The Merchant and the Clergyman (11 page)

James spotted a dark figure moving near the
Darnley family crypt. At first he thought a wandering vagrant might
be seeking shelter for the night in the small building, or perhaps
a thief, hoping to find family jewels on the dead. But almost
immediately he dismissed the idea as he recognized the already too
familiar figure. With those broad shoulders and that height and the
assured way the man moved, it could be no one other than Declan
Shaw.

James froze, the breath sucked from his body.
He would stand there like a statue, like an angel on a tombstone,
until Shaw left the area. But at the same moment he came to that
decision, Declan’s head turned his way, and the man paused then
advanced toward James with the easy grace of a large jungle cat—or
so James supposed, though he’d never seen any hunting tigers,
merely the trapped pacing pair at the London Zoo. But he definitely
felt as prey must feel as a predator stalked it, quivering and
vulnerable yet hot and almost eager, preparing for that mouth on
its throat.

He shook himself free of the nonsensical
thought and strode forward to meet Declan. Close to the Grady
family plot, they both stopped, a respectable yard’s distance
between them.

“What brings you…?” “I thought I’d—” They
began simultaneously.

They both fell silent. An owl hooted. A
breeze rushed through the branches of a nearby tree, making the
leaves whisper. Moonlight touched the stones around them, making
them glow. It also illuminated the angles and hollows of Declan’s
handsome face and made his eyes glitter.

James realized he didn’t care why the man was
there. Not another word must be spoken, or the spell would break.
He propelled himself forward, and Declan caught him clumsily in his
arms, as if they were a pair of untrained acrobats practicing a
show. Then James stopped thinking about metaphors or symbolic
tigers and concentrated only on the mouth moving under his. He
gripped the lapels of Declan’s jacket while he kissed and kissed
and
kissed
the man. Declan’s wet and warm tongue moved
against his. James mapped the taste and texture, every nuance of
lips, tongue, and teeth spurring him to a greater frenzy of need.
Kissing was wonderful and amazing, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Without a word spoken, Declan dragged James
toward the Darnley crypt. In the shadows of the little building, on
the side facing away from the church, Declan pushed James hard
against cool marble. His spine jarred as it hit, and then Declan
was kissing him again, on the neck this time, burrowing under
James’s jaw, ripping away his white necktie of office and his stiff
collar and nuzzling his throat. Marvelous tickling kisses and
flicks of the tongue swirled into the hollow between his
collarbones, and his shirt, waistcoat and vest magically
unbuttoned. Declan kissed his chest now with that amazing soft
mouth. He brushed the shirt aside, located a nipple, and latched
on. Declan licked, nipped, and pinched first one nipple then the
other.

James whimpered in pleasure at the painful,
delightful sensation. He gripped handfuls of soft hair and stared
at the top of Declan’s head against his chest. This was a dream. He
hadn’t gone out walking. He was still sitting in his parlor with a
book draped across his lap, asleep and dreaming of this frenzied
sexual fantasy.

But the slab of marble behind his back begged
to differ. That and a cool breeze against his face and throat made
him shiver. No, this was definitely real, and now Declan had
dropped to his knees, facing the front of James’s trousers. He
deftly unfastened buttons.

James held his breath, his head pounding with
the rush of blood coursing through him. His cock throbbed even
harder. It would explode as soon as Declan touched it. James gasped
for air, and now he was panting rather than breathless, a sobbing
sort of pant. He gritted his teeth and scolded his erection like a
Sunday school teacher facing a class of miscreants.
You
will
settle down.

Declan grasped the thick, solid length of
James’s cock in one large palm and regarded it as if it were
something he’d discovered on an archeological dig. He looked up at
James with a mischievous grin, brought the tip to his lips, and
kissed it.

A powerful jolt passed through James, making
his knees weak. He was glad he had the crypt wall at his back to
keep him upright. The tension in his cock began to unfurl and grow.
He was about to spend, and Declan hadn’t even begun to suck him
yet.
Be still
, he ordered his unruly member.

