Page 42 of A Gathering Storm

Christ, but that mix of boldness and inexperience was intoxicating.

Groaning encouragement, Nick skimmed his hands inside Ward’s open coat, sweeping his hands up and over the man’s shoulders to remove it. Ward released Nick’s hips to shake his coat free of his arms before stroking his hands up Nick’s chest to do the same to him. Plainly Ward was more confident with this part in the proceedings—undressing his lover ready for a thorough bedding.

As Nick tossed his coat aside, Ward reached for his necktie, tugging the knot free, then sending the wilted linen sailing across the room while Nick wrestled with the buttons of Ward’s waistcoat. And then it was frantic and messy, clothes flying as they kissed, stripping each other’s layers away until finally they stood there in the bedchamber, naked in each other’s arms. Naked and together, safe in this room, with no danger of discovery or interruption.

Nick stepped back, for no other reason than to look Ward over. A lamp in the corner of the room suffused the bedchamber with gentle light that kissed the planes of Ward’s slim body. And Ward just stood there, quiet, letting Nick gaze at him, as though he realised Nick needed to do it. Needed to have this, if only once in his life.

Nick stretched out his hand and laid it on Ward’s chest. Ward’s skin was pale and smooth, and unlike Nick’s, his chest was hairless. Further down his body, though, a trail of hair led from his navel to a light-brown brush at his groin, from which his cock thrust, straight and eager and flushed at the tip.

Nick traced his fingertips downwards, grazing chest, belly, and hip, till finally, dry-mouthed, he reached that lovely, jutting prick and took it in hand, circling his fingers loosely round the shaft. He slid his hand up, then down the length, glancing at Ward to make sure this was all right.

Ward’s eyes were closed, but when Nick’s hand stilled, he opened them again, his expression slightly stunned, as though he were waking from a dream.

“Don’t stop,” he pleaded. “I like you touching me.”

“I want to touch you everywhere,” Nick murmured. “Want to take my time.”

Ward whispered, “You can do whatever you want—we have all the time in the world.”

They didn’t, not really, but there was certainly no hurry. Not tonight. No need to stay alert for anyone passing along. For the first time in his life, Nick was free to immerse himself wholly in another person. And he did. He touched Ward all over, first with his hands, and then with his mouth, pressing kisses to Ward’s warm skin, loving every shiver and gasp of pleasure Ward gave him.

After a little time, Nick took Ward’s hand and led him to the enormous bed, pressing him down onto the mattress. As he covered Ward’s body with his own, he was filled as much with wonder as with lust. Just having Ward naked against him, in this light-filled room. God, but it was like sunshine on Nick’s skin after the longest and darkest of winters, and he soaked the good feeling up, greedy for it, mute with wonder.

They kissed again and again, each kiss long and deep and heady. Nick began to thrust his hips against Ward, hardly aware of what he was doing. His cock was so hard he felt liable to burst out of his own skin, yet he’d never felt so happy to wait to come. He never wanted this evening to end—though the very instant he had the thought, his body decided to demand otherwise, his hips beginning to move faster, only stuttering briefly to a halt when his shaft thrust awkwardly and a little painfully against the sharp blade of Ward’s hip.

“Let’s try this,” Ward whispered in his ear. He shifted so he was lying next to Nick on his side, encouraging Nick to mirror him, till they were facing one another. Then he reached for Nick’s cock while thrusting his own hips forward.

Nick watched, stunned, as Ward took both of their shafts into his grip and began stroking them together. And Christ, but that was extraordinary, that touch—the velvety kiss and drag of their naked pricks in the circle of Ward’s hand, warm and strong and sure. Nick had felt nothing like it before. He stared at Ward, amazed for a moment, then leaned in close, pressing his mouth to Ward’s again, sweeping his tongue inside and capturing Ward’s gasp with his kiss. And God, it was perfect, his kiss and Ward’s skilful hands, together.

Ward stilled, just for an instant, and then he was moving again, hand stroking with practiced ease while Nick ravaged his mouth, their hips rocking as their pricks slid back and forth, in and out of Ward’s warm grasp in the same desperate rhythm. Nick wanted it to last forever, but all too soon, they were breaking apart, breaths heaving as they strained for release, their cocks jerking unevenly in Ward’s hand, covering his fingers in their mingled spend.

They lay there afterwards, still tangled together. Nicholas’s leg was thrown over Ward’s, Ward’s hand on Nicholas’s hip. Ward closed his eyes and let himself drowse a little. This was an unfamiliar experience for him. Alfie’s habit had been to get up and dressed as soon as their business was finished.

At first it was good, lying there with his new lover, suffused with soporific pleasure. But after a little while, when the fog of bliss began to dissipate and cool reality set in, Ward’s sense of connection to Nicholas began to fade. He became aware of Nicholas’s body as something separate from himself. Sensed a growing tension and began to wonder what the man was thinking.

He opened his eyes to find Nicholas staring up at the pristine white ceiling.

As though he sensed Ward’s regard, Nicholas turned his head. “I should go. It’s getting late.”

Disappointment flooded Ward. “You’re sure you won’t stay?” He wished the croaked words unsaid as soon as they were out of his mouth—Nicholas’s alarm at the question was unmistakable. His gaze flashed with brief panic, and though he schooled his expression quickly, he wasted no time tugging himself free of Ward.

“No, I need to get back,” he said, rising from the bed, his back carefully to Ward. “I’m up early tomorrow.”

Since Nicholas wasn’t looking Ward’s way, Ward allowed himself the luxury of staring as the man gathered his discarded clothes. It was no hardship to look at him. Nicholas had a strong, masculine frame, broad in the shoulders and chest, with lean, well-muscled thighs. A horseman’s thighs, Ward thought absently, propping himself up on his elbows. He stifled a groan at the sight of the man’s taut arse as he bent down to retrieve his rumpled necktie.

Nicholas began to dress. Once he had his shirt and drawers on, he turned to face Ward. He looked calm now, and steady, but Ward couldn’t help wondering if he regretted what they’d done. He certainly seemed keen to leave.

“Are you all right for Friday still?” Ward blurted. For once he was glad of the harsh monotone that disguised the craven desperation behind his words.

“To go to Truro with you?” Nicholas asked. “Yes, of course.”

“Just checking,” Ward murmured, swinging his legs out of bed. “Let me get dressed and I’ll let you out. Pipp will have locked up by now.”

“All right, I’ll get Snow,” Nicholas said. “He’s probably fast asleep.”

Nicholas disappeared through the door to the study while Ward pulled on his trousers, fastening the buttons at the placket with nimble fingers. Without his suspenders, his trousers settled loosely on his hips, and he sighed, irritated. He couldn’t be bothered getting dressed properly, so he fetched a dressing gown out of his wardrobe, a sumptuous garment of crimson satin, and put it on. By the time Nicholas returned, Snowflake at his heels, Ward was fastening the black silk frogging that ran down the front.

“What are you wearing?” Nicholas said. He was frowning.