Didn’t take much for Richard’s nipples to react, or for the man to try to flinch away when Ethan focused on them.
“Keep still.” Chances were Richard wouldn’t obey, but he did, fisting his hands and pressing them to the bed. Ethan took the opportunity to nip and lick those rosy nubs before Richard got the chance to change his mind.
More gasps drove Ethan on downward, tongue flicking over the flat plain of Richard’s chest and stomach, dipping into his navel, circling, nibbling out to one side until he reached hip bones. Back…to the rough rasp of curls. He lapped around the base of the man’s cock, rewarded by a groan and a series of twitches playing out in the body under his control.
Ethan moved to Richard’s balls, licking more against his thigh than his actual sac, teasing with the promise before paying attention to each. He directed a sequence of small sucks up Richard’s hard length back to where hair tickled his lips.
“For fuck’s ssssssake,” Richard hissed.
Ethan chuckled, the vibration adding to the sensation, taking Richard over. “Are you clean?”
“W-What?”
Richard’s palpable confusion almost made Ethan roll his eyes. “I asked if you’re clean.”
“I…” Richard swallowed, gulp audible. “Y-yes?”
“You don’t sound certain.” Ethan gave more delicate licks.
“Yes. I am.” This time an edge crept into Richard’s voice.
“We’ll talk about it some other time.”
“Why the fuck ask then?”
Ethan laughed, pumping Richard’s cock, daring to give the head one lick before he moved off. He worked his way back up, planting kisses and feather-light caresses with his lips. Richard jumped more at these than he did a harder touch. Excellent.
He risked a glance at Richard’s face, caught the man’s stare, and gazed back. With luck, Richard would see the devilment in Ethan’s eyes and the few seconds allowed Ethan the opportunity to search for the reaction he longed for and anticipated. Arousal, desire, lust…all those things shone out from Richard’s bright eyes, but so did uncertainty, shock, and deeper emotions. Richard had a trapped in the headlights stare. Ethan wanted nothing more than to run him down with a surging raw intrusion, penetrating more than his body.
“Look at you.” Ethan whispered, tone deeper than usual as he reached for the lube. To his delight, Richard’s eyes followed the movement, eyes unblinking, gazing in earnest at the bottle Ethan snatched up and brought to the bed. The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Fear? Excitement? All manner of emotions? Whatever he felt, Richard lay unmoving, looking ready to let Ethan do about anything he wanted. No or little coaxing was necessary, but wouldn’t stop Ethan heightening the moment.
“Look at the Lord of the Manor lying back ready for cock.” The sentence whispered out past a surprising thickness in his throat. “You ever been penetrated?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Up on his knees, erection jutting out, Ethan slicked up his shaft in front of Richard’s riveted stare. Took Richard a few more seconds but he managed a nod, gaze set on the motion of Ethan’s hand.
“Many?”
A frown creased Richard’s forehead.
“A hundred? Fifty? Ten?”
With effort, Richard shook his head.
“Five?”
Another shake.
“Less than five?”
This time, a stilted nod.
“More than one?”
Another nod.
“Two?”
Another nod.
“Three?”
Head shake.
So, Ethan was Richard’s third and those two encounters might have been hasty. True to his word, Richard struck him as inexperienced, though not a virgin.
“Move those legs back. Open up to me.”
Not a sexy or seductive an order, still Ethan appeared to guess right. The simple command had a profound effect on Richard. His whole body twisted in a subtle way. His eyes closed. He shuddered and bunched up the fabric of the bedcovers in a hard, unyielding grip, and he moved his legs up as directed.
A squeeze of the bottle transferred more lube to Ethan’s fingers and he set about easing the way into Richard’s body. The first touch forced a soft sound out of Richard, one more of expectation than alarm. Richard drew his bottom lip back into his mouth. Not such a good idea.
“Ease up, Rich.” Ethan circled where he intended to penetrate. “Let go of your lip. You don’t want to bite yourself by accident. Relaxxxxx. I’m going to make sure you love this.”
