Randall's Romance (Behind Closed Doors) (2 page)

Oh, I know you wouldn't abuse them, but they aren't a stack of blank canvasses to be repainted in your image, either."

"But..."

"But nothing, Peregrine. They are high spirited and lively, and that's the way we love them. Help them, support them, and if they are in true danger, rescue them, but otherwise let them live their lives. I intend to at last live mine, and you, my serious son, I highly suggest you live yours."

Chapter One

A black clad highwayman stood at the punch table filling a crystal cup with the insipid beverage Mortimer's equally insipid wife preferred. Another seductive thief of the open road lounged in the open French doors leading out to the gardens trading flirtatious remarks with a bevy of gaudily and scantily clad misses. From the looks of their clinging garments they'd adopted the habit of fast young women everywhere and dampened their petticoats in the hopes of luring just the sort of attention they were receiving. A third masked bandit languished on the dance floor in the arms of a rather macabre Lady Macbeth. Several others were scattered about the somewhat shabby ballroom of Randall's old school chum Mortimer Gravesend. The room was intentionally ill lit, creating shadowy alcoves where couples could be intimate, but even such an alcove would not serve his purpose. The lover he'd come to meet, the liaison he wished to further, required more discretion than that of a bored society wife and a rake of the ton.

The company wasn't of the best, not the
haute ton
, but neither was it beneath contempt. Risqué behavior at a masquerade was nothing new, but outright propositioning an unknown man would still be beyond the pale. It might even get him killed. Randall cursed silently.
Blast it all, Terence!
He had no way at all of telling which of the damned highwaymen was his lover, and a case of mistaken identity in this case would be disastrous.

When Terence Wooster had suggested meeting up here, it had sounded so simple, so illicitly sexy. Randall could easily admit that he'd been excited by the prospect of a sensual encounter in a semi-public venue. But that was before he'd recognized his prissy older brother amongst the crowd of partygoers.

Now, unless he could locate Terence and pry the dandy out of their old school mate's den of inequity, he'd be disappointed in his quest for sexual satisfaction. Failing to satisfy his body's needs tonight would mean a long dry spell with only his hand and his oriental curiosities. He had to leave the next day for Devon on an operation to catch a new smuggling ring that had apparently sprung up overnight, and he'd wanted to meet up with a like-minded individual, as god knew how long it would be before he could get a good fuck in if he didn't.

Terence had said he'd be here, dressed as a highwayman. So Randall had sent his valet away and dug into the depths of his wardrobe for a costume that he'd seldom worn and no one would connect with him. He donned his Robin Hood disguise, and in an hour entered a society ballroom on his last night in London for God knew how long, because Terence was a sure thing with a talented mouth and ...God damn it! Just thinking of the things the man could do for him aroused his lust. He adjusted his prick in the tight fitting green hosiery. Fortunately a masquerade was a great deal more licentious than most of the ton's entertainments. Risqué behavior was the norm, and most of the high sticklers wouldn't set foot inside an event like this. The debutantes were safely locked away at Almack's sipping tepid lemonade and circling the ballroom in inane patterns while attempting to charm some hapless youth into giving up his independence in exchange for posterity and progeny.

Frowning, Randall stiffened. Across the room a highly flirtatious couple had dipped a bit too raucously and a golden domino had fallen aside just enough that he swore. "It couldn't be! That little minx." Setting down the now empty glass he'd scooped off a passing waiter's tray, he made his way across the room.

Catching the woman's shoulder, he spun her about in the dance, "May I cut in?"

The lithesome young woman's gasp gave the game away. "Randall?"

Taking her in his arms, he twirled her about so that she faced away from where he'd last seen Perry at the buffet table. "Cecily, you must go home at once!" He let his gaze wander about the crowd. "Perry is here, and if he catches wind of your presence, there will be hell to pay!"

"Perry?" Blue eyes widened in dismay behind the gold domino. "Blast the man! How did we come to have such a prudish brother, Randall? I promise you the man will drive me mad before the year is out!"

"Who brought you here?" He maneuvered his younger sibling carefully toward the nearest exit.

