Arthur nudged the bottle with his toe. It spun lazily on its side, catching the light from the dying fire behind him as it wobbled on the floorboards of Thornton’s bedchamber.
Why was he so disappointed? He should have expected this.
His heavy sigh filled the near-dark room. He turned on his heel but stopped at a faint squick sound. Dropping to his haunches, he leaned left so as not to block the firelight. The soft sheen of an almost fully dried puddle covered the floorboards next to the bed. Whisky, based on the scent.
Brilliant.
So foxed Thornton had spilled liquor all over the floor. Now he’d have to wash the soles of his shoes so he wouldn’t carry the scent of whisky with him wherever he went.
With a shake of his head, he got to his feet and went to the hearth. He stoked the fire, using the iron poker to prod the flames to life, then picked up an armchair and moved it closer to the bed.
He sat, stretching out his legs, careful to avoid the whisky on the floor. With an elbow on the chair’s arm, he rested his chin in his palm and studied the man clearly passed out on the large four-poster bed. His face was turned toward Arthur, his full lips slightly parted in sleep. His tousled black hair hid his eyes, the ends brushing his high cheekbones. Even sprawled on his stomach, one arm hanging off the side of the mattress and one leg tangled in the white sheet, there was an innate beauty in every line of his body. The fire threw splashes of golden light and shadow over his pale skin, highlighting the lean muscles of his shoulders and caressing the sleek curve of his lower back. His skin looked so soft and smooth that Arthur had the almost unstoppable urge to press his lips to that firmly rounded arse.
Damnation. This was what he got for stalling significantly past those fifteen minutes. The moment Thornton had left the billiard room, he’d taken that intense pull with him, leaving Arthur caught between acute arousal and painful indecision.
His short time at Ramsey House had shown him a side to Thornton he hadn’t expected. Definitely not all sharp, handsome edges. The amiable young man he once knew was still there beneath the hard veneer of dissipation. And the crackle of attraction held the promise of so much more, like a gauzy film covering a rich landscape. With Thornton, he’d have searing passion, the thrilling rush of excitement, an honest friend and a broken heart. And the man wouldn’t do it maliciously; it was just in his nature. Some thrived on commitment, some on the chase, and others, like Thornton, on vice itself. Hell, he carried a vial of oil with him on a shooting excursion. Likely he’d had a flask of whisky tucked in a pocket as well.
Even though Arthur had resolved to scale back his hours at the office, he’d still need to work late every now and then. No way around it. And when he did, he’d worry Thornton was with another. Hell, anytime he wasn’t by the man’s side, he’d worry. Foolish of him to even assume Thornton would want to continue…whatever they had together…when they returned to Town. According to the gossip, the man had never spent more than a night with any given bed partner. Still, all afternoon those worries had plagued him, flitting through his mind as he reviewed document after document, and they had intensified over the past few hours, since Thornton had left him alone in the billiard room. If only he and Thornton could remain here, at Ramsey House. If only he could keep him from the temptations of London…
He couldn’t very well abandon his office and throw caution to the wind. He knew that. But he could not stop himself from wondering what it would be like to have this man as his own. He felt the pull on his heart, light yet determined. It would be so very easy to fall in love with Thornton. True love, and not that shallow imitation he’d had with Randolph. But it would never work between them.
The ease with which Thornton indulged in sexual liaisons—last night and this morning served as prime examples—screamed loud and clear he wasn’t at all familiar with the concept of fidelity. A fact Arthur knew before he’d even left Town. Perhaps he really shouldn’t have come to Ramsey House, but at least he could leave tomorrow knowing Randolph was now firmly in his past. And he had Thornton to thank for that. The relationship reconciled, and every last bit of lingering ache pushed from his heart. But not the memory of it. That more than anything had delayed his appearance in Thornton’s bedchamber.
Hopefully his early departure tomorrow wouldn’t ruin their newfound friendship. They had been friends once, without the added complexity of intimacy muddying the waters. Their short holiday simply illustrated they suited better as friends and not lovers. As his friend, the indiscretions he could accept, a mere given that came along with Thornton. The gossip and rumor surrounding Thornton could wash over him with no ill effect, as long as he wasn’t one of the many inhabiting Thornton’s bed.
