Page 46 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
Lando’s dark pupils, ringed in silver, met Kit’s as he sank to capture his lips. “And you are…ah…substantial.”
Lando rode him with the same elegance and expertise as he drove forward his sleek black stallion. Under Kit’s hands, his thigh’s ropey muscles flexed and softened, flexed and softened as he rocked back and forth. Kit’s bones dissolved to nothing as Lando let out a blissful low hum, his silvery-blue eyes fluttering closed, his pale hands gripping the thick fur on Kit’s chest. Injuries be damned, Kit raised himself up and tugged Lando down, clasping his flushed face between his strong hands, plunging his tongue into the sultry treasure of his lover’s mouth.
“This…” he panted, his soul full of Lando, “…is too much.”
Kit’s need for release was building fast. Lando’s, too, Kit knew from the tautening of his belly, the tension in his thighs, the choppiness of the rhythm. One of his hands found Lando’s weeping cock, clumsily he fisted it, loving the sounds pouring from his beautiful lover, loving how Lando’s head fell back, loving their shared sweet surrender.
“Yes.” Lando cried. “Yes, Kit.”
Stuttering and shuddering, Lando rode him through his crisis and beyond until Kit’s member could take no more. Where he began and Lando ended, Kit knew not, and as Lando spilled across his chest, his neck, his face, he’d have been hard-pressed to remember his own name. All he knew was to drag his lover against him, to crush him against his chest, and hold him close as if he’d never be parted from him.
*
FOR HOURS AFTERWARDthey lay entwined. Though the sheets were sticky from lovemaking, neither were desirous to move. They talked of nothing and everything, of how Lando’s release matted Kit’s furry trail, of how he insisted nothing compared to that first sinking down onto another man’s cock, not even a willing open mouth. How they were well-matched for height. How Lando had lain every night in this bed since Kit was brought home and much of each day too. How he had cleaned and dressed Kit’s head wound under Jasper’s instruction while Kit slept. How he’d ordered new velvet ribbons for Kit’s hair in every conceivable shade of midnight blue and a few in a bright magenta, too, simply because he could. How he’d like to bind Kit’s wrists up in his pearls and ride him as he’d just ridden him. How Kit would never again breathe in the scent of jasmine without recalling this precious moment and the precious man with whom he shared it.
Their fingers were interlaced. Lando’s head made a pillow of Kit’s chest, while once again his thigh found a home across Kit’s hips. One of Lando’s slim calves even snaked around a sturdier one of Kit’s. If his time was suddenly called, Kit would shuffle off his mortal coil a happy man.
So, it was with a heavy weight resting upon his heart, he felt obliged to spoil things.
“I must make a confession, Lando.” Staring up at the plain white plaster ceiling, his head felt clearer than it had in days. “A grave one.”
“Out with it, my darling,” Lando answered sleepily. “Confession is to be encouraged. It empties the soul, making room for more sin.” His fingertips trailed down Kit’s bare flank to rest at his hip. “And sinning with you has become my very favourite way to pass the time.”
Kit’s own hand closed over Lando’s, stilling it. Was it too late to change his mind? He could confess to weariness, dizziness, hunger, or a sore head. He could feign ignorance of the whole beating, and Lando would be none the wiser. A head wound was an excellent excuse for convenient amnesia.
Except, past deeds had an annoying way of catching up with one, whether one sought them out or not. His temple throbbed, serving to remind him that Clark had not forgotten him, and that wily Jasper, coming to his aid, might know there was more to the episode than opportunistic thievery. And his dear, honest Lando, with whom he could not deny he had fallen deeply in love, deserved to hear the truth.
So if not now, when?
“The ruffians who set upon me,” he started. And exhaled deeply. “They were lying in wait when I returned to my former lodgings. A dogged Bow Street runner, determined to bring me to account, paid them for their services. I…I am a wanted man, Lando, no better than my assailants.”
Already, he felt washed clean. Even if he now faced a mountain to climb to regain Lando’s trust. And a silence to fill; once he had begun, he couldn’t stop.
“I have rather made a mull of things. I do not deserve your forgiveness but seek it anyhow. Your belief in me and your fondness has been misplaced. I fear my previous actions may put our scheme in peril. This runner will not stop until he has a noose around my neck.”
Lando said nothing, but neither did he move away. If Kit hadn’t just admitted his duplicity and shallow nature, he would imagine the other man slept.
When Lando eventually made a sound, it was very much like a low chuckle. “Poor Pritchard. I shall be quite swimming in lard this evening.”
What the blazes?
“He wagered me a florin that you’d not spill unless I held a knife to your throat.” Lando twisted to press his lips against Kit’s chest. “I disagreed. A most scrupulous heart beats underneath this irascible shell. This very fine and um…quite hirsuteirascible shell.”
Kit cursed. Every time Kit thought he had the measure of him, Lando surprised him anew. “My lord,” he spluttered. “I am at a loss to understand your mirth. My head must ail me more than I first believed.”
The cool hand on Kit’s hip strayed lower, commencing a lazy and thoroughly undeserved stroking of his ballocks.
“Your head is fine.” Lando rubbed his nose along Kit’s pelt, breathing him in. “And I am not your lord, even when you are demonstrating your irascibility perfectly. I have been abreast of our perseverantMr Clarksince you first disclosed your habit of picking pockets. Which, of course, was a truth you were courageous to share, given that you sought my assistance at the time.”
“How the devil do you know his name?” Kit cried. The ballock stroking continued unabated. “And stop distracting me!”
His lover seemed even more amused. “Were you not paying attention when I described my brother Robert’s varied attributes? There is very little he can’t unearth if he puts his mind to it.”
“But…what was…did he?” Ugh. That hand. This man. Never mind being unable to think straight, Kit’s mind zigzag-hopped all over the place.
Taking pity on him, Lando withdrew his ministrations from Kit’s tenderest parts to raise himself onto his elbows. His damned silvery eyes glittered like precious diamonds. How had Kit ever believed them cold and icy?
“I have a confession of my own, Kit, darling. Do you recall your feeble attempt to blackmail me?”
