Lustful Gaze (London Loves #6)

by Julie Farrell

  Paul’s mind began to swirl. He realised that the bed was creaking madly beneath them, but it sounded as if it was in a faraway universe. All that mattered right now was the immense pleasure of Scott’s cock massaging his prostate as he jerked himself off. His eyes slammed shut as a tsunami of joy overwhelmed him, and the tides of pleasure surged up through his entire body. His mind imploded into a tight focus around his pelvis – pure delight. Then it exploded like a nebula through every cell in his body, filling his entire consciousness with heavenly ecstasy.

  He heard himself cry out involuntarily. “Fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

  The pleasure rose higher still as he ejaculated over his pumping fingers. No longer feeling like a separate being, he lost himself in the pure lust of joy that carved out his place in the universe. And still the pleasure continued – another wave of intense lust, and another and another. Paul wondered whether his soul had broken loose and attained enlightenment. He was flying in paradise – but he slowly started to freefall, gradually drifting back down to earth. He panted – thinking that must be the end – but then another surge thrust up as Scott’s hips jolted below.

  Oh yeah, Scott was here wasn’t he? Paul giggled. He felt as if Scott’s cock belonged to him. Like it was the missing piece of the puzzle of life – which he’d shoved up his ass to discover the reason for being.

  But Scott would need it back probably. Paul laughed again. His mind gently floated down to settle in his tingling body, and he opened his eyes slowly – drawing in the surroundings as if seeing them for the first time.

  Scott was grinning; captivated. “Wow, babes – I was beginning to wonder whether you were ever coming back!”

  Paul chuckled woozily. He gazed into Scott’s eyes – which sparkled with pure love.

  Paul realised they were still holding hands, so he squeezed Scott’s fingers tenderly. “It was amazing – as if reality disappeared… did you come, babes?”

  “Oh yes! How could I not when your perfect body was taking me so deep?”

  Scott’s semi-hard cock twitched at the thought, delivering another jolt of pleasure into Paul – eking out the thrilling joy.

  Paul leaned forward and slowly eased himself off Scott’s cock, then he crawled forward and kissed his wonderful man on the lips. Scott’s arms fell around him, so Paul snuggled down onto his chest.

  “I think the boys would’ve heard that,” Scott said, kissing Paul on the forehead.

  “I hope so. Maybe it’ll inspire them to enjoy each other, too!”

  “Maybe. But one thing’s for sure – they definitely know how much I love you!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Edward loved this room. When he thought back to where he’d been living only a week ago, this was absolute luxury. It was neat and minimalist, like an expensive hotel. It was obvious to Edward that Scott had been restrained from decorating this room in his preferred colourful style. Instead the furniture, carpet, and walls were beige and cream – like a blank canvas.

  Edward had never really looked at the ceiling before, but at the moment, it was all he could see, because he was lying on his back – completely naked – enjoying the attentions of the wonderful Harry – who was also nude. He glanced down and they made eye contact, which sparkled in the air between them. Harry smirked as he lifted Edward’s erection and licked the end – just as he’d been shown last night by Scott. Edward wouldn’t have thought in a million years that he’d be in this situation, only twenty-four hours later.

  The balmy evening was warm and sticky – and Edward hoped to make it even warmer and stickier very soon. Harry wrapped his lips around the head of Edward’s cock and sucked hungrily, while managing to maintain smouldering eye contact. Edward gasped as a rocket of pleasure rose in his pelvis, exploding in his brain. With renewed confidence, Harry plunged Edward’s cock further into his mouth and made a horny groan, which jabbed Edward’s soul with deliciously soothing dazzles. Harry slid his lips up and down the shaft, bobbing his head like a pro. The overwhelming lust made Edward involuntarily moan like an untamed animal.

  Harry stopped. “Is it okay?”

  “Perfect. Yes, you’re perfect!”

