Objects Of His Obsession (25 page)

“You’re determined to make me
work for this, aren’t you?” Evander growled softly.

Those warm brown eyes shot to
his and Benedict looked uncertain for the barest moment before that mask
settled over his face. “I’m here,” he said flatly, but the roughening of his
voice ruined the effect. “You told me it was this or you’d invade my room. What
choice did I have?”

“Every choice. You could simply
have said you didn’t want it. At all.”

Benedict’s lips parted but
whatever he’d been about to say he couldn’t voice. Instead he just watched as Evander’s
fingers undid the fastenings to his trousers, undid them, slid them, his
underwear, down over Benedict’s hips so that they fell, caught for a moment on
his hard, muscular arse, and then pooled down around his ankles. Taking a deep
breath, he kicked the clothing free and stood naked before Evander.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t
it?” he muttered, with an edge of defiance. “Me here, naked. Well, you’ve got
it.”

“So I have,” Evander said, any
trace of aristocratic cool wiped out by the huskiness of his voice.

He could have sounded
triumphant, had he chosen. Benedict’s cock jutted proud of his body, the veins
on it standing out in stark relief. Had he been carved in white marble the
sight would have been erotic and poetic. As it was, the deeply colored head,
the precum seeping from it, already falling in a fat globule down that veined
shaft was graphic. No,
pornographic
.

Raw. The sheer lust it revealed
nothing Benedict could deny.

“You want this,” Evander
murmured, leaning forward and tracing the tip of a finger up the straining
length of that cock, deliberately not brushing over the straining, heavy balls
at its base. He caught that globule of liquid with his fingertip and brought it
to his lips, tongue curling out to lap it up, turquoise eyes gripping his lover’s.

“Good,” Evander purred. “You
always taste so good, Ben. And that just makes me want more.”

Benedict’s moan was everything
he wanted. He leant forward, long fingers curling about the base of that shaft,
and stroked his tongue up the path of a vein. Somehow Evander’s restrained
himself from commenting on Benedict’s gasp. Instead he did everything he could
to increase that maddened pleasure. His lips closing over the head, tongue
swirling over it, under it as he relentlessly, bluntly, took him deep.

Benedict was already fully
aroused. Needy. Evander relaxed his throat muscles and swallowed about the
head, feeling the clench of Benedict’s fingers in his hair even as the man
standing over him cried out. That sound was lost. Hungry. Desperate.

Jaw aching, Evander worked him
harder, hunting for that sound. Needing to hear it again, a fist curled about
the base of Benedict’s shaft as he worked him with his mouth and his pumping hand
even as his free fingers dug into one muscular globe of Benedict’s arse.

Benedict was groaning,
completely lost to himself now. “Evander. Yes, yes, just keep–” His
fingers tightened. “Oh Christ, yes.
Don’t
stop
. Feels so bloody good,
fuck
–”

Evander looked up into Benedict’s
face as he drew back on that thick, straining prick, lips stretched wide about
it. And those dark honey eyes were drinking in the sight.

He slid his mouth free. “You
love this,” Evander stated, needling him, that aristocratic drawl, command,
edging his voice.

Benedict was staring down at
him wildly, nothing hidden from those turquoise eyes. His own gaze dropping
down to that reddened, carnal mouth.

“Yes,” he admitted roughly.
“Yes, I do. Christ, Evander, don’t stop, please–”

Still watching him, Evander
gripped his shaft and slid his mouth over that hot, needy cockhead once more.
But now, once he’d tongued, suckled the precum seeping so copiously from it, he
shifted his hands to Benedict’s arse and simply looked up at Benedict. Telling
him without words what he wanted.

Benedict bit his lip, his eyes
heavy lidded as he stared back. Riven by lust. And he began to thrust,
shallowly at first, and then, as Evander’s hands on his hips guided him, he
truly began to fuck Evander’s mouth.

