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Authors: Josephine Myles

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BOOK: Screwing the System
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Cosmo made a gurgling noise that Alasdair seemed to accept as a yes, because he gave a smug smile and pushed his fingers in. Fuck. It felt like he’d shoved in his whole hand at once.
Why, boss, what thick fingers you have.
Cosmo rode the burn, as Alasdair’s smile turned wolfish and he rubbed his gland.

When Alasdair pulled out, Cosmo was incapable of speech, his dick leaking all over his abs. Alasdair hoisted him up even farther, so it dripped right between his nipples. The world contracted to the sensation of his muscles stretching and stinging as Alasdair pushed that big fat cock into him.

After all that slow torture, Cosmo needed it fast and furious, and that was what he got. Alasdair rammed it into him like a pile driver, balls slapping against Cosmo’s tenderised arse with every sharp thrust. The tempo built, the air resounding with ragged gasps, Alasdair’s bass grunts and Cosmo’s cries of abandon. Sex didn’t get any better than this: having a strong, powerful man giving it to him hard. He tried to make it good for Alasdair too, working his muscles and pushing back into each tooth-rattling hip slam.

But when Alasdair hoisted Cosmo’s legs up over those beefy shoulders, the change of angle meant he was nailing his gland every time. Precome dribbled down to his neck, pooling in the dip of his throat.

“Got to come, please. Boss,” Cosmo whimpered brokenly.

“Do it. Now.” Alasdair grasped Cosmo’s cock, his grip sure and firm. He gave a grim smile of satisfaction with the first tug, and Cosmo blanked out as he spurted all over himself.

Cosmo felt Alasdair’s rhythm stutter as he rode out that mind-numbing climax, and somehow managed to unglue his eyes so he could watch him come. The man looked fucking gorgeous, frowning and serious and strangely vulnerable as he shuddered to a halt.

“Mmm, so good,” Alasdair mumbled as he collapsed onto him like a dead weight. So heavy, but so right.

Chapter Five

They lay like that for ages, spunk slippery between them, till a collapsing log in the fire made Alasdair start and prop himself up on his elbows.

“How did I do?” Cosmo asked. “Seeing as how it was my first time playing.”

“You did brilliantly.” He meant it too. This wasn’t just his standard afterglow small talk. Cosmo had surprised him with his responsiveness, his ability to pick up on the smallest physical cues. His courage in the face of pain. “Thanks. I really needed that.”

“No worries. You can fuck me like that anytime. Seriously.”

Anytime? What an offer. Did Cosmo realise what he was promising, or was it just the endorphins speaking? Alasdair studied the blissed-out expression on Cosmo’s face. He had his eyes half-shut, long lashes even more evident against his cheeks. Those wicked lips were swollen and lush, and Alasdair’s cock gave a feeble twitch at the memory of how they’d welcomed him in.

Cosmo’s body responded by rippling around him. Oh God, he really should pull out and deal with the condom, but his muscles seemed to have been replaced by liquid.

Alasdair sighed and grabbed hold of the condom, watching Cosmo wince as he gently withdrew. Damn these irritating pieces of latex, spoiling his afterglow. Still, they’d have to make a move for the bed at some point. Unless Cosmo wanted to head straight home? Alasdair’s chest tightened. That wasn’t going to happen. Not if he could help it.

Alasdair stood and looked down at Cosmo. Sprawled out in loose-limbed languor, he was the very picture of angelic corruption. To complete the effect, Cosmo gave a slow smile and dragged his fingertips through the mess on his chest. “Mmm. Haven’t come that hard since…well, ever, probably. Never waited that long to shoot my load, anyway.”

“There aren’t any prizes for getting there quickly.”

“No, I suppose.” Cosmo seemed to be considering it, his brow creasing in an endearing frown of concentration. “Is that something you enjoy, then? Making blokes wait to come until you say so?”

Alasdair smiled. “Bloody right I do.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a control freak?”

“They’ve been telling me all my life. But you haven’t seen the half of it yet.”

“How old are you, anyway?”

“Turned forty last month.”

Cosmo’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second but went back to that sexy, half-lidded contentment. “Mmm, experience really does make a difference.”