  Harry threw him a cocky grin then plunged Edward’s cock into his mouth again. Edward’s desire jolted as the glorious feelings swam through his body. He tensed his thighs and tried to resist being dragged over the edge too soon, because he wanted to prove how virile he was. But the pleasure overwhelmed him, so he relented and allowed the fireworks of elation to explode in his brain. He reached down and stroked Harry’s hair. “You’ll need to move unless you want a mouthful of cum!”

  Harry groaned in response and pushed Edward’s cock further down his throat. Edward took this as permission to come in his mouth, so he relaxed and let the orgasm spurt into the world – relishing the soaring delight as his consciousness ripped apart, delivering freedom and joy directly into his soul.

  He panted, relishing the floating feeling as the intense orgasm gently faded. He giggled, drifting in a bubble of pure perfection. This was so different to his usual experience of being sucked off. Of course, he was usually the one doing the sucking off, but even if a client did want to reciprocate, it was still business. Harry had done it only for Edward’s pleasure, and he cherished this wonderful gift from the stud of his dreams.

  Harry wiped the side of his mouth, then shuffled up to kiss Edward on the lips. He tasted of cum.

  Edward ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. “That was amazing – the boys in Brighton will be forming a line outside your dorm!”

  Harry gazed at him pensively. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  They shared a smile, then Harry snuggled into Edward’s arms, so he hugged him, savouring the precious moment.

  Harry kissed him on his bare chest. “Edward?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did you tell me not to fall in love when I went to Brighton?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Have you been hurt in love?”

  “Sort of. I thought I was falling for a client, but I probably wasn’t. Not really.”

  Harry absentmindedly circled his finger around Edward’s nipple, turning him on again. “I shouldn’t fall in love. But my heart is hooked into yours.”

  Edward’s joy sizzled at this romantic confession. He wanted to tell Harry that he loved him, too, but he hadn’t actually said it outright, had he? He didn’t want to end up looking stupid, so he changed the subject. “So when are you gonna tell your parents about us?”

  Harry slowly raised his head. There was terror plastered over his beautiful face.

  Edward laughed. “Just joking. You can’t tell them can you?”

  “Never – they’d kill me. You know this could never work, right? My family would never allow such a thing.”

  Edward’s heart pounded with sorrow. “Why do you care so much about what your family thinks?”

  “My dad would go crazy if I chose a girl outside my caste… Although, admittedly, there’s a special loophole if her father earns more than a hundred grand a year.”

  “Fucking hypocrite.”

  “I know. But it’s all about duty. Honour. You know?”

  “No. I don’t understand.”

  Harry eased himself out of Edward’s arms and sat up on the bedspread. He held Edward’s hand. “Parents are obsessed with getting their kids married off in Indian culture. It’s totally different to here.”

  Edward sat up, too, and leaned against the headboard. “Okay, well if it’s a wedding they want, let’s get married!”

  Harry laughed. “You’re purposely not understanding!”

  “I’m sorry. Okay, tell me. What’s the big deal?”

  “Marriage is a topic of conversation that comes up all the time. Most my cousins are older than me, and their parents are obsessed. One cousin is nearly thirty, and his mother speaks of nothing else than ‘Son, what are you marriage intentions? Is there a girl you have in mind? Shall we
put an ad in the Mumbai Times for you?’ Poor guy just wants to enjoy his life, unwed for now.”

  “But why are they so obsessed?”

  “It’s cultural, my darling Edward. That’s like asking why are Westerners so obsessed with money – it’s just culture. Marriage in India is a contract between families. It’s about status, security, and creating children.”

  “Do you have to marry whoever they choose for you?”

  “No. We can say no, but it’s like a constant battle. How about this one? No. This one? No… They wear you down.”

  “But you're only eighteen. That’s too young to think about marriage.”

  Harry turned his head and gazed out the open window. The late-August sun was setting, and the room glowed with an orange warmth. “Ideally they want me married by twenty-three, meaning they need to start the process as soon as I graduate.”

  “But what about love?”

  “I don’t know.” Harry shuffled forward and kissed him tenderly. “Edward, I want you to come to my party on Saturday.”

  “You’d let me meet your family?”