He was babbling an almost
endless stream of obscenities. And then finally he gasped, forcing himself,
somehow, to slow, to mutter, “Evander. Christ, your mouth– Just stop.
Make me stop. Can’t–”

But instead, as Benedict fought
to stop himself, Evander took him deep, his fingers pressing against the puckered,
sensitive knot of Benedict’s hole.

With a guttural cry, he came. Evander
felt him pumping into his throat, into his mouth. He drank him down, and still Benedict
was emptying out as if he hadn’t come in an eternity, his seed trickling down
from a corner of Evander’s lips.

Finally, when he halted,
sweating, fingers loosening in Evander’s blue-black hair, he stared blindly
down into the other man’s face. Watched as Evander released his cock to wipe
the back of his hand across his jaw and lips, catching up that spilled semen.

Evander tongued the seed from
his skin. “You liked watching that, Ben? Because you’re better than any other
I’ve had.”

Something flickered behind
those warm brown eyes. “And you’ve had many.”

“Enough.” Evander’s powerful
shoulders, sleekly olive, lifted in a shrug. “That disturbs you?”

Benedict stared at him helplessly.
Evander could read him so wonderfully easily now.

His lover’s legs clearly felt
like rubber from that orgasm and his eyes had dropped to the massive erection
tenting Evander’s evening trousers. It was all there in that square-jawed face.
How could Evander have just performed that act and not need release? Instead
just sit and talk, not demand that Benedict reciprocate?

Clearly Ben knew that most men
would. But then Evander had other plans.

Not even a raging, aching erection
would stop him from attaining them.

Benedict moistened his lips. Visibly
tried to get his ragged breathing under control. His whole muscular, big boned body
gleamed with sweat.

Evander leant back in the
leather armchair, his blue eyes a glowing band about the massive black pupils.
Studying him. Greedy for everything.

“On the bed, Ben. Or would you
rather I fuck you over this chair?”

Darkened eyes flickered down to
the sturdy wing armchair, clearly ran through the erotic possibilities, and
then he went over to the bed, climbed onto it and lay back against the pillows.
Evander approved of his decision. As much as he would fuck Ben, bent over this
chair at some point, he had a sensualist’s appreciation for the comforts and
possibilities of that bed. As he prowled over to it he undid his trousers, his
underwear, shucked it all free, kicked it aside as he moved onto the bed and
leant over Benedict, staring down at him.

The other man was still breathing
thickly. His wide, parted lips a lure.

Evander smiled. Weight on one
hand, muscle bunching in his shoulder, he stroked a fingertip around one of Benedict’s
small, tightly budding nipples.

“How long since that afternoon
at your place, Ben?” he taunted, feeling a little cruel. Because, goddammit,
the man was making him work so hard for this. “Less than a fortnight? Tell me,
have you taken yourself in hand every night since then? Fucked yourself,
thinking of me?”

Benedict flushed deeply.
Already his drained cock was stirring. Readying itself for more. “Yes,” he bit
out, defiantly.

“Good,” Evander husked. He
dipped his head, kissed him roughly. Hand drifting down, over the smooth,
still-tanned skin of Benedict’s torso to fondle his balls. Cruelly ignoring his
cock. Against his mouth Benedict moaned, his legs spreading still further, hips
tilting up. Giving him what he needed, Evander’s fingers drifted down, between
the firm cheeks of his arse. Pressed against his hole. “And have you fucked
yourself with your fingers? In this gorgeous arse?”

Benedict rolled his head away,
on the pillow, his eyes shut tightly. “You know that I have.”

Evander chuckled. A man who had
made his point. He drew away, reached for the jar of lubricant he’d placed
earlier on the bedside table. He undid the lid, threw it aside.

His fingers slickened, he
murmured against Benedict’s ear, “You think it was any different for me? You
think I didn’t ache for you every night?
Christ,
Ben– I ached, I was raw, my heart raw for you–”

Benedict turned his head,
stared at him, eyes massive. Suddenly vulnerable. His hands lifted, curled around
Evander’s biceps. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “
That isn’t what this is for you.
”

“It’s
everything
that this is for me,” Evander ground out. For the first
time, he allowed everything,
everything
,
to be revealed in the turquoise glow of his eyes. “If it was only fucking, I’d
say so. And frankly, if it was just that I’d find a man more damned convenient
and a hell of a lot less contrary.”

