Page 8 of Their Master

Suffice it to say that Smith and Luke had scarcely spent any time together for almost a year.

Smith heard the door open and turned, smiling when he saw the other man.

“Mr. Knox said you wanted me, sir.” Luke towered over Smith’s five foot nine inches by at least half a foot. Yet he was the very image of docile subservience with his eyes lowered to Smith’s feet.

Smith took Luke’s chin and lifted his face until he could see the crystalline blue eyes of his beautiful giant.

“I have been neglecting you terribly, haven’t I, Luke?”

Twin slashes of color appeared over Luke’s elegant cheekbones. “Not at all, sir.”

Smith pouted. “Are you saying that you haven’t missed me?” he teased, fully aware the poor man could really only give one answer.

“No—er, that is, of course I’ve missed you, sir.” Luke’s voice was fervent and his heated gaze was gratifying.

Smith laughed at Luke’s flustered demeanor and pretty blush. He knew the other man would be a consummate performer after so many years working as a whore, but Smith enjoyed his act, regardless.

He lightly brushed the back of his knuckles over Luke’s chiseled jaw and then lowered his hand. “Undress me.”

Luke’s huge but deft fingers immediately went to the buttons of his waistcoat and Smith enjoyed his competent ministrations in silence, content to admire the man as he worked.

Once he’d stripped Smith to his skin, Luke reached for the pile of discarded clothing—intending to take it to the hamper in the dressing room—but Smith shook his head. “Leave it for now.”

Luke’s blue eyes widened. His servants knew that Smith abhorred clutter and usually couldn’t bear the sight of even a single scattered garment.

But right now, he needed the other man’s mouth more than he needed a tidy room.

He put a hand on Luke’s broad shoulder and pressed lightly. “Kneel.”

His servant’s gaze darkened to near black as he sank to the carpet. A person could fake many things, but pupillary expansion was not one of them, and Smith’s already hard cock throbbed at this silent sign of desire.

He wrapped his fist around his shaft and pumped himself until several beads of moisture ran from the slit. “Suck me.”

Without hesitating, Luke opened his pretty mouth and swallowed Smith’s prick all the way down to the root.

“Fuck,” Smith groaned, his eyelids fluttering at the sudden burst of pleasure. He’d never had a lover who could take all of him with such ease. Honestly, he wondered if there was anything that could gag the man.

“You feel so good,” he said, carding his fingers through Luke’s pale, silky hair and holding him full of cock, reveling in both the physical sensation of burying himself in Luke’s tight throat as well pure masculine satisfaction at dominating such a large man.

Luke remained motionless, but Smith felt the strain build in his muscles the longer he was deprived of air. He waited until Luke all but vibrated with need and then withdrew just enough to allow him to breathe.

Luke noiselessly filled his lungs rather than gasping or choking; everything about him was graceful, a grace that was all the more amazing given his size.

Smith rolled his hips, fucking Luke’s throat with slow, deep strokes, savoring the way the other man’s lips and tongue massaged his shaft from root to tip.

Normally Smith would draw out such a pleasurable experience, but not tonight.

Tonight he needed to empty his aching balls so he could concentrate on what he really needed from Luke.

∞∞∞

Luke was so pitifully grateful to be back in Mr. Smith’s room—at his feet—that his eyes filled with tears of joy as the other man plunged into him, the violence of his thrusting giving him an excellent excuse for his soundless weeping.

It had been so long since his master had summoned him that Luke had given up hope of ever being called again.

Several months earlier—devastated and desperate—Luke had finally capitulated to David Markham—one of Mr. Smith’s other footmen—who had been pursuing him almost since the day Luke had come to work for Mr. Smith.

Although Luke and David had fallen into an easy, if not especially stimulating, arrangement over the past months, he had continued to pine for his employer.

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