by Bonnie Dee
“Would you care to come to my house for dinner?” Nigel asked.
“Yes. That would be nice.”
Jay walked faster, and Nigel matched him step for step. Their pace nearly doubled. Anyone watching them might think they raced to catch a train.
“Almost there,” Nigel panted as they turned a corner.
As they entered the street of houses standing like white sentinels all in a row, he slowed his racing feet to a walk. Wouldn’t do to alarm the neighbors or draw attention to himself and his guest. Stark Lane was busy this time of day. Men returned from a long day’s work in offices as neat and tidy as their suits. Day staff hurried home to their own families. A nanny walked briskly past, pulling a child on either side of her—very late in getting them home for a wash-up and supper. The routine of a meal, family time, bedtime ended another London day. No Ferris wheels or drunken artists or cross-dressing singers here on Stark Lane, ah, but there was some excitement in store for Nigel nonetheless.
His hand shook so he could scarcely fit the key to the lock. The moment the front door closed, Jay reached for him, pulled him close and kissed him hard, his mouth almost bruising.
Nigel surrendered for a moment before pushing him away. “Soon, but I must dismiss my housekeeper first.”
Mrs. Cubbins came bustling from the rear of the house to welcome him home. A narrow shave. If she’d been a second earlier… Nigel grew cold at the thought.
“Good evening, Mr. Warren.” Mrs. Cubbins’s eyes widened in surprise. “And you’ve brought a guest.” The first time ever since she’d been working for Nigel.
“Yes. Set the table for two, please,” Nigel said.
“Good evening, I’m John Bertrand.” Jay’s hand went up as if he were about to shake Mrs. Cubbins’s hand, then he recalled it wasn’t proper form to greet a housekeeper so and let it drop back to his side. The man had probably never kept servants in his life, which reminded Nigel how far apart their lives were.
The housekeeper smiled uncertainly. “Very good, sir. I’ll set a place, then, and after you’ve tided up, I’ll serve your dinner.”
“No need to wait on us, Mrs. Cubbins. My old friend Bertrand and I will probably wish to talk for some time before we eat. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
Mrs. Cubbins’s face cleared as she pigeonholed Jay as “old schoolmate” in her mind. She bobbed her white-capped head. “Thank you, sir. But I can wait if you need me to serve.”
“I wouldn’t trouble you. It’s not in our agreement for you to stay late, and I know you have your own family to take care of.”
“Let me at least bring you some tea,” Mrs. Cubbins persisted.
“We’ll likely be drinking something a bit stronger,” Nigel said. “Be off. I insist.”
He bit down on his impatience. Oh, to live like Jay in a crowded flat where people lounged around half-naked and coupled with whomever they chose and no one judged or watched, unless it was with salacious interest. A fresh wave of heat raced through him at the thought of bodies coupling and the open display of sexuality he’d witnessed in Paris. Tonight. Any second now. As soon as this woman gets out of my house!
Mrs. Cubbins left them to go prepare the dinner table for two. Nigel led Jay into the parlor, where they sat politely across from each other and listened to the quiet sounds from the dining room.
“Is it always like this, with servants hanging about?” Jay asked.
Nigel poured two small glasses of sherry from the decanter and handed one to his guest. “After my mother died, I cut the household staff. My manservant retired. Now I have my cook, housekeeper and a couple of maids. None live here. I’m alone at night.” But not tonight. The thought thrilled him.
Jay chuckled. “Little privacy for the wealthy. I think I’d prefer scrubbing my own dirty floors.”
That delicious laugh ignited a new wave of desire. To keep his impatience in check, Nigel addressed Jay as he would any guest. “How have you been since I saw you last?”
“Very well,” Jay answered as politely, but a twinkle in his eyes showed that he only played at being a well-behaved visitor. “My work goes on as usual. My flatmates are, shall I say, a challenge. Merde is preparing for an exhibition and is more a maniac than usual. Roger is sighing and reclining around the place, consumed with unrequited love for some gentleman—or perhaps a lady. None of us are quite sure. Lagniappe and Polisson are in another spat. The writer has moved out, and Polisson is drinking more heavily than ever and is as evil-tempered as an angry lion. Such emotional drama!” Jay shook his head. “It’s like living in a madhouse. I could use some peace.”
