Chapter 22 #2
Warren’s teeth clenched as he swallowed his growl. “Your god isn’t here, Charles. It’s just me with my fist ‘round your cock, claiming you in the way only I can.”
Charles moaned, lifting his hips. “Warren . . .”
He lowered his face, his lips brushing against Charles’s ear as he rasped, “Say it.”
Charles bit his lip with a stifled moan, those amber eyes heated with raw need. One hand fisted tight to Warren’s lapel, the other still gripped the table. They both needed this. They needed him to break.
Warren gave his shaft another tight squeeze. “Say it.”
“Ah—fuck—John,” Charles said on a breath, clutching to him with both hands now. “Johnnie.” He panted the words out in time with each stroke of Warren’s tight fist around his cock. “John. My John. Only mine.”
Warren’s hand stilled as he savored the whine that slipped from Charles’s lips.
“Please, Johnnie. I’m dying—” The man was begging now. Needy and desperate. Tamed.
He wants me.
Relief flooded through him. Relief and that most rare and precious of feelings: hope.
Whatever horse shit lies Charles had to tell himself to leave the way he did, here in this potting shed, the truth won out. He was as ravenous for Warren as Warren would always be for him.
Warren crowed. There was nothing he loved better than to see Charles submit. He leaned down, holding Charles’s gaze. “You said you hate me.”
“I do,” he replied, eyes flashing with raw hunger. “God, but I do—”
Warren brought his face down, smashing their lips together as he claimed all his air.
Their kiss was frantic, a clashing of tongues and teeth, as both men were desperate to drown in the taste of the other.
Warren hadn’t bothered shaving in a few days, so his dark stubble rasped against Charles’s perfectly smooth skin.
This kiss was so different than the soft, seeking one he shared with Lady Madeline. He didn’t have to be gentle with Charles. He could bite, claim, dominate. Charles may be wild, but Warren was bloody feral. He bowed the man back, plunging in with his tongue, ravenous for more.
Charles fumbled to get his gloves off, then he jerked Warren’s wool cap off with both hands, dragging his fingers through his long, dark hair.
He tugged at his nape, earning a hiss from Warren.
In retaliation, Warren bit down on his lip, sucking it between his teeth.
Charles moaned, sinking deeper into Warren’s embrace.
Warren broke their kiss, gasping for air. “Show me,” he growled, pulling his hand out of Charles’s breeches. “Show me how much you hate me.”
Charles let out a heavy breath, his need etched on every line of his beautiful face.
Both his hands dropped to the top of Warren’s breeches.
It was the work of moments to have Warren out in his hand.
Then Charles was dropping to his knees, sinking that hot mouth around his length, taking him to the back of his throat.
Warren groaned, both hands fisting tight in his curls.
Charles was ravenous, sucking him deep, his head bobbing.
Warren’s grip tightened as he felt that exquisite coiling low in his spine.
He was so close. There’d be no making this last. Not when he was so hungry for even a look at this man who was his every obsession.
His grip tightened as he took charge, moving his hips against Charles’s eager mouth. “I missed you,” he admitted, drawing another exquisite moan from Charles throat. The sound vibrated around his cock, and he twitched, ready to unload.
Charles popped off him, his lips glistening, as he gazed up at him through those long lashes. “I missed you too,” he replied, his warm breath ghosting over the tip of Warren’s cock.
A muscle ticked in Warren’s jaw, but he just nodded, swallowing down his pain and anger. “Good,” he said, voice gruff. “Now, get your sweet mouth back on my cock and finish me.”
With a smile, Charles did as he was told. His tongue was so soft, his mouth warm and wet.
Heaven. This is heaven.
Warren gentled his touch, stroking his fingers through Charles’s hair. “Take your cock in your hand,” he muttered. “Finish with me.”
Not needing to be told twice, Charles dove inside his breeches and stroked himself.
Warren savored each of his sounds, his own cock twitching as he felt Charles losing control.
With a few last thrusts of his hips, Warren let go, spilling himself into Charles’s mouth.
The sweet man at his feet drank him down with a greedy sigh, his shoulders hitching as he let loose into his own hand.
Taking a few deep breaths, Warren gently pushed Charles off his cock.
With his free hand, he pulled him to his feet.
Charles swayed, eyes glassy as he took his own panting breaths.
Warren slid his hand down, wrapping it around Charles’s wrist. He tugged his hand free, glancing down to see the glistening come Charles tried to catch in his palm.
With a groan, Warren raised his hand higher, bending to drag the tip of his tongue across the warm mess.
Charles hissed, fingers twitching. “Oh, Christ—”
Warren closed his eyes with a sigh, savoring the taste of his lover. His soul warmed with aching need. He always wanted more of Charles Bray. Never enough. There was no enough.
But when he opened his eyes, he saw that god forsaken look of shame on his face.
Charles bit his bottom lip, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected to see a host of angels watching them, shaking their heads in disappointment.
It made Warren furious. There was nothing wrong with finding pleasure in each other.
But just try telling that to a curate. If the gossip was to be believed, Charles recently earned himself a promotion.
Warren fought the urge to laugh. How had he ended up right back here again?
As if all the work he did to move on over the last three years had just been reduced to ash.
Charles was home for one day, and Warren was already standing in a garden shed with his cock out, his hands on a vicar who still had his come glistening on his lips.
Nothing in Warren’s life had ever been fucking fair. Least of all was the fact that he was in love with a man who was resolutely determined to believe loving him back was a sin.