Simply Voracious (3 page)

He knocked on Delinsky’s door and was admitted by a manservant who ushered him through into the large sitting room, where his host sat reading by the fire. Delinsky immediately put his book aside and rose to his feet. He was dressed in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, his coat discarded over the back of the chair.

“St. Clare, how kind of you to come.” He gestured to the seat opposite him. “Gregor will serve our supper and then he’ll be off for the night. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’m sure we can manage.” Paul took the offered seat. “Thank you, sir.”

Was the fact that the manservant was leaving for the night significant, or was Delinsky merely being polite? Sometimes Paul hated the subterfuge that came with his sexual preferences. Working out whether another man was interested in going to bed with him often seemed as complex and deadly as negotiating a peace treaty. It wasn’t surprising when the punishments for sodomy were painful, humiliating, and in some cases terminal.

After the meal, Delinsky waited until the manservant cleared the small table between them and left before he poured them both glasses of red wine. He raised his glass. “I understand you are to be congratulated.”

Paul groaned. “Have I been offered a military promotion I didn’t know about? Not that that is likely to happen in the current climate. In truth, I’m thinking of selling out.”

“A military promotion does seem unlikely,” Delinsky conceded, “but I can see why you might be considering selling out. I expect you will be taking on new and far more onerous duties.”

“You’re talking about this Ashmolton business, aren’t you?” Paul sighed. “Unfortunately it is true. Apparently I’m the heir presumptive of the new Duke of Ashmolton.”

“As I said, you are to be congratulated.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Paul took a gulp of his excellent wine. “I never thought to succeed to the title. There always seemed a satisfyingly large group of males ahead of me on various branches of the family tree. The war and the climate of India haven’t worked in my favor.”

“Most men would be delighted to succeed to a dukedom.”

“I’m sure they would, but me?” Paul flicked a glance at Delinsky and found he was watching him intently. “You are my commanding officer. You know how well I respond to authority and protocol and everything else the blasted aristocracy stands for.”

Delinsky’s smile was wry. “You don’t take orders worth a damn, but you are still one of the best officers I’ve ever had under my command, and one of the bravest.”

Paul shrugged. “That is very kind of you, but I’ve done nothing that any man in my shoes would not have done.”

“Not so. Swanfield said he couldn’t have gotten all the prisoners out of that hellhole without your help.”

“He’s lying, of course,” Paul said flippantly. “He simply didn’t want to take all the glory for himself.”

Delinsky sat back and studied him, one long-fingered hand wrapped around his wineglass. “You and Swanfield do have something in common. Neither of you can accept a compliment.”

“We’re not taught to accept praise. It is beaten out of us in school.”

“So I’ve heard, although I understand that Swanfield didn’t go to school.”

Paul sipped at his wine. “You seem very well informed about Major Lord Gabriel Swanfield.”

“I’m well informed about all the men I command. I find it useful to understand them.”

“And why is that? Surely all you need to know is that they will die on your order?”

Delinsky went still. “You truly hold such a poor opinion of me?”

“Not of you, particularly, just of the English army in general.”

“I’m not even English.”

“Then why do you fight for us?”

A muscle flicked in Delinsky’s jaw and his eyes narrowed. “You might have forgotten that my original regiment was decimated by Napoléon’s forces, as was my entire country.”

Paul let out his breath. “I apologize, sir. That was uncalled for. I have never doubted either your courage or your commitment to the cause.” He put down his glass and rose to his feet. “Do you wish me to leave?”

Delinsky leaned his head back and looked up at him. “I don’t want you to go anywhere. I find your honesty refreshing.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Quite sure. Now please, sit down and tell me about Swanfield. I understand he married Lisette Delornay-Ross.”

Paul sank back down into his seat. “You know her?”

“From both the pleasure house and from society. She is a very interesting woman. I think she will do very well with Swanfield.”

“I forget that you occasionally frequent the pleasure house.”

“I’m not there as much as you are. Christian Delornay says that you are practically a member of the staff.”

“Gabriel gave me his membership when he became part of the family.” Paul grimaced. “He thought it might console me for his loss, and offer me other avenues of sexual delight.”

“You haven’t exactly lost him, have you? He only got married. I would imagine that Lisette Delornay is more accommodating than most wives would be of her husband’s little peccadilloes.”