A few seconds ticked by, until Richard did as Ethan told him. His mouth grew soft. The frown fell away. He dropped back against the bed, muscles going slack. Other muscles loosened without much fight. One finger, two, a squeeze bringing out a moan. A flutter of eyelashes. A gasp. Ethan’s smile grew as Richard fell increasingly under the enchantment Ethan wove. By the time Ethan set his cock against a slick entrance, Richard lay languid, replete. Nothing but a twist of his head indicated he felt anything as Ethan breached the man’s body. Still, he took his time. One inch. Two. There…yes, some discomfort. A crease on Richard’s brow, a slight jerk of his head and a soft intake of air. He eased back before inching in. Back…and in. His retreat always less, his push forward always more, until he stopped, buried balls deep.
A moment worth savouring. Minute twitches in Richard’s expression, tension and release, were all Ethan had to go on, but from personal experience he knew too well the physical bombardment Richard underwent. Richard would be undergoing an emotional assault, too, but Ethan didn’t want to linger. The man laid beneath him pliant and needy…rock hard. Nipples. Cock. Stomach.
He ran a hand down a hard line of muscle, appreciating the texture of smooth skin and taut abdomen. As Ethan’s hand stilled, Richard opened his eyes.
A second later, Ethan pulled out and thrust in, drawing a grunt from Richard’s throat. Ethan made his second stroke harder and faster. Sped up on the third. Before he reached the count of ten, he pounded into Richard, forcing either grunts or moans from him. All the time he watched, unable to look away. Not from Richard’s gaze, or his eyes, closing, eyelids fluttering. Not from his head tossing, or falling back, throat exposed. Not from his Richard’s back arching, hips lifting, hands fisting, pulling, grabbing, and squeezing the covers beneath them.
“Am I hurting you, Rich?” Ethan eased up, causing another moan to spill from the other man, though he couldn’t say whether it were from pleasure or pain. “Rich?” He touched Richard’s brow, trying to bring him around. “You okay?” Another second until Richard nodded. As he did, Ethan drew back, and pushed in. Air hissed in over Richard’s teeth in jagged increments making sharp sounds. His eyes closed again, but not before Ethan saw the whites and swore Richard’s eyes rolled back into his head. Ethan made another soft movement and Richard groaned, hands going to Ethan’s arms and shoulders, Richard’s hips tilting, the man writhing, rolling and rocking on the penetration.
A silent shout of triumph bellowed in Ethan’s head. Richard liked things slow as much as he liked them hard. The way to drive him insane was to use a combination.
More soft strokes. More enticement. Ethan rotated his hips and, beneath him, Richard met the movement, one fucking and one working his body to meet the incursion. Ethan fought to stay in charge but, as they sped up, he lost all sense of who fucked whom. He tingled all over from a rising, compelling need. The tide advanced, threatening to overwhelm him, forcing him to pound and thrust, to cling and to fuck, to force the wave to a crest that, when it crashed, might obliterate them.
At that moment he didn’t care, hoped for annihilation, and…the sweet pulsing first decimated and liquified him. The world cracked. The pain of the last few years came flooding in, and Ethan fell against Richard, unable to do anything other than shudder and moan as the other man’s groans joined with his.
* * * *
Warm. Cosy. Comfortable. Skin against skin. Scents filtered through to him. Clean sheets. Body m
usk. A faint soupçon of sex. Rich wanted to remain like this forever. When had he last felt this content? Ever?
Such tranquillity could be a dangerous thing. Might be tempting to linger here. Take his father’s place. Screw the gardener on the weekends.
He’d detest it. Hate rising each morning. To marry someone he didn’t want. Be a cheater. Use Ethan for sex—if the man was agreeable—but never experience a connection to anyone other than his sister. If things didn’t work out the way they discussed, she might disappear again soon.
Stupid notions. Pointless. Ethan wouldn’t want to be his bit on the side. No more than Rich would want him to be. He couldn’t use anyone that way, not even if they were willing. He didn’t want to live a lie.
The time would come to be truthful. This night…Ethan stroked Rich’s hair, made confession impossible. How long had the touch gone on without him noticing?