"Would it be too much for you to believe if I said that I'd come alone?"

"Yes, rather. Never mind. I've got it." He pushed her ahead of himself out into the marble foyer, and flagged a passing liveried footman. "Have my carriage brought around." He ordered curtly.

"How will you get home?" The gratitude in Cecily's voice was clear.

Resigned, Randall grimaced. "If I can't find the fellow I came here to meet, then I'll catch a ride back with Perry, of course."

"You're such a dear to sacrifice yourself on my behalf! Are you meeting a highwayman, by any chance?" His sister asked, staring over his shoulder into the recesses of the house.

"Yes, how did you know?" He glanced back into the foyer in time to see the door to Mortimer's seldom used library close opposite the ballroom they had just exited.

"He was staring at you rather intently."

"Was he then?" Spirits uplifted immeasurably, Randall handed his sister off to the carriage with a kiss on her cheek and an order to be more careful, and slipped off to the door he'd seen closing moments earlier.

He closed the door behind himself and turned the key in the lock. The book room was lit by a single porcelain candelabrum on the mantelpiece. In the flickering candlelight he located Terence at the fireplace, swirling a snifter of brandy in his hand. Terence turned his head, tensing at the sound of the key turning in the lock.

"Never fear. It's just me. I'd about given up hope of finding you; there are so very many highwaymen present tonight. Next time you must choose a more singular disguise." Checking the room carefully for any other entrance, Randall realized Terence had chosen the perfect place for their encounter.

The highwayman glanced back at him, dark eyes glittering through the slits of his long mask. "I'd hate to draw attention." Hi voice was muffled by the mask, but Randall caught the faint foreign accent he aped and rolled his eyes.

Randall felt his blood heat as that hooded gaze traveled down his form. His cock stirred and this time he made no move to hide his interest. "Truth, Terence, attention is to be avoided, but there is something to be said for ease of recognition in these circumstances."

He crossed the Aubusson carpet to stand in front of his lover, drew the man to him. Terence came willingly enough into his embrace, but when Randall tried to raise the man's domino to reveal his features, Terence caught his hand in a gloved grip. "No. Just in case, we must be discreet."

"I did lock the door, you know." Randall buried his face in the fabric and tightened his arms, crushing Terence along his length. The man's costume was a miracle of tailoring, for he seemed to have even added padding to his narrow shoulders and lifts to his boots.

"Yes, but that might not be the only key."

Truly, Terence was more concerned than usual about being recognized! He'd even foregone his normal heavy drenching of spicy oriental scent in favor of a delicate sandalwood cologne that teased at Randall's senses quite delightfully. Reluctantly Randall released his crushing grip on the domino and let his hands slide down Terence's back to cup his taut buttocks through the thin pantaloons. "Very well, then. Come away with me for the night so we can be private."

"I cannot." Hard hands closed on his own buttocks, squeezed them meaningfully. Randall shivered. His cock thickened, his blood stirred. Terence pulled him closer still, so that their groins rested against one another. A few thin layers of fabric separated them, but the heat was as unmistakable as the thick ridge his prick rubbed against.

"But I leave tomorrow, I told you as much." Randall protested, grinding into the sweet pressure on his prick. "Never mind. If this is all the moment we have, then I want more than this." He wedged his hands in between their bodies, enjoyed Terence's gasp when he squeezed the man's prick through his pantaloons, and began working their garments open.

"You're very bold tonight." The breathless statement was followed by a swift, muttered curse as Randall caught their pricks in his hand and stroked them together.

"I?" Randall leaned into Terence and bit the man's ear lobe sharply. "I suggested we meet in the usual place, secure and behind closed doors. You were the one who had a hankering for challenging the ton. Is it turning you on, making you hot to think that just a few feet away the others are dancing and drinking and making merry?"

