Objects Of His Obsession (6 page)

And his mouth, that beautiful,
completely carnal, mouth, closed over Benedict’s.

Every sense exploded. Benedict
gave a groan of complete surrender, his arm raised to draw Evander closer, and
yet fumbled at his clothing with his free hand.

Evander gave a strangled laugh
against Benedict’s mouth, drawing back a little to undo buttons, shrug free of
his shirt, throw it to the floor. An instant later he was reaching for the
buttons on Benedict’s own clothing, breaking the kiss completely to concentrate
on the task, stripping him of his shirt and exposing a broad, muscular chest,
sleek with muscle and deeply sun bronzed. His fingers stroked up over those
muscles, turquoise eyes watching Benedict’s reactions as he toyed with a
nipple, caught it between thumb and forefinger, gently squeezed and tugged.

The breath hissed from between
Benedict’s white teeth. His eyes shut briefly as he felt his prick harden,
stretch against the confinement of his trousers. A confinement Evander attended
to swiftly.

In moments his cock was freed,
falling into Evander’s hand. He gasped as those lean, strong fingers closed
around his girth, his own fingers wrenching at Evander’s blue-black hair as his
mouth devoured his, his tongue in the other man’s mouth.

Evander drew back from that
hungry, desperate kiss, his blue eyes burning as he eyed Benedict. Watching
him, he played with the coppery nipple between his fingers, his thumb rolling
the liquid pearling at the head of Benedict’s cock over the silky smooth skin,
his fist sliding to lazily pump him.

Benedict jerked in his grasp
and Evander smiled mockingly. “You like that, yes? Apparently enough to forgive
me losing Nautilus? Or is that just forget … for the moment?”

Goddamn him, the man had
incredible self-control. Benedict could see his own cock, thrusting so fiercely
against the fine, expensive cloth of his trousers that the broad outline of the
head was visible. And yet he could still mock him, tease him, draw this
out–

His darkened brown eyes
narrowed on the beautiful face so close to his own. “Fuck you, Evander.”

“No, I think fuck you, Yeats.”

Jewel-like blue eyes drifted
down, over Benedict’s smooth, hairless chest, to Benedict’s thick cock being so
expertly worked by his own hand. Abruptly he ceased and strolled over to the
bed, unbuttoning his trousers and shedding them, his undergarments, as
indolently as a large, powerful cat.

Benedict watched him, his mouth
drying.

Jesus. This was really
happening. And he wanted it. Wanted whatever this man was going to give him, do
to him.

He paused to lean against the
mantel as he yanked his shoes off, his socks, eased his trousers and drawers
down until they slid free off his legs and he kicked them free.

And all the time, he was
conscious of those turquoise eyes, so magnificent between the thick black
lashes, glowing against Evander’s smooth olive skin as they moved over his
naked, muscular body.

Years of rugby and boxing had
given him plenty of muscle. Tough physical work on the digs, occasionally
working beside the paid laborers – a practice Hamer totally abhorred but
which he enjoyed, getting the dust and dirt of the place on his hands –
had left him with a big boned, rock hard body.

And judging from the way
Evander was eyeing him off as he approached, he too was enjoying the payoff.

The corners of that lush,
carnal mouth slanted up. Evander had been sprawled back on the bed, his own
taller, leaner frame, just as hard with muscle, lazing back like a panther. But
now he moved to the foot of the bed where Benedict paused and grinned, running
a hand down his narrow hip, around over the taut, pale curve of his arse.

“You seem to enjoy the sun …
and yet keep parts of yourself covered. It creates the most interesting
contrasts.”

Benedict had been about to
answer when Evander leant forward, and grasping his prick, slid his mouth over
the swollen, plum colored head.

“Sweet Jesus,” Benedict bit
out.

God, he’d never had such a rush
of sensation. And without preamble, Evander was taking him deep, his throat
muscles massaging the head of his cock expertly.

