that perfect spot inside him.
Ecstasy shot through his body. “ Yes .”
“Thorn. I…” Arthur gasped for breath. “Can’t hold back.”
Holding Leopold tight to him, Arthur thrust upward. Sharp teeth pressed against his shoulder. The man’s deep groan reverberated through Leopold’s back as liquid warmth filled his passage.
Fully impaled on Arthur’s cock, Leopold grabbed his own erection, furiously stroked the length. His back arched as the orgasm seized him.
Panting for breath, Thorn slumped back, resting the full weight of his sleek body against Arthur. Eyes closed and not minding the weight in the slightest, Arthur wrapped his other arm around Thorn and held him.
After a moment, Thorn shifted on his lap. A bristly jaw scraped across his cheek.
“Kiss me,” Thorn whispered.
The muffled sound of a door slamming shut cut through the thick fog of blissful contentment. Every muscle in Arthur’s body went rigid. His eyes snapped open. He jerked his head, avoiding Thorn’s kiss, and looked to the door. The knowledge that it was safely shut, that they were still the only two men in the room, did not calm his pulse in the slightest.
Hell and damnation . They had just fucked at his office. Had Thorn absolutely no sense of propriety? Could he be any more careless? And the man was still sitting on his cock, for Christ’s sake.
“Get up,” he urged, careful to keep his voice quiet, yet the hushed words seemed unnaturally loud. Oh dear Lord . Had Fenton and Wilson heard them? Had that been a client who had just entered his office?
He pushed on Thorn’s bare hips when the man didn’t move fast enough. Thorn finally stood, Arthur’s spent cock slipping from his body. Arthur quickly tucked the damp length into his drawers and began to button the placket.
“Let me do that for you,” Thorn said, laying his hands over Arthur’s.
Arthur swatted him aside. “I can do it myself. See to your own trousers.”
Thorn nodded. With his usual quick efficiency, he repaired his clothing.
Frustration churned Arthur’s gut. Frustration not only at Thorn but at himself. He knew better than to give in. Had known exactly what Thorn intended, or at least had a fairly good notion, when the man had initially rounded his desk, strides slow and predatory, chin tipped down and intent gaze locked on him. Yet he’d allowed Thorn to overwhelm him with sensation. Allowed himself to give in to the lust.
The top button of his trousers finally cooperated and slipped into place. As he tugged on his waistcoat to right it, his gaze dropped to the floorboards beneath his desk. His eyes flared.
“Thorn. You…you…” On his office floor, no less?
“It’s all right, Arthur.” Thorn didn’t look or sound flustered in the slightest. He simply pulled that ever-ready handkerchief from his pocket, leaned down, and swiped up his own pearly white seed.
“It is not all right.” He gestured toward the door. “I have two employees barely twenty feet away.”
“They won’t suspect a thing. We were quiet, and the door is locked. I saw to it myself.” Thorn reached out to lay a hand on his arm.
With a harsh flick, Arthur shook him off. “The locked door matters not.”
“But, Arthur…” Thorn reached for him again.
“Go sit down.” He pointed to one of the leather armchairs on the other side of his desk. Thorn’s proximity alone added to the noxious mixture of frustration and panic. The musky scent of arousal, of sex, clung to him, a constant reminder of what they had just done.
A nod, and Thorn turned on his heel. He sat in the closest chair, limbs sprawled in casual disregard. Above the frustration and distinct note of panic lingering in Arthur’s veins resided disappointment. He had thought Thorn’s reckless days behind him, but apparently not. How could the man ignore such a risk? Might not be much of a risk to
Ecstasy shot through his body. “ Yes .”
“Thorn. I…” Arthur gasped for breath. “Can’t hold back.”
Holding Leopold tight to him, Arthur thrust upward. Sharp teeth pressed against his shoulder. The man’s deep groan reverberated through Leopold’s back as liquid warmth filled his passage.
Fully impaled on Arthur’s cock, Leopold grabbed his own erection, furiously stroked the length. His back arched as the orgasm seized him.
Panting for breath, Thorn slumped back, resting the full weight of his sleek body against Arthur. Eyes closed and not minding the weight in the slightest, Arthur wrapped his other arm around Thorn and held him.
After a moment, Thorn shifted on his lap. A bristly jaw scraped across his cheek.
“Kiss me,” Thorn whispered.
The muffled sound of a door slamming shut cut through the thick fog of blissful contentment. Every muscle in Arthur’s body went rigid. His eyes snapped open. He jerked his head, avoiding Thorn’s kiss, and looked to the door. The knowledge that it was safely shut, that they were still the only two men in the room, did not calm his pulse in the slightest.
Hell and damnation . They had just fucked at his office. Had Thorn absolutely no sense of propriety? Could he be any more careless? And the man was still sitting on his cock, for Christ’s sake.
“Get up,” he urged, careful to keep his voice quiet, yet the hushed words seemed unnaturally loud. Oh dear Lord . Had Fenton and Wilson heard them? Had that been a client who had just entered his office?
He pushed on Thorn’s bare hips when the man didn’t move fast enough. Thorn finally stood, Arthur’s spent cock slipping from his body. Arthur quickly tucked the damp length into his drawers and began to button the placket.
“Let me do that for you,” Thorn said, laying his hands over Arthur’s.
Arthur swatted him aside. “I can do it myself. See to your own trousers.”
Thorn nodded. With his usual quick efficiency, he repaired his clothing.
Frustration churned Arthur’s gut. Frustration not only at Thorn but at himself. He knew better than to give in. Had known exactly what Thorn intended, or at least had a fairly good notion, when the man had initially rounded his desk, strides slow and predatory, chin tipped down and intent gaze locked on him. Yet he’d allowed Thorn to overwhelm him with sensation. Allowed himself to give in to the lust.
The top button of his trousers finally cooperated and slipped into place. As he tugged on his waistcoat to right it, his gaze dropped to the floorboards beneath his desk. His eyes flared.
“Thorn. You…you…” On his office floor, no less?
“It’s all right, Arthur.” Thorn didn’t look or sound flustered in the slightest. He simply pulled that ever-ready handkerchief from his pocket, leaned down, and swiped up his own pearly white seed.
“It is not all right.” He gestured toward the door. “I have two employees barely twenty feet away.”
“They won’t suspect a thing. We were quiet, and the door is locked. I saw to it myself.” Thorn reached out to lay a hand on his arm.
With a harsh flick, Arthur shook him off. “The locked door matters not.”
“But, Arthur…” Thorn reached for him again.
“Go sit down.” He pointed to one of the leather armchairs on the other side of his desk. Thorn’s proximity alone added to the noxious mixture of frustration and panic. The musky scent of arousal, of sex, clung to him, a constant reminder of what they had just done.
A nod, and Thorn turned on his heel. He sat in the closest chair, limbs sprawled in casual disregard. Above the frustration and distinct note of panic lingering in Arthur’s veins resided disappointment. He had thought Thorn’s reckless days behind him, but apparently not. How could the man ignore such a risk? Might not be much of a risk to
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