"Damn you, harder!" Terence's hand closed over his and Randall shuddered as the grip tightened, the rhythm roughened. He stared down between them, to where their hands slid up and down, squeezing drops of clear liquid from each prick that mingled and streamed down to slick the path of their movements. Terence's hand on his cock was more erotic than ever, and maybe it was the thought of being caught out, of the scandal that lurked, but his body was tensing, and beads of perspiration formed. He threw back his head, slipped his free hand down the back of Terence's pantaloons and into his small clothes. Terence trembled against him, Randall soothed him with a whispered word, cupped his buttock, and let his fingers trail along the crease of the man's arse.

"Have a care...we can't do that here."

"I am aware," he chuckled dryly, catching his breath. His fingers brushed over the puckered hole, Terence shuddered, his cock stiffening still further, the skin stretched so tight and fine Randal could swear he felt the man's heart beat in the blood that swelled his organ.

"Damnation...so very good." Terence was bucking into his grip, losing his rhythm. Randal rubbed the hole, pressed the very tip of his finger inside, and let the exultation flood him as Terence's seed spilled along his cock, in jet after jet.

"That's right." He murmured. "Give me your pleasure." He milked the softening cock of every last drop of seed, then wiped them both off with his handkerchief.

His cock throbbed with want, and he smiled at the man he'd come to realize was most decidedly not Terence. "At this point, Terence would drop to his knees and suck me. Are you of a like mind?"

"So you've realized I'm not your friend, have you?" The strange highwayman tucked himself away and refastened his pantaloons. "What happens now?"

"Now, I'm still in need of release, and you are a likeminded fellow it seems. If you cannot bring yourself to suck me, then your hand will do as well."

The black domino muted the man's laughter, but he obligingly dropped to his knees on the plush carpet and with a little deft maneuvering of his mask and Randall's cock, had him encased in wet heat and strong suction within moments.

Randall sighed and let his hands rest on the velvet of the mask, ordinarily he'd have twined his fingers in his lover's hair, to give his hands something to do.
Idle hands are the devil's work
his mother used to say, but then again...so was this sodomy. "You're very good at this," he sighed, sinking deeply into the wet mouth, enjoying the light scrape of teeth. His blood surged, an agile tongue toyed with the tip of his cock on each retreat, swirling and sucking, drawing rushes f pleasure from him as his body tensed, thighs stiffening. Heat pooled and exploded, and with it his seed pulsed into the receptive mouth.

As soon as his senses returned he withdrew politely. The stranger rose to his feet as Randall tucked himself away again. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me your name, highwayman?"

"You don't suppose correctly. Unless, of course, you'd like to tell me yours, Robin of the Hood? No? I thought not." The man swept a deep bow and waved to the door. "After you, my lord thief."

Laughing softly, Randall allowed himself to be ushered from the room. It wasn't until he was back in his own rooms in Cavendish Square that it occurred to him to wonder if the man hadn't been Terence, and wasn't expecting to meet up with him for a liaison, then what had he been doing in Mortimer's study? For the one thing he was absolutely certain of, the man was neither Terence nor Mortimer Gravesend.

Chapter Two

Savoring the lethargy of release, the faint aroma of seed that lingered between them, Jason gently closed the door. He shook his head as the Robin Hood strode away without looking back. The man crossed the marble floor, boots clacking with authority that caused a loitering footman to snap to attention. There was something vaguely familiar about the man he'd just enjoyed a brief sensual encounter with...something he couldn't quite place his finger on.

Ducking into an alcove, Jason strained his ears to hear any bit of the conversation between the two, but all he could distinguish was the masculine murmur that had stirred his senses in the other room luring him to behave so foolishly. That voice had fired his blood as much as the sight of the man's erect prick tauntingly outlined in the clinging green hosiery of his costume. His mouth had watered in anticipation at the visual stimulation, and his entire being had leapt to awareness when the man's meaning sank in. Whoever this Terence was, he was a very lucky fellow to have such a lover!

Squinting slightly, searching for any telling details that he might have missed earlier in the heat of the moment as it were, he fancied the gentleman, for such he had to be, judging from his speech and the quality of his dress, to have a military air about him. Was he a soldier home on leave? A former officer in his majesty's service home to tend to the duties of the family? Many an officer was remanded home when the family required his presence, for instance if he were in line to inherit a title or estate?