Chapter 2
MAX
When I first saw Arthur, I thought he was a movie star. Maybe a friend of Aunt Jackie’s or a famous friend of the Marians. He was beautiful in a mature way with salt and pepper hair and laugh lines to the side of his eyes. Then I’d realized who he was. Felix had told me all about Arthur.
He was the king’s valet which was essentially the man who handled Felix’s husband’s personal affairs. Which meant the man lived in Europe—in a castle no less. Way, way out of my league.
But he was hot as hell.
And I was feeling so fucking sorry for myself at yet another Wilde wedding where I had absolutely zero chance of ever being the groom.
“Needs mores drinks,” I muttered to no one in particular.
“The plural stage of Max’s drunkenness has begun,” Hallie shouted in triumph. “I loves plurals Maxes.”
“I don’ts…” Whats weres we talkings abouts? “I don’ts knows whats plurals Maxes means,” I admitted.
“Shh,” Hallie said, brushing her slim fingers through my hair. Her manicured nails felt good along my scalp. “Babies needs heads scratches.”
“Everyone’s havings sexes,” I lamented. “‘Cept Maxes.”
Hallie said something to one of her brothers and within moments, pushed a bottle of water into my hands. “Chug, sweetie.”
So I did. I was nothing if not obedient. When that one was empty, she handed me another glass of wine except this one was suspiciously clear and tasted a lot like water.
“Wha’s dis?” I asked, studying it.
“Pinot Aqua. It’s new.”
“Huh.” I guzzled it down even though it wasn’t as tasty as the other stuff. After a while, I realized I’d been played. “I blame you for the loss of my good buzz.”
Hallie lifted a perfectly waxed brow. “Then I hope you blame me for your lack of hangover tomorrow too.”
“Mpfh.” It only made me sober enough to really realize that everyone was getting lucky except me. “Wah,” I threw in for good measure.
As we watched men toss their partners over their shoulders for whatever the precursor to the walk of shame was, the sexual tension in the room thickened like… thick… whatever.
Now I couldn’t stop thinking about thick things. I wanted some thick things. I glanced over at the beautiful be-suited man standing against a far wall. Arthur radiated calm patience. I wondered idly how many times he’d had to stand around watching a bunch of people get drunk off their asses.
Asses.
I tilted my head back and forth, opening first one eye then the next to see if I could catch a glimpse of the man’s posterior. He caught me gawping at him.
I groaned and accidentally blurted my thoughts out loud. “For the love of god, is there any gay man willing to toss me over his shoulder and take me to his bed?”
Arthur’s eyes heated. Almost in slow motion, he stepped away from the wall and bent at the waist in a formal bow.
“Sir, allow me.”
It was like something out of a movie. He strode over to me and scooped me up, proving to the entire room that age doesn’t mean you can’t go caveman on a dude.
“Eep,” I squeaked when he tossed me over his shoulder. “Omigod, is this happening?”
He smelled like money. Not a dirty wad of crumpled up bills, but some kind of elegant, old-world fragrance that I thought must have been formulated especially for my heart. Or dick. Or something.
“Yes,” I muffled into the back of his suit coat. “Yes, please.”
“Your room or mine, ma crevette?”
I spoke French, but wondered if my buzzed brain was misremembering the word for necktie.
My brain spun with the options of which room we should escape to. “Um… I… huh?”
His warm hand ran up the back of my thigh to my ass like he was exploring the prize he’d won at the fair. It gave me the guts to put my own palms possessively under the tail of his jacket and feel the firm cheeks under the smooth wool of his suit. The minute I grabbed on, they flexed.
“Sweet Jesus,” I moaned. “That’s… that’s a nice set of… muscles.”
His light chuckle made me wish I could see his face, so I was glad when he got us into a room and set me down on the floor in front of him. Arthur’s eyes were intense and focused directly on mine.
“Hi,” he said softly. “I’m Arthur Biancheri.”
My heart thump thumped. “Max Wilde.”
“Will you let me take you to bed, Max Wilde?”
“Please.” It came out in a scratchy croak so I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’d like that more than anything.”
Arthur’s hands slid into my hair on either side of my head, my eyes drifted closed, and a sigh escaped my lips. I was expecting his mouth on mine, our first kiss, but that’s not what happened.
His hands moved to my collar and began opening my shirt as his lips brushed across my cheek to my ear, his breath hot along my skin.
“Je te veux,” he whispered into my ear.
I want you.
“Oh god,” I breathed.
“T’embrasser…”
To kiss you.
His lips brushed down my neck, the tip of his tongue coming out to taste my collarbone, and back up to my other ear.
“Te toucher,” he murmured.
To touch you.
“Arthur,” I whimpered. “Please.”
“What do you want, ma crevette?”
“Kisses.”
Arthur’s lips caressed my jaw before teasing my mouth. When he finally pressed in with a full-on kiss, I tasted traces of white wine and sexy man. What a heady combination.
I sank against him as his mouth took charge of me, exploring and teasing, while his hands moved around to grasp my back and my neck to hold me close.
I felt like a puddle of want and need. My dick pulsed against the front of his suit pants, but every time I tried to press my hips against him, he shifted.
I wanted to speed things along, to get him naked as soon as possible. After pushing his jacket off, I worked his tie open and began picking desperately at his buttons.
“Too fucking tiny. Help,” I pleaded. “I can’t… my fingers don’t work.”
Arthur’s smile was indulgent. “Let me. Finish getting undressed and lie on the bed, beautiful.”
I scrambled out of my clothes like they were on fire and I threw myself on the pristine hotel bed. Naked starfish ready and willing. All I needed was a distinguished valet to climb on and pound me into the mattress.
After sending up a particularly polite but harried prayer to the gods of lube and condoms, I glanced over at Arthur to see what the holdup was.
“Hngh,” I babbled as soon as I saw him standing there in naked splendor. The man was fit and hung like a motherfucking porn star. If porn stars had pretty-pretty, giant uncut dicks. Which, they did. “Nnnngh.”
“Acceptable?” he teased. “Not going to kick me out?”
“Gnfh,” I said with the international double hand signal for gimme that dick.
He crawled onto the bed and dropped open mouth kisses from my ankle to my inner thigh, running his warm hands over my calves and thighs and hips until reaching for my straining cock
“Are you drunk right now, Max?” he asked, meeting my eyes.
I knew what he was asking and I wanted there to be no mistaking my consent. “I was earlier, but I’m not now. Ok, maybe a little buzzed still, but I know exactly what I’m doing, Arthur. I want this. I promise.”
He nodded and smiled which only deepened the laugh lines by his eyes and made me want him more. The man was sexy as fuck.
After teasing all around the base of my cock with his mouth, he finally took it into his mouth.
“God yes,” I cried when what I really wanted to do was chant suck it, suck it, for the love of god, suck it.
I ran my fingers into his thick hair, reveling in the few waves that had defied his styling products. I wanted to mess this pristine valet up and see him flushed and debauched from fucking me senseless.
As he bobbed over my cock, teasing the crown with his talented tongue, I threw my head back in pleasure