Convincing Arthur

by Ava March

  He set his glass on the fireplace mantel and positioned the three balls on the billiard table to start their game. “You work much too hard, Barrington.”

  “Perhaps. But if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have a roof over my head.”

  Leopold frowned. He had never worked a day in his life, subsisting on the generosity of his father and the income from a few investments. Did Arthur think him an idle wastrel? He wouldn’t blame him if he did, for Leopold certainly felt like one right now.

  Still, surely a balance could be found between work and more pleasurable activities. “But if you keep up your current pace, I fear you’ll drive yourself to an early grave.”

  Arthur sighed. “I admit I am giving thought to hiring another secretary.” His shot just missed. The ball bounced off the corner of the pocket and rolled a good distance toward the center of the table. “One with more experience under his belt. My current secretary has enthusiasm in abundance, but he doesn’t do much besides run errands, keep me on schedule and take notes. I need a man who’s been to university and who wants to become a solicitor. Someone who could draft a simple contract and review documents and not deem every one urgent.”

  So the enthusiastic secretary had been responsible for this morning’s delivery. Leopold rounded the table, stopping a pace from Arthur. “And were they all urgent?”

  “No. But I had to go through them all to make that determination.”

  His shot failed as miserably as Arthur’s, but the outcome of the game didn’t matter. Only if it eventually led Arthur to his bed.

  He moved back a pace, yielding the table to Arthur. Brow furrowed, Arthur studied the three balls on the table. Then he bent at the waist and, sliding the stick between his fingers, lined up his next shot.

  Leopold’s gaze raked the length of Arthur’s body, settling on his arse. He tightened his grip on his cue stick, resisting the impulse to flick aside the tails of Arthur’s navy evening coat and drag his hand along the crease. To delve his fingers between those firm cheeks, to press against his hole.

  Would Arthur allow him to fuck him?

  The thought of grabbing those hips, watching his cock disappear into Arthur’s entrance—

  Leopold briefly closed his eyes against the sudden tide of lust. It took all his self-control to keep the grunt inside. His prick swelled, pushing against his drawers, demanding to be set free. Arousal washing his senses, he shifted his weight and glanced about the room.

  The hell with it. They were alone. Why resist?

  He propped his cue stick against the wall and moved a step closer to Arthur to stand behind him. As soon as the felt-covered tip of Arthur’s stick smacked into the white ball, he reached beneath the coattails and trailed his fingers along that tantalizing crease.

  Straightening quickly, Arthur glanced over his shoulder, his hazel eyes wide with a mixture of shock and raw lust. There was something so very appealing in flustering such a conservative man. Leopold arched a brow and wiggled his fingers. The firm muscles tightened, then relaxed, granting him access to press deeper, pushing the fabric of his trousers between his cheeks. He knew exactly when he located the spot. Arthur’s eyelids fluttered, a soft grunt issued from his chest. Continuing to apply pressure, Leopold leaned closer, nudging Arthur’s hip with the arch of his arousal as he dragged his lips over his jaw. The ten-minute wait must have included a shave, for there was nothing but smooth skin and the faint scent of sandalwood beneath his lips.

  Arthur abruptly twisted away from him. His gaze skittered to the door on the other side of the billiard table. A tiny crack kept it from being fully closed.

  “No one will disturb us,” he murmured. Arthur didn’t look convinced. “Shall I shut it?” He made to whisper his fingertips over the beginnings of the erection tenting the placket of Arthur’s trousers, but the man leaned back. Not out of reach, but enough to press his point.

  He should have known Arthur would resist a rendezvous in the billiard room. The need for discretion, of course.

  Rather than push harder, bombarding the man with sensation as he had done earlier that morning, he held back and held on to his patience. His large bed did hold a certain amount of appeal.

  “How about my bedchamber? The servants will retire at nine. No one will see you enter my room. It’s next to yours, at the end of the corridor. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

  Breaking Arthur’s intent stare, he glanced over the man’s broad shoulder to the clock on the mantel. He didn’t much care if his servants saw him walking upstairs sporting an erection, but he figured Arthur would have different thoughts on the matter. Best to let him have a few moments.