By biting his tongue hard enough to bring
tears to his eyes, he stopped himself from releasing. He watched
Declan take him into his mouth an inch at a time, and focused on
details, such as how the wetness felt as he was sucked into a heat
to rival hell. A very blissful hell. James’s eyes nearly closed,
and he let his head drop back against the marble wall.

This was a day of firsts, the kiss and now
this. In his twisted time spent with Kip, the man had never kissed
him or gone down on his knees before James. It was
always
the other way around. James had come to expect it, had craved the
subjugation as well as the punishing words of the dictator who’d
controlled him. What bliss to learn what it was like to receive
rather than give from a man who seemed pleased to extend this
kindness.

Declan varied his attentions, light licks
followed by fingernails scraping James’s length, tickling kisses in
the wake of painful little nibbles, and then, at last, hard, steady
sucking. Declan gripped his shaft and pumped up and down. Every
part of the experience was heaven, including the light squeezing of
his sac. When Declan’s fingers traveled farther back between
James’s legs and the tip of one circled his rear entrance, James
nearly saw stars through his closed eyes. Oh, how he craved to be
entered that way, and not merely with a curious finger.

In much less time than he would have wished,
James could no longer contain his rampant exhilaration from all
these new and powerful sensations. Declan’s finger probing him was
the last straw. The simmering tension tightened and stretched, then
exploded through James. Stars indeed! A constellation, nay, an
entire universe of heavenly lights blossomed behind his eyelids as
he released the pent-up needs of years. His body slapped against
the crypt wall like a landed fish. He realized he was gripping
Declan’s hair only when the other man gave a little grunt of
discomfort.

Coming back to himself from some cosmic
place, James disentangled his fingers from the sleek strands. Just
for a moment, he rested his hand on the hard curve of Declan’s
head. He wished he could transmit through touch exactly how much he
appreciated what the man had done for him. Not only the
gratification of his body, although that would be reason enough for
thanks, but the kindness exhibited by Declan’s gesture. He’d given
easily and without shame, as if it were simple and natural for him
to take a man’s cock in hand and mouth. Without punishing hand or
sneering words, he’d brought James to completion—something Kip had
never attempted to do.

“I… I thank you,” James said in a rush as
Declan rose and towered over him once more. “I can’t tell you how
much I appreciate…what you did for me.”

“It was my great pleasure.” Declan swept a
glance around them at the empty graveyard, bringing James back to
reality. They’d chosen a very precarious and public place for this
encounter, no matter how dark the night was or how unlikely anyone
would happen by. It had been foolish and dangerous. James began to
button his trousers and shirt.

Declan intercepted his fastening by placing a
hand on James’s chest. Could he feel his heart thundering? “Such a
shame to cover up.”

“But I must. We should never have…”

Declan frowned. “Ah, the shame again,
shuttering you like a city under siege.”

James shook his head. “You mistake me. I was
going to say we should never have done that
here
. It was a
terrible risk to take.” He reached down and fumbled with his
trousers, buttoning them with some difficulty.

“But your cottage is empty.” Declan nodded in
the general direction, “No servants. No prying eyes.”

James dropped his gaze. “Yes, that’s
true.”

Declan seemed to wait for an invitation, and
when none was forthcoming, he said, “We’ll retire to your house,
then, and do much more than fellatio. Go now.”

His tone of command sent a fresh wave of lust
surging through James, and he began to walk. He felt Declan’s
powerful presence beside him, then the weight of Declan’s hand on
the back of his neck, controlling him.
Oh God, yes!
He let
out a soft moan and moved faster, desperate to reach their
destination.

Only the Parker family and the vicar and his
wife had been present for dinner, and the tension had been
interesting. Every time Declan opened his mouth, he could feel his
uncle wondering if Declan would bring up the subject of his aunt’s
health. Perhaps one of the servants had tattled to the squire about
Declan’s impromptu search of the house.

