Page 13 of The Devil Himself (The Devil You Know #1)

Twelve

R ys sat in the breakfast room, which he’d had redecorated when he bought the house, making it more an extension of his library and study than the delicate, feminine room it had been.

There would be no Lady Emrys Grey, so there was no sense in having a room he did not use.

He was perusing his correspondence, which included a note from Deacon Collingsworth that Daffyd had been in the previous night, spending lavishly, peevish that Cora was unavailable and, ultimately, so in his cups that he had passed out and had to be stuffed into a carriage and sent home unconscious.

The past three days had been… frustrating.

Having Daffyd and Arthur followed had produced nothing.

Luc in his home, a never-ending presence, had made him constantly hard, but even so, he would not deny himself at this time, so he had instructed Harris to keep the club running, and he was staying home.

Luc strode into the room after he finished his letters and was reading the morning paper, fully dressed for the first time since he’d been at Rys’s house.

“Good morning, Luc,” Rys said, studying him over the paper.

“Good morning, Rys.” Luc chose a plate, filling it with bacon, eggs, and fruit. “I think it’s time for me to go home.”

It seemed as though the floor dropped out from under him. To cover it, he sipped his coffee, eyeing Luc with deliberate insolence. “I beg your pardon?”

“I am healing well. And I have imposed on your kindness enough.” Luc wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Then perhaps rather than leaving and putting yourself in danger, you might instead want to revisit what we did not finish several nights ago, my dear.” He was selfish enough, and immediately aroused enough, to push that agenda all the way.

Luc’s cheeks flushed, the ruddy hue enhancing the blue of his eyes when he finally met Rys’s gaze. “I thought perhaps you had forgotten.”

His body tensed, muscle by muscle, his cock rising hard and insistent in seconds. He rose, sauntering toward Luc.

Luc backed away, plate clutched in both hands in front of him like a shield.

“I have forgotten nothing, Luc. I was waiting, despite the fact that I am truly no gentleman, for you to feel up to it.” He cornered Luc with his back to the buffet table.

“I—”

“But now I credit that you are impatient, and healed well enough for my attentions, and I will act accordingly.” He took the plate away and tossed it down between the eggs and the bacon. There was no footman in the room watching, for Rys preferred his privacy in the morning.

“Rys.” Luc stared at him, eyes wide.

“Yes?” He moved in and plastered his body against Luc’s, grinding his cock against the cradle of Luc’s hips.

“Oh.” A deep groan escaped Luc, and he looped his good arm around Rys’s neck. “I would rather do this than go home.”

“Good.” He took Luc’s mouth with his, devouring it. Ever since he had realized Luc shared his desires, this was all he had been able to think of.

Luc kissed him back with such fervor that he knew his lips would be bruised from pressing back against his teeth. It didn’t matter; the need he felt simply fueled his fire.

They devoured one another. There was no other word for it. Luc held him so close, one hand on the back of his head, one on his hip. And he wrapped an arm around Luc’s back, his other hand on the buffet table to brace them.

They broke for air, and he pulled back enough to look into those blue eyes, which blazed like the few cloudless summer days they had in England. “If you want me to stop, tell me now.”

Luc’s swollen mouth curved slightly. “Don’t stop.”

He groaned, kissing Luc again before letting his fingers and his mouth travel.

He undid buttons, divesting Luc of his waistcoat and neckcloth, then opening his shirt.

When he felt the flat panes of Luc’s chest and belly, both sprinkled liberally with golden hair a few shades darker than that on his head, he felt a deep surge of satisfaction.

Finally, he was getting to touch what he had been looking at for too long. Rys was not a patient man, so waiting had chafed at him.

“Rys.” Luc moaned, muscles rippling, as Rys flicked his little brown nipples.

“Do not let me hurt you.”

“I’m not feeling pain at all.” Luc’s breathless words made him smile.

“No? Good. The best medicine is pleasure.” He trailed his hands over Luc’s belly, impressed by the utter lack of softness. Too many aristocrats he saw in his club were soft. Dissolute. Luc was neither of those things.

