Convincing Arthur (3 page)

He let out a
harrumph
as he set his shaving kit on the washstand. “I feared the

carriage would be stuck on the side of the road forever, and I'd have to walk the rest of

the way. Traveling is severely overrated.”

Thornton quirked one dark eyebrow. “That it is,” he replied, with a familiarity

that held a hint of their old friendship.

A pang of regret gripped Arthur's heart. Thornton had been a good friend there

for a while. They now moved in vastly different social circles, frequented different

haunts, though sometimes they happened upon each other on the street or at a club.

Occasionally he saw Thornton at his father's house, lurking about, when Arthur paid a

business call. But the days of meeting him at a tavern for a drink were long gone.

Perhaps this holiday together could be a way to rekindle their friendship? No, no. What

was he thinking? They had nothing in common except a shared attraction to those of

their own gender.

“So, that nightcap… Yes or no?”

“Thank you, but no.” Arthur closed his empty trunk. “Do you think the weather

will hold tomorrow?”

“It should. The sky was clear last I looked. I take it you want to be out with a

firearm in hand before dawn.” A grimace flicked across Thornton's face.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No. I can drag myself out of bed at such an ungodly hour…for you.”

The
click
of a lock sliding home reverberated in the room. Thornton pushed from

the door and crossed to Arthur. Thornton didn't walk; he prowled with a distinctly

leonine grace. Head tipped down, the edges of his lips curved in a knowing smirk that

left no doubt as to his intentions.

Convincing Arthur

13

Arthur stiffened. While he wouldn't deny a strong physical attraction to Thornton,

he also could not deny the trepidation leaching back into his stomach. He hadn't

expected to be buggered within minutes of arrival.

Thornton slowed as he came nearer, as if giving Arthur the opportunity to voice

his refusal or bolt for the door. He didn't take it. He held his ground, the attraction

crackling in the air between them, lighting up his senses in a way he had never

experienced before. His breaths came short and shallow, his chest suddenly working

under the force of them.

Thornton took one more step, closing the last remaining distance, his gaze locked

with Arthur's. He placed a hand on the dresser beside Arthur, blocking the path to

escape, and slowly, ever so slowly, leaned even closer. So close Arthur could make out

the midnight blue flecks in his heavily lidded gray eyes. The faint scents of whisky, the

enticing spice of cologne, and clean male skin wafted around him. Warm breath fanned

Arthur's parted lips: teasing, tempting. A tremble of anticipation rocked him.

“You refused supper. You refused a nightcap.” The words were low, a mere

rumble of sound. Thornton's mouth barely moved. Then he dipped his head at the last

moment before their lips touched.

Disappointment began to crash through Arthur when a hand palmed the placket

of his trousers, long fingers wrapping around his hardening prick.

Thornton looked up at him through his black forelock, his eyes blazing with lust.

“Is there
anything
I can tempt you with tonight?”

14

Ava March

Chapter Two

Arthur opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Anything?

And Thornton meant it.

But…what to choose? The possibilities… Arthur knew of a few, but he was certain

there were more. Many more. Thornton's experience radiated from him. An

intimidating force. The confidence of that hand wrapped around his cock, the easy self-

assurance behind every move he made. The man had knowledge of carnal pleasures

that went beyond anything Arthur could imagine.

Though what he really wanted was a kiss. To taste those full, red-tinged lips. To

feel the soft skin. To sweep his tongue inside the hot depths of Thornton's sinfully

gorgeous mouth.

But surely a man like Thornton would find such a request much too tame.

“Perhaps not?” Thornton murmured. Those long fingers loosened their grip as the

man began to ease back.

At the hurt finding its way across Thornton's beautiful face, he blurted, “Yes. I-I

mean, no.” He let out a short, frustrated grunt, struggling to find the words. Hell, it was

hard to concentrate with another man's hand on his prick. Thornton squeezed lightly,

Convincing Arthur

15

then feathered his fingertips along Arthur's length, robbing him of his wits anew. “I-

I…I want…”

Don't say it; he'll think you a bore.

Thornton arched a brow. He rubbed his jaw against Arthur's; their day's beards a

rough yet tender scrape. “Shall I guess?” he whispered, hot breath tickling Arthur's ear.

Arthur nodded once.

A wink was all the warning he received before Thornton dropped to his knees. He

felt the tugs as Thornton made short work of the buttons on the placket of his trousers.

In the next blink of an eye, his suspenders were unhooked from his waistband, and his

trousers and drawers were at his knees. One swipe of Thornton's hand tucked his

shirttail under his waistcoat. He barely detected the brush of cool air on his erection

before a hand wrapped securely around the base and moist heat surrounded the head.

“Ah…
damnation
.” Arthur gasped, his eyes closing against the most intense

pleasure. By God, the man knew what he was about. Bobbing along the length, sucking

hard enough to almost pull the orgasm out of him. It had been over a month—hell,

almost two—since he'd been the recipient of such a favor. And never had the favor been

bestowed with such blatant, unabashed skill.

Thornton pulled back until only the crown was held between his lips and then

pressed the tip of his tongue against the highly sensitive slit. A jolt of pure sensation

shot down Arthur's length to his ballocks, his knees threatening to buckle, his eyes

flying open.

Arthur grabbed the edge of the dresser and held on tightly as Thornton picked up

a luxurious rhythm that brought him closer and closer to the edge. Before he was aware

of it, his other hand was threaded in Thornton's soft, thick hair, palm cupping his skull.