“Pleased to hear it.” As he spoke, Alasdair realised how much he wanted to take Cosmo under his wing and nurture him. It probably wouldn’t look much like nurture to anyone who didn’t know him well, but he’d yet to meet a lad who stirred up that protective urge in him so deeply. Who made Alasdair want to tie him up and protect him from his own worst habits. Keep him safe.

Thinking of safety, Alasdair pulled off the soggy condom, grimacing as the air cooled his exposed skin. He contemplated chucking it onto the fire, but he wouldn’t want to risk Sadie discovering it lurking at the back of the grate when she next came round to clean.

Instead, he held out his free hand to Cosmo, who heaved himself up off the floor with more effort than a youngster should have needed. The lad required a proper workout programme, that was for sure. Alasdair began mentally planning a routine for him in the upstairs gym, but Cosmo yawned and burrowed his head into Alasdair’s shoulder. “’M sleepy.”

“Not yet. You’d better check in with Cerys so she doesn’t go sending the police round here. And then…” Yes, he was going to take full advantage of Cosmo’s sleepy state and ignore any guilt. “Time for a shower before bed.”

“I’ll shower in the morning.”

“You’ll shower tonight. I have other plans for you in the morning.”

“Mmm, promises, promises.”

In the end, Alasdair had to make the call to Cerys and hand the phone over to a yawning Cosmo.

“Yeah, it was magic,” Cosmo said into the phone. “Nah, I’m good. Might have problems sitting down tomorrow, though.” Cosmo chuckled at something Cerys said and stared directly into Alasdair’s eyes. “Oh yeah. I can see that. Bye, then.”

“See what?” Alasdair asked, trying to sound casual.

“Hmm? What?”

“What Cerys said to you.”

“Oh, nothing much. Just stuff.”

Alasdair raised his eyebrows, but he wasn’t going to risk coming across as needy. Combined with controlling, that really wasn’t an attractive prospect and he wouldn’t have blamed Cosmo for running in the opposite direction as fast as his feet would take him.

Mind you, right now there was no chance of him running anywhere. Cosmo snuggled under Alasdair’s arm, and he had to pretty much drag the lad upstairs. If he’d known orgasms sent Cosmo to sleep so quickly, he’d have planned the night a little differently—not let him come until they’d reached the upper floor. Or made sure there was a blanket or two downstairs. Just went to show, you could plan a simple scene down to the last detail and still miss something. Perhaps that was what made it so exciting, such a challenge. Learning Cosmo’s responses and teasing out every last little kink was going to be a great project. Shame he already had so much on his plate with the hotel deal.

Still, they had the weekends. Alasdair would just have to make the most of every scrap of time he could spare. Cosmo might be a work-shy scrounger, but he’d be worth taming. That much was obvious already.

 

 

Cosmo woke the next morning between silky smooth sheets, a heavy leg and arm pinning him down against the most comfortable mattress ever. Rain pattered outside to break the almost unearthly silence, but there were none of the normal traffic sounds he usually woke up to. It took a couple of seconds for awareness to filter through, and he realized why his body felt so sore, aching and contented. Alasdair.

Cosmo turned to look at him in the soft light that filtered around the edges of the curtains. In sleep, Alasdair’s face looked younger, unguarded, though he could see both the laugh lines etched around his eyes and the frown furrows in his brow. It was hard to recall just what had been so scary about him yesterday. Cosmo reached out to touch a stubbled cheek, before running his hand on down, over the broad shoulder. The strength in those arms. He yearned to feel their power beating a rhythm into his skin almost as much as he longed to have them wrapped around him. Cosmo traced the lines of Alasdair’s carp tattoo, admiring the way the artist had shaped the fins.

“Hey, I thought maybe I’d dreamed you,” a deep voice rumbled.

Cosmo looked up to find Alasdair’s eyes open and fixed on him, a sleepy smile lighting up his whole face.

“Good dream, I hope?”

“The best.”

A heavy erection nudged against Cosmo’s hip, and he took the hint, burrowing down under the covers to give Alasdair a proper wake up call, wanking himself to completion as he sucked down his morning load.

