Page 32 of Leather and Longing
Paul couldn’t hold in his laughter. “Oh, you aresoclose to the mark.”
“Adam was really going to spank you?”
He pushed out a sigh. “It’s a long story.” He didn’t want to go into all that shit. It was too late, and he’d had way too much to drink.
“Or is it more the case that youwanthim to spank you?” Taylor’s voice was suffused with a definite hint of smugness.
Shit.
“Don’t even go there,” Paul ground out. “I still have a serious case of blue balls, and seeing as I epically failed to get off atyour party—in spite of your best intentions,” he added when he caught Taylor’s swift intake of breath, “I’d better go and take care of it.”
Taylor laughed. “G’night, Paul. Go play with yourself.”
Paul gave a loud snort and disconnected the call. He got out of the chair and groped around on the floor for his shoes.Damn it, where the fuck are they?He giggled. Maybe the dust bunnies had got them. The idea tickled him, and he was still chuckling when he found his way over to the wall to flick on the light switch.
Warm light bathed the library, making him screw his eyes up. What had his eyes opening wide was the sight of Adam stretched out naked on the couch, head propped up by cushions, a bottle of brandy between his thighs.
He was playing with a very heavy, full cock, his fingers lazily stroking the firm shaft.
Paul froze. “Oh, fuck me.”
Adam focused unseeing eyes in his direction, his lips twisted into a smirk. “After what I’ve just heard, that’s quite possible.”
It was amazing how quickly shock sobered the mind.
“How much have you had to drink?” It was a lame question, but better than voicing the first thing that came into Paul’s head.
God, yeah, want that.
“Don’t pull that shit on me, boy.” Adam hauled himself into an upright position, clutching the bottle. “I heard every word.” He waved it in Paul’s direction. “You know, you’ve got a filthy mouth.” He reached down to the floor for his cane that lay beside the couch and picked it up. With his other hand he held onto the brandy. Judging by the way he moved, Paul estimated he hadn’t drunk that much of it.
“Adam, I’m sor?—”
“Oh, I bet you are.” Adam used the cane to help him rise unsteadily to his feet, but when it slipped from his grasp, he started to fall forward, flinging the bottle onto the couch.
Oh fuck.
Paul darted over to catch him, but Adam’s weight proved too much, and the two of them ended up on the floor, Paul trapped beneath him. Adam’s head landed on his shoulder, and he turned, burying his head in Paul’s neck, his lips brushing over the skin.
“Fuck, you smell good,” he said in a throaty whisper.
Much as he wanted this—and God, did he—Paul wasn’t about to let Adam go any further, not when he wasn’t stone cold sober. He placed his hands on Adam’s chest and pushed up, trying to wriggle out from under him.
Adam let out a drunken growl and grabbed his wrists, shoving them over Paul’s head and pinning them to the floor. He hovered over Paul, his face scant inches away, the faint trace of brandy clinging to him. Paul could feel the heat pouring off Adam’s bare skin.
Adam ground against him. “Why’re you hard? You been thinking about me?”
Fuck it. Just go with it.
He could regret it in the morning when he was sober. When theybothwere. Right then there was the very real possibility he was about to get fucked, and his hole clenched at the prospect.
“Can you blame me?” he said, his voice uneven. “My employer’s fucking hot.”
Adam tightened his grip on Paul’s wrists. “I thought your employer was a dinosaur.” His voice, tinged with amusement, was equally breathless. He rotated his hips, grinding against Paul’s groin, before dropping his head to nuzzle into Paul’s neck.
God, he’s strong.
The feeling of being totally helpless, overpowered, dominated, was a heady one. Paul was almost dizzy with lust.
