Convincing Leopold by Ava March Page A

wish?
     
    Arthur cleared his throat and tried to mimic the haughty manner of a bored aristocrat. He certainly had heard that tone more than once tonight. “If you must.”
     
    Reaching between their bodies, Thorn tugged on the placket of Arthur’s trousers, firm and with deliberate purpose. “Yes, Mr. Barrington. I must.”
     
    Before Thorn could shift down, Arthur grabbed the man by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss, slanting his mouth over those full lips that would very soon be wrapped around his cock. Then Thorn pulled back, breaking the kiss and dropping to his knees.
     
    Arthur did not even have a chance to feel a wisp of air brush across his cock before Thorn took him inside and proceeded to give a very clear demonstration of just how he could apply himself.
     
    Suction and wet heat. Nimble flicks of his tongue and long, plunging strokes. Thorn did not ease up for an instant but kept up a full onslaught of delicious sensation. The darkness robbed Arthur of sight but heightened his other senses. His ears picked up the crude sound of his now very wet cock sliding in and out of Thorn’s mouth, drowning out the rhythmic clop of hooves on the street and the jangle of harness. The vibrations of the carriage transmitted through the leather bench, tickling and teasing his ballocks. The scents of sex, the musky note of arousal, and the enticing spice of Thorn’s cologne surrounded him, prodding the lust permeating Arthur’s senses even higher. Had Thorn’s lips become softer, fuller? His mouth hotter? And his throat…
     
    Tightening his grip in Thorn’s hair, Arthur let out a low groan as the man took him deep yet again.
     
    In no time at all, the climax barreled down his length. Clenching his jaw to hold back the shout, he spilled down his lover’s throat.
     
    Abruptly, cool air hit his cock, those soft lips gone. Arthur heard the rustle of fabric, the pop of buttons pulled from their moorings, then the distinct sound of a fist working a cock. Mind still reeling from the blistering speed of that orgasm, he slid his hand around to cup Thorn’s jaw. The man turned his head, pulling Arthur’s gloved fingers into his mouth. Sharp teeth pressed against his skin through the fabric, almost hard enough to draw blood. Then Thorn let out a soul-deep grunt.
     
    His jaw went lax, Arthur’s fingers slipping from his mouth. Thorn’s quick, heavy pants cut through the air. “I would hazard a guess”—he gasped for breath—“less than a handful of minutes.”
     
    Arthur leaned his head against the interior wall and chuckled. “Most assuredly.” Even as an adolescent, he had not climaxed that quickly.
     
    Thorn climbed back onto his lap to gift Arthur with a wonderfully slow, deep kiss. “Let me stay with you tonight.”
     
    What he wouldn’t give to spend the night with Thorn, to simply hold him close and bask in his love. But he shook his head. “I have an early appointment with His Grace. I am to present myself in his study at half past seven. The man must be one of those types who can operate exceedingly well on little sleep. He was still at the ball when we left and looked to have no intention of leaving soon.”
     
    “You should have proposed a later hour for the meeting.”
     
    “One does not counter a directive given by a duke.” Thorn moved about in Society. He knew the way of things. Then a thought occurred to Arthur. “And don’t send him a note. He might be your godfather, but this is business.”
     
    Thorn made a noise somewhere between a snort and a harrumph. “All right.” The comforting weight of his body left Arthur as he moved back to the opposite bench. “But don’t you have enough clients?”
     
    One could never have enough clients. And no matter his success, he could never quite escape the worry that the client he refused would be the last one to present himself at his office. “I can’t turn down the opportunity to take on His Grace,” he said, tucking his