After the meal, the gentlemen withdrew to
their port and cigars, and the relief in Squire Darnley’s face when
Declan excused himself for a walk was almost comical. For once, Kip
didn’t ask to tag along. He must have seen how odd his flight from
the house would appear to his future father-in-law.

Declan meant to stroll the grounds of the
estate, but his feet had other ideas, carrying him all the way to
the village.

With every step he took along the road, he
knew where his true destination would be that night. Oh, he might
fool himself for a minute or two, thinking he was going to see the
Darnley family crypt and ponder how his uncle had managed to
completely devour his own family fortune, then start in on Aunt
Mary’s. But the truth was, the church cemetery was only a stone’s
throw from the vicarage. Declan lurked near the crypt, running
through scenarios in which he showed up at James’s door. What might
he say this time to change the man’s mind? He didn’t want to force
James into doing something he didn’t wish to, but he might gently
influence him. That would be fair, wouldn’t it?

Then fate intervened. He spotted the curate’s
whippet-thin figure striding between the gravestones and heading
right toward him. Maybe there was a God after all, because He
seemed to be delivering what Declan desired most right to him.

Declan stepped out of the shadows, half
lifted a hand in greeting, then froze as he tried to figure out how
to explain why he was there. James had seen him. He stopped for a
moment too, poised to run away, perhaps. Except he didn’t. Instead,
they moved toward each other, and all of a sudden, James
practically flung himself at Declan, who had to catch the slighter
man to keep him from bowling them both over.

That easily they came together; mouths,
hands, bodies. Declan needed more. He had to feel heated, satiny
flesh and taste what lay under the curate’s somber suit. The
eagerness of James’s sucking kisses and his quiet whimpers made
Declan hard as stone. A savage desire to take, possess, own, and
plunder this man swept through him.
Pirate lust
, he thought,
mentally laughing. But knowing what he’d learned about James’s
relationship with Kip, Declan understood James had been misused
before and must now be handled with tender care. Declan was all for
domination and had enjoyed such play with several partners in the
past. But now wasn’t the time.

So he dropped to his knees to give James the
treatment he deserved, pleasure mixed with just a pinch of pain
from nips and scratching. The damp ground under his knees, the
eerie atmosphere of the place, the thought that someone might
decide to pay a night visit to a dead relative and catch them, all
combined to enhance Declan’s erection. His partner’s soft groans
only compounded it. By the time Declan had brought off James and
swallowed his spending, he was ready for his own relief.

At first it seemed James would retract into
his shell, leaving Declan unfulfilled. Declan felt a stab of near
despair that the evening should end so abruptly. But he realized,
as James bowed his head and stared at the ground, that the curate
wasn’t running away. He wanted to be pushed a little. He desired
some force, a bit of domination to fulfill his fantasies.

It was a fine line to tread. Declan
definitely didn’t want to behave anything like Kip had. He wanted
to assure himself and James mutual pleasure, to dominate without
being domineering, if that wasn’t a contradiction of terms. And so
he gave a quiet order, not to be denied, and cupped the back of
Declan’s neck as they walked toward the cottage.

Once inside, with the door safely secured
behind them, it was Declan’s turn to lunge at James, grab him, and
hold him tight. They stood in the front hall, kissing until
Declan’s lips went from tingling to numb. It was time to move on to
something more, and yet he hesitated. He had what he wanted right
within his grasp. Why hold back now?

Sex with casual acquaintances, friendly,
like-minded fellows whom he met while on his travels was a part of
his life. He was never in one place long enough to develop more
than a casual relationship, though occasionally he met with the
same man twice when revisiting some foreign city. And that was
fine, because for a man with his proclivities, a special friendship
was not only an encumbrance but dangerous to pull off. Too much
time spent in a particular man’s company might cause tongues to
wag.

Declan was expert at keeping his emotions in
check and his encounters shallow. But this James Fletcher, with his
nurturing, thoughtful ways, had touched something inside him.
Declan feared taking advantage of James, causing him pain—not
physical but emotional. He
cared
, and that was a
problem.