Page 39 of Mr Winterbourne's Christmas
And in that instant, Lysander remembered that moment on the terrace earlier, Adam’s expression, both sweet and sad.
I was just thinking...how very much I love you.
The same expression on his face now.
You could have your dream, Lysander.
Lysander met Adam’s gaze and said quietly but firmly, “That’s all very well, but the trouble is...Winterbourne’s not my home anymore.”
Adam stilled, his expression almost comically surprised.
Lysander turned to his father without waiting for Adam to respond. “I’m afraid I don’t want to run Winterbourne anymore, Father. I’ve”—he smiled helplessly—“well, I suppose I’ve grown to love Edgeley Park now and it’s too soon to leave. We’ve only just begun to turn it around. And like you say, you already have Mr. Holmes. He knows this estate inside out. If you need someone else to control the purse strings, that’s easily done without me coming back.”
“But Lysander—” The earl’s expression was dismayed.
“He’s right,” Adam said, rallying now, his voice growing firm and certain. “Thereareother ways to deal with this. Lysander and I will sit down with Mr. Holmes before we leave. We’ll go through the estate books, cost the works and come up with an arrangement that will work. Something that will keep the estate income out of your hands and ensure it’s spent where it’s needed. I’ll have my solicitor draw up the necessary deeds to record matters properly.”
The earl just stared at them both, plainly dismayed.
“Well?” Lysander urged, and finally, the earl nodded stiffly.
“Very well.”
“Good, that’s settled,” Adam looked at Lysander, then rose from his chair. “I’ll say goodnight then.”
He was giving Lysander an opportunity to speak with his father in private, but Lysander had no wish to continue the conversation. He’d said everything he wanted to say. And from the look of him, so had the earl.
Rising from his own chair, he stood beside Adam. “Goodnight, Father.”
Lord Winterbourne managed a nod, and they took their leave.
***
FOR ONCE, THE WESTwing corridor was deserted. Lysander took his chance, seizing Adam’s hand and towing him down the length of it to his own bedchamber. After one last surreptitious glance around, he opened the door and tugged Adam inside, closing and locking it behind them.
He’d scarcely turned back to Adam before the man was pulling him into his arms and crushing their lips together in hot, urgent kiss.
“It feels like weeks since I touched you,” Adam gasped against Lysander’s mouth, shoving his coat from his shoulders then ripping his cravat away and tossing it aside.
Lysander laughed softly at Adam’s helpless urgency, happiness bubbling inside him as his own hands worked equally busily at removing Adam’s clothes.
They tumbled onto Lysander’s bed in a tangle of naked limbs, kissing all the while. One of the servants had lit the fire earlier, and the dim glow it gave off was just enough for Lysander to see his lover by.
“I want you to fuck me tonight,” Adam whispered when they broke apart, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. Lysander gave a helpless groan. Adam rarely asked for that—as a rule, they both tended to gravitate to the opposite roles—but on the occasions when they did it this way, it was always very, very good.
But then, everything was good, with Adam.
There was no hurry, so they took their sweet time, sucking each other’s cocks for long minutes in delicious counterpoint, kissing, biting, and teasing one another. By the time they were ready to fuck, Lysander could hardly see straight. He slid his oiled fingers in and out of Adam’s body, watching as his lover gasped and moaned, and finally, begged.
“Please. Fuck me now.”
God, yes.
Lysander pushed his cock inside Adam, slow and steady, groaning at the tight clutch of his lover’s body. Adam was panting, his own cock red and hard and dripping between them.
“Lysander.Christ.”
Out and in again. And again, and again. It began as a slow, careful pistoning but quickly built up speed as Adam gasped encouragement and canted his hips, welcoming each slamming thrust.