“Hector?”
✥ ✥ ✥
The exhilaration from the bruising ride had gone to his head. Wentworth swore the whole experience—trees, sky, Hector—wrapped him in an almost opium-like euphoria.
“I want you to fuck me, Wentworth. Prepare me.” An expression similar to a zealot’s lit Hector’s face—lips parted, nostrils flared, eyes half-lidded, face flushed. Breathtaking.
What a heady feeling, knowing Hector wanted him so completely. He fumbled for the jar, dropped it, then picked it up again with a handful of grass, but he scooped out a large dollop without vegetation. The thick cream, warm from Hector’s body, issued the scent of roses. He slicked his penis, then had to squeeze the base to control his rush toward ecstasy.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly slid one finger behind Hector’s balls, found the opening, and rimmed the puckered muscle slowly, circling and circling.
That caress alone almost set Wentworth off. His cock leaked in anticipation of sliding into that sweet hole. His own arse puckered with want. He slipped one finger in, then two.
Hector took them without complaint, his lithe, young body writhing. Wentworth knew from Hector’s improved knowledge and sexual assertiveness that the lad had taken lovers in the time they were apart, but Wentworth had not asked anything about these men. He did not want to think about them.
Scissoring his fingers, Wentworth opened the hole enough to slip in a third. His cock jumped at the tightness and warmth. He would take Hector, soon. Very soon.
Hector gritted his teeth and looked at the sky, seeming to fight for control. A thin layer of sweat coated his face.
Three fingers moved slowly in and out without resistance now, so he crooked them forward to find that spot.
“No,” Hector yelled, nearly crumpling atop him.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Stop, just stop. I’m going to…” He clenched around the still fingers. “Stop for a second. I want you inside me when I come.” Shaking and breathing heavily, he pushed Wentworth’s fingers out and scooted up. Aligning cock to hole, he sat slowly on Wentworth’s achingly hard staff. Inch by excruciatingly slow inch, Hector slid down.
Wentworth wanted to drive up into that blissful channel, almost mad with want. It took all his control not to force his way. Finally, oh so late in arriving, Wentworth was inside Hector’s sweet, sweet grip.
The pressure along his shaft was almost unbearable. Too intense. Too exquisite. He would not last, and he had to give Hector an orgasm first. As much of a bounder as he’d been yesterday, he could at least hold back his pleasure until he made Hector come. He owed him that much. He began to rock, slowly, aiming his prick to the sensitive spot deep inside him.
Hector, head back, eyes closed and mouth open, moaned. The sound was low, primal, erotic as hell.
This would be a fast coupling, Wentworth knew. It would be near impossible for either one of them to hold back. Not with the spiraling edge of an orgasm already tickling the back of his spine. He quickened his lunges, which began to keep pace with his breath. Up. Down.
Grabbing Hector’s hips, he thrust into him, hard, lifting him. Together they found an age-old rhythm, older than the hills themselves.
✥ ✥ ✥
He loved Wentworth, had loved him for so many years, worshipped him since almost the first moment they’d met. As a lad, Wentworth always treated Hector as if he were part of a special group, whereas his brothers liked to run off and leave him to play alone. Wentworth had also protected him and Will from their father many times while Stephen was at school. He’d only been a child then, but he was so handsome, strong, and brave that Hector swore nothing would ever keep them from being friends.
Of course, part of that had been a child’s fancy, but over the years the craving for his hero’s attention turned into the craving for a lover’s touch. A child’s affection turned into the longings of a man.
Actually, he was barely more than a boy when they came together for the first time, not long after his twentieth birthday. He’d been lean and insubstantial under Wentworth’s weight. But their first month together had been bliss. Wentworth had been more important than life, and he thought Wentworth felt the same. He thought they would be together forever. Forever turned out to be less than one season. After Hector sided with his family, Wentworth left until his position and family business required his return to England.
Hector was surprised and ecstatic to meet him again. With a little trickery, he convinced Wentworth they needed this holiday. He needed a second chance with this extraordinary man, so he made it happen. But the past two days had been strained.
In fact, the past week had not been perfect. Things were uncomfortable between them at times. Except when they made love. That was always good, and it was lovemaking. He didn’t care if Wentworth couldn’t see their coming together was not simply sex. He knew, and he cherished their time together.
The smooth glide inside his burning arse brought Hector back to the moment, and it was exactly what he craved.
Wentworth strained. Eyes closed, he pushed his hips up, shoving his prick onto that spot that made Hector squirm.
Hector needed to slow this down, prolong the dreamlike experience. He concentrated on the discomfort of grass and pebbles under his knees to postpone his release, never wanting this moment to end. He leaned forward to taste Wentworth, his mouth touching those strong, parted lips.
Wentworth’s eyes flew open, and he pushed Hector back. “No, it is better this way.” He released the vise-like grip on his hip, grabbed Hector’s rod, and stroked.
Though disappointed to be cheated out of the intimacy, Hector had to agree it felt better. Wentworth’s penis hit that spot, the spot he needed to be slammed over and over again. The spot that made everything else in the world cease to exist, and everything important in the world was right there, in his arse and at the tip of his cock.
