Page 18 of Introducing Mr. Winterbourne
Naked, there were even more things to enjoy—his smooth chest and small, tight nipples, his pale, muscled arse, and the slender curve of his mouthwatering cock. More innocent things too. The high arches of his well-made feet. The sweet dip at the small of his back. The tender nape of his neck, so recently hidden by the mathematical precision of his cravat.
Adam wanted to worship all of him.
He removed his own clothes more quickly, ripping them off and tossing them aside, enjoying the frank appreciation in Lysander’s gaze even as he smiled at his own vanity.
At last they were both naked, and he took Lysander in his arms, pressing their bodies together, head to toe.
Lysander gasped. He opened his eyes wide. “Jesus. I’ve never—I feel like I’m going to spill now—”
Adam just smiled and dipped his head, touching their lips together in the lightest of kisses, inhaling the scent of the man—wine and pomade and the clean, good fragrance of his skin.
Lysander kissed him back, tentatively at first, touching the tip of his tongue to Adam’s mouth, then groaning when Adam parted his lips to allow him full entry. Growing bolder, he thrust his tongue into Adam’s mouth, and Adam met it with his own. It was a surrender and a rout, both. Push and pull and give and take. The most pleasurable of tussles. Parry, thrust and riposte.
Adam raised his hands to gently cup Lysander’s face as he explored the man’s mouth. He stroked the tender tissues of Lysander’s soft palate with his tongue, then drew back to feast again on his lips, his kisses now shallow, now deep, his fingertips drifting through the blunt ends of Lysander’s golden hair, messing it up thoroughly.
Canting his hips, he ground his cock against Lysander’s as best he could with his hands otherwise engaged. He desperately needed more contact, a harder press. The glancing strokes they were managing now were maddening him, and at last he dropped his hands to Lysander’s hips, pulling him in hard and driving their pricks together.
Lysander grunted and copied him, taking hold of Adam in the same way, his strong hands drifting further down to grip and knead at Adam’s arse.
Oh Christ, but this was going to be quick, far too quick, if Adam wasn’t careful.
He pulled back and grabbed Lysander’s hand. “Come on,” he said, and his voice was hoarse with lust and need. “Come to bed.”
He towed Lysander to the other side of the room—to the door that led to the master bedchamber—and drew him inside.
Urging Lysander towards the bed, he murmured, “Lie down. I want to feast on you.”
Lysander settled himself on his back, his eyes wide as he watched Adam crawl over him and press kisses to his thighs, hips and belly, circling in tighter and tighter till at last there was nothing left to do but slide his mouth down over Lysander’s beautiful cock.
At the first hot pull of his mouth, Lysander cried out, raising his fist to his mouth to muffle his groans as Adam worshipped him with licks and suckles and deep diving pulls. He teased him to the brink only to draw back, gripping Lysander’s ballocks firmly to stop him spilling, then going back in to kiss away the offence. He moved lower, tracing the tender skin between Lysander’s balls and his hole with teasing licks that made the man shudder and grunt. And then he went deeper still, pressing Lysander’s thighs apart with strong, determined hands, touching the very tip of his agile tongue to the impossibly tight entrance to Lysander’s body.
Lysander bucked against his hands. “Jesus, Adam—you can’t—”
Adam raised his head. Lysander had levered himself up onto his elbows, and his expression was a bewitching mix of shock and lust.
For a moment, Adam stared at him, arrested by the captivating sight of all that debauched innocence.
“It’s all right,” he murmured. “You’ll like it. Let me.”
Lysander stared at for him a long moment, then he groaned and thudded back down to lie flat on the mattress, draping his arm over his face in helpless consent.
Adam smiled and bent his head again, this time licking Lysander’s twitching hole, then anointing the tender skin all around with kisses till Lysander was panting and reaching for his own cock, groaning with what sounded like real pain when Adam batted his hand away and took his ballocks in another firm grip.
“Do you want to come?” he asked lightly.
“Yes—oh, God, Adam, yes, please. It’ll take nothing at all.” He was babbling, his blue eyes wide and pleading and God, Adam loved seeing him like this. That perfect, buttoned-up English gentleman from this morning, clothes gone, all dignity gone, begging for release.
“The truth is, I’d like to fuck you,” Adam said quietly. “But only if you want it too. If you don’t, we can finish this another way.”
“Oh, but I do. I do, I do, I do! Adam,please—” Lysander canted his hips up, his cheekbones stained with the flush of sex, eyes dark with lust.
Adam leaned to the side of the bed, fetching the oil bottle out of a drawer and removing the stopper. Pouring a generous pool into his palm before setting it aside again.
Heedless of the linens, he rubbed the dripping oil into Lysander’s opening, pushing into the man’s tight channel with his fingers, gently stretching the muscle, watching in awe as his young lover groaned, accommodating him.
Christ, but he was an eager boy.
He worked Lysander with his fingers for long minutes, till the man was moaning and twisting in the linen sheets, his body open and welcoming.