For if so, Thornton would break his heart, harder and quicker than he feared he could recover. And he’d never find that sense of steadiness he craved. Forever waiting for the day when Thornton tired of him and flitted out of his life, just as he had done ten years ago.
But the attraction, the intense pull he felt only with Thornton, coupled with the knowledge the man waited for him tonight…
Clearly reason and logic held little power over it, for here he sat.
He shifted in the chair. Reaching out, he snatched the almost full glass of whisky from the bedside table and took a long swallow, but it did nothing to soften the coarse rub of irritation riding over the heavy disappointment. And after all the debating whether to come to Thornton’s bedchamber, after all that pacing and arguing with himself, he found this.
But it was something he needed to see for himself, a blunt reminder of Thornton’s true nature.
He set the glass down and scrubbed a hand over his face. Leave. Yes, indeed, he should go back to his bedchamber and get a few hours of sleep before returning to London to start his search for someone to share his life with. Staying the full length of their short holiday was now out of the question. More days spent with Thornton would only make it harder to leave. But…
His gaze traveled once more over the sinfully beautiful man sprawled on the large four-poster bed. Their previous encounters had been hasty affairs, clothing only unbuttoned enough to bare the essentials. He was already here… What harm could come from indulging one last time? He nudged the whisky bottle with his toe, pushing it against a leg of the bedside table. Thornton likely wouldn’t remember it anyway. But he would.
One night of complete and utter abandon. The chance to give free rein to every sexual impulse he had ever tamped down. And to do it with Thornton, a man accustomed to walking away in the morning without a backward glance.
Such an opportunity would likely never present itself again. Such stark, blinding, raw lust did not go hand in hand with a steady, amiable man capable of a long-term, discreet commitment. The only type of man he would share his bed with once he returned to London. But as long as he kept the knowledge of exactly whom he indulged with in the forefront of his mind, he was fairly certain he could survive one night with Thornton and walk away with his heart intact.
He toed off his shoes and whisked his shirt over his head, flicking it to the floor before he could give it another thought. The navy coat, waistcoat and cravat had been discarded a good hour ago, well before he’d even left his own bedchamber. Anticipation now coursing through his veins, he stood and removed his trousers, leaving them in a pile at his feet. His erection sprang free, hard and heavy and eager to feel those skilled hands and lush lips one last time.
Gaze pinned on the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on, he went to the foot of the bed. Careful not to disturb the mattress, he slowly crawled up Thornton’s body and dropped a light kiss on that firmly rounded arse.
A soft tickle roused Leopold from a deep sleep. He reached back to swat lazily at his bum and encountered…
He levered up on his forearms to look over his shoulder.
A dream? He blinked and passed a hand over his eyes. His head certainly felt fogged. But he never dreamed of Arthur when he overimbibed before bed. He looked again.
Arthur. Naked. Crouched behind him, his head bowed over Leopold’s arse, his lips less than an inch from his skin.
Holy hell. He had come after all. Grinning, Leopold shook his head in amazement, happiness flooding his senses, chasing away the despair that had nearly broken his heart.
“Evening, Barrington,” he said, voice raspy from sleep. “Find anything that interests you back there?”
The sharp nip zinged along his nerves and made him ache for more.
“Most assuredly.” At Arthur’s low, rumbling growl, blood pooled to Leopold’s groin so quickly his head went light.
Even in his wildest fantasies, Arthur Barrington hadn’t bitten him on the arse.
Dragging his lips along Leopold’s spine, Arthur crawled up his body. Pressed kisses across his shoulder to his neck and up to his ear. Soft, light kisses that made Leopold feel cherished. Wanted. Treasured. With a moan, he hung his head, resting his forehead on his pillow, and lifted his hips, brushing against Arthur’s erection. Arthur let out a barely perceptible grunt and then worked a knee between Leopold’s thighs. He swung his leg up, opening for Arthur. Hot, silken skin nestled in the crease of his arse. Slow and with deliberate purpose, Arthur humped him, the base of his cock teasing his entrance with each stroke, reminding him vividly of how that cock felt buried deep. Stretching him wide. Pounding into him.
