by Lynn Lorenz
Will kneeled, placed his hand upon the sword, and looked up into Jackson’s face.
“I, Lord William Holcombe, give my oath of fealty to Baymore, and as your warder and steward, I pledge my oath to serve you, body, blood, and life, until you release me or death takes me.”
Their eyes met. If anyone had seen what deeper oaths passed between Jackson and Will, no one made notice or remarked.
Jackson’s heart pounded in his chest as he placed his hand over Will’s, holding it tight against the sword. “Lord William Holcombe, I accept your oath.”
»»•««
Jackson slumped onto the bed and pulled off his boots. Will fell into the chair behind the desk and watched him.
“That was a long evening.” Jackson sighed. “I have no wish to repeat that. Although the food and wine were good.” He stood, removed his over vest, and folded it on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Next, he peeled off his breeches. A shiver ran through Will as Jackson’s body was revealed. Those strong, powerful thighs—dark red hair curling all over them—made Will sigh. He knew where all that hair gathered in a nest, hidden now by the long shirt Jackson still wore.
Will had to go slow, take his time, and let Jackson lead their dance. No matter how anxious he might be or how much he craved, Will had to move at Jackson’s pace. If he thought about it, he grew harder knowing he’d have to wait. But how long he could stand it, he couldn’t say.
“There won’t be many evenings like that, Your Grace.” Will’s gaze traveled over his lover’s body.
“Good.” Pulling his shirt over his head, Jackson leaned back on the bed.
Will groaned softly. The expanse of broad chest, chiseled planes, rippled belly, and small, dark nipples sent a wave of tight desire straight to his sac. He bent and pulled off his boots, then picked up a quill and parchment.
“Can’t your work wait until morn?” Jackson asked.
“I suppose it can.” Will put down the quill, came around the desk, and stripped down.
Will stretched, flicked his hair over his shoulder, and took his time walking to his side of the bed. Jackson watched him from under half-lidded, sleepy eyes. Will felt the air in the room change, become heavier. His cock twitched in response.
He kneeled on the bed and sat on his heels, gazing down at Jackson. “How is your back?”
“Well. It hardly hurts.” He grimaced and shifted his position.
“I can see that.” He chuckled. “Perhaps you should lie on your belly.”
“No, I want to stay right here. And watch you.” A small smile grew on Jackson’s face. He reached out a finger and traced a line down Will’s leg. A shiver ran over Will and his cock blossomed. Jackson’s finger returned, tracing over Will’s calf, past his knee, along the muscle of his thigh, and came to rest at the crease where leg met hip.
Will’s head fell back as he savored Jackson’s touch. God, all he wanted was this man. But Jackson had been badly hurt, and scars like those didn’t heal quick or easy.
Jackson rolled onto his side, slid his hand over Will’s belly, around his waist, and squeezed. Massaging Will, Jackson’s hand rode higher until his thumb brushed Will’s pink nipple.
“Oh God, Jackson.” Will sighed. His cock grew strong and hard. He wanted to throw himself on Jackson, devour him, but he stayed still. This was Jackson’s game, however he wished to play it.
“My lord, you are so beautiful. Tonight, you astounded me.” Jackson’s hand dropped, his fingers dragging down Will’s torso until they touched his cock.
“Goddamn!” Will sucked in air in a deep hiss as his stiff flesh was gathered into Jackson’s strong, gentle hand.
“I don’t think God condones what I’m going to do to you, Will,” Jackson growled. Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned over and took Will’s rod in his mouth.
Will’s body spasmed in a pleasure so pure it brought tears to his eyes. Jackson’s mouth was a joy and his tongue was the stuff of songs. Will resolved to make a song in honor of Jackson’s tongue, or an ode to his mouth, his lips, his teeth, or perhaps a different poem to every part of him. Eyes closed, Will felt the warmth and the wetness of that mouth as it slid up and down over his cock. He groaned each time Jackson’s tongue wrapped itself around his flesh, tormenting him, driving him toward completion.
He looked down at the top of Jackson’s head as it rose and fell, and he buried his hands in the hair that had been driving him mad to touch all night.