“Mmmhmm.” Luc arched, that stiff shoulder not moving so well, but Luc’s hips had no such trouble.

He slid one hand around to the small of Luc’s back, the tiny hairs there downy instead of rough, the skin tender and hot. Then he dared to dip below the waistband of Luc’s trousers and small clothes, searching for the start of the crease that led downward.

Luc went up on tiptoe, twisting against him, and he had to see the rest. Had to touch and smell and experience all of Luc.

So he worked at the fall of Luc’s trousers, opening them so he could reach inside the spread fabric and grasp Luc’s cock as it sprang free of his small clothes.

“I knew you would be perfect,” he said, his voice almost guttural.

A strangled grunt escaped Luc, and he pushed forward with his hips, demanding more of the contact.

Rys gave what Luc demanded, wrapping his fingers around the girth of Luc’s straining erection and pulling, moving from base to tip and back again. He knew how to give a man pleasure, and he wanted Luc mad for him, unable to think of anything but him and his hand and his mouth.

“More. Rys. I can’t—” Luc’s voice trailed off into a frustrated growl that slid right down Rys’s spine to settle in his balls, his cock rigid and so hot it was going to brand Luc if it touched him.

“Yes. Lean back on your good arm. Brace yourself.” he waited until Luc did as he was told, then slid to his knees on the floor, staring up at Luc, waiting for him to understand what was happening.

“Rys!” Luc stared down at him, hand on his cheek. “You needn’t do that?—”

“Shhh.” He licked the head of Luc’s cock, the musky-hot flavor of the man exploding on his tongue. Then he closed his eyes and opened his lips, sucking Luc in deep.

This he knew. He was confident in his skills in this area. He knew how to suck a cock as a fine art.

And he put all his skills to the test with Luc, licking, sucking, kissing the tip before going back south. He worked his way down until he could swallow around Luc’s shaft, hand on Luc’s balls.

A litany of need rained down on him, Luc’s words increasingly crude and sexual. He moaned around Luc’s cock, rocking his hips against the air, knowing what he was giving Luc.

“Rys. Please.”

He looked up over Luc’s belly, meeting Luc’s gaze. He urged Luc to spend in his mouth, speaking without words. He wanted the flavor of Luc on his tongue.

He felt it when Luc caved in, giving him what he needed. Those heavy balls pulled up, Luc’s cock swelled further in his mouth, then Luc spent for him, filling his mouth with hot seed, his body shaking.

He stroked Luc’s thigh, easing Luc down, letting him stop shaking before he licked the tip of Luc’s cock, allowing it to slide from his mouth.

“Rys…”

“Mmm.” He nuzzled Luc’s belly. “That was lovely, my dear.”

“What can I— I need to touch you. Make you happy.”

He stood, rubbing all along Luc’s body. He took Luc’s hand and dragged it to cover his cock. “Touch me.”

Luc dug into Rys’s breeches and pulled out his cock, stroking just the way he needed, fast and hard, squeezing deeply. Luc might not be experienced with other men, but all of them knew how to make their own cocks feel good. It translated well.

He grunted, thrusting into the touch, his muscles pulling up tight as his body fought to find his completion. “Yes. Luc. More. Harder.”

Luc jacked at him, tugging, leaning forward to bite at his neck, right where it came out of his collar, making it sting.

That bright little point of pain pushed Rys over the edge, and he spilled into Luc’s hand, the scent of them mingling, the air redolent with male musk and the aftermath of raging desire.

Luc whooped for breath, and Rys reached past him to grab a serviette to clean him up. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“No. No, I am fine. Except my knees refuse to work.”

“I’ll keep you up.” He chuckled, propping them both up against the buffet.

“Are we going to breakfast, or back to bed?”

Oh, now, that was a capital idea. “Why not both?”

Luc pulled back enough to look at him, eyebrows high. “That’s decadent.”

“Indeed. Load a plate, my dear. I shall teach you about decadence and the true devil’s playground.” With Luc in bed with him, he might just be the happiest devil on earth.