A heavy wave of lust washed over him. He clutched the sheet, a whimper tumbling passed his lips. Shameless and needy, he pushed back, wanting more. The mattress shifted and heat scorched his back as Arthur lowered fully on top of him, the weight of his body pinning him down. Solid, strong, just like the man himself. Chest hair brushed between his shoulders. Panting breaths fanned his nape. He could feel the hair on Arthur’s groin rub against his cheeks as the man ground into him. The power and promise behind each tantalizing thrust brought him closer to the point of begging.
His cock was smashed between his belly and the mattress. The friction of the soft sheet was not even close to what he needed. And his lips… He needed Arthur’s against his own. Needed to wrap his arms around his lover, hold him tight. Verify this was not, in fact, a dream. He twisted, bare skin sliding against bare skin, limbs tangling and untangling, until they were on their sides. Leg hooked over Arthur’s hip, arms wrapped around him, he kissed him fiercely.
The taste of Arthur was so perfect, so right. An exact match to his memory from the forest. Except this time, leaves didn’t crunch beneath his feet. This time he wasn’t intent on pushing a memory of an old lover from Arthur’s mind. This time Arthur had come to him.
He slanted his mouth over Arthur’s again and again. Unable to get enough. A growl shook Arthur’s chest. He gripped Leopold’s arse, fingers digging into the crease, and yanked him closer, delivering a tug on his hole. His ballocks lurched up tighter against his body. With every move he made, his prick bumped against Arthur’s. A luxurious caress. Seeking more, he thrust his hips. The tip of Arthur’s prick pressed against his, leaving a damp trail along his length.
He tore his lips from Arthur’s, breaking the kiss. “I want to taste your cock.” Panting hard, he pushed on the man’s rock-hard shoulder.
Arthur moved onto his back, and Leopold went with him, sitting up to straddle his waist. Palms flattened on Arthur’s chest, he rolled his hips, rubbing his ballocks over the arch of Arthur’s erection. That earned him another low growl from Arthur, his firm lips pulling in a feral grin that vanquished all traces of the restrained, conservative facade from his expression, leaving only the man.
To finally have this man with him, in his bed, as he’d hoped for so long… It was almost too much to comprehend. He wanted to do everything with him. Right now. All at once. Taste every inch of his skin. Know him in every carnal way possible. Give Arthur every inch of his soul.
He trailed his fingers through the smattering of hair on his broad chest, pausing briefly to pluck at one of the copper nipples. Then he bent his head and sucked on the hard tip. Arthur stiffened and hissed, his prick jerking against Leopold’s ballocks. The reaction immediately imprinted itself on his brain.
As did the way Arthur’s stomach muscles twitched as Leopold dragged his lips down to the thick cock he just had to taste again. The next instant, he had his hand wrapped around the heavy weight of Arthur’s prick. With a swipe of his tongue, he lapped up the fluid beaded at the tip. The hint of salt, musk and Arthur had him opening his mouth, taking him inside, needing more.
Arthur gasped. “Damnation, Thornton.”
He practically purred in response.
As he bobbed along the length, he looked up. Arthur had levered onto his forearms, but with Leopold’s forelock hanging over his eyes, coupled with only the fire to light the room, he couldn’t make out Arthur’s expression from the shadows of his face. Arthur must have heard his thoughts, for with a light touch, he smoothed the hair from Leopold’s eyes, holding it back as he palmed his skull.
The lust and need in Arthur’s intent gaze flooded Leopold’s senses. Damn, it felt beyond good to give Arthur pleasure. Unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
He sucked harder, relaxed his throat and took him down to the base, reveling in the tremor racking Arthur’s body. In the guttural groan filling his ears. On the next upward glide, he paused to lavish attention on the crown, drinking up the fresh bead of fluid, teasing the highly sensitive slit. Then he pulled free, planted his hands on Arthur’s inner thighs and pushed. The man spread for him, fully exposing the ballocks drawn up tight to his body. Leopold bowed his head to trail his tongue over the soft skin, the fine hairs a tickle on his lips. Gently sucked on first one and then the other testicle. All the while, his senses were acutely attuned to Arthur, instinctively sorting out what he liked best and doing it again.