Hearing about the passionate natures of Jay’s artistic friends brought home to Nigel how very quiet his own life was, organized as a long column of numbers, exactly as he liked it. Except these days it seemed quite dull and colorless.
A soft knock on the parlor door, and Mrs. Cubbins stood there, bidding them good night once more. Shortly after, Nigel heard the back door close. Alone at last, and now he was extremely nervous. He swallowed. “Well then…”
“Well, indeed,” Jay responded with that sensual smile. “What shall we do?”
Before Nigel had to answer, Jay slipped out of his armchair and slunk across the carpet to kneel before Nigel. He rested a hand on each of Nigel’s thighs and looked up into his face. “I’ve wanted this.”
No use in feigning any shred of nonchalance. “I have too,” Nigel answered breathlessly and leaned toward that lush mouth. He recalled those lips colored red, with the sweetest music issuing from between them. The sweet tang of sherry on Jay’s mouth was like a blast of air to the banked coals inside him. They flared to a raging inferno as Nigel grabbed hold of Jay and dragged him closer.
Filled with desperation and anticipation, his erection so rigid it hurt, Nigel clutched at Jay’s body.
Jay pulled back, smiling. “Slower, I think.”
No. That sounded like torture. Nigel needed him, immediately. He swallowed and nodded. “All right.”
Jay rose to his feet. “Shall we have dinner first?”
Nigel gave a small howl of protest before he realized that Jay teased him. “I am not interested in food,” Nigel whispered.
“What a pity. It smells delicious.”
Nigel lunged up from the chair. Laughing, Jay grasped his forearms to slow him. Jay kissed his cheek and the corner of his lips before settling into another deep kiss that made Nigel whimper with pleasure. They stood in the parlor, bodies pressed close, kissing and swaying a little.
Nigel remembered the sweet shuffling dance on the roof—except this was his drawing room, his world. Jay had come to him. His heart beat so fast he had trouble drawing breath.
“Please,” he begged. It seemed he spent so much of his time with Jay, begging. “Please don’t make me wait.”
Chapter Eleven
The raw need on Nigel’s face was even better than Jay’s memory of it. He was glad to be back in England just so he could see that glassy-eyed expression of wonder again.
“Hold still.” He walked around Nigel, examining the dark wool suit, a somber herringbone tweed, the dark shoes—all perfect for a banker. “Do you polish your boots yourself? You said your manservant was gone?”
“A boots boy. We have one. Christ, why are you asking me this now?” Nigel peered over his shoulder at Jay, but didn’t move otherwise.
“I’m taking a look at the wrapping before I get to the gift beneath, examining the twine and brown paper.” He brushed a hand across Nigel’s back.
Nigel groaned and shivered at the slight touch. “You’re torturing me!”
“You’re far too simple to torture, then.”
“Yes, when I need you this much.”
An answering fillip of desire burned in Jay. The madness of yearning, he thought. It had pushed him out of his life, across the channel, into this par
lor, this moment.
He moved close behind Nigel, and before the man could turn around, Jay swiftly wrapped his arms around him, capturing his arms to his sides. Jay pulled him close, his front to Nigel’s back as he breathed in the comforting scent. “Do you always smell so good? Even after a long day in the counting house?”
Nigel squirmed, obviously trying to turn to embrace him. Jay was stronger or more determined. He squeezed tight. The rub against his cock—and the fact that here was Nigel—aroused his flagging erection. He slowly, deliberately pushed against Nigel’s arse and listened to the panting breaths of Nigel, who rested the back of his head on Jay’s shoulder.
Jay nibbled his neck above his stiff collar and whispered, “Take away this useless cloth, and I could push right into you. Hmm, right there. I’d shove myself into your body. You’d be so tight. Mm. And you’d squirm just like that too.”
“Yes, yes, all right.”