Evander hated that
vulnerability. That confession. Opening up his heart, even that much, so
obviously to Ben. And that raging discomfort was obvious. Benedict’s eyes
glinted. That wide, delicious mouth curled.

He looked disbelieving. And
abruptly gleeful.

“Fuck, Evander. Are you telling
me it’s true?
That there is a romantic
there, under that tough surface
–”

Evander scowled, hating Benedict’s
teasing. “Fuck you, Ben.”

Benedict shifted, a hand
catching, ruffling Evander’s black hair. His face grew somber.

“Then yes. Fuck me. Fuck me, Evander.
Now.”

Evander didn’t need to be asked
again. Or told. With a practiced ease, he slid one slicked finger, then
another, into Benedict’s entrance. Tongue fucking with Benedict’s, his
practiced fingers found his gland and stroked it, pausing between tormenting
his lover with those sure strokes and stretching, scissoring his fingers and working
a third finger into that tight passage.

Eventually Benedict wrenched
his hand away, his cock stretched, hard and ready, over his flat abdomen.
“Enough,” he gritted, wrapping his fingers over his own thick shaft. “Your
cock. Now.”

Evander drew back, hand
pressing against the back of one of Benedict’s thighs, pushing him further
open, brought his cockhead to Benedict’s hole, and heart hammering, broached
him.

That tight ring of muscle
resisted, and then Benedict opened for him, and he was gripped in that silken, incredible
heat. Pushing, driving deeper into that powerful, vulnerable body. Lungs so
tight he thought he’d suffocate, but hungering for the broken, raw noises Ben was
making.

Benedict shifted, dragged his
mouth down to his, ground their lips together.

In one move, he thrust up,
meeting Evander until he filled him completely. For a moment they paused,
gasping, staring at each other. And then Benedict’s fingers bit into his hip.

“Harder,” he groaned. “More.
Rougher
.”

Those words.
Their words
.

It was what Evander had been
waiting for. He moved, slung Benedict’s legs over his shoulders and used him as
roughly as he wanted. As they both did. Pounded into him, hard, shifted his
angle and with every thrust caught that magic spot inside Ben that he knew
drove him wild.

And it did. His cock caged
between their bodies, he came from that alone, crying out, guttural. Semen
jetting across Benedict’s chest, his throat. And Evander triggered by that, by
the silken heat gripping about his cock, suddenly drove hard, fast, into the
man under him. Slammed into him until he came, and it felt as if he was coming,
and coming again, his cock sliding through lube, through semen, never wanting
this to end even as he knew he’d emptied everything he had into Benedict.

That there was no more. The man
had all of him. Heart, soul, body, seed.

Everything
.

Would it be enough? Could
he
be enough?

He wanted this so badly it made
him vulnerable.
Too damned vulnerable.

Love did that to you. Caring
for another did that to you. Opening up to them in any other way than the
physical–

Sweet Jesus, what was he
doing–

Swearing under his breath, he
eased out of Benedict and off the bed. Headed to the bathroom. Cleaned up,
splashed his face with water in the hope it would clear his mind.

It didn’t. Instead he returned,
threw a dampened washcloth to a watching Benedict.

Restless, caged, he paced about
the room, pulled over the curtains and stared out at the dark country night. No
moon. But stars, brighter than any to be seen in London.

“What the hell is wrong?” Benedict
asked. “You wanted me, you had me. And it was … spectacular.”

Evander laughed under his
breath, glanced over at the other man. “Yes. It was.”

Benedict looked suddenly
uncertain, glanced down. “Maybe next time you’ll let me … take you. That was
good too. That time. That last afternoon. Pretty bloody amazing, actually.”