by Merry Farmer
“I do love you so,” Joe said with a burst of emotion that would have been comically maudlin, if it weren’t so genuine.
“And I love you.” Alistair kissed him again. “I would drop to my knees and ask you to marry me, if I could.”
“I’ll drop to my knees and do other things,” Joe said with a saucy grin, then did just that.
Alistair sucked in a breath as Joe reached for the fastening of his trousers. Things had turned amorous between them so quickly that the feeling of the unexpected heightened every sensation as Joe’s hands brushed against his hardening cock. But Joe took his time, unfastening his trousers slowly and tugging his shirttails up before stroking his hands over Alistair’s sides and stomach.
“I don’t think I will ever grow tired of your body,” Joe murmured, lifting Alistair’s shirt enough to kiss the flat of his abdomen.
Hot, pulsing need coursed through Alistair, but he joked, “Even if I grow fat and go to seed?”
Joe glanced up at him tantalizingly. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll take care of you and make sure it doesn’t.”
The idea of Joe taking care of him for the rest of his life, and of him doing the same for Joe, brought pure joy to Alistair’s heart. He threaded his fingers through Joe’s hair, wanting to lift him to his feet so that they could kiss and embrace and be as close to each other as possible.
Joe had more carnal things in mind. He raked his hands down Alistair’s sides, taking his trousers and drawers down over his hips as he did. Alistair gasped as his prick jumped free. It was already hard enough to stand up, but once exposed, Joe took it in hand and worked it to iron hardness. Every inch of his touch sent hot desire racing through Alistair’s veins. His body felt alive with pleasure, especially his cock, as Joe teased and tantalized him.
Alistair somehow managed to unbutton his cuffs and yank his shirt up over his head, dropping it to the floor. The sight of his own, mostly-naked body, his trousers bunched around his thighs as Joe stroked his cock was far more arousing than it should have been. If he wasn’t careful, he would come far too soon and spoil what could otherwise be an amazing night. The tip of his prick was already slick with moisture as Joe rubbed his thumb over it, drawing a deep moan from Alistair.
“I think we could establish quite the bedtime routine, you know,” Joe teased him, glancing up with a flicker of his eyebrow. “I know just how to tuck a tired nobleman into bed and to make sure he sleeps soundly all night.”
“I’m not sure sleep is the first thing on my mind,” Alistair said.
Or at least tried to say. Before he could finish, Joe leaned into him, holding his cock upright and closing his lips around his head. Alistair gasped at the pleasure of it, then let out a shaky groan as Joe bore down on him, sinking him deeper and deeper. The way he moved, the way his tongue stroked, and the way his mouth created just the right amount of suction had Alistair’s knees so weak that he feared he might collapse. He dug his fingertips into Joe’s scalp, grabbing fistfuls of hair as Joe picked up his pace, taking him deeper.
There was no point in fighting it. Alistair knew he was a lost cause as the overwhelming sensuality of the whole thing swallowed him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Joe enveloping him, couldn’t shut his ears to the desperate sounds of enjoyment Joe made as he did it. The whole thing was too much.
“Oh, God, I’m coming,” he gasped, gripping Joe’s hair harder as pleasure rocketed from the base of his spine through his entire body. He cried out with the intensity of the magic Joe had stirred within him as he came, deep in Joe’s throat.
Joe’s eyes lit with surprise as he swallowed, then rocked gently back, letting Alistair go. “You certainly were ready,” he panted.
“I’m sorry.” Alistair had a hard time catching his breath as Joe pushed his trousers all the way down his legs and helped him take off his shoes and step out of them. “Now I’ll be a useless lump.”
“Just the way I want you.” The mischief in Joe’s eyes was unmistakable as he rose, stroking his hands up Alistair’s body as he did.
There was something incredibly erotic in being completely naked when Joe was still fully dressed. Especially as Joe touched and explored him as though he were a coveted prize he’d won. Alistair’s warm, post-orgasmic glow only heightened the sensations, and hinted to him that he would be up for another round in no time.
“I’m far from done with you yet,” Joe said, the glitter in his eyes downright wicked.
He advanced on Alistair, forcing him to take a few steps back until his legs hit the side of his bed. Once that happened, Joe pushed him, and he fell to his back, splayed across the bed. From there, Joe grabbed his knees and shoved them apart, but then he took a large step back.
“I want you to think about all the ways I’m going to fuck you while you watch me undress,” he said, reaching for the top buttons of his shirt.
Alistair shivered with anticipation as he watched Joe remove his clothes with agonizing slowness. Joe pulled his shirt up over his head and threw it aside, but instead of undoing his trousers, which Alistair practically salivated for, he bent to remove his shoes next. Then he made an agonizingly long show of working loose the fastenings over the distinct bulge in his trousers. It usually took Alistair much longer to recover from orgasm, but he was feeling the surge as intensely as ever as he watched Joe strip.