 

 

“D’you mind if I smoke in here?” Cosmo asked, taking out his baccy and looking around the enormous kitchen. The place was decked out in tasteful wood and muted colours, with one of those huge, enamelled range stoves you could probably cook a whole pig in at once. It felt like he’d wandered into the pages of a magazine—one of those snooty ones for rich people who wanted to pretend they lived out in the countryside, even when they were townies through and through.

Alasdair looked up from the fridge, another enamelled jobbie that was way bigger than one man needed. “Not in the house. Back door’s just there.”

“But it’s raining.”

“Tough.”

The back door wasn’t exactly “just there”—first Cosmo had to find his way through a utility room, then into a porch larger than his whole bloody bedroom. Blimey. Part of him was envious, but how lonely would it be, rattling around all by yourself in a place like this?

Any pity for Alasdair evaporated on seeing the back garden, though.

“Oh. My. God.” The lawn seemed to go on forever in neat stripes before being swallowed up by forest. But that wasn’t what had made Cosmo adopt the pearl-grabbing pose. No, there was only a ruddy swimming pool, complete with diving board. Morning swim. What a way to begin the day. The rain was light enough for it not to be an issue, and the air was mild enough to strip off, he was sure. Cosmo raced up the mossy brick steps to the pool area, only to be confronted with an empty hole in the ground.

“Well, shit.” A mosaiced scrolling vine wound around the top of the empty concrete basin, and a few dead leaves littered the bottom. There was a set of wide, semi-circular steps leading into the shallow end, and a puddle lurking in the deep end where more leaves blocked up the drain. A low building squatted on the other side, the three doors in a row indicating a set of changing rooms, perhaps. Cosmo wiped the raindrops off the diving board, sat down and rolled his cigarette. “What a fucking waste,” he said, to no one in particular.

 

 

“Mate, you have got to get your pool filled,” Cosmo announced as he pushed back into the kitchen. Alasdair looked up from the pan he was stirring, his expression as surprised as if Cosmo had just suggested he take up ballet.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Er, so you could swim in it?”

“I don’t much like swimming.”

“What’s not to like? Man, I haven’t been swimming in years. Used to love it when I was a kid. Nan says she had to drag me out of the pool, kicking and screaming when our band colour was called.” They never did give you long enough at the public swimming baths. But a private pool? That’d be amazing. “You could swim as long as you liked here, though. Imagine that.”

Alasdair sort of smiled, if you could call that kind of grim lip twist a smile. “I don’t even know if the pool’s watertight. It probably needs all kinds of work doing to the filters, and retiling. It looks like a money pit to me.”

“You’ve got enough, though, haven’t you? Mate, if I had your kind of cash, that’d be the first thing I’d splash out on. Well, maybe a bike first. Or a new guitar.”

Alasdair made no comment, just placing a couple of plates of scrambled eggs on toast down on the table. “Tuck in, then.”

Breakfast was sort of strange after that, with Alasdair far more withdrawn than Cosmo had ever seen him. Maybe he was stressed out about something. Work, hopefully, rather than the fact he had Cosmo there. Cosmo having inherited the nattering gene from his nan, he filled the silence by wittering on about his plans for the day, which mainly involved busking down by the library so he could catch all the pedestrians coming out of the Eden Shopping Centre.

“What songs do you play?” Alasdair asked when he mentioned the oldies getting the best payoff.

“All kinds. A bit of Simon and Garfunkel. Nick Drake. Some Don McLean. John Martyn.”

Alasdair’s eyes lit up. “Do you know ‘May You Never’?”

“Yep. I love that one.”

“Would you play it for me?”

“Sure. I can bring my guitar round later if you like.”

Alasdair’s stabbed at his toast with his fork. “I’ll be busy for the rest of the weekend, but I’ve got a guitar you can play now if you’d like.”

Busy? Cosmo tried not to let his disappointment show and shovelled down the rest of his eggs while Alasdair went for his guitar. He came back with a real beauty, made of some kind of exotic wood with a scrolling mother-of-pearl inlay on the fretboard.

BOOK: Screwing the System
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