The Wages of Sin [The Mysterious] by Alex Beecroft Page A

almost painfully against the rough canvas, but Jasper drew away, gave him that lion-eyed look again and growled "I'm not finished," in a voice that dragged up his cock like a tongue.
    Sitting back on his knees, Jasper drew his own shirt over his head, and even in his need-drunk state of abandon Charles breathed in sharp at the sight of him. He felt like Pygmalion; he had fallen in love with a Greek statue of an Olympic wrestler, and here it was, brought to life, pale as porcelain. He lifted his hands to worship the curves of shoulder and bicep, feel the sculpted column of his throat, the strong heartbeat beneath a powerful chest, and the arrow of dark hair that led down beneath the slipping waistband of his breeches.
    The hard-scrabble, greedy need abated slightly at the sight. Yes, he wanted… but slowly. After he'd felt every inch of that skin against his, sucked those brown nipples into hard pebbles against his tongue, until he couldn't tell whose sweat drenched him, whose spit filled his mouth. "You… are a paragon," he said.
    Jasper laughed and stepped out of his breeches. Heavy hips, ridged with muscle, and a cock sized to match him. Charles' mouth went dry, and prickled. He couldn't tear his gaze away.
    Jasper nudged Charles' thighs further apart and knelt down between them. "If you're still using words like that, I'm not doing my job." Though the words were challenging, his hands as stroked them down Charles' sides were gentle, brushing over his hips, ghosting soft fire across the curve of his backside. Reaching for the butter again, he wrote a word on the inside of Charles' thigh, and leaned to kiss it away.
    Charles scrabbled to find more cushions, propped himself up so that he could watch the dark head dip between his legs. Jasper's rough hair teased the base of his prick, a thousand little licking sensations a chorus to the slow lap of Jasper's tongue across the hollow of his thigh. The sensations welled up the great vein there, hit him in the small of his back and his belly. His prick hardened and swelled until it was almost painful, the thin skin pulled tight. A drop of pre-come fell into his belly button and a wave of shudders swept over him as if he was cold. He reached down and pulled at Jasper's hair, trying to get him to look up so that he could say “please!”
    But Jasper just shifted forward a little and closed that clever mouth around the tip of Charles' cock, licking the slit clean. Charles bent like a bow, arching up, his shoulder blades digging hard into the hearth stone, small pain subsumed in this rush of red, astonished bliss. He gave a strangled cry, half shock, half keen of ecstasy, and it stopped. It stopped!
    "Sssh!" said Jasper, straightening from his crouch. His right hand rolled Charles' balls gently, his fingers slipping every so often behind to stroke the flesh there with a deep pressure that aroused even the marrow of his bones.
“I… I don’t think… I can’t…”
    Jasper’s swollen lips twisted in a self satisfied smile. He reached out and clamped his left hand about Charles’ mouth before bending back to his work.
    Charles’ whole world narrowed down to the hand on his balls, the hand over his mouth, his own little gagged whimpers making him tremble harder with desire. And his prick, surrounded in wet heat. It was too much, all of a sudden. A black, ravenous need swept over him, he reached down, grasped Jasper’s head, held it steady and thrust. Jasper’s hands got underneath him, lifting his arse from the floor, and Jasper matched his strokes, pulled him closer. The need in him built like anger, like fury, like— oh God! He was going to spill into someone else’s mouth!— and then it broke, came pouring out of him in a huge cleansing, purging rush, and joy came after it.
    Jasper licked him clean. Pulling up the two robes he covered Charles with them and wriggled beneath. They fitted themselves together; Charles arm beneath Jasper’s neck, Jasper’s thrown over him,