  “Yeah, for sure. Obviously we can’t tell them you’re my boyfriend.”

  Edward’s insides rushed with joy. “Am I?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Me too.”

  Edward draped his arms around Harry’s warm shoulders. “I’d love to come to the party. And I promise I’ll be discreet. Discretion is my middle name.”

  “Good. Thank you.”

  “Thank you. Now – I owe you an orgasm – so lie down and let me discretely blow your mind!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Scott sat in the front passenger seat of Paul’s BMW, feeling tranquil and invigorated. The heat of the sun warmed his skin deliciously as they drove through London with the top rolled down, on the way to Harry’s party. Scott glanced over at his handsome husband, who always looked so suave in a suit. Paul grinned – he knew Scott was checking him out, but he kept his eyes on the road ahead. Scott reached out and flipped down the sun visor in front of him, to check his eyeliner in the mirror. He caught a glimpse of Edward in the backseat, resting his arms on the door, and enjoying the breeze – which tousled his hair as they drove.

  Scott was looking forward to finding out what a lavish Indian party was going to be like. He’d asked Harry for guidance on his attire, and Harry had encouraged him to wear Indian clothes, knowing how much Scott loved to dress up. Scott adored his peach satin tunic, which sported a mandarin collar and matching gold pants. It was comfy, yet stylish. And Edward looked dapper in his trousers and shirt – even though he seemed a little forlorn today. Scott knew he was frustrated with the way Harry was being treated by his family, but he trusted Edward not to make a scene.

  Paul followed the satnav’s instructions and steered the car into Harry’s parents’ street. Scott gasped as he saw that the narrow road was crammed with Mercs and Jags – making even Paul’s BMW look cheap. They all climbed out of the car and stared at Harry’s parents’ house. It was spectacular. There were only four houses in this entire street, and the Sawhney residence was the grandest. When Paul had been nosing online earlier, he’d discovered that the house had been bought for seventeen million. Maida Vale was an expensive area anyway, but this was one of the most extravagant homes Scott had ever seen. The house was a sprawling three-storey red brick building, which had been built in the nineteen-twenties. It was magnificent, with two garages, a landscaped garden, and a long winding driveway.

  Edward squinted across the grounds at a smaller detached building. “Why’s there a separate house over there?”

  “I think that’s where the servants live,” Scott said.

  “Very funny,” Edward said.

  “I’m serious. I really think it’s the servants’ quarters. I mean, if you could afford a place like this, you probably wouldn’t do your own ironing, would you?”

  Edward threw Paul a playful glance. “Paul would.”

  “Ha ha.” Paul draped his arm around Edward’s shoulders. “You’re gonna behave yourself today, aren’t you? You’re not planning to spill the beans?”

  “Of course not. I hate what Harry’s parents are doing, but I promised I’d let him tell them in his own time. Hopefully that’ll be before he gets married.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s got three years and a lot of fun at university before that.”

  “I know.”

  They rang the doorbell and a butler answered, dressed in an immaculate black suit. He pressed his palms together and bowed. “Hello and be welcome in the Sawhney household!”

  Scott smiled. He was slowly getting used to these sorts of people, thanks to his time at the art gallery. But sometimes it shocked him how the other half lived. Paul was always happy to mingle with the wealthy, but Edward was probably feeling uncomfortable with all this opulence.

  They stepped into a huge hallway, and Scott paused to take it all in. The shiny wooden floor swept grandly ahead of them, and the lofty white walls were covered with expensive paintings. But Scott wasn’t able to enjoy Mr Sawhney’s art collection, because the butler strode ahead, beckoning them to follow through a glass archway to another part of the hallway, where a chandelier hung from above and oak doors led to rooms on all sides.

  Scott saw several rich Indian people through here – standing around and chatting, dressed in their finest and ignoring the staff who were offering them drinks and nibbles. Everything was so white and plush. Scott couldn’t get his head around the scale of this place. The butler led them through to another room – with a glass roof and huge squashy sofas – then, finally, he threw open the lavish back doors to reveal a massive garden.