“But I don’t want to take advantage of their particular circumstances.”

“Why not?”

“Because I think I deserve more.”

Delinsky nodded. “So do I. Is that why you are almost always with a woman at the pleasure house?”

“You’ve watched me?” Paul looked straight into the other man’s eyes and tried to suppress his excitement. “I was attempting to broaden my horizons.”

“For what purpose?”

“Because I am a fool.”

Delinsky frowned. “I do not understand.”

“I promised Gabriel that I would at least learn how to bed a woman. And, to my surprise, I found that it was quite easy to do so and even quite enjoyable.”

“Is it also because you wish to marry one day?”

“That would hardly be fair to my poor wife, would it? Marrying someone, knowing that you could never give them what they needed from you? Your whole self?”

“But you can bed a woman.”

“That’s not enough, though. I’m not sure I would be able to keep my vows and not always yearn for the forbidden.”

“I understand.” Delinsky nodded and rose to his feet. “I have to dress for the theater; would you mind continuing our conversation while I change?”

Paul felt a ridiculous rush of disappointment and barely managed to keep from voicing his objections to the sudden end of their conversation. Had Delinsky decided he was no longer interested? Did he see Paul’s vacillating as a sign of weakness? He followed Delinsky into the other room, noting the newly brushed blue-and-gray uniform laid out on the bed and the shining black boots on the rug in front of the fire.

“Damnation,” Delinsky muttered. “This button seems reluctant to open.” He held out his wrist to Paul. “Is there a thread caught somewhere?”

Paul cupped Delinsky’s elbow and bent his head over the proffered shirt cuff. The scent of warm man and washed linen breathed over him and made it hard to concentrate. It didn’t help when Delinsky leaned in and spoke close to his ear.

“Can you work it free?”

Blindly, Paul fumbled with the buttonhole, untangling the reluctant thread. At last he succeeded in freeing the button and looked straight into Delinsky’s silver eyes.

“I think I got it.” His throat dried as the other man brought his thumb up to caress Paul’s lower lip.

“Thank you.”

Paul swallowed hard, the motion drawing the tip of Delinsky’s thumb between his lips. He couldn’t help flicking his tongue over the callused pad, felt the answering response in his cock as it thickened and sprang to life. Delinsky pushed his thumb deeper, and Paul sucked on it as if there was nothing else in the world he needed more.

When Delinsky slowly withdrew his thumb, Paul was panting and already aroused. He watched as Delinsky unbuttoned the placket of his breeches and pulled his shirt over his head to display the taut muscles of his stomach and his battle-scarred chest. His hair there was pale and almost impossible to see. The lieutenant was also both taller and broader than Paul was.

Paul’s gaze dropped to the opening of Delinsky’s breeches, where an impressive bulge pressed against the constraints of his linen. With all his much-vaunted experience, the sight of Constantine Delinsky’s cock made Paul feel like a shy virgin again. He wanted to fall to his knees and use his mouth on the man, to suck him until he came hard and fast.

He shuddered as Delinsky slid a hand under his chin and turned his face up.

“I want you, St. Clare. I have always wanted you.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me so before?”

“Because there was only ever one man for you—Gabriel Swanfield.” He paused. “I will not compete for your affections. I would rather do without.”

Paul held his gaze. “Gabriel doesn’t want me anymore, and I don’t want him.”

“I’m not sure I believe you. You love the man.”

“And because I love him, I had to let him go. Can you understand that?” Paul touched Delinsky’s cheek. “I want this. I want you.”

Delinsky’s smile was slow and serious. “Then perhaps I’ll wait before I put on my new clothes. I wouldn’t want to spoil them.”

He carried on stripping, his movements assured, as the long beautiful lines of his body emerged into the flickering candlelight. When he was completely naked, he turned to Paul, his cock jutting upward toward his flat belly, and gestured toward Paul’s clothes.

“May I help you undress, or would you prefer to have me like this, fully clothed, with just your cock freed to fuck?”

Paul licked his lips and Delinsky’s gaze followed the motion. “I’d like to touch you.”

“Touch me, then.”