Jay chuckled. He loosened his grip to run a hand down Nigel’s front, down the waistcoat, deftly undoing buttons as he went. He reached the top of Nigel’s trousers and dipped inside to grab the large, hot and hard gift awaiting him. “Oh, we’ll have so much fun, my virginal friend. Such a lark.” As he tugged on Nigel’s rock-hard cock, he thrust his own against Nigel’s firm backside, pushing hard enough he wondered if he’d rip the cloth.
“Show me.” Again, Nigel squirmed. This time he broke free of Jay’s gripping arm.
“Here now, you’re stronger than you look.” Jay laughed as Nigel twisted to face him.
Nigel yanked on the lapel of Jay’s jacket.
“Careful, it’s the only one I’ve got that fits well,” Jay warned.
“Take it off,” Nigel growled. “Everything.”
“Here? In your parlor?”
“Now.” Nigel grabbed his hand and pulled him to a sofa near the fireplace. He pushed Jay down and then knelt. For a second, Jay wondered what he was up to, then realized he was pulling off Jay’s boots, and then Nigel pushed up the trousers to go after Jay’s socks. He had suspenders to hold them up, and those went too. Jay put his hands behind his head, elbows wide, a pretense of relaxation as he watched Nigel pull at cloth, scramble at buttons. Finally, he took pity on Nigel and rose to pull off his own clothes.
Naked—more intensely naked than usual with that avid stare fixed on his body—Jay lay back on the sofa. He said, “Go on.” But Nigel had stopped. He stared down at him with pure reverence.
Worship was all right for now, Jay thought, but he recalled his own words to Merde. It would grow tedious to seem perfect to anyone. What the hell was he doing considering anything but this moment, when the lust surging through them both threatened to swamp all semblance of thought?
He took a swipe at Nigel, intending to grab him and pull off those clothes he wore, but Nigel easily ducked away.
“How did you find such good reflexes working in an office?”
“University.” Nigel dropped to his knees on the carpet and began to use his hands and mouth to caress Jay’s body.
“That’s right, rowing at Cambridge. But that’s not where you learned the rest of this… God. And how did you get so good at… Oh God,” Jay croaked the words. He slumped on the sofa, his leg and back pressed to the rough silk, his legs spread wide as Nigel nibbled and tongued the sensitive inside of his thigh.
Nigel paused a moment to say, “If I’m good, it’s because of you. You’re an inspiration.” He returned to his work, sliding up Jay’s legs.
Jay gasped at the almost aggressive way Nigel seized him with his mouth with a hard suck on his cock—his backside rose from the sofa as he lurched up to meet that hungry mouth.
“I’ll explode here and now,” Jay managed to gasp.
Nigel backed off to grasp his shaft and lick him, sliding his foreskin up and down.
“Better.” Jay pushed up, impatient and needy.
Nigel lifted his head, his mouth red and wet from all he’d been doing to Jay. “You’re close, but I want to make this last.” He let go of Jay’s cock, to Jay’s relief and disappointment.
He slid his hands over Jay’s belly, up his chest, over his arms. He squeezed and slipped gentle fingers over Jay.
Jay wiggled under his warm pushing hands. “What are you doing?”
“Touching every bit of your skin I can,” Nigel murmured. “I need to touch all of you.”
So methodical, so careful, the banker mapped every part of him. The trail of heat he left with his fingers drove Jay insane. God, he was tracing Jay’s earlobes and then his cheeks. It was more than pleasant, but Jay had had enough of receiving without giving. He pushed Nigel back and rose, his bare feet warmed by the thick rug, so pleasant that he wiggled his toes for a second or two.
Nigel knelt on the rug still, resting on his heels. That handsome faced turned up to him with such trust, and the submissive pose of the man kneeling before him sent a hard rush of lust through Jay. “Stand up,” he ordered.
With obvious reluctance, Nigel climbed to his feet.
“Now take off your clothes.” Jay snapped his fingers, once, twice.