  Scott stepped out into the garden. Or rather, he stepped out into a marquee of blue and purple chiffon – which had been erected against the exterior wall of the house, forming an enchanted tent-like entrance to this mystical, magical place. The smell of jasmine struck Scott and he realised there was a huge bunch of the stuff hanging like a chandelier from the top of the marquee.

  “Holy shit,” Edward said. “Nice pad.”

  Paul chuckled and winked at Scott. Scott smiled, feeling glad he’d come.

  The butler had ambled off now, so Scott assumed they were expected to find Harry and his dad by themselves. Scott scanned his gaze over hundreds of guests dotted around the lush garden – mingling and catching up on the family gossip. The men looked like Indian princes, and the women were goddesses, dressed stunningly in their brightly coloured saris and salwar kameez suits. The array of pinks, reds, and yellows looked radiant against the backdrop of the blue sky and green grass.

  Edward strode ahead and emerged from the marquee first. Scott and Paul followed. Scott’s eyes didn’t know what to look at – there was so much colour and activity. Edward halted in front of a wooden stage where four Indian musicians were playing traditional instruments, and he ran his hand across one of the decorative beaded curtains hanging down at the side of the stage. Scott realised that the hundreds of beads were actually fresh marigolds.

  “This place is amazing,” Paul said.

  “Hey, look,” Scott said. “There’s Harry and his parents.”

  “Oh yeah,” Paul said. “Hm, looks like they’re having a heated discussion. Maybe we should hang back a bit.”

  Scott squinted. Harry and his dad were indeed talking animatedly. Scott saw that there was a woman with them, too, who was obviously Mrs Sawhney. She seemed sophisticated and attractive – it was clear where Harry got his looks from. Her hair was neatly tied back in a bun, and she was wearing a green jewelled sari, which was pleated perfectly at the front, in a way that Paul would’ve loved to have got his trousers. Her face was stern and serious at the moment, and she seemed to be scolding her son. Mr Sawhney had his back to Scott, but it was unmistakeably him. Scott prayed their argument had nothing to do with Edward.

  Edward had also spotted Harry and was now making his way over.

  “We
’d better go, too,” Paul said, cringing.

  They halted far enough away to be able to hear what was being said. There were some Hindi words being bandied about, but they were mainly speaking in English.

  “I didn’t agree to this!” Harry whined.

  “Yes you did,” Mr Sawhney said. “If you want to go to Brighton, you must at least get engaged now so we don’t lose this woman.”

  “Lose her? Papa, she’s not a painting; you don’t put down a deposit!”

  “I already have. A small deposit. So you behave.”

  Harry glared down at the bright green grass. Mr Sawhney transferred his attention to his wife. “You tell him.”

  She grabbed her son by the arm. “Come, Harry. Let’s say hello to the Chopra family. We must be polite.”

  Harry’s mother pushed him firmly. His insolent face shone with embarrassed anger, but he did as he was told. Scott wasn’t sure whether he’d even noticed that Paul, Edward, and him were here. Scott desperately wanted to speak to him, but he was already being led away.

  Mr Sawhney watched him with a look of despair. Then he turned and noticed Scott for the first time. His irritation morphed to a warm smile. “Scott, how delightful to see you! I’m so sorry for this disruption. You know how disobedient this boy can be at times.”

  Scott shook Mr Sawhney’s proffered hand. “He always seems polite and well-mannered to me.”

  “Yes, well, we probably have different standards. Now, who is this? Your partner?”

  “Er, yeah,” Scott said. “This is my husband, Paul.”

  They shook hands. Mr Sawhney seemed distracted, as if his mind was still with Harry. “Hello, Paul. Please be welcome in my home.”

  “Thank you, Mr Sawhney.”

  A couple of women standing nearby stepped over and started to talk to Paul. Scott grinned as Paul launched into flirt mode. He was always getting himself in trouble with women when he flirted too much and they fell for him. But it didn’t really matter today, did it? The women were probably married, too.