Convincing Arthur (9 page)

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.”

Convincing Arthur

53

Leopold bit down on his shoulder as lust slammed into him. Damnation. If Arthur

continued to talk like that, he'd come all over his bum. He quickly 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 quick swipe of his 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 came 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.

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Ava March

He quickly leaned 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 grabbed his semierect 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.”

Convincing Arthur

55

“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 bum 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, 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.

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Ava March

“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.

Convincing Arthur

57

Chapter Six

Sprawled on his stomach, Leopold blinked his eyes open. Thin shafts of weak,

gray daylight seeped into the darkened room from the breaks in the closed drapes. A

steady drum of rain beat against the windows. The fire had burned itself out at some

point during the predawn hours, leaving the hearth dark.

He pushed up onto his forearms and looked beside him. Rumpled sheets and

blankets, as if someone had thrown them aside while getting out of the bed. The fluffy

white pillow still held the impression from Arthur's head.

Leopold grinned and flopped back down onto the bed. He tugged the blanket

draped over his hips higher, seeking its warmth. Waking up with hope in his heart was

a singularly wonderful experience. The fact that Arthur had left did not dim his spirits

one bit. He had not expected Arthur to remain until dawn. The man seemed

accustomed to rising early, and likely unaware Leopold did not employ a valet or allow

any servants to enter his bedchamber during the night or the morning. Since he hadn't

given his staff the same orders regarding Arthur's bedchamber, it was probably best

Arthur had returned to his own room during the night, before a servant sneaked in to

light the morning fire. Arthur did worry about keeping up appearances, after all.

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Ava March

Something to keep in the forefront of his mind when they returned to London. Not

a cause for concern, though. He'd willingly leave his old life behind for Arthur. More

than willingly. Long ago, he had grown quite tired of it. Hours upon hours spent at the

gambling tables, the near-constant haze of drunkenness, the steady stream of visits to

brothels and molly houses, and house parties that were little more than excuses for

orgies, surrounded by acquaintances but no one he called friend. He had never relished

it anyway; he'd only used it to distract him from a pain no longer there.

Last night… He shifted his hips to accommodate his growing erection, the sheets a

soft caress against his skin. Just thinking about last night made him hard, but knowing

it was the start of a relationship with Arthur made his heart swell near to bursting. No

way could Arthur not have felt the connection between them. Never before in his life

had sex been anything more than just sex, two people using each other for their own

selfish pleasure. But last night had been more, so much more. The way Arthur had

touched him, the care he had shown him, the way he looked at him with more than lust

in his eyes…

He meant more to Arthur than empty pleasure.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he actually looked forward to

returning to London. Would they split their evenings between Arthur's bachelor

apartments and Leopold's town house? Or would Arthur prefer to meet at Leopold's?

He held no illusion they would spend every night together—the need for discretion, of

course—but a few nights a week should be manageable. Hell, he'd take once a week.

The promise of Arthur could well sustain him for six days.

But no need to wait today.

He flung aside the blankets and swung his feet over the side of the mattress.

Damp, cold air hit his bare skin, making his erection wilt. Usually he was too

preoccupied with the sledgehammers pounding his skull to notice the lack of a fire in

the morning. Overindulging before bed guaranteed a night without Arthur haunting

Convincing Arthur

59

his dreams, but it did have an unpleasant side effect. Knowing he would never again

wake with an aching head…just one other thing to look forward to.

He made to stand, then stopped, frowning at the whisky bottle on the floor by the

bedside table. If he had held on to his patience a bit longer, not given into despair so

quickly, that bottle would not be empty. Yet… He gave his head an experimental shake.

Nothing. No pounding whatsoever. Umm… Perhaps a bout of vigorous exercise served

as a preemptive cure for sledgehammers. Who knew? He shrugged. Right or wrong, he

wouldn't have need to test that theory.

He went to the washstand to splash water over his face. Eyes closed, he blindly

reached for the towel beside the basin and swiped it over his wet face, dragging it along

his bristly jaw. The shave could wait. He wanted to see Arthur now.

After donning a pair of comfortable, well-worn breeches, he snagged the navy

blue silk dressing gown from the armchair by the fireplace and slipped it on. He

frequently trudged downstairs in search of a steaming cup of tea to clear his head, so

his lack of proper attire wouldn't raise any eyebrows by his staff.

He passed a quick hand over his hair to tame the mess created by Arthur's greedy

fingers, and then left his bedchamber and made his way to the dining room. What to do

today? Nothing out of doors, at least not while it rained. Billiards again? Maybe. Arthur

might want to put his nose back into the pile of papers Leopold had dragged him away

from yesterday. He could indulge him for a couple of hours, as long as Arthur

promised to indulge Leopold after…perhaps with a quiet afternoon secluded in the

study. The drapes drawn closed and the door locked. They could put the leather couch

to good use.

As Leopold went down the main stairs, the front door opened and Jones entered,

flicking the rain off the sleeves of his black coat. The footman quickly closed the door,

shutting out the wind. Damn dreadful weather. The rain beat against the house in what

sounded like an ever-increasing tempo. Wonderful. A deluge. At least he didn't have to

go out in it.

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Ava March

The sharp
crack
of a whip stopped him in his tracks. Beneath the sounds of the

storm was the distinct
crunch
of gravel under carriage wheels and horses' hooves.

He felt the color drain from his face.

Heart in his throat, he took the last three steps in a leap and darted for the door,

one hand reaching for the knob and the other shoving Jones aside.

“Sir?”

Ignoring Jones, he flung the door open.

The breath whooshed out of his chest at the sight of a carriage on the gravel path,