“You don’t want to go back to the house.”
Ethan’s voice rumbled out, the vibration caressing Rich’s face where his cheek rested Ethan’s chest. Christ. They cuddled. Did he want to? Yes. No. Not like this.
Though movement involved a lot of effort, his lack of response came from a fear of appearing uncomfortable. Ethan might make a big issue out of some reaction so small as to be minuscule. Nothing strange about bathing in afterglow…though many didn’t with the hired help. He so needed to stop thinking of Ethan as an employee. He wasn’t his mother and needed to put an end to reacting the way she expected him to. As he had done for too much of his life. Ethan…the man meant more to him than a member of staff. Truth was, Ethan’s attention meant more to Rich than to Ethan.
Rich closed his eyes at the sting of tears. He held his breath, afraid of making a sound.
The hand continued to stroke his hair and the silence reigned, Rich losing track of the minutes, of when he at last breathed again.
“I said—”
“I heard.” Rich sat up, missing the gentle touch and Ethan’s warmth. “What do you want me to say? No, I don’t want to go pottering around a house far too large and hollow and empty in every sense of the word.” His lips twitched, a strange mischievousness taking him over. “I don’t want to go up to an old house complete with its own version of Mrs Danvers living in it.”
“I wouldn’t have likened the Gardener mansion to Manderley, but now you mention it…”
Two thoughts sobered him. His assumption Ethan wouldn’t make the connection was an insult to the man and made him ashamed, and…the Gardener mansion? Did others think of the building the same way? The agents still referred to it as a house. Rich regarded it as a manor…but a mansion? To some, it must appear so. Ethan being one of those increased the distance between them. As for the other reference…
“My mother’s not so bad.” The temptation to come to her defence was both righteous and irritating.
“You don’t need to explain.” Ethan rolled off the bed. “What goes on between you and her is none of my business.”
“No. I suppose not.” Rich moved to the other side, not daring to glance over. He didn’t want to leave, Ethan got that much right. Anger rose up. “If it’s unnecessary to explain anything to you why mention the fact I don’t want to go h-home?” Damn but he still found it difficult to use the H word.
The silence stretched out for several moments. “I’m trying to get a grip on what makes rich people tick, maybe.”
Beneath his ribcage, Rich’s heart flipped. Dejection. What hope he carried they might share a proper conversation, died. He wanted to, though. Something in him persisted. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Why do you detest rich people?”
“Asked a poor person to another poor person never.”
“You’re not poor.” Rich at last looked at Ethan. “Sorry, but we pay you a decent wage and you receive free accommodation. You must have saved—”
Ethan snorted. He got up from the bed and stalked across the room. “I’m not about to explain it to you. Don’t expect someone like me to be happy to listen about your studies and travels while mugs like me stay behind and…and…” His fingers opened and closed as though he resisted making a fist. “Just, never mind.”
Where Ethan struck Rich as comfortable in his nudity in a way Rich never hoped to be, he appeared uneasy with his thoughts. What was wrong?
“You resent my having travelled? My education?”
“No. I resent you haven’t done more with it.”
Rich stared at the floor. “As mad as it sounds I’ve not always found the opportunity, but I’ve done more than you know.” Ethan gave him a look as if to say ‘sure you have’. “Don’t assume my life is perfect.”
“I don’t.” Ethan sounded uncertain no matter the words used, drawing Rich’s attention. “I mean, I guess…at times, but things…it’s not been easy…” He gazed at the ceiling. “I expected better of you than your mother.”
What in the world was Ethan Fields going on about?
“If I can do something…”
“Too late.” Ethan slipped on some clothes.
Too late? Too late for what? What had he or his mother done wrong? “If you won’t confide in me…” Rich left the question open.
“We’re fuck buddies. Not lovers. Not a couple.”
Which he knew, of course, but for it to come from Ethan’s mouth…Rich stood and gathered his own clothes, having to think extra hard to work out what went on first. His hands shook…with anger. With suppressed fury. With irritation. Despair.
