Page 40

Sam

Sam’s gaze swept over Bentley’s face—jaw taut, lips pressed so tight the corners of his mouth twitched…

the opposite of what he should be if he was being wrung out the way Sam wanted him to be.

Sam slowed and ground his hips into Bentley.

Something darkened in the man’s gaze, melting, amber lashes fanning low.

But in the next breath, it was gone, all tension back in place. And not the good kind of tension.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked, grinding his hips again, trying to recreate whatever had caused that small flash of pleasure.

Every lover was different, and Sam was nothing if not determined to always ensure his partner was completely satisfied.

He’d uncover what made Bentley tick, what made him lose control.

God, the man needed to lose control. It couldn’t be good for the man’s health, carrying around the weight of obligation he’d placed on his shoulders. His family. His estates. The organization Sam had found out Bentley was a part of… The man was looking out for everyone but himself.

Bentley nodded. “Quite well.”

Sam snorted and fell atop Bentley, breaking into a fit of chuckles.

He lifted his head and caught Bentley’s amber gaze.

“Quite well? What are we—visiting with each other at Whites? Are you not enjoying this? Because we can try something different.” Sam went to pull back, but Bentley’s hands jerked out and wrapped around Sam’s upper arms, freezing him in place.

“No. Don’t stop. This is fine. I promise.”

“Fine? Shagging should never be fine .” Sam shook off Bentley’s grasp and slid from the man.

He ran his hands up and down Bentley’s thighs, gaze locked on Bentley’s, searching those burnt-honey irises.

Sam would make this good for him. He’d said he wanted this pompous lord moaning his name—and the reasons behind that desire might have shifted—but he was still very much determined to make it happen.

“You’re not relaxing. I need you to relax. ”

“I’m trying,” Bentley said through clenched teeth.

Sam winged a brow while kneading the man’s muscular thighs.

“Yes, because that stiff, tight tone was oh-so convincing.” Sam let his fingers trail up over the man’s taut abdomen, then he groaned softly.

“God, your body is exquisite.” He leaned forward until his mouth landed on those delineated muscles.

He dragged his lips down, letting his tongue trace the dips and hollows, reveling in the twitch and squirm of the pretty lord beneath him.

Bentley was clearly in his head. So, all Sam needed to do was distract him enough to finally let go. He nuzzled his nose into the dip where Bentley’s hip met his thigh, a happy purr leaving him as the scent of musk and man filled his senses. Sam knew one thing this starched lord liked.

Sam pushed the man’s thighs wider and slid a finger to the man’s arse.

He circled Bentley’s hole, and just as before, the man instantly tensed.

But Sam kept leisurely circling, straying slightly away before coming back again, but never entering.

Tease and deny. He’d get this man so worked up, the only thing that overthinking brain could focus on was raw need.

And then there was the shift Sam was looking for.

Bentley relaxed, a light trembling starting up in his thighs, and every time Sam coasted near the man’s hole, Bentley’s hips canted, a small plea for more.

Sam wanted him aching from the emptiness, desperate to be filled.

Bentley’s previously flagging cock twitched, thickening.

Yes. A low groan of triumph fled Sam’s lips, and he licked his way from base to tip before wrapping his lips around the crown.

He glanced beneath his lashes at Bentley and caught the man’s heavy-lidded gaze. There it was. Lust-drunk.

Not dropping Bentley’s gaze, Sam swallowed him down and finally slid a finger inside. A shuddering breath fled Bentley’s full lips, that gorgeous body following Sam as he pulled his fingers back. Needy, begging for more.

Bentley’s cock grew thick and heavy against Sam’s tongue.

And what a reward that was. All the sweeter because it hadn’t come easily.

Sam hummed his appreciation, drawing a needy hitch from Bentley’s throat.

Sam sank two fingers inside, slowly increasing speed, slowly increasing depth.

His gaze never left the man’s face, watching for every minute sign of pleasure.

Lids lowering. Jaw softening. Breath catching.

Each time he fed Bentley more, more fingers, faster thrusts, until he finally had the man a gasping, squirming desperate mess.