Delinsky stepped closer until they were only a few inches apart, and the crown of his cock nudged against Paul’s waistcoat. Paul brought his hands up to Delinsky’s broad shoulders and felt him shiver. He spread his fingers wide and ran his palms over the other man’s chest, tracing every scar, the tight buds of his nipples, and the lush curve of tense muscle.

“Ah,” Delinsky sighed. “It’s been a long time for me.”

“You haven’t indulged at the pleasure house?”

Delinsky opened his eyes. “Like you, I’ve had only women there.”

Paul halted his explorations and stared back. “Which do you prefer?”

“I like both, but I prefer women.” He hesitated. “Does that offend you? Would you rather I preferred men? Perhaps I should have made myself clear before we started this.”

Paul closed his fingers around Delinsky’s nipple and squeezed hard. “I can scarcely judge you, can I?”

A smile flickered over Delinsky’s face, followed by a hiss as Paul twisted his flesh. “I’m not like Gabriel. I don’t have to choose one sex or the other. I’ll take you just as you are, if you’ll do the same for me.”

Paul slid one hand down toward Delinsky’s cock and halted his fingers just above the now wet crown. He felt Delinsky’s stomach tighten and saw the slight inclination of his hips, as if he couldn’t help but strain toward Paul’s touch. Being fully clothed while the more powerfully built Delinsky was naked was strangely erotic.

He sat on the edge of the bed and stared up at Delinsky. “Will you make yourself come for me?”

“Is that what you wish?” Delinsky’s smile was wild. “I’m so damned hard, it won’t take me but a moment.” He wrapped one hand around the base of his shaft, gripping himself tightly. Paul leaned forward and slid his arm around the other man’s hips, bringing him closer.

“Come for me.”

Delinsky began to move his hand up and down his shaft, his movements unhurried and graceful, only the intent expression on his face giving away his need. Paul inhaled the scent of the slick wetness now pouring from the slit of Delinsky’s cock and sighed. He couldn’t stop himself from sliding his forefinger around the crown, spreading the pearly wetness and lubricating the straining shaft.

“Oh, God,” Delinsky groaned and he started to jerk his cock faster through his clenched fist, the slick sounds loud along with his panting breaths. He started to climax, and Paul watched every jet of come seep through Delinsky’s fingers and drip down over his tight balls and thighs.

When Delinsky finished coming, Paul bent his head and carefully licked at his partner’s shaft. He kept licking until Delinsky groaned and started to grow again. Paul looked up. “Undo my breeches, release my cock.”

Delinsky obliged, and Paul stifled a moan as his cock and balls were carefully drawn away from his soaked underthings and cupped in Delinsky’s broad palm.

“Kneel down.”

Delinsky knelt between Paul’s outstretched thighs; his superior height meant his cock was now level with Paul’s. Paul reached forward and gripped the other man’s shaft, bringing it against his own. Delinsky sighed as Paul rubbed their cocks together and shifted his grip to surround both of their thrusting shafts.

“Together, then,” Paul murmured. “Let’s come together.” He slid his other hand into Delinsky’s hair and brought his lush mouth down to meet his. “Kiss me.” Delinsky obliged, his tongue delving deep, thrusting in the same intimate rhythm as their working cocks. Paul closed his eyes and simply enjoyed all the sensations: the feel of Delinsky’s skin, the textures of his mouth, and the ferocious yearning behind his kisses. Heat and wet and thrusting flesh, tension building until he groaned into Delinsky’s mouth and climaxed.

“Ah, God.”

Con murmured a curse in his native language and tore his mouth away from Paul’s only to bury his head in the crook of his shoulder as his come flooded all over their joined hands. It had been a long time since he’d allowed a man to touch him like this. He’d forgotten how good it felt. The sensation of his skin against the roughness of St. Clare’s clothing made him feel raw and exposed.

He shuddered as St. Clare continued to touch him, his hands skimming over the curve of his arse, making his cock twitch in response. He hadn’t lied when he’d told St. Clare that he’d always wanted him. St. Clare’s soft brown eyes and blond hair concealed a man of great courage and worth, a true warrior. He’d always admired the man’s stubborn loyalty to those he loved, a trait he’d found sadly lacking in his previous relationships.

Constantine raised his head and found St. Clare looking gravely at him. “May we dispense with your clothes now? I would like to see you.”