At last, Joe, finished with his trousers and pushed them down over his hips. Lust pounded through Alistair as Joe’s thick cock sprung up in readiness. Joe stepped out of his trousers and kicked them aside, then stalked closer to Alistair. He wedged his legs between Alistair’s and bent over him, resting his hands on either side of Alistair’s shoulders.
“Now,” he said. “I trust you have something to ease this whole process along. I wouldn’t want to hurt you as I fuck you until you’re calling out my name in prayer.”
“In the drawer,” Alistair panted, pointing to the table beside the bed.
With a smile wicked enough to turn Alistair’s blood to fire, Joe stepped to the side, opening the drawer and taking out a small jar of ointment. He made a devastating show of opening the jar, then spreading its slick contents over his penis. In fact, Joe seemed to be enjoying pleasuring himself so much as he positioned himself between Alistair’s legs again that watching him took Alistair’s breath away. He wasn’t sure which he wanted more—to watch Joe bring himself to climax or to feel him deep within.
He didn’t have to make the decision. Breathing heavily, his expression suddenly serious, Joe let go of himself and grasped Alistair’s hips. Alistair let out an eager sound of anticipation and offered himself as Joe stretched over him. Without hesitation, Joe guided himself to the right spot, then thrust into Alistair.
It was magnificent. They worked through the slightest bit of resistance before fitting together perfectly. Neither of them could keep quiet as Joe moved faster and harder, holding Alistair’s knees and keeping him spread and open. Alistair closed his eyes and arched his head back as Joe worked the spot within him that sent a deeper kind of pleasure swirling through him. It was good, so, so good. He was throbbing again in no time and grasped himself with one hand and Joe’s hip with the other, working himself as Joe drove into him.
As intense as the pleasure was, he managed to hold off until Joe came inside of him with a shattering cry. As soon as the intensity of Joe’s thrusts slowed, Alistair jerked himself hard, coming with enough force to awaken the heavens. Joe collapsed on top of him, and together they rolled to their sides in a sweaty, sticky, satisfied mass.
“You are everything to me,” Alistair panted, caressing Joe’s face and kissing him as they lay tangled up in each other.
“And you are all I’ve ever wanted,” Joe said, kissing him in return. “Ours will be a beautiful life.”
Alistair closed his eyes and smiled, knowing that it would be.
Epilogue
David Wirth sat at the desk in his office, poring over the documents he and Wrexham had tak
en from Eccles House. There was enough information about the ring of men—and some women—who were trafficking children for every manner of evil to convict an army, and yet none of it was specific enough to condemn specific individuals.
“They’re smart, I’ll give them credit for that,” he murmured as he went through yet another set of cryptic notes about delivery locations and shipments.
“Any criminal not rotting away behind bars is smart,” Lionel said, walking into the room and setting a steaming cup of tea on David’s desk. “That’s why they haven’t been caught.”
David frowned up at him and reached for the tea. “I hate knowing that men who have evil intentions toward children are so clever. It means they’ve gotten away with horrendous sins without anyone being able to stop them.”
“Without anyone being able to stop them yet,” Lionel corrected him. He sat on the corner of the desk and crossed his arms, looking every bit the deadly fashion plate he was. “I was able to question some of those children that we rescued from the Nightingale. They all tell the same story. A mannish-looking woman in a colorful, ragged coat offered them sweets if they would help her look for her lost puppy.”
“It’s the oldest and most effective trick in the book,” David sighed, leaning back in his chair and sipping his tea. “And it’s on all of our heads that those children are so desperate for affection and special attention that they fall for it instead of running.” He took another sip before saying, “Though I’m not sure that explains why an older child, like Lily Logan, would be taken in.”
“We don’t know what Lily was offered,” Lionel argued.
David nodded, then winced. “I hope to God that we are able to find Joe Logan’s sister. It eats me up that she wasn’t with the others.”
“Lily Logan went missing months ago, which means she’ll be harder to find,” Lionel said.
“You’re right. I just wish I knew more about this woman who has lured the children away.”
Lionel hummed dangerously, his pretty face knitting into a frown. “What I find interesting is the implication that this Adler person we’ve been looking for might be a woman.”
David nodded. “They’re clever to use a woman to do their dirty work. Few people would immediately think that a woman would lure children into slavery.”
“And even fewer would think a queer or two would be the ones hot on their trail, so we have the advantage there,” Lionel added.
David sent him a stern look. “The idea is not to reveal who we are, so that they have no reason to suspect anything.”
“Speak for yourself, darling.” Lionel stood and turned to head back to the main part of the office. “I know who I am, and I’d rather use that to my advantage than run from it.”
“Obviously,” David called after him with a grin. Of course, Lionel had the benefit of power on his side. Far more than anyone in London knew. He’s spun that web of power himself, and he was cutthroat enough to use it for his own means when he needed to. Which was probably why David admired the hell out of him.