Sam pulled off, content with the fact that Bentley was finally letting himself go. He ran an approving hand over Bentley’s hip, loving the way he sank down on Sam’s fingers as Sam thrust them inside.

“Atta boy,” he crooned softly. “Look at you. Fucking yourself on my fingers.”

Bentley’s eyes fluttered shut, lips parting on a pant. His flushed, freckled chest rose and fell in a rapid rhythm. It wasn’t the first time Sam had noticed Bentley seemed to enjoy a bit of licentious conversation in bed. Fortunately, Sam was nothing if not good at running his mouth.

He leaned over Bentley, settling on his forearm, face hovering above Bentley’s. “I can feel you clenching on me. So greedy for me.”

Bentley’s eyes snapped open, pretty amber irises nearly swallowed whole by lust. Sam massaged slowly until his fingers skimmed that sensitive bundle of nerves. Bentley’s hands flew to Sam’s lower-back, blunt fingernails biting into his flesh.

A wicked smirk curled Sam’s lips, and he thrust his fingers leisurely, purposely avoiding that spot.

“I know exactly what you need,” he whispered.

He let his fingers coast over the spot again, and Bentley’s back arched, a low moan fleeing him.

“Beautiful.” Sam’s heart tripped in his chest. Because he meant it. In so many ways.

Bentley’s gaze found Sam’s again, and Sam finally gave the man what he needed. He picked up the speed of his fingers, pegging the spot he knew would have Bentley falling apart. “That’s it. Be a good boy and fuck my fingers. Show me how much that pretty body wants me.”

A guttural noise ripped from Bentley’s throat, his mouth slack, not an ounce of tension in his flushed, freckled face.

“So bloody pretty,” Sam praised. “Those noises will be the death of me. I want them seared into my brain.” He ground his cock into Bentley’s hip. “ Fuck ,” Sam hissed. “See what you do to me? When you let go and just feel. It’s mesmerizing, finally seeing the untamed man you keep leashed.”

Amber irises pleaded with Sam, pleaded with him to put him out of the blissful agony.

Sam understood all too well. He glanced down to where Bentley’s cock was swollen and leaking.

Bentley was exactly where Sam needed him.

He dragged his lips over Bentley’s neck, and Bentley stretched to the side, giving Sam better access.

“Mmm,” Sam hummed as he traveled up to Bentley’s ear.

“I think you’re ready now. Are you finally going to take my cock like a good boy?

” Sam lifted and locked eyes with Bentley.

He might be teasing with his words, but he meant the sentiment behind them.

He let the solemnity sink into his tone. “Are you ready now, Bentley?”

“Felix,” he said breathlessly.

Everything inside Sam went soft. “Felix.”

A tremor shook Felix’s frame, and he nodded his assent.

“Words,” Sam whispered. He wanted complete surety.

It was clear—despite Bentley’s previous adamance this wasn’t his first time, that he’d had his fair share of sexual encounters—he wasn’t comfortable with this particular act. Sam refused to push the man to do something he didn’t truly want.

Some of the lust cleared in those amber irises, determination reflecting back at Sam. “Yes. I’m ready this time.”

But that gaze spoke volumes. The man was hell-bent on this happening, regardless of if it was good for him. Which meant Sam needed to be the one to make sure things only moved forward if Felix was enjoying himself.

Sam’s fingers fell away, and he settled himself between Felix’s thighs. He dumped a generous portion of oil in his palm and slicked it over his length before pressing himself against Felix’s entrance. The man instantly tensed.

Sam bit his lip to prevent his growl of frustration.

He wasn’t frustrated with Bentley. Not in the least. It was all at himself.

The man went from practically begging Sam to be fucked, to closing off to him completely.

Sam’s gaze swept over Bentley’s— Felix’s —tightening features.

How do I make this better for you? Because right now, making this as pleasurable for Felix as possible felt like the most important thing in the world.

Sam gently rocked against Felix, fingers kneading the man’s thighs, coaxing him to relax.

No luck. Sam wrapped his oil-slicked hand over Felix’s cock and stroked in a quick-steady rhythm, the one he knew had made the man fall apart during their prior encounters.