  “Fifteen minutes. I’ll be waiting for you. Yes?”

  Arthur’s now-hard cock jumped beneath the placket. As good as a yes. Still, he forced himself to wait for a more concrete response. He needed Arthur fully with him, without a hint of resistance. Tonight would be different than before. He felt it in his bones. Nothing hasty or rushed about it.

  An entire night with Arthur in his arms. At last.

  At Arthur’s single nod, a smile spread across Leopold’s face. The hell with the door. He grabbed Arthur’s neck and slanted his mouth over his. Hot and quick. A promise of more. Then he turned on his heel and did his best not to sprint upstairs.

  Chapter Five

  Arthur nudged the bottle with his toe. It spun lazily on its side, catching the light from the dying fire behind him as it wobbled on the floorboards of Thornton’s bedchamber.

  Why was he so disappointed? He should have expected this.

  His heavy sigh filled the near-dark room. He turned on his heel but stopped at a faint squick sound. Dropping to his haunches, he leaned left so as not to block the firelight. The soft sheen of an almost fully dried puddle covered the floorboards next to the bed. Whisky, based on the scent.

  Brilliant.

  So foxed Thornton had spilled liquor all over the floor. Now he’d have to wash the soles of his shoes so he wouldn’t carry the scent of whisky with him wherever he went.

  With a shake of his head, he got to his feet and went to the hearth. He stoked the fire, using the iron poker to prod the flames to life, then picked up an armchair and moved it closer to the bed.

  He sat, stretching out his legs, careful to avoid the whisky on the floor. With an elbow on the chair’s arm, he rested his chin in his palm and studied the man clearly passed out on the large four-poster bed. His face was turned toward Arthur, his full lips slightly parted in sleep. His tousled black hair hid his eyes, the ends brushing his high cheekbones. Even sprawled on his stomach, one arm hanging off the side of the mattress and one leg tangled in the white sheet, there was an innate beauty in every line of his body. The fire threw splashes of golden light and shadow over his pale skin, highlighting the lean muscles of his shoulders and caressing the sleek curve of his lower back. His skin looked so soft and smooth that Arthur had the almost unstoppable urge to press his lips to that firmly rounded arse.

  Damnation. This was what he got for stalling significantly past those fifteen minutes. The moment Thornton had left the billiard room, he’d taken that intense pull with him, leaving Arthur caught between acute arousal and painful indecision.

  His short time at Ramsey House had shown him a side to Thornton he hadn’t expected. Definitely not all sharp, handsome edges. The amiable young man he once knew was still there beneath the hard veneer of dissipation. And the crackle of attraction held the promise of so much more, like a gauzy film covering a rich landscape. With Thornton, he’d have searing passion, the thrilling rush of excitement, an honest friend and a broken heart. And the man wouldn’t do it maliciously; it was just in his nature. Some thrived on commitment, some on the chase, and others, like Thornton, on vice itself. Hell, he carried a vial of oil with him on a shooting excursion. Likely he’d had a flask of whisky tucked in a pocket as well.

  Even though Arthur had resolved to scale back his hours at the office, he’d still need to work late every now and then
. No way around it. And when he did, he’d worry Thornton was with another. Hell, anytime he wasn’t by the man’s side, he’d worry. Foolish of him to even assume Thornton would want to continue…whatever they had together…when they returned to Town. According to the gossip, the man had never spent more than a night with any given bed partner. Still, all afternoon those worries had plagued him, flitting through his mind as he reviewed document after document, and they had intensified over the past few hours, since Thornton had left him alone in the billiard room. If only he and Thornton could remain here, at Ramsey House. If only he could keep him from the temptations of London…

  He couldn’t very well abandon his office and throw caution to the wind. He knew that. But he could not stop himself from wondering what it would be like to have this man as his own. He felt the pull on his heart, light yet determined. It would be so very easy to fall in love with Thornton. True love, and not that shallow imitation he’d had with Randolph. But it would never work between them.

