Page 9 of Their Master

“Your heart just isn’t in this, Luke. You’re in love with the master, aren’t you?” David had asked Luke one night after he’d performed especially poorly in bed.

Although David’s expression had been sympathetic rather than jealous or mocking, Luke had not wanted to admit the truth of the accusation—at least not to another person.

But it was true: he’d fallen deeply, madly, irrevocably in love with Mr. Smith, a man who would never be his. At least not for more than an evening. And, for months now, it had seemed that even a night’s pleasure would be denied to him.

He’d resigned himself to suffering in silence but then this evening a miracle had occurred and here he was. Exactly where he wanted to be, on his knees for his master.

“Touch me, Luke,” Smith murmured as his fingers tightened in Luke’s hair.

Luke seized the rare invitation as joyfully as he seized Mr. Smith’s muscular arse, groaning at the delicious feel of his unyielding body beneath his fingers.

Smith never allowed Luke to explore him the way he yearned to do. If it were up to Luke, he’d spent hours exploring every inch of his body with his mouth and hands.

He massaged the hard globes of flesh before caressing around to the front and scraping his blunt nails over the thin skin of Smith’s narrow hips and up the hard ridges of his stomach, wishing he had two mouths so he could lick and kiss the fascinating latticing of his abdomen while sucking his cock.

Luke had been a whore at one of London’s most exclusive brothels for over a decade and he’d worked alongside some of the most beautiful men and women in England, but he’d never met Mr. Smith’s equal for sheer physical perfection.

Although he was not a big man, he was impeccably sculpted and flawlessly proportioned. But even more attractive than his splendid body was the danger that simmered just below the surface of his pleasant smiles and courteous demeanor.

Luke didn’t know why he thought Smith was dangerous because the other man had never behaved violently or dangerously in his presence. On the contrary, Mr. Smith was unfailingly kind and soft spoken—with everyone, even servants.

And yet every time Luke engaged in sex with his employer his pulse pounded as if he were about to run into a burning building; he was the most exciting man Luke had ever met, and also the most reserved and unknowable.

All too soon his master’s thrusts became ragged and wild and Luke’s mouth watered as Smith’s shaft thickened, presaging ejaculation.

But instead of emptying himself in Luke’s throat, Smith suddenly withdrew.

Luke stared up at him, trapped by his dark, intense gaze as Smith gripped his hair painfully tight with one hand and fisted his cock with the other.

“Open,” Smith ordered roughly.

Luke complied instantly and the other man commenced to paint not only Luke’s exposed tongue, but the rest of his face, with ribbons of hot spend, milking himself with brutal jerks, until there was nothing left.

Smith growled and then grabbed Luke beneath the arms and pulled him up off his knees, an astonishing feat of strength considering that Luke outweighed him by at least four stone.

He slammed Luke against the wall hard enough to knock a painting to the hardwood floor with a clatter, and then claimed Luke’s spunk-covered lips with a savage kiss.

Emboldened by his master’s enthusiasm, Luke grabbed Smith’s arse with both hands and ground his iron-hard prick against his belly.

Smith’s chest rumbled with approval as he licked from Luke’s mouth up his cheek, cleaning every drop of his spend from Luke’s face. The rasping of his tongue on Luke’s temple, nose, and even eyelids, was unbearably erotic.

But as rough as Smith’s actions were, Luke felt cherished, almost… loved.

He also felt close to exploding, his balls boiling with the need to ejaculate.

As if he’d spoken aloud, Smith tore open Luke’s trousers and grabbed his prick in a painfully tight grasp, pumping him from root to tip.

“You’re so hard for me.”

Luke whimpered, his hips jerking. “Please.”

“No, don’t come,” Smith ordered, his brutal stroking making that a very difficult order to obey.

And then Mr. Smith leaned forward and spoke words from Luke’s darkest, most delicious, fantasies.

“I want you to fuck me, Luke,” Smith said. “But first, I want you to whip me.”

Chapter 3

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