He closed his eyes as ecstasy began at the base of his balls and sang through every muscle and fiber of his being. He sighed his release, as anything louder would have detracted from the orgasmic perfection.
Stars exploded behind his closed eyelids, but he missed too much. He wanted to watch Wentworth come, see that beautiful face lost in passion. Yet it was difficult to pull his attention away from his still-spasming rod, squirting come over his embroidered waistcoat. That silk frippery would be ruined.
With half-closed eyes, Wentworth barely looked at Hector. He bucked up into him, tossed his head back and forth, bucked, again, again. Then he came.
Hector could feel Wentworth’s cock jumping inside him every few seconds. The aftermath of Wentworth’s orgasm was almost enough to make his still-hard organ come again. He lay down, squeezing his member between the two of them, his lover’s hard cock inside him. With his head on one firm shoulder, he just absorbed his essence.
Wentworth’s member slid out, and a drizzle of come dripped down his scrotum. It tickled, but he didn’t care. He was too content. This was paradise.
He’d been with a few lovers since his brief affair with Wentworth; well, three to be exact. The first only lasted for one coupling. The other two affairs had died out over a few weeks from lack of interest of both parties. But none of those men compared with his viscount.
He sat up and propped one elbow on Wentworth’s chest. Once again, he suspected he wore a senseless grin, but he couldn’t stop the smile.
Wentworth sighed heavily.
“You still have what it takes, old man.”
Wentworth growled, grabbed his hand, and kissed it. “I’ll show you old man, imp.”
Wentworth seized Hector’s knee and arm, and before Hector knew what was happening, he was under Wentworth, the smell of fresh spring grass surrounding him. The sunlight shimmered between the poplar trees, throwing dancing shadows. Wentworth looked like a god in human form. He bent and bit Hector’s earlobe.
Laughing, Hector pushed, then twisted his head fast for a quick kiss.
Their lips tou
ched.
Wentworth froze, his eyes closed, and his lips trembled. He broke off the kiss, sat up, stood, and then tucked himself in. “Well, look here—you ruined my waistcoat, imp.” The flippant comment was not smoothly delivered, and his lover’s voice cracked on imp.
What the hell was wrong here? Sex was acceptable to his lordship, but anything more intimate was not allowed? “So. My kisses are not good enough? If you think I need more practice, I am up for some tutoring.”
Wentworth walked to the horses.
Hector stood and dressed, then followed. “Please, tell me. I know something is wrong. Tell me so we can fix this.” He waved vaguely at the crushed grass. “Is it that I sided with my family when…well, when things were falling apart?”
Wentworth turned. His face could have been carved in granite, as much emotion as it showed. “Do you know why you had to side with your family?”
And there was the ridiculous part of this whole affair. No one, not Wentworth, not William, not even Mary had considered him adult enough to tell him the whole tale. Not even after he helped them right a substantial wrong. He’d known so little at the time, he hadn’t known what to do and still keep Wentworth as a lover. In retrospect, would he modify his actions to keep Wentworth for himself? Of course he bloody would.
“I knew enough.” He hoped his voice conveyed confidence and wisdom and did not sound like a young fool who didn’t know his own mind.
“Well, then, my knowledgeable friend, let us go find some food.” He gave a charming smile that exuded power. “I am starving. Are you hungry? We can picnic on the east lawn.” He launched himself into the saddle.
Hector adjusted his twisted shirt before mounting. They started for the estate to arrange a picnic and toward a day that, for a reason he did not want to consider closely, had turned suddenly gloomy.
Hector intended to alter the climate, and he knew exactly how to achieve that goal.
Chapter Seven
They laughed as they dismounted and walked toward the entrance of his estate. Hector was ever so clever with retelling an event or a joke. Wentworth had never been clever that way, always worried he could not deliver the humor or irony without appearing awkward. So he did not tell jokes or share humorous tales. Granted, his conversations tended to be one-sided. He was comfortable letting others talk and entertain. Always had been. The navy fit him perfectly in this respect. He learned a great deal as sailors and officers yammered on and on as he listened.
His propensity for few words made his crew jump to when he started issuing orders. It worked to his advantage. Until now. Now he did not seem quick enough, flippant enough, fun enough for his much younger lover.
At that particular moment, watching Hector throw his head back and laugh, the sun gleaming off his dark hair, Wentworth felt old. Serious and hidebound. Was he a pervert for prompting debauchery with a young man? Of course, he should have considered this a few years before now, but…
Here, now, what should he do? What should they do?
And then he realized he wanted—no, needed—cleverness in his life. He, Grandfather, and Will had all been driven. They weren’t averse to fun or humor, but Hector was light and jovial without seeming frivolous. The boy could be a great negotiator or barrister if he set his mind to it and followed that path.
“Wentworth,” Hector said exuberantly as they entered the manor, “I need to wash the dust off and will be down for our picnic in a jiff.”
“A visitor in your study to see you, my lord,” a footman said as he bowed.
Wentworth’s blood turned icy. He forced his face to relax into a neutral social expression. It might not be who he feared. Perhaps it was simply the local vicar asking for a donation to improve the grounds of the church. Yes, perhaps Vicar Brown was the caller. Wentworth divested himself of his gloves to hand to the footman.
