TWENTY
EAMON
We shouldn’t.
For a thousand reasons and more, we shouldn’t, but somehow, I’d stopped caring. Charles was all that mattered now.
In a tangle of desperate kisses and roaming hands, we stumbled toward the bedroom. My heart pounded against my ribs as Charles’s fingers found the button of my jeans, popping it open with a deftness that made my cock throb. I wanted him with an intensity that scared me, wanted to lay him out on that bed and worship every inch of his gorgeous body until he forgot his own name.
Clothes came off in between feverish kisses. A shirt, pants, a sock, underwear, another sock, until we were both naked and aching with need.
We hit the mattress in a graceless tumble of limbs, Charles landing on his back with me hovering over him. In the dim light of the single lamp, his blond hair was almost gold against the white pillowcase, his eyes dark with desire as they met mine. I took a moment to drink in the sight of Charles as he lay before me, all smooth, pale skin with athousand freckles I wanted to kiss. His lips were red and swollen, still wet from my kisses. His blue eyes had darkened with want, and I had no doubt I had a similar desperation in mine.
I leaned down to capture his mouth in another searing kiss, our tongues tangling as his hands slid around my back to pull me closer. I wanted to savor this, to take my time mapping his body with hands, lips, and teeth. But the urgency thrumming through my veins wouldn’t allow it. Three centuries of iron self-control shattered like spun glass under the heat of Charles’s touch. I needed to be inside him, to feel his gorgeous ass clench around my cock, see him lose it as I drove him higher and higher.
Still, I tried. My hands roamed over his body, tracing the lines of lean muscle and soft skin. I couldn’t get enough, couldn’t touch him everywhere at once like I craved. Charles arched into my caress, little gasps and moans spilling from his lips as I found sensitive spots—the hollow of his throat, the curve of his hip, the crease of his thigh.
I kissed a trail down his chest, dragging my tongue over hardened nipples just to hear him whimper. He tasted of salt and something uniquely Charles, an addictive flavor I knew I’d never get enough of. My lips traced the quivering muscles of his stomach, dipping into his navel as his fingers tangled in my hair.
“Eamon, please…” His voice was wrecked, desperate. Pleading.
I knew what he wanted, what he needed. What we both needed.
My lips trailed lower, following the thin line of hair down his abdomen. When I reached his cock, I looked up at him through my lashes. His pupils were blown wide, his lips parted as he watched me with rapt attention. Slowly,deliberately, I licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft from base to tip. The taste of him exploded on my tongue—musky and masculine and utterly intoxicating.
“Fuck,” Charles gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily.
I grinned up at him before wrapping my lips around the head of his cock and sucking gently. He let out a choked cry. I took him deep, letting his cock hit the back of my throat as I swallowed around him. Charles let out a string of curses mixed with my name, his hands tightening almost painfully in my hair. I set a steady rhythm, bobbing my head and hollowing my cheeks, using every trick I knew to drive him wild.
His words dissolved into incoherent moans as I hummed around him, the vibrations making his thighs tremble. I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted to make him fall apart. To watch him shatter under my hands and mouth, knowing I was the cause.
Charles was close already, I could tell. His breathing was ragged, punctuated by helpless little “ah, ah” sounds that went straight to my cock.
“Eamon, I’m close,” he panted. “If you don’t stop?—”
I redoubled my efforts, bobbing my head faster as I rolled his balls gently in my palm. I wanted to taste him, to feel him lose control. Charles’s thighs trembled under my hands as his orgasm built.
With a hoarse cry, he spilled down my throat. I swallowed every drop, working him through the aftershocks until he was boneless and sated beneath me. I released him with a final lick, pressing a kiss to his hipbone before crawling up his body to claim his mouth.
Charles kissed me back languidly, his tongue chasing his own taste. “That was…wow.”
“Mmm. And we’re just getting started.” I nipped at hislower lip. “I’m going to take you apart, love. Make you forget your own name.”
Charles shivered beneath me, his eyes glazed with sated lust. “You make it sound like a threat.”
“It’s a promise.” I kissed him again, deep and filthy, our tongues tangling and dancing, chasing and conquering, sliding and sucking.
When I finally let go of his mouth, Charles’s eyes fluttered open, hazy with pleasure but still dark with want. “Please,” he breathed, arching up to press his renewed erection against my hip. “Need you inside me.”
The words sent a bolt of pure lust down my spine. I captured his lips in a searing kiss as I reached blindly for the nightstand drawer, fumbling for the lube I’d optimistically stashed there our first night. Charles watched me with hooded eyes as I slicked my fingers, his legs falling open in invitation.
The first press of my finger against his entrance made him gasp, his body tightening instinctively. I circled the furled muscle, teasing him until he relaxed enough for me to slide inside to the first knuckle. He was so hot inside, silken walls fluttering around my finger as I began to work him open.
“More.” He pushed back against my hand. “I can take it.”
I obliged, adding a second finger alongside the first. Charles let out a low moan as I scissored them, stretching him with aching slowness. I wanted him desperate for it, aching and empty and begging me to fill him up.
By the time I had three fingers buried in his ass, twisting and curling to brush his prostate on every other stroke, Charles was a writhing mess beneath me. His cock layheavy and weeping against his stomach, flushed a deep red that made my mouth water.
