Page 45 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
Kit’s hunger stretched in a new direction.
That damned white nightgown, now rumpled and formless, had no right to be so beguiling. So as not to disturb the sleeper, Kit laid his palm gently upon the thin layer of linen covering a lean arm draped across his chest. Lando hummed, wriggled, then settled once more, and Kit’s morning cockstand responded happily.
His hand didn’t stay still for long; his fingers itched to explore, to travel where his mouth couldn’t, not while Lando slumbered. As he skimmed them lower, skirting under the bunched hem of the garment, he imagined he was kissing Lando through the tips of them, nuzzling at his warm creases and intimate folds, pressing his lips up against miles of flawless skin.
His wandering hand’s first discovery was a weakness for a taut slim thigh hitched across his, for warm supple flesh curving into a soft swell of buttock. He swept slow circles up and around the firm meat of it, each stroke laying down a new layer of intimacy as his fingertips grazed ever closer towards the shallow divide dipping between one perfectly rounded buttock and the other. Lando hummed again, a contented rasp low in his throat as he burrowed deeper into Kit’s side. If Kit’s cockstand were the yardstick—and it was starting to feel as if it approached that length—then he was definitely on the mend.
When the pad of his finger skimmed across Lando’s entrance, Lando’s breath hitched, and he raised his leg higher. When his prick dug into Kit’s thigh, and Kit answered with another drift of his fingers down Lando’s divide, Lando snuffled a laugh.
“Pritchard would vouch I am loathsome when awoken before I have requested it. But you are forgiven. Your touch is better than any of my dreams.”
In one glorious manoeuvre, Lando divested himself of the nightgown, then shifted over, aligning his body above Kit’s. Resting on his elbows, he looked down between them, Kit’s chest and belly dark and hairy, his own milky and smooth. Their cocks greeted each other for the very first time, and Lando almost purred with pleasure. “We are like night and day, you and I.”
“More like alabaster and rough-hewn granite.” Kit scratched a nail across one of Lando’s pale nipples before sliding his fingers higher up Lando’s chest to cup his chin. The man had barely sprouted a whisker overnight, whereas Kit already sported what some boasted as a full beard.
He groaned as Lando rolled his hips above him. “You are unreasonably handsome, Lando,” he teased. “And you wield your beauty like a sword with which to slay me.”
Lando’s laugh was throaty and full of want. “I had no idea rough-hewn granite could be so poetic.”
He rolled his hips again, his long pale prick gliding alongside Kit’s thickly veined one. “You are no stranger to a sword yourself,” he pointed out, then dropped his lips to Kit’s to deliver a soft kiss. “And I want your sword,” he whispered in a breathy gust. “So, so much. I want your sword to lead this dance.”
Kit’s wide eyes said all where his voice failed. His lover’s meaning was unmistakeable.
“We have the necessary in the chevet,” murmured Lando, kissing a trail along Kit’s jaw, his throat, his shoulder, his… Ye gods, yes.Take the lead. Be buried deep inside Lando.
Assailed by his urgent need, Kit heaved himself up to reach for the oil. Then barked a yelp as the ribs on his left side screamed a protest, his hip bone rattled in its socket, and his right temple throbbed a chorus of disapproval. Ye gods, no. He flopped back down against the pillows.
“There is nothing I would like more,” he confessed with a frustrated growl. “But I fear…I have a grave concern that the level of vigour required for proper swordplay may cause my head to topple clean off my neck.”
Lando giggled against his shoulder, and Kit joined in before groaning as his hard length brushed once more against Lando’s.
“Damn you, if you do that one more time then,” Kit said, arching up into him, “I wonder whether I might live quite well without it.”
In one swift motion, Lando was up and straddling his hips. He leaned forward to plant his mouth on Kit’s. “I have become exceedingly fond of your head. I do believe we should preserve it a little longer. Allow me to assist.”
Giddily, Kit gazed at his lover as he reached across him to the chevet. His mouth watered as his greedy eyes feasted on Lando’s lithe form. A form Kit had fallen stupidly in love with; whatever the outcome of the next few days, his heart would never return to its former dimensions.
“I’m right, you know,” he breathed, “You are unfairly handsome.”
Once more, Lando straddled him. The sweet musk of jasmine filled the air as he massaged oil into that hidden part of himself, moaning softly. His other hand was at his ballocks, fondling them. His lips parted as his breath quickened; his cheeks flushed with warmth. Sore limbs and throbbing head forgotten, Kit’s own cock leaped, and he pinched himself, wishing he could feast on the spectacle for hours but fearing he would burst with desire if he did.
“More of that, Lando, and I may spill before I am even inside you.”
Biting his lip and flicking Kit a naughty glance, Lando’s palm curled around his length, and he self-pleasured. As if Kit wasn’t there.
“Now you are making sport of me.” Kit arched his back towards nothing, seeking out relief, and cursed.
A single pearl beaded at Lando’s tip. He swiped it with his thumb, bringing it to his mouth. He licked his tongue across it. “And you are making a king of me.”
It was time; Kit could wait no longer. Sensing it, Lando’s hand left his own shaft to hold Kit’s in place. Then, very deliberately, he lowered both his gaze and his body.
Kit watched himself—nay, tortured himself—disappear inside his lover. Only the tip, at first, but so hot and tight, melting Kit from the inside out. His lungs filled with the heady, musky scent of jasmine, and already, he spiralled to high oblivion.
“Yes,” he breathed.
After a beat, during which Kit thought his expanding heart might cease to function entirely, Lando pressed deeper. Then barely eased back before sinking down again. A long shuddering sigh escaped him as his channel accepted the blunt intrusion, sending a rush of heat all the way to Kit’s toes.
“You are magnificent,” he whispered.