The man was in total control.
Drawing back and yet dragging on him with a powerful suction, taking him deep
again, over and over, pausing only to tease with his tongue, circle about the
ridge, at the insanely sensitive spot underneath, his tongue finding every
impossibly sensitive locus of nerves, probing at the slit, his mouth sucking at
it to drag out the salty, welling liquid.

Eventually Benedict couldn’t stand
it anymore. Dragging his cock free of those beautiful lips, he met Evander’s
blue eyes, his own blazing. “Stop, Evander. Christ, I’m going to come–”

Dark brows shot up, that glance
wickedly erotic. “I’d be failing if you didn’t.”

Benedict shook his head, his
long hair falling into his eyes, face flushed. “No. Not yet. More. I want more,
before I – I–”

Evander arched a brow, moving
back, into the center of the bed and sprawling back onto his elbows. Christ,
Benedict thought, eyes clinging to him. He was like some magnificent animal,
all sheened, sleek olive skin over taut, defined muscle and bone. All powerful
threat, tautly controlled.

And his cock … he was already
fully aroused, that long, thick prick flushed with blood, roped with veins and
stretched up over his flat abdomen. Even as Benedict watched, Evander stroked
himself lazily, shamelessly, turquoise eyes fixed on his.

“You seem to like what you
see,” he drawled huskily. “So what the fuck are you doing just standing there,
Yeats? Get on this damned bed, now.”

Dangerous, on his more than
good behavior right now, but later? Would he ever feel truly comfortable with
the man? Trust him?

He would have to, Benedict
reminded himself in that split second. At least for tonight.

Heart pounding against his ribs,
he climbed onto the bed and found himself being slammed powerfully around, back
into the mattress. Evander crushed his mouth with his as he ground his hips
against Benedict’s, the silken skin of their rock hard cocks sliding against
one another, slicked by the precum dribbling from both.

Benedict groaned, dragging his
mouth away, pressing the side of his face into the pillows at the overload of
sensation.

Christ, that felt just so
good– beyond anything he’d thought he’d ever have.

And if Evander’s muscular,
sleek frame pressed against him, his cock sliding, hot, rubbing, hardening his
own was doing this to him, what was to come–

And yet he really knew fuck
all. No virgin, and yet in every way that counted tonight, a total virgin.

Hell–

Somehow, Evander had settled
between his spread thighs without him being aware of it and Benedict watched as
he shifted, stretched across the mattress to the bedside table, reached into a
drawer and took out a small jar.

Evander studied him as he undid
the lid, placed the two items on the mattress beside them. He was still settled
between Benedict’s legs, but kneeling for the moment.

At the look on Benedict’s face
he stilled for a moment.

The blazing turquoise eyes
narrowed a degree.

“What is it, Ben? Changed your
mind? Or you’d rather be the one buggering me?”

But the tone of that mocking,
now roughened voice told Benedict that Evander didn’t think any such thing. He
was just giving him the opportunity to speak.

“I–” Benedict swallowed,
feeling like a complete fool. He fisted the silk he was lying on. “I haven’t
done this before.”

Evander’s only reaction was a
slight flickering of those long black lashes. “
Ever
?”

Somehow he made himself meet
those enigmatic blue eyes. “Ever. With a man, that is.”

Evander’s mouth twisted. “Naturally.”

“You think I’m a fool.”

Evander shook his head. “No.
Not at all. This just … changes things a little. That’s all. Roll over onto
your stomach.”

Benedict opened his mouth to
speak but thought better of it, rolling onto his stomach with a distinct lack
of grace and anticipation twisting his gut. Hell, he wanted this. Wanted it so
badly.

Didn’t matter if Evander
thought him a fool. He’d wanted the man the moment he’d seen him, and somehow,
having him be the first man to fuck him meant something to him.

Bloody hell, he was thinking
like some heartsick girl– And then steely hands were gripping his hips,
dragging him up onto his knees and he was dragged out of his mind and into pure
flesh.

