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

pulling him in tight so that at last he felt the velvet luxury of touching Jasper’s skin with his whole body. Some panic, some dogged haunting cloud he had scarcely been aware of had gone out of him with his seed, and he fitted his head beneath Jasper’s chin and kissed the hollow of his throat in sodden, golden content.
    The fire gave a comforting crackle and settled a little. Jasper’s prick, still splendidly erect, burned against the soft, sleeping form of his own. “Forgive me.”
“For what?”
Sleep beckoned. “Should not have issued in your mouth. It’s…”
    Jasper chuckled, the deep reverberations shaking his chest, shaking loose something in Charles too. Jasper’s big hand closed about the curve of his arse, stroked it firmly, making the skin there come alive, new tingles of interest stirring in his stomach. At the second stroke, the sensation was stronger. He shifted closer, tightening his grip, so that he could press his trails of throbbing bruises against the damp silk skin of Jasper’s chest. Jasper curved his fingers and drew his nails gently down one arse cheek and then the other, and by the next stroke Charles found his hips moving of their own will, pushing back to intensify the caress like a cat arching up beneath the stroking hand.
    Leaning up on his elbow, Jasper put his mouth to Charles’ ear, the soft movement of lips against the skin making him shiver with delight almost as much as the whispered “I hope to have my revenge.”
    At the flare of intimidation and lust, his prick twitched, half filled. He put down a hand and closed it about Jasper’s cock, feeling the length and weight of it, the heat, the skin satin smooth. The head of it rested in his palm like a heart. “Do your worst,” he said, with only a tiny quail of nerves, and Jasper closed his eyes and murmured “mmm.”
    The butter again. In the fire's amber light the lines of Jasper's muscles gleamed like topaz as he cradled the flashing liquid in his hand. He dripped it, yellow gold, onto the darker fallow curls of Charles' groin. It slid, oily smooth, over his newly hard prick, eased over his bollocks and insinuated itself, trickle by trickle behind them into the crack of his arse, coating all his secret places until they glistened. He felt deliciously wanton, dressed for consumption. When he wriggled, the slide of his arse cheeks together sent a thrill through him that made his face burn.
    Then Jasper handed him the bowl. He filled his own hands and worshiped Jasper's cock with them, leaning in to taste the tip, his senses filled with the smell of clean sweat, musk, and the creamy fat smell of the butter. Jasper's breath came ragged and he thrust in the circle of Charles' hand. The slide of heavy shaft, foreskin and hot head through his slippery fingers gave him a little jolt of delighted power.
    Determined not to show himself for the virgin he was, he got up on hands and knees and cast a challenging look over his shoulder, but when a big hand closed about his hip, holding him still, and the other stroked down from his tailbone and touched the defenceless pucker of his arsehole he still jerked as if stabbed from the shock.
    How could that feel good? And yet it did. It was positively the most intimate thing that had ever been done to him. And the reaction in kind was deeper than he had ever felt. He was tempted to run away, for a moment, to huddle back into the shards of his bodily integrity, not to let a stranger breach his bounds. He found himself breathing hard, his muscles tense all over.
The hand around his hip moved to rest reassuringly on the small of his back. "You haven't done this before, have you?" "No."
    Jasper's little laugh sounded awed. Cool air hit Charles' damp back as Jasper stood up, moving away to the mantelpiece. But before Charles could wonder what this meant Jasper returned, kneeling down once more, his belly and chest curved protectively over Charles' back. He kissed Charles' shoulder. "You could fuck