“You say you don’t hate me, but you’re annoyed. I don’t know what I’ve done but if everything is not fine and you’re angry, why do you want to fuck around with me? Sorry, but I don’t buy the no more than sex thing. Not when you make this retribution of some kind. Whatever did I do to you?”
Ethan’s gaze narrowed. His jaw tightened. He stared across, topless, jeans open, dark hair below his navel, dragging Rich’s gaze down where he didn’t want to look. His thoughts would wing to his feelings when Ethan held him, stroked his hair, and he wouldn’t be able to stay angry.
One of Ethan’s arms hung down, the other crossed his body at the waist, the hand of the arm grasping the opposite forearm. The man’s fingers pressed. Beneath his fingertips, the skin became white. Nails dug in. Rich tried not to flinch, picturing Ethan squeezing so hard as to make his blood run.
“I told you, it’s sex.”
Ethan’s tone made Rich shiver, so he finished dressing at speed. He grabbed his coat and stuffed his gloves into a pocket. Moved to the window. Stopped.
Ethan lied.
Rich spun to face him. “Fine. You ever decide you want to tell me the truth, I’ll listen. For now, I’ll let myself out.” He made use of a chair but managed to climb out with rather more grace than when clambering in. When last he glanced back before heading into the trees, all he saw of Ethan was a silhouette against an aura of light.
* * * *
The bed still smelled of Richard. Of sex, too, but mostly of Richard’s…whatever he used. Soap?? Aftershave? Something expensive. Ethan lay on the bed, an arm over his eyes. Why had he not turned off the light before lying down? Moving now felt impossible. Even his simmering anger didn’t quite shake the drugged sensation of a great orgasm. Unfair when the last thing he wanted to reflect on was how good Richard made him feel.
Unavoidable. The circumstances made it so.
The sex was fucking unbelievable, and the way Richard reacted to him a miracle. Why not talk to Richard? Why not let all the stress and hard work of the previous years come pouring out? In serious need of catharsis, he longed to purge at Richard’s feet. He longed for…What? For Richard to apologise for Ruby Gardener’s actions? Why not? Someone should. Richard should understand but a chance existed he didn’t. Despite that, resentment…and affection glued Ethan’s jaw shut every time. He didn’t want to argue but ended up doing so anyway.
“I’m screwed.” At some point he’d developed an
attachment to Richard. The hopelessness of the situation wasn’t why he resented his emotions, though. Richard asked what he did wrong, and Ethan almost blurted it out. Sometimes hurt came, not from what people did, but what they failed to do. Richard might not understand.
“Not once,” Ethan whispered though no one was there to listen. Not once since returning home had Richard asked after Ethan’s father, and Ethan wasn’t sure he could ever forgive Richard for that.
Chapter 12
Ethan jolted out of a troubled sleep. Took a moment for him to realise he’d heard his own snore. He rolled over and tried to tuck back under the covers, but now a dull ache set up residence in his skull. The type of headache which said no amount of lying in bed would do any good to help. Might make the pain worse.
What was the time? He turned the other way, vague concern seeping into his consciousness as he noticed the light level in the room. One glance at the bedside clock made him throw back the duvet. A dreamlike recollection came to him. Alarm clock buzzing. His flinging out a hand to silence the irritation.
“Fuck!” No time for a shower. No time to eat. So much for working to exhaustion again the other day in the hope of sleeping through the night. Didn’t know why he tried. He kept waking around two in the morning, and spent at least an hour struggling to return to sleep.
Head still muzzy, he tugged on work clothes and used fingers rather than a comb through his hair. He needed to piss and unable to abide not brushing his teeth he must make time for that, too. After washing his hands, he dragged wet fingers through strands of hair which persisted in sticking up, and ran out of the house.
Dan looked up from his work, expression blank, but he almost always did possess a vague abstract appearance, so no way to tell whether he disapproved. Not as Ethan should care, but hard to dole out lectures about time-keeping and hard work he failed to live up to.
“Had calls to make.” He gave Dan a nod and walked on by, back straight, trying to ignore the feeling the young man smirked behind his back.
Flowers for the Gardener Page 12