Jackson’s hand pumped and twisted as his mouth sucked. Will lost his mind and his control. With a shout, his hips thrust upward and froze, his sac tightened, and he exploded.
Jackson took him. Coaxed every drop of Will’s cream from him, licking the last of it from the sensitive head, still engorged, still throbbing. Will fell over, too limp to move, too drained to speak. Next to him, Jackson slid onto his side and ran his fingers through the light dusting of blond hair on Will’s chest.
“I didn’t want you until tonight,” Jackson confessed.
“I promise I’ll be here as long as it takes.”
“I don’t want it to take time. I want it to be over. Forgotten,” Jackson muttered, and threw an arm over his face.
“Forgotten? I can’t promise that will ever happen.”
The men were silent—Jackson stroked Will’s chest and Will rubbed Jackson’s thigh. The need to touch each other, to re-forge the connection between them that had been broken, burned in them. They had been separated by distance, time, and the cruel actions of Hugh. Now, they reunited in quiet touches, soft sighs, and whispered words.
“Will.”
“Aye, Your Grace.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Aye, Your Grace.”
There was a long silence before Jackson spoke again. When he did, it was so soft Will barely heard him. “Make it go away.”
“What?”
“Make me forget, Will.”
It was a plea. A call for help that Will could not refuse. “What do you want me to do?” He rolled onto his side to get a better view of Jackson. Will could see the water standing in the big man’s eyes, and he felt a stab of pain as if a dagger had been plunged into his heart.
“Make me forget his touch, Will. Take it away. Replace it with yours.” A tear trickled from Jackson’s eye down the side of his cheek. “I want to forget how his hands felt on my skin. I want to remember only your touch. To forget the way he hurt me.” Jackson took a shuddering breath. “I want you to replace it with pleasure, with ecstasy, with your love.”
Will reached out, cupped Jackson’s face in his hands, and kissed him. Soft, tender, slow. His lips brushed Jackson’s lips but didn’t linger, didn’t press, but like a butterfly, landed and took off, then flitted back to land again.
Jackson whispered Will’s name as if it were a chant. “Oh, Will. My Will. Sweet Will,” he whispered. “Take me.”
Will looked deep into Jackson’s eyes, swimming with his feelings. Of all the emotions Will saw in them, love was the greatest. Jackson loved him and trusted him. Will resolved he would make love to Jackson and do his best to make him forget.
Their first time, there would be no taking, only giving. Not a penetration, but a joining. And most of all, no pain, only pleasure.
“Did he take you from the rear?”
“Aye.”
“No oil?”
“None.”
Will sighed. He didn’t have to ask if Hugh had eased himself in or brutalized Jackson. Hugh would have taken pleasure in inflicting pain and humiliation. Rolling out of bed, Will padded to the desk and pulled open a drawer. He returned with a vial of oil.
“I want you to relax, Jackson. I won’t do anything to hurt you, I promise.”
“I know.”
Kneeling between Jackson’s legs, Will poured the oil into his palms and spread it over his hands. Will stroked the ripples of Jackson’s belly, making small passes ever closer to that growing cock. Jackson closed his eyes as Will massaged his body, mo
ving ever lower toward Jackson’s hardening manhood.
If Will knew anything, it was that he had to build Jackson’s desire, his want and need—had to make the big man ache to be taken. Without that, there would be no pleasure or joy, only the act and more pain. So, he teased Jackson. Let his fingers brush through the thick curls that circled Jackson’s rod, let his hands rub the crease of his thigh, and kissed his belly. His tongue probed Jackson’s navel and he blew his warm breath across Jackson’s sac.
Through all of this, he could feel Jackson respond. The deepening of his breathing, the small movements of his hips, and where Will’s tongue passed over his pulse points, the quickening of Jackson’s blood. As Jackson moaned, soft, low, and steady, like the purring of a cat, Will knew he could move on, progress further.
His hand cupped Jackson’s sac and squeezed gently. Jackson’s intake of air and tensing of his body told Will to continue. Slipping his hand lower, Will massaged the tender skin underneath the sac, almost reaching Jackson’s hole. Almost. Stroking the distance from stones to hole, coming closer, nearing and then retreating, until Jackson’s hips pumped, reached for it, encouraged Will to touch there, in that special spot.
