

Clamoring voices at the edge of Connor’s consciousness warned him he was heading into territory he’d sworn not to visit again, but he didn’t give a care for what they said. It seemed the act of flouting duty made the savage lust coursing through him flare hotter. The forbidden was often the most arousing thing to a man.

In his work, he’d seen time and again the evil that unrestrained passion could do. Violence or murder over matters of desire were commonplace. But Avery’s hand rubbing his cock, the man’s hot, wet mouth engulfing him, didn’t feel wrong or evil. They felt wonderful and like something he’d been missing in his life for far too long.

As a lad, Connor had concluded the self-gratification the local priest warned against was quite normal. By thirteen, he decided sermons on venial sins and hellfire were tools to control people and stopped believing in the Church, though he never would’ve told his mum so. At fifteen, he’d realized his cock rose for lads rather than lasses, and he’d had to make another decision. Would he fight his desires, take a firmer grip of his reins, and turn himself in another direction?

But without fear of losing his immortal soul, reasons to curb his lust were more a matter of getting caught than anything else. Connor indulged whenever he dared and with whomever he could.

Not until his twentieth year, when he took the police exam and vowed to uphold the laws of the land did he reach another crossroads. He’d chosen to put his youthful desires behind and concentrate on being the best constable to ever patrol the city.

Until now. With Avery sucking and licking and humming a vibration that went straight through him, Connor couldn’t possibly bring himself to care about breaking the law. Not the least bit.

He leaned against the display case of weapons and allowed Avery to destroy every wall he’d erected. He thrust his hips forward, seeking more contact with the man kneeling before him. That was something he needed to see—Lord Avery Wickersham on his knees before a lowly cop.

Connor peered through the fringe of his eyelashes at the handsome gentleman. Part of him had known they would be together before Wickersham was through with him, but in those dreams, he’d imagined himself as the one giving service. He’d never expected to receive this glorious, knee-trembling sucking, so strong and deep, as if Avery would extract the very life from him. The man cradled Connor’s balls, lightly squeezing, before continuing to massage the base of his erection. Avery seemed to know exactly how much pressure to apply. Connor’s needs couldn’t have been more perfectly met if he were sucking himself.

All misgivings flowed away as Connor plunged completely into sensation. Strong, hard hands gripped his hips as Avery’s head bobbed up and down. Tension tightened in his belly and magnified and then…oh God, release at last! Connor closed his eyes and flew into the darkness that wasn’t dark at all. Lights sparked and showered through him. He was above and beyond everything worldly. For an instant, he was a god.

But the power of a climax was by its nature short-lived. A man must come crashing down to earth. Eyes must open to the real world again. Before the last shudders completely died away, Connor returned to his body and watched Avery wipe the back of his hand across his lips.

Connor offered a hand to take Wickersham’s and pulled him to his feet. Stepping away from display case, he noticed he’d left smudges behind on the glass. What would a maid make of that tomorrow when she cleaned?

Back in his right mind again, Connor was torn between offering to return the favor and running away. But it wouldn’t be fair to leave Avery aching, and he was at his core a firm believer in fairness. He reached out to His Lordship’s trouser front. “Let me…”

Wickersham held his wrist, his breath gusting heavily between kiss-swollen lips. “Come to my bedchamber. We would be more comfortable there, and take our time. My servants will make no note of it. I choose them carefully and pay well for discretion.”

Go! Don’t hesitate. Lie in luxury and peace for once in your life. But to do that was to take a very large step. An impetuous encounter in the study was one thing. Quick relief for each of them before parting. To join Avery in his bed meant sharing more than Connor was ready to give. He couldn’t shift so easily like a weathervane in a new wind.

His answer was to give no answer. He shook off Wickersham’s hand and continued unbuttoning the man’s trousers. He dropped to his knees and lowered the man’s drawers. A swollen, ready erection thrust forward, not overly large, but long enough and thick enough to please a man. Connor inhaled Avery’s musky scent as he took him in hand, gripping his girth and guiding the tip to his mouth.

“Wait.” The hand on his head stopped him. Avery gazed down at him with eyes nearly as golden as a cat’s in the gaslight. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

“You seem rather businesslike, is all. Take your time. Savor.” He smiled. “Perhaps look at me.”

“I am.” He was annoyed by the correction and slowly brought the cockhead to his lips without ever breaking his bold stare. This was the first time he’d visually acknowledged a man during the act. In the past, he’d performed quickly, efficiently, requiring no emotional connection. But it seemed Avery demanded more of him.

Avery’s small moan of contentment as Connor took the tip in his mouth was a reward in itself. “That’s it.” Avery stroked his hair. “Slow and easy.”

One long swallow, and then Connor withdrew, surrendering Avery’s length by inches. He continued to look up from beneath his brows while swirling his tongue around the head.

“I love your eyes. Don’t know if I’ve ever seen so bright a blue,” Avery whispered.

His words were as much a soft caress as his hand on Connor’s head. Though he’d only just come, Connor felt a stirring again. But this was something other than lust that fluttered inside him.

He plunged down again. And withdrew, scraping gently with his teeth all the way up the length. Avery gave a soft hiss, and his eyes closed.

Down once more. Connor dropped his gaze and concentrated on sucking. He stared at the fine hair covering Avery’s groin, at the tensing muscles of his stomach and the perfect indentation of his navel, at the juncture where cock joined torso. He would memorize these details as well as the taste and texture of the man.

The wooden floor pressed hard against his knees. He would remember that too, as well as the weight of Avery’s hand resting on his head. More than resting. The man stroked, then cupped his head, not gripping or forcing, but offering more subtle encouragement. The gesture felt caring and kind, touching a chord deep within him. A little softness in his harsh world.

Sudden tears stung his eyes. Foolish! Ridiculous! He blinked them away and carried on with his task. It wasn’t long before he felt the slight changes signaling that Avery approached release. His breathing grew more ragged, his moans increased, and his cock seemed tighter.

Connor redoubled his efforts. Avery’s hips jerked, he cried out softly and spent. Warm fluid spurted at the back of Connor’s throat, and he swallowed. He waited until Avery’s spasms ceased before letting the man’s cock slip from between his lips.

Connor put it away, adjusting drawers and trousers to hide the treasure he wouldn’t see again. One time only, he’d promised himself before starting this, and he planned to stick to that. He would make certain not to see Wickersham again so he wouldn’t be tempted. Soon enough, the memories would fade, and he could return to properly upholding the law. One small lapse like this needn’t ruin him.

That was what he believed as he rose to his feet. But when he looked into Avery’s shining eyes and handsome face, Connor knew he told himself a lie. He was tumbling and hadn’t reached the bottom yet. He’d lost control and wouldn’t be able to keep away from this man, who was every bit as potent as opium was to an addict.

He was a lost man.