Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Duncan
Lead the way, Charming
Rhys Reid is something else. He's attractive but it's almost like he doesn't know it.
He's funny, but again, every time he drops a delightful line his eyes light up like it's a surprise to him.
And right now he's almost frozen in time. His beer is halfway to his lips, H-O-P-E taunting me from where his veiny hand grips his glass. W-I-L-D dances along his other hand as it sits in a fist on the table.
I want both words wrapped around my cock.
And I think he does too.
I watch the letters as he lowers his beer back to the table without taking a drink.
"Did you just ask me to have a sword fight?"
I shrug. "I did. I say we finish these pints, head up to your castle, take out our sticks, and show each other what we've got."
"You're talking about sex right?"
I bark out a laugh. Fuck he’s cute. It’s like he's clinging to innocence and it makes me want to push him even more. The minute he slid into his chair wearing his perfectly coordinated Canadian tuxedo I knew a distraction was needed.
"Aye," I lay on the accent as thick as I can. "Let's go back to your castle and fuck."
The air between us thickens.
My mouth waters.
His eyes dance across my face, then down, then back up. When his refreshing green irises meet mine again, I wink.
"Sure, yes, fuck it, okay, I want to, umm, yep, let's do it." Rhys mumbles more to the top of his glass than to me. He tosses back what's left and sets his glass down with an echoing thunk. I savor my final sips as he wipes his palms down his thighs.
"Lead the way Charming." My hand gestures for him to go first.
The walk to Bonn na Craic from Granny’s wasn’t bad and Del agreed to come get me if I got stood up. When I told her this wasn’t a date she laughed and patted my hand saying "whatever you need to tell yourself baby brother."
I follow Rhys out of the pub and across the street to a sleek forest green range rover.
The car smells like a garden center, which I wasn’t expecting.
And, oddly, the radio isn't on. I assumed he'd be the kind of guy to have music playing all the time.
I mean, not that I have hockey highlights constantly going but I do have sports and comedy podcasts queued up and ready whenever.
Rhys is driving with one hand draped over the wheel, while his other hand fidgets with the top button of his shirt.
There is a mural of artwork on the fabric and I cannot wait to see it up close.
But his strong fingers, calloused from playing guitar, momentarily hypnotize me. When he shifts and runs his hand through his hair I blink out of it and reach for the radio volume. It's tuned to a local station and Nothing Compares 2U rings through the speakers.
I start to hum along as we wind up the road to the estate.
Rhys’s chin tilts like he’s singing along–how can you not–but I can’t wait to make him sing with my hand around his cock.
He won’t be able to hold back.
The road switches to gravel, we roll across a cattle guard and through a stone walled gate as Sinead O’Conner fades out, and the house comes into full view.
"I'm going to go 'round the back." Rhys says as he drives to the left of the building.
"Now who's making it too easy?" I tease.
He chuckles a little too long for that lame joke.
This is one of the more talkative, if not most talkative, hook ups of my life. Usually all I have to do is lean in close at the club and whisper the offer.
If a woman knows who I am, they're usually all over me as we head back to my place or hotel room if I'm on the road. Men tend to save it for when we're alone.
"Do I get the full house tour?" I ask as he parks and we get out of the car.
"If you want it, sure."
"If I'm going to sneak out after having my way with you then I'll need to know where to go."
"True." He smiles as he opens the back door for me and I walk past. "But, I just drove you here and we're miles from the village."
"And I don't suppose there's a taxi I could call."
"Not in the middle of the night." He says as he leads me through a kitchen illuminated by the moonlight. There are twin islands, one in stainless steel, one in butcher block. Low cabinets throughout. "Kitchen."
Rhys waves his arms out wide and then backs through another door into a hallway. "Corridor."
"Wow." I say in mock admiration.
He rolls his eyes at me over his shoulder and pushes through another door.
Instead of a room we're in the main entrance hall and, okay ancient castle, I get it. A chandelier hangs in the middle of the space, a large stone staircase is off to the right, and I’ll admit my breath is caught in my lungs as I spin slowly and follow its path up to the landing.
"Through there is the drawing room and behind it the dining room. There's a breakfast room between but my mother has turned it into her TV room."
"How modern of her." I smile.
We face each other and after he wipes his palms across his ass, he lets out a nervous laugh. "I, well, so..."
I cross to him and grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips to mine. All at once I feel light and grounded as the heat of his mouth pulls me in.
I feel his throat work against my palm as I tilt his head to the side for better access to his pillow-soft lips.
He tastes like the beer we had. The smell of his beard balm is intoxicating and with each brush of my face against his, each tangle of our tongues, a little more is set loose into the air and I am suddenly drunk on lust.
My head swims deliciously and I tighten my grip on him to stay steady.
He groans in response and his hands pull my hips closer to his.
My cock brushes against his through our clothing and we both pulse against each other.
"My room," Rhys pants as I trail kisses to his ear, "is upstairs."
"Lead the way, Charming." I nibble on his ear and he curls into me before pushing back and leading me up the stairs.
He makes affection easy, the way his body seems to seek out mine as we climb. I watch his face as he ascends, he looks like he wants to say something but stops himself. He repeats this open mouth, headshake, close mouth routine three times, and when we reach the landing I see his mouth open again.
Rhys doesn’t need to be thinking. He needs to escape into the feeling of bodies chasing pleasure. "What's on your mind?" I ask as I come up level with him.
"I, umm, well I was going to tell you about the history of the home and then I figured you're just here for sex and you don't want a history lesson and then I got nervous about the sex and even more historical facts came to mind."
He's rambling.
It’s adorable to see this man with tattoos covering his hands, arms, and chest nervous with the guarantee of an orgasm ahead.
"Like what?" I ask because maybe he needs to get this out of his head so he can enjoy himself.
"Oh, umm." He turns to me and runs his hand along the banister. "Like this railing isn't original to the house. There wasn't one when it was built and after two lairds died falling off the ledge the third one decided to build a railing."
"So you come from a line of clumsy dummies?"
His laugh claps against the stone walls. "Something like that."
We reach a door at the end of the hall and he opens it. But he closes it just as quickly and turns to me holding the knob in his hand behind his back. "You're the first boy I'm bringing home."
"Ever?"
"Here."
"But you've been with boys before?"
"Yes, Duncan. I've been with men."
"Well, I've been with women and men." I taunt.
"It isn't a competition." He replies.
"We'll see. Now, open that door and get naked. We've got a one-night-stand to conquer."