“Fuck, Will, touch me.”
Will circled Jackson’s tight hole with his finger, withdrew, and added more oil to his hands. Smearing it around and over Jackson’s hole, he held his breath and eased the tip of his finger inside. Jackson gasped.
“Did that hurt?”
“God, no.”
Will pushed deeper, past his first knuckle and paused. Jackson’s eyes shuttered closed. Pressing deeper, Will watched Jackson’s face. Like a stone statue, Jackson’s fierce face remained still.
“Deeper?” Will had to let Jackson control this.
“Aye.” Jackson swallowed and nodded.
Will pushed in to the next knuckle.
“Deeper,” Jackson whispered.
Will sank his finger all the way in. He waited for Jackson to take a few deep breaths. Will removed his finger in a slow, steady pull.
Jackson groaned. “That’s good.”
Will smiled. Before he reached the end, he pushed back in. Slowly, Will finger fucked Jackson until the man’s body rocked, accepting the act.
He slipped a second finger in. Jackson groaned, hips bucking to take them inside.
Will moved his fingers in and out, steady as he increased the speed. Jackson moaned, “Faster.”
His fingers slipped past the tight ring of Jackson’s entry, slid along the tunnel, fingertips rubbing the pleasure spot on the side. Jackson’s body shuddered.
“God, do it,” Jackson groaned. “I want you inside me.”
Will pulled out. After covering his cock in more oil and spreading it over Jackson’s hole, Will guided his swollen rod to the opening. Rubbing it against Jackson, Will teased him until he heard Jackson utter a long, deep sigh.
“Take me, Will.”
Easing forward, Will slipped the head of his cock past the tight outer ring of muscles and paused. Jackson moved, hips tilting, positioning his body to make it easier for Will. Supporting himself on his arms, Will locked eyes with Jackson. Desire, want, and need burned in those dark brown eyes.
“Take my hips, Jackson, guide me.”
Jackson’s strong hands grasped him and pulled down. His cock slid farther in. Jackson kept dragging Will’s hips toward him, as if he were greedy for more. With a deep sigh, Jackson pulled Will deeper until their bodies touched.
Jackson whispered, “So good, fuck, it feels so good.”
Fully seated, Will waited. Felt Jackson’s body tighten around his cock. He’d been so concerned with Jackson, Will had forgotten to feel. Now, he let it wash over him. He was inside Jackson at last. His cock twitched. Will pulled out and started to pump.
“Oh, God.” Jackson moaned. “Will, fuck me.”
Will thrust, rocking Jackson back and forth. Steady, easy, as if he were cantering a finely gaited horse, Will made love to Jackson. Bent his arms to lower his mouth and take Jackson’s. They kissed, tongues searching, teeth nipping. Tasting.
Sliding down, Will wrapped his arms around Jackson’s shoulders. “Roll with me.” Will fell to the side, bringing Jackson over to ride on top.
“Ride me.”
Jackson felt a surge of power, of complete control.
Somehow, Will had known what to do, how to make it better for him. Will had brought him to this point and now it was up to him to continue. Taking his cue, his hands pressed against Will’s chest to steady himself, Jackson rose on his knees, sliding upward. Then fell. Groaned at how good it felt. Repeated the ride.
Building slowly, Jackson rose and fell on Will’s shaft, loving how it felt to have Will’s thick cock inside him. He’d never imagined it would feel this way. He closed his eyes and let his body take over. Riding atop that rigid rod, gaining speed and power until Jackson cried out as their bodies slapped together, he took Will as deep as he could, and built toward a release he knew would shatter him.
Jackson wanted more. A shiver of fear ran through him, but he quelled it. This had to be done, or he’d never forget. From beyond the grave, Hugh would rule their lives, he’d destroy the love Will and Jackson shared, make all Will had fought for worthless, and all that Jackson had endured would be for naught.
“Will,” he whispered. “Make me forget everything.” Then, Jackson pulled off Will, and got on his hands and knees. “Do it. Fuck me.”
“Are you sure?” Will sat up, his hand caressed Jackson’s hip, slid to his muscled flank.