A knee was between his, pushing
them apart. Automatically, he sank forwards, his forehead resting on his bent
arms, cushioned by the pillows. Very, very aware of the man kneeling behind
him.

He felt Evander’s hands on the
muscular, rounded cheeks of his arse, holding him open and then damned near
screamed at the decadent, undreamt of sensation of Evander’s tongue circling
his hole. That warm, wet tongue lapping around that incredibly sensitive flesh
until Benedict was gasping at the pleasure of it, obediently opening himself
out as the pads of Evander’s thumbs stroked over the slickened flesh, easing
it, relaxing him and yet driving him wild at the same time.

“Fuck–” he gasped,
pushing up, into the tongue now circling, stabbing into the tiny hole. “God, Evander,
I never–”

“Thought something so decadent
could feel so good?”

“Never even knew that –
that–”

He lost words as Evander’s
thumbs eased him open and his tongue drove inside, stabbing into him. Christ,
he was going to come, wanted to touch himself–

“You never knew such an act
existed? You associated with some very unimaginative whores then,” Evander
finished for him, sounding both amused and aroused, that silken voice
roughened, husky as he drew back, settling onto his heels as he reached for the
lubricant. He pressed his mouth against Benedict’s hip. Bit at the flesh there.

Benedict swallowed as he felt
lubricant being smoothed around his already saliva soaked hole, first one
finger, then two sliding inside. Hell– he had been expecting, what, pain?
Instead it felt so damned good as Evander finger-fucked his arse, stretching,
preparing him, the groans raw in Benedict’s throat. A burn to it with every
scissoring, stretching thrust, but good.

And he could tell by the
roughened breathing behind him that Evander was roused by this as well. He
tried to reach back, to touch him, but the man pushed his hand away.

And then those fingers stroked
over some spot deep inside and Benedict cried out, arching back into him.
Vaguely aware that he was barely holding off coming. Vaguely aware of the sweat
he’d broken into and Evander’s soft, knowing laugh.

Evander muttered, “Onto your
back, Yeats.”

He did as he was asked, falling
back against the pillows, his hand going to his rigid cock at the sight of
Evander stroking lubricant over his own.

His mouth dried. “Evander.
Enough. Just fuck me.”

The man eyed him, turquoise
eyes damned near burning across his skin. Moving down to the distended cock in Benedict’s
hand, over the heavy bollocks beneath to his hole and he smiled as Benedict
shifted under that hot gaze.

“Yes, that’s it. Hold yourself
open for me,” he said huskily, leaning over him to murmur against his mouth,
“Yes–”

Knees pulled up, Benedict
moaned as he felt the broad, powerful head of Evander’s cock breach him. Drive
slowly inside. Yes, Evander had prepared him … readied his body for this, more
than done so, but fuck – his broad cockhead felt massive as it pushed
past that resistant ring of muscle.

Gasping, he flung his head
back, throat working as his eyes shut tight, absorbing the sensation of a
terrible stretching, a burn. Pain wrenching through him with every movement of
Evander’s as he drew back a little, thrust forward, rocking gently into him.

“Relax,” Evander said hoarsely.
“Relax. This will be good, I promise you. Better than good, wonderful.”

Benedict didn’t know about
that. He felt Evander’s mouth on his and tried to concentrate on that carnal
invasion, the tongue in his mouth fucking with his even as Evander drove
deeper, drew back, thrust deeper again. Deliberately he did as Evander said,
willed himself to relax. And it
was
better. A thread of burning stretch still there, fading fast, but lacing
through that pain–

And then– Fuck, he
understood– Everything he’d fantasized about, alone at night, wanking
himself off, and lately, using only Evander himself as the source of those hot
sexual fantasies to get him there–

“
Hell
–”

Evander laughed under his
breath, suddenly sounding younger, the hard, veneered surface of the aristocrat
gone as he grinned, staring into Benedict’s honeyed eyes as if enjoying every
moment of Benedict’s revelation, this initiation, before he pulled back and
drove that thick, heavy cock home.