For by dawn tomorrow, he’d have Arthur bound so tightly to him with pleasure, he’d never so much as look at another man again.
He shifted up. Grabbed Arthur’s neck and slanted his mouth harshly over his in a quick, hot kiss. “Turn over. I want to lick your arse.”
Arthur’s breath caught, his eyes wide with surprise yet glazed with desire. “Oh, fuck, Thorn. You’re going to be the death of me.”
“I should hope not. Though it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.” He nipped Arthur’s jaw. “Now turn.”
Arthur twisted, and Leopold wasted no time scooting down to palm the firmly muscled backside he’d only seen in his fantasies. A tug on his hips got Arthur canted at the necessary angle. Spreading the firm cheeks, he let his breath fan the exposed crack of his arse. The tight ring of muscle contracted.
Arthur sucked in a breath as Leopold’s tongue danced over his skin, liberally wetting it. Then he swirled his thumb over that tight hole, trying to coax it to relax.
Letting out a moan, Arthur pushed back, seeking more. Leopold ignored the lust clawing at his own throat and eagerly gave Arthur what he wanted. He rimmed the perimeter. Nipped and teased. Focused all his attention on giving Arthur the most decadent of pleasures.
Scattered between Arthur’s indecipherable grunts and moans, he could make out a few words. “Didn’t know… Damnation, Thorn… Feels so good.”
It almost sounded like… He paused, recalling the surprise in Arthur’s eyes when he’d told him what he wanted to do to him. “Haven’t you had a man kiss your arse before?”
Arthur glanced over his shoulder. Even with the dim lighting, Leopold could make out the flush staining his cheeks, the sweat beading his brow.
He shook his head.
“And do you like it?”
The guttural groan spoke for itself.
“And I haven’t even got to the best part yet.”
A quick wink and then the tip of his tongue slipped into that tempting hole. He felt the instant when Arthur opened for him, the ring of muscle relaxing. He alternated between tongue fucking and teasing the perimeter, occasionally pushing a finger inside, stroking him deep, until the need building within himself became more than he could keep at bay.
He levered up to cover the man and nuzzled his ear, his pulse skittering through his veins with a sudden pinch of uncertainty. “Will you let me fuck you?”
“Yes.” Arthur gasped. “God, please.”
He blinked. He couldn’t say why he hadn’t expected that answer, but he hadn’t. “Really?”
Arthur turned his head, caught his gaze. “You thought all I wanted was to bugger you? I happen to like the feel of a hard cock in my arse.”
Leopold bit down on Arthur’s shoulder as lust slammed into him. Damnation. If Arthur continued to talk like that, he’d climax all over his bum. He leaned left, reaching into the bedside table drawer to grab the bottle of oil.
With his shoulders pressed to the bed, Arthur lifted his hips higher, presenting Leopold with his arse. The head of his thick, hard prick brushed the sheets. His ballocks were so tight they kissed the smooth expanse of skin beneath that well-prepared hole.
A swipe of Leopold’s hand slicked his own cock. Tossing the bottle aside, he grabbed hold of Arthur’s hips and eased inside.
Tight, searing heat gripped his length, then relaxed just enough to pull him in. Damn, Arthur knew how to take a cock. He had to grit his teeth as he eased back to start thrusting. Two strokes, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. He never did when he fucked another man. It was used more for a quick climax, so he could switch and get fucked until he reached orgasm again. A mere warm-up for yet more pleasure. Still, he typically managed a handful of minutes.
But this wasn’t just any man. This was Arthur.
His hoarse groans of pleasure. His sweat-slicked skin under his hands. Him beneath Leopold.
He let the orgasm race through him. He didn’t even attempt to hold it back but savored the blinding rush of sensation as he spilled deep within Arthur.
Gasping for breath, he dropped down and plied Arthur once again with his tongue, swirling it over the sensitive flesh, keeping him poised at the height of pleasure. Arthur bucked and cursed, his body tightening beneath his hands as if to twist away, but Leopold held him steady as he lapped up the remnants of his own climax, reveling in the crude act. The way it made him feel so goddamn wicked. So stripped free of every inhibition.