Nigel began to undress, still methodical, and as each item came off, he placed it on a chair. Shoes off, then socks released from suspenders and rolled off, the suspenders removed. Coat, watch, chain and fob removed, then the waistcoat, cufflinks gone, placed in a shoe. The tie undone entirely before he took it from around his neck and draped it on the chair. He tilted his head back and removed the shirt stud, which he placed carefully with the cufflinks in his shoe, the shirt collar too. He rubbed at the reddened spot on his throat where the stiff collar had sat. Then the braces were unbuttoned.
The mere sight of Nigel, slowly unbuttoning and pulling off clothes was enough to keep Jay aroused. He didn’t interrupt, because he loved this show put on for him.
The only sign of Nigel’s excitement, other than the obvious bulge in his trousers, was his trembling fingers.
And then the trousers were off, the drawers removed.
Nigel gazed at Jay, his attention no longer distracted by the act of disrobing. He appeared rather magnificent with those planes of muscle under pale flesh. Who would have guessed underneath those dull clothes, a bank clerk’s body could be so breathtaking? Exciting and excited too.
“Now,” Nigel said, his cock sticking up straight and proud and oh so ready.
“This carpet.” Jay wiggled his toes. “I don’t think I’ve felt anything quite so luxurious on a floor before.”
He dropped to his knees and shuffled forward. Nigel began to follow his lead, but Jay was close enough to grab at his calves. “Let me return the favor.”
Nigel said, “I’m already light-headed. I might topple over.”
Jay chuckled. “Brace yourself against that chair and let me do this.”
“But I can—”
“Stop complaining,” Jay said and licked the underside of the impressive cock.
Nigel whimpered.
“So needy,” Jay said.
“Yes,” Nigel agreed.
Jay licked and sucked, and every touch, every motion brought a tiny noise or shiver of a response from Nigel.
He suspected Nigel restrained himself, or he’d be howling and crying out. Instead, there were only those small sounds from his throat. And he didn’t thrust forward the way Jay would have or grab at Jay’s hair. He laid a gentle hand on Jay’s head, barely touching his hair.
So restrained. Nigel had been more abandoned in Paris. Perhaps this restraint was the result of doing this in his own parlor.
Jay would drag wildness from him. He hummed, he bit—gently, he lapped and slurped and moved his mouth and hands together.
A wordless shout that sounded almost like anguish came from Nigel, who grabbed Jay’s head. And, at last, the desperate need came through. His cock swelled, grew impossibly hard, and the pulses of
orgasm vibrated under Jay’s hand. Nigel gave another strangled cry. Loud enough to satisfy Jay.
Jay released his grip on Nigel, who collapsed to the carpet and dragged Jay down with him.
He clasped Jay tight, their skin touching from leg to shoulders. Jay pressed his face against Nigel’s warm, salty neck. He felt hard and impatient with lust as he’d ever been, but the tremendous release he’d witnessed was satisfying enough for the moment.
Nigel rolled them over so Jay lay on his back.
“My turn,” Nigel said in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “Your turn to lie still.” He ran fingertips down Jay’s arm, then let his mouth brush over Jay’s nipple. “I like this,” he said and licked it.
Every pore in Jay’s body clamored for touch. He hadn’t known he’d enjoyed such slow, careful exploration. When Nigel’s deliberate touch came to his cock and rested there, Jay surged upward, pushing into his hand with a gusty moan. “If I don’t find relief soon, I shall have permanent damage.”
Nigel grinned at him and pushed him onto his back again. The carpet rubbed his skin. And then Nigel bent all of his solemn, focused attention on the matter at hand, using both hands, his mouth. The tight feel of his hot mouth was almost too much again, but when Jay gasped, Nigel loosened his grip, and his tongue danced over the tip.
“You are so good,” Jay said as Nigel brought him close before easing away.
Nigel paused to beam at him. “I have often thought of this, planned exactly how I’d do it given the chance. I thought it was merely a fantasy, but perhaps a part of me knew I’d be with you again someday.” Then he bent back to his work of driving Jay mad with yearning and pleasure.
So much pleasure. He came to the edge and hovered there. His body seemed to open even as his balls went tight, and he knew any second, any heartbeat… Even expecting it, he was startled by the intensity of his orgasm and his own shout of surprised wonder. So fast after all those weeks of longing and forsaking any other man’s company.