He curled his palm over the tip with each upstroke, all the while grinding himself slowly back inside.

Felix was definitely ready for him, his hole plenty stretched, but no amount of stretching could combat a body going rigid, a body determined to fight off the intrusion.

Sam’s hips finally met with Felix’s arse, and he paused, breathing deep as he tried to get his own lust under control.

Being surrounded by this man was near painful in its pleasure.

It didn’t help that Felix’s arse was practically strangling Sam’s cock.

But Sam needed a completely clear head so he could figure out what Felix needed. Whatever it was, Sam would give it.

He slid a hand under Felix’s thigh and swung it around his hip, palming the man’s muscled arse.

He slid in and out slowly, rotating his hips, trying to find that spot, knowing if he did, he’d finally have this man coming undone.

But with every slow rock, lust slowly bled from those amber eyes.

Felix’s jaw pulled taut, all tension back, one cheek sucked in like he was biting on it, like this was paining him. Sam’s heart sank.

He dropped down to his forearm, his other hand going back to stroke Felix’s shaft while keeping his hips still. He trailed a path of kisses over that stiff jaw, but it only had Felix tensing more. Sam lifted until he met Felix’s gaze.

“What can I do?” Sam searched those hypnotic honey irises. Trying to find the answers somewhere lost in their depths.

Sam brushed his lips over Felix’s, but Felix didn’t kiss him back.

Sam pulled back to see a pair of eyes squeezed shut, amber brows pinched tight.

Even with his slick strokes, Felix’s length continued to soften.

Sam’s chest caved, a vacant emptiness settling there, and he gently let go of the man’s waning erection.

Felix turned away from him, empty stare locked on something in the distance. “I don’t think this is going to work.” The words were said so faint, they were barely audible, but there was so much embarrassment, so much dejection in them, it was as if the man had yelled them.

Sam pushed up, still seated inside Felix, and settled his hands on the man’s hips. He studied Felix, studied the blotchy crimson patches blooming on the man’s cheeks, the increasingly rapid and ragged lift and fall of Bentley’s chest.

Sam’s thumbs gently coasted over the man’s protruding hip-bones. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do?” He did his best to infuse some sauciness in his tone, though inside he was flat, dull, and defeated. “I’m up for anything.” No change in Felix’s expression.

All right. That was loud and clear.

Sam slowly eased from the man. God, he couldn’t leave like this. Everything about this was wrong. “Do you want my mouth?” No response. “Felix,” Sam said softly, and that finally did it.

Felix turned to Sam, a pair of glassy amber eyes clashing with his. Their hue was impossibly vibrant, as though the unspoken torment had pooled to create a deeper, richer burnished red. And something inside Sam’s chest fractured at the sight.

“You don’t need to do anything in return,” he said hoarsely. “I just want to make you feel good…”

Sam could feel Felix’s torment inside his own body, bleeding from the man into him.

This was the opposite of what shagging was supposed to do.

He and Bentley had never had this…this despondency between them.

Even at their worst, there’d been something magnetic between them.

Now, they’d finally come together, and what?

Sam had…destroyed whatever had been between them, and left a broken man in its wake?

“I think it would be best if you l-left,” Felix said, his voice catching.

Sam nodded numbly. Not that Felix was looking at him.

Sam silently and swiftly shrugged into his clothes.

He reached the door, and the strangled sound of a man trying to keep his torment locked inside—and failing—echoed through the chamber.

The pain in that noise rent through him like a crack in an iced over pond.

He wanted to say more, do more, do something .

But his throat was too thick, clogged with something he didn’t even understand.

Blood pounding in his ears, he opened the door and slipped from the room. But just before the door clicked shut, he saw it. He heard it. Felix’s fist slamming into the mattress, an anguished cry, and then silence, just the man’s body quaking violently with soundless sobs.

Sam quietly shut the door and rested his forehead against the cool wood, his shaky exhale bouncing off the oak. His insides balled, a corrosive burn filling his lungs and gut. He was the cause of that. He may not know why or how, but it was his fault.

Sam was a big man. But in this moment, he’d never felt smaller.