Hector did the same, and as they left the entry, he whispered, “Send them away as fast as possible. There are so many things we can do this afternoon, I’m fraught to decide which will be the most pleasant.”
Struggling past his apprehension about the reason for the call, Wentworth forced a smile for his guest. “Go ahead and change for tea. I am certain I will not be detained long.”
The boy rushed off as if he had no other worries in the world.
To be that carefree again. Although, thinking back, he had never felt that lighthearted. Always being studious and responsible for family and friends had made him old at a very young age. He exhaled and let contentment flow through his lungs as he watched Hector dash up the stairs.
When the boy disappeared around a corner, Wentworth headed for the study. He stopped just outside the door, took one deep breath, straightened his jacket, then smoothed his hair before going into the dark paneled room.
He knew who waited for him before he saw the stocky frame outlined by the afternoon sun from the large mullioned windows. He could feel William’s presence, had been able to since they were young, like an extension of his own senses.
Back again after only two days. And once again to see him, not his brother.
Stiffening his spine and erasing a frown of concentration, he walked to the center of the room. “William, I am surprised to see you again.”
Will faced him.
“What do you want this time? Since I did not accept your offer, I thought I would learn you were back in London.”
Will strode to the unlit fireplace, where he turned and stood at attention. His muscles were tense, his hands behind his back, and his expression guarded as if he knew not what to expect. He was handsome as hell. “You know me better than that, Ty. I always get what I want. You have enough experience to realize that much.”
“Yes. So, what is your latest desire?”
Will gave a snort and a half smile that set the small hairs on the back of Wentworth’s neck standing on end. “What do I want…” He walked to the sun-bright window again. He seemed agitated and could not stand still. “There are so many things I want, Ty. So many.”
Wentworth left the center of the room that was so far from Will. He left safety and walked into the lion’s den. “Tell me, Will. If I had come to see you yesterday, what would we have spent our time doing? I should not ask, but I find myself beyond curious. Would you have had me beaten?”
Will laughed. “Of course not. You understand me well enough to know I fight my own fights.”
“Would you have tried to seduce me?”
Will leaned close, watching Wentworth’s mouth. He was so near, Wentworth felt the fresh caress of breath. “Would it have worked if I tried?”
Will stepped back just as Hector flung the door open and stopped dead in his tracks, gaping at them.
“William?”
Will turned and took two steps toward his brother.
“Why are you here, Will?”
“Yes, Will. That seems to be the question on everyone’s mind,” Wentworth said in agreement.
Will cleared his throat before telling what seemed to be a half-truth. “I came to check on your well-being, Hector. Are you well?”
“Quite, as you can see.” Hector stepped out of the doorway and pointed at the exit he just vacated. “Now that you have verified my health, you should leave so I can continue with my holiday.”
“I don’t suppose I could convince you to leave with me.”
Hector shook his head, his beautiful mouth drawn into a deep frown.
Will buttoned his coat and left the room. Hector closed the door as soon as Will cleared the opening. Still facing the door, he asked, “Why was he here?”
There was no reason to lie, so he said, “He is trying to get me to leave you.”
Hector sighed. “That meddling bastard.”
“Your brother cares about you, and in his way, he is trying to help.”
Hector turned to him, his face devoid of emotion. “From where I stood, it appeared he was trying to get you into his bed.”
What was there to say after that? Yes, your b
rother and I used to be lovers. He broke my heart. I still love him. No, nothing seemed appropriate, so he said nothing, damning himself and Will with his silence.
When emotion did appear on Hector’s face, it was rage. “You cur. You had me in your bed last night, today, and just now you let my brother try to seduce you. How perverted is that?”
“That statement is a great exaggeration, Hector. He wants you to leave and go back to London. And if you had even a smattering of sense, you would see I am a bad influence on you, and you would go back to town with your brother.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Hector came to him then, and put his hand on Wentworth’s chest, just over his heart.
He did not even have to think about his answer. “No. No, I really do not.”
✥ ✥ ✥
After a morning of hard riding and fucking outdoors, Wentworth should have been starved, but he could only finish half of his salmon with leeks and potatoes. He knew the food was good, considering how much he paid that sullen chef to stay. He’d threatened many times to run off to a neighboring lord’s kitchen while in one of his moods. Unfortunately, tonight Wentworth tasted not a single forkful.
He was ashamed of how he’d treated Hector earlier that day in the clearing, and William’s visit had disturbed him. He should want to avoid Hector, spend time alone untangling his thoughts. But instead, all his attention fixed on his handsome guest sitting across the informal dining table. Hair neatly arranged, black-and-white attire, impeccable manners, Hector could have been a visiting dignitary or a prince from an exotic land.
The desire, which had tented his trousers for the past hour, started to cause pain. Even though he’d come inside the man earlier that day, he was still poker-hard and wanting more.
The fucking had been good. No, he would not kid himself. The bed play had been fantastic. He wanted more. Now.
Using the table to shield his actions, he reached out a foot and drew Hector’s leg toward his. They rubbed calves. He hugged the firm limb between his own.
His Brother's Viscount Page 6