He was on the verge of returning to his work when he heard the sound of the main office door opening, then shutting.
“Good morning, Mr. Siddel,” Lionel greeted their guest in his softest, sweetest voice. “It’s nice to see you again. How can I help you?”
“I was told that Dandie & Wirth might be able to assist with a serious problem I have,” the vaguely familiar voice of Stephen Siddel said.
David sat straighter, craning his neck in the hope of getting a glimpse of their new arrival, but without any luck. He’d met Stephen Siddel once at The Chameleon Club and had been impressed with the man’s kindness and compassion.
“We are experts in helping people with serious problems,” Lionel answered the man. “What is the nature of your problem.”
“As you know, I run an orphanage in Limehouse.” He didn’t sound like he was from that part of the city. “And this past week, one of our children has gone missing. A little boy from the home run by the Sisters of Christ’s Mercy too.”
David jumped to his feet and marched around his desk and out of his office, his heart suddenly racing.
“Missing children?” he asked.
Mr. Siddel looked just as David remembered him—young, perhaps thirty. He had a cheerful face, blue eyes, dark, carefully combed hair, and spectacles. His suit was clean and well-made, but simple. And he wore a look of such genuine distress that David instantly wanted to help him.
“Yes,” Mr. Siddel said. “A little girl from my orphanage and a boy from the sisters’. I was told you might know something about children that have gone missing lately.”
“Unfortunately, we do,” Lionel said, getting up and crossing the room to fetch Mr. Siddel tea. Leave it to Lionel to make certain that the rules of hospitality and congeniality were always observed, even in the direst of situations.
“When did these children go missing?” David asked, gesturing for Mr. Siddel to have a seat on the sofas.
“A few days ago,” Mr. Siddel said, looking confused, but taking the offered seat all the same. “My children and the sisters’ performed at a benefit concert that was held at the Bardess mansion. Afterwards, we realized the two were nowhere to be found.”
David’s pulse shot up. The concert at the Bardess mansion. Alistair Bevan had come from there the day Lady Matilda told him about Burbage. And now more children were missing. There had to be a connection.
“You’ve come to the right place, Mr. Siddel,” David said as Lionel handed the man a cup of tea. “We’re already investigating this kidnapping ring, and we won’t stop until we bring it down.”
I hope you have enjoyed Alistair and Joe’s story! They were lucky to be able to have a perfectly legitimate excuse to build a life together, in spite of the inherent inequality of Joe becoming Alistair’s valet. Building a life together was a challenge for gay men in the nineteenth century, but it wasn’t impossible. While The Brotherhood organization is my own invention, it has roots in actual underground societies of the time. Support networks were in place for the LGBTQ community of the Victorian era, though none of them were a part of respectable society.
As twenty-first century people, we tend to misunderstand the way society operated in the nineteenth century. The first and best line of defense for the homosexual community was that far fewer people were even aware of their existence, unlike today. That’s not to say life was better or safer for gay men, but they were afforded a certain amount of anonymity that doesn’t exist today. And as you’ll discover in future books in The Brotherhood series, when the majority of people don’t understand who or what you are, you can get away with a lot more than most people would suspect.
But what about the missing children? Will Lily Logan ever be found? And what has become of the children Stephen Siddel has reported missing? You can find out more about Stephen—and his admirer, Lord Maxwell Hillsboro—in book two of The Brotherhood, Just a Little Temptation, coming soon!
If you enjoyed this book and would like to hear more from me, please sign up for my newsletter! When you sign up, you’ll get a free, full-length novella, A Passionate Deception. Victorian identity theft has never been so exciting in this story of hope, tricks, and starting over. Part of my West Meets East series, A Passionate Deception can be read as a stand-alone. Pick up your free copy today by signing up to receive my newsletter (which I only send out when I have a new release)!
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About the Author
I hope you have enjoyed Just a Little Wickedness. If you’d like to be the first to learn about when new books in the series come out and more, please sign up for my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/cbaVMH And remember, Read it, Review it, Share it! For a complete list of works by Merry Farmer with links, please visit http://wp.me/P5ttjb-14F.
Merry Farmer is an award-winning novelist who lives in suburban Philadelphia with
her cats, Torpedo, her grumpy old man, and Justine, her hyperactive new baby. She has been writing since she was ten years old and realized one day that she didn't have to wait for the teacher to assign a creative writing project to write something. It was the best day of her life. She then went on to earn not one but two degrees in History so that she would always have something to write about. Her books have reached the Top 100 at Amazon, iBooks, and Barnes & Noble, and have been named finalists in the prestigious RONE and Rom Com Reader’s Crown awards.
Acknowledgments
I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my awesome beta-readers, Caroline Lee and Jolene Stewart, for their suggestions and advice. And double thanks to Julie Tague, for being a truly excellent editor and assistant!
Click here for a complete list of other works by Merry Farmer.