“Damn.” A quick, harsh hiss. “Fuck!” Arthur wrenched free of his hold.
He jerked back to avoid a knee in the jaw as Arthur turned over to stare at him, his chest heaving, his cock so hard it brushed his sculpted abdomen. Leopold licked his lips, wanting to swipe that bead of fluid from the needy head.
“Hell, is there anything you won’t do?”
“No. Nothing. Now fuck me. Please.”
A feral growl filled the room. The next instant Arthur was on top of him. Crouched between Leopold’s thighs, Arthur took hold of his semi-erect prick. “Gladly, but let me get you hard first.”
He shook his head and reached left, hand coasting over the sheet. “Your cock will get me hard again.” Where the hell had he tossed that bottle? He tried the right side, his fingers finally closing over smooth glass.
Arthur leaned back on his knees and took the bottle. “I can manage it. I think you’ve done enough work for one night.”
“It’s not work, I assure you.”
A smile tipped Arthur’s lips, his hazel eyes crinkling at the edges. “No, it isn’t. Is it?”
God, no. Never with Arthur. Leopold shimmied, tilting his hips and grabbing under his knees to pull his legs up. He watched with bated breath as Arthur poured a generous amount of oil onto his palm. Then Arthur thoroughly coated his hole. So slick and luscious. His eyelids fluttered, his muscles beginning to relax even before Arthur pushed a finger inside.
Bracing his weight on one arm, he bent his head to Leopold’s chest. Sucked and licked one nipple as his fingers slowly slid in and out.
Much too slowly.
He wrapped his legs around Arthur’s hard waist, tugged on his shoulders. He wanted Arthur’s cock in him. Now. Wanted to feel those powerful thrusts. “I’m ready. Fuck me.”
“Not yet,” Arthur said. His breath fanned Leopold’s wet nipple, teasing the tip. He pushed a third finger inside: twisting, scissoring, carefully working his entrance.
But it was a poor substitute for the real thing.
A sigh of gratitude expanded his chest as a blunt pressure pushed against his hole.
Arthur had barely breached the perimeter when he abruptly stopped, his once-heavily lidded eyes flaring wide. “Christ, I can still feel you.”
Leopold couldn’t help but smile, even as his body screamed for more than just the head of the man’s cock. He knew exactly what it felt like in Arthur’s position, the hot flare as the lingering ache in his arse turned into a delicious throb, the echo of fullness without the stretch. Split between the sudden desire to fuck and get fucked anew. “Feel good?”
“Hell, yes. Damned incredible.”
“Good. Now quit teasing and fuck me.” He tugged on Arthur’s shoulders again and shifted beneath him, trying to work himself on the man’s prick, to scratch that all-encompassing itch for more.
Arthur cursed under his breath. Leopold felt the shudder rack the man’s body. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple and dropped onto Leopold’s chest. He couldn’t tear his gaze from Arthur’s as the man pushed deeper. One long, agonizingly slow thrust.
“All right?” Arthur asked, his chest heaving.
“More than all right.” Arthur’s ballocks were pressed against Leopold, his prick so blissfully deep inside him he could barely form the words. To be fucked after an orgasm… Nerves already shimmering with sensation, impatient lust sated, he could lie back and simply enjoy the sweet burning stretch. The glorious friction. That feeling of being possessed. Claimed. Taken by another. By Arthur.
His entire body went lax even as his cock hardened anew. Lips parting, his head tipped back, hands kneading Arthur’s bulging biceps as the man fucked him with slow, powerful strokes.
“God, you’re beautiful, Thorn.”
At those hoarse words, soaked with awe, he dragged Arthur down, needing his kiss. He was surrounded completely by Arthur. The man’s weight on top of him, his cock inside him, his tongue twining with Leopold’s. He opened his heart, poured every bit of love he held in his soul into that kiss.
And as those thrusts turned determined, slamming relentlessly into him as Arthur’s body tightened above him, their kiss still unbroken, the orgasm ripped through him. Arthur’s shout of completion drowned out his high, keening cry. And the last thing he remembered before unconsciousness claimed him was a breathless thank-you whispered in his ear.