  The ease with which Thornton indulged in sexual liaisons—last night and this morning served as prime examples—screamed loud and clear he wasn’t at all familiar with the concept of fidelity. A fact Arthur knew before he’d even left Town. Perhaps he really shouldn’t have come to Ramsey House, but at least he could leave tomorrow knowing Randolph was now firmly in his past. And he had Thornton to thank for that. The relationship reconciled, and every last bit of lingering ache pushed from his heart. But not the memory of it. That more than anything had delayed his appearance in Thornton’s bedchamber.

  Hopefully his early departure tomorrow wouldn’t ruin their newfound friendship. They had been friends once, without the added complexity of intimacy muddying the waters. Their short holiday simply illustrated they suited better as friends and not lovers. As his friend, the indiscretions he could accept, a mere given that came along with Thornton. The gossip and rumor surrounding Thornton could wash over him with no ill effect, as long as he wasn’t one of the many inhabiting Thornton’s bed.

  For if so, Thornton would break his heart, harder and quicker than he feared he could recover. And he’d never find that sense of steadiness he craved. Forever waiting for the day when Thornton tired of him and flitted out of his life, just as he had done ten years ago.

  But the attraction, the intense pull he felt only with Thornton, coupled with the knowledge the man waited for him tonight…

  Clearly reason and logic held little power over it, for here he sat.

  He shifted in the chair. Reaching out, he snatched the almost full glass of whisky from the bedside table and took a long swallow, but it did nothing to soften the coarse rub of irritation riding over the heavy disappointment. And after all the debating whether to come to Thornton’s bedchamber, after all that pacing and arguing with himself, he found this.

  But it was something he needed to see for himself, a blunt reminder of Thornton’s true nature.

  He set the glass down and scrubbed a hand over his face. Leave. Yes, indeed, he should go back to his bedchamber and get a few hours of sleep before returning to London to start his search for someone to share his life with. Staying the full length of their short holiday was now out of the question. More days spent with Thornton would only make it harder to leave. But…

  His gaze traveled once more over the sinfully beautiful man sprawled on the large four-poster bed. Their previous encounters had been hasty affairs, clothing only unbuttoned enough to bare the essentials. He was already here… What harm could come from indulging one last time? He nudged the whisky bottle with his toe, pushing it against a leg of the bedside table. Thornton likely wouldn’t remember it anyway. But he would.

  One night of complete and utter abandon. The chance to give free rein to every sexual impulse he had ever tamped down. And to do it with Thornton, a man accustomed to walking away in the morning without a backward glance.

  Such an opportunity would likely never present itself again. Such stark, blinding, raw lust did not go hand in hand with a steady, amiable man capable of a long-term, discreet commitment. The only type of man he would share his bed with once he returned to London. But as long as he kept the knowledge of exactly whom he indulged with in the forefront of his mind, he was fairly certain he could survive one night with Thornton and walk away with his heart intact.

  He toed off his shoes and whisked his shirt over his head, flicking it to the floor before he could give it another thought. The navy coat, waistcoat and cravat had been discarded a good hour ago, well before he’d even left his own bedchamber. Anticipation now coursing through his veins, he stood and removed his trousers, leaving them in a pile at his feet. His erection sprang free, hard and heavy and eager to feel those skilled hands and lush lips one last time.

  Gaze pinned on the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on, he went to the foot of the bed. Careful not to disturb the mattress, he slowly crawled up Thornton’s body and dropped a light kiss on that firmly rounded arse.

  A soft tickle roused Leopold from a deep sleep. He reached back to swat lazily at his bum and encountered…

  He levered up on his forearms to look over his shoulder.

  A dream? He blinked and passed a hand over his eyes. His head certainly felt fogged. But he never dreamed of Arthur when he overimbibed before bed. He looked again.

  Arthur. Naked. Crouched behind him, his head bowed over Leopold’s arse, his lips less than an inch from his skin.

  Holy hell. He had come after all. Grinning, Leopold shook his head in amazement, happiness flooding his senses, chasing away the despair that had nearly broken his heart.

  “Evening, Barrington,” he said, voice raspy from sleep. “Find anything that interests you back there?”

  The sharp nip zinged along his nerves and made him ache for more.

  “Most assuredly.” At Arthur’s low, rumbling growl, blood pooled to Leopold’s groin so quickly his head went light.

  Even in his wildest fantasies, Arthur Barrington hadn’t bitten him on the arse.