“Aye. Make me forget.”
Will got on his knees behind Jackson. He grasped Jackson’s hips and with strong, yet gentle squeezes, ran his hands over every inch of Jackson’s ass. As Will’s oiled fingers probed and massaged the valley between his globes, Jackson wanted more, craved it.
Will moved forward, guiding his cock to the opening, pushed in, and cried out. Sliding deeper, pressing harder, Will sank in to the hilt. Jackson took him.
Pulling away, Will held still as Jackson rocked back, letting him set the speed and depth of penetration. Will let Jackson be in control, let himself be used, as if he were some tool for Jackson’s pleasure.
“Damn me, Will.” It felt so incredible, as pleasure blended with a sweet pain Jackson had never known. He wanted more, but could feel the building in his stones, the hot need surging, threatening to explode if he didn’t hold back.
Will began to pump. His hands held Jackson’s hips as he thrust, building speed and power, until Jackson keened his pleasure and rocked back into the thrusts.
“Oh, Will, here it comes.” Jackson’s tunnel tightened around Will. “Damn you, I’m helpless. I’m yours. Now. Always. And forever.” Jackson clamped his hand around the shaft of his cock and pumped with lightning fast strokes up and down. His hot seed roared through his cock, down the long length of it until it burst forth, like a fountain, spurting upward onto his belly, ripping a roar of completion from his lips.
“Goddamn!” Will cried as he exploded, his hot cream filling Jackson.
Bodies taut, chests heaving, their sweat-sheened skins still vibrating, still tingling, they hung in that place, feeling the shuddering aftershocks of their releases throb through their cocks.
Then, at last, they fell together, limp, wrung out, unable to move. Will’s hand found Jackson’s and they twined fingers, keeping the connection between them, unwilling to part bodies. Will’s softening cock slipped free from its sweet mooring.
Jackson heaved over onto his side, and threw his leg over Will’s legs. Wrapping his hand in Will’s tresses, he took Will’s mouth in a gentle kiss.
“I love you, Will. Thank you for saving my life. Twice.” Jackson gazed into Will’s blue eyes. He would have this man, this way, for as long as he lived.
“Now we’re even.” Will pulled him down for another tender kiss.
“Except, now I outrank you, Lord Holcombe.” Jackson laughed.
“Only during the day, You
r Grace,” Will drawled.
“Stop calling me that,” Jackson growled.
“Aye, Your Grace.” Will gave him a lopsided grin that stole Jackson’s heart all over again. “I am oath sworn to you and I must do as you command.”
“Well, it seems there are other benefits to being a duke, besides the large amounts of food and wine,” Jackson said. He rolled on top of Will, burying his hands in Will’s hair. Jackson laved his tongue over Will’s throat as he pressed his stiff rod against Will’s taut belly.
Will gasped.
Placing his lips to Will’s ear, Jackson whispered, “My turn, my lord.”
“Oh, aye, Your Grace,” Will answered with a sigh.
Baymore’s Heir by Lynn Lorenz
Duke Jackson of Baymore finally has all he’s ever wanted—his name, a title, and the man he loves by his side.
Lord Will Holcombe couldn’t be happier. He’s Jackson’s lover, best friend, and manages all of Jackson’s affairs.
For two years, their life together, although deadly if anyone knew of their forbidden love, has been perfect.
Until the day when Jackson decides the one thing he needs is an heir.
And the one person to find him a wife is Will.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Hartwood for taking on In The Company of Men. Thanks to the editorial staff for improving this version.
Chapter One
Lord William Holcombe rested his head against his lover’s chest and listened to the strong steady beat of his heart. The intoxicating scent of their lovemaking floated on the still air of the room and the low-banked fire in the hearth gave the room its only light. Will pulled the quilts tighter around them, keeping out the early morning chill of spring and keeping in the shared warmth of their bodies.
Jackson, Duke of Baymore, stirred beneath Will, then settled. His soft snore was just one of the multitude of things Will loved about this man. He could speak of Jackson’s merits as a mercenary, of his strength, power, and skill with a sword. He could speak of his bravery in the face of insurmountable odds, and his cunning in the art of war left Will in all of his duke.