Thornton let out a moan that sounded distinctly like approval. Aggression, raw

and stripped bare and completely unexpected, rushed to the surface. Growling low in

his throat, Arthur thrust his hips in counterpoint, fucking Thornton's mouth. Thornton's

16

Ava March

hand, gripping tightly at the base, fell away as he took the entire length of Arthur's

cock. As he let Arthur use him for his own pleasure.

A distinctive sound drew his attention down beyond the decadent sight of

Thornton's hollowed cheeks and full lips wrapped around his length. The other man

had his own trousers unbuttoned, cock in hand. The flushed head poked through the

top of his clenched fist with each rapid stroke.

The climax barreled upon Arthur. His senses narrowed, focused only on the heat

and suction and wonderful, blissful slippery wetness surrounding his prick. And then

his world exploded.

Arthur gritted his teeth to keep the roar inside as he came down Thornton's throat.

Thornton didn't pull back or snap at him for getting a mouthful of seed. The man

swallowed it all, sucking hard as the last tremor shook him, until it became suddenly

too much, the sensations overwhelming his senses.

“Enough,” Arthur gasped, tugging on Thornton's hair, desperate to get him to

stop.

There was a wet popping noise. Then Thornton shot to his feet, his lips slanting

harshly across Arthur's mouth. The hunger and pure need in that kiss… Arthur thrust

his tongue boldly inside, sweeping the hot recesses of Thornton's sinfully gorgeous

mouth. Beneath the salty flavor of his own release and the spicy hint of whisky was the

unique taste of Thornton. Lust flared, igniting his senses once again. With a tug on

Thornton's hair, Arthur jerked the man closer, unable to get enough.

He was vaguely aware of Thornton's arm moving between them: quick,

determined, and furious. Thornton's labored breaths puffed against his cheek, scorching

his skin. Tension gripped Thornton's sleek body. Then he groaned into his mouth. Heat

splashed onto Arthur's prick.

The kiss softened, slowed, lulling Arthur's senses with the heady mix of smooth

lips and the scrape of stubble. His flingers unclenched, slipping out of Thornton's hair,

Convincing Arthur

17

his hands shifting to gently cup the man's jaw. He felt the rigidity ease from Thornton's

body, heard the soft murmur of contentment as the man sank into kiss.

And for Arthur didn't know how long, he simply kissed Thornton, soaking up the

feel of the man's body against his, the taste of him, and the sounds of his sighs.

With a nip, Thornton pulled back enough to break the contact of their lips. Could

he be any more beautiful? Full lips, stained rose red from their kisses, tousled black

hair, and flushed cheeks. His features were so patently aristocratic, so fine and sharp

while at the same time approaching femininity.

Long, thick lashes swept down. Then the corner of his mouth quirked. A little jolt

shot up Arthur's spine as Thornton dragged a lazy finger through the remnants of his

climax coating Arthur's cock.

“I do believe I shall have to take care of that.” Thornton dropped to his haunches,

took hold of Arthur's bare hips, and lapped up the seed, licking him clean.

The caress of his tongue on the highly sensitive skin was…oh,
God…
decadent. It

was the only way to describe it. Lush and luxurious, the height of depravity, and the

most erotic thing he had ever beheld.

Blood rushed to his groin, his drained ballocks drawing up tight as his prick

swelled anew under Thornton's careful attention.

“More?”

Thornton's voice barely penetrated the fog of lust. Arthur gave his head a shake to

clear it.

More what?

Those plump lips briefly engulfed his crown, answering Arthur's unspoken

question. So tempting to answer in the affirmative, to give into the need drumming

through his veins and burning in Thornton's eyes, but…

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Ava March

Christ, he had just arrived. Less than thirty minutes, and already Thornton had

brought him to climax once. The knowledge hit him like a splash of ice-cold water,

harder and harsher than the sharp bite of lust that had gotten him to this point.

Serious and searching, Thornton's gaze swept his face. Arthur resisted the impulse

to shift his weight, to avoid those far-too-perceptive gray eyes.

“Perhaps not. It
has
been a long day,” Thornton said, as casually as if they were

sharing a drink at a tavern, and Arthur didn't have his trousers and drawers shoved

down around his knees.

As if reading his thoughts, Thornton made to pull up his trousers, but Arthur

leaned down, his hands fumbling over Thornton's. “I can manage it,” he mumbled.

Thornton tipped his head, relinquishing the waistband. Arthur tugged up his

trousers and after a couple of attempts managed to button the top clasp. His drawers

were bunched around his hips and his shirttail still tucked under his waistcoat, but he

didn't much care.

Buttoning the placket of his own trousers, Thornton stood. The few quick snaps of

his wrist to right his shirt, waistcoat, and coat indicated a familiarity with the routine

that did not sit well.

“Good evening, Barrington. I will see you again before the sun rises.”

With that, Thornton turned on his heel and left the room.

Arthur stood there, staring at the closed door for a long moment.

“Well, you wanted to forget Randolph,” he reminded himself.

At the first sound of Thornton's voice, all thoughts of his last lover had vanished.

Gone, as if the man had never existed. Even the taste of Randolph's kisses had been

erased from his memory, wiped away by the hot brush of Thornton's tongue against his

own.

He let out a heavy sigh and set to work removing the nut brown coat and cream

waistcoat that Thornton hadn't bothered with. The two men could not be more

Convincing Arthur

19

different. Randolph was very much like himself, hence why they had rubbed along so

well together. Well, he liked to believe Randolph was like himself, but lately he hadn't

been so certain. Ever since they had parted ways, he had been more aware of the

rumors. Or more accurately, he had grown adept at listening between the lines.

At least with Thornton he knew exactly the type of man he was dealing with. One

who subsisted on carnal pleasures and not much else. One who was damn good at