  Dragging his lips along Leopold’s spine, Arthur crawled up his body. Pressed kisses across his shoulder to his neck and up to his ear. Soft, light kisses that made Leopold feel cherished. Wanted. Treasured. With a moan, he hung his head, resting his forehead on his pillow, and lifted his hips, brushing against Arthur’s erection. Arthur let out a barely perceptible grunt and then worked a knee between Leopold’s thighs. He swung his leg up, opening for Arthur. Hot, silken skin nestled in the crease of his arse. Slow and with deliberate purpose, Arthur humped him, the base of his cock teasing his entrance with each stroke, reminding him vividly of how that cock felt buried deep. Stretching him wide. Pounding into him.

  A heavy wave of lust washed over him. He clutched the sheet, a whimper tumbling passed his lips. Shameless and needy, he pushed back, wanting more. The mattress shifted and heat scorched his back as Arthur lowered fully on top of him, the weight of his body pinning him down. Solid, strong, just like the man himself. Chest hair brushed between his shoulders. Panting breaths fanned his nape. He could feel the hair on Arthur’s groin rub against his cheeks as the man ground into him. The power and promise behind each tantalizing thrust brought him closer to the point of begging.

  His cock was smashed between his belly and the mattress. The friction of the soft sheet was not even close to what he needed. And his lips… He needed Arthur’s against his own. Needed to wrap his arms around his lover, hold him tight. Verify this was not, in fact, a dream. He twisted, bare skin sliding against bare skin, limbs tangling and untangling, until they were on their sides. Leg hooked over Arthur’s hip, arms wrapped around him, he kissed him fiercely.

  The taste of Arthur was so perfect, so right. An exact match to his memory from the forest. Except this time, leaves didn’t crunch beneath his feet. This time he wasn’t intent on pushing a memory of an old lover from Arthur’s mind. This time Arthur had come to him.

  He slanted his mouth over Arthur’s again and again. Unable to get enough. A growl s
hook Arthur’s chest. He gripped Leopold’s arse, fingers digging into the crease, and yanked him closer, delivering a tug on his hole. His ballocks lurched up tighter against his body. With every move he made, his prick bumped against Arthur’s. A luxurious caress. Seeking more, he thrust his hips. The tip of Arthur’s prick pressed against his, leaving a damp trail along his length.

  He tore his lips from Arthur’s, breaking the kiss. “I want to taste your cock.” Panting hard, he pushed on the man’s rock-hard shoulder.

  Arthur moved onto his back, and Leopold went with him, sitting up to straddle his waist. Palms flattened on Arthur’s chest, he rolled his hips, rubbing his ballocks over the arch of Arthur’s erection. That earned him another low growl from Arthur, his firm lips pulling in a feral grin that vanquished all traces of the restrained, conservative facade from his expression, leaving only the man.

  To finally have this man with him, in his bed, as he’d hoped for so long… It was almost too much to comprehend. He wanted to do everything with him. Right now. All at once. Taste every inch of his skin. Know him in every carnal way possible. Give Arthur every inch of his soul.

  He trailed his fingers through the smattering of hair on his broad chest, pausing briefly to pluck at one of the copper nipples. Then he bent his head and sucked on the hard tip. Arthur stiffened and hissed, his prick jerking against Leopold’s ballocks. The reaction immediately imprinted itself on his brain.

  As did the way Arthur’s stomach muscles twitched as Leopold dragged his lips down to the thick cock he just had to taste again. The next instant, he had his hand wrapped around the heavy weight of Arthur’s prick. With a swipe of his tongue, he lapped up the fluid beaded at the tip. The hint of salt, musk and Arthur had him opening his mouth, taking him inside, needing more.

  Arthur gasped. “Damnation, Thornton.”

  He practically purred in response.

  As he bobbed along the length, he looked up. Arthur had levered onto his forearms, but with Leopold’s forelock hanging over his eyes, coupled with only the fire to light the room, he couldn’t make out Arthur’s expression from the shadows of his face. Arthur must have heard his thoughts, for with a light touch, he smoothed the hair from Leopold’s eyes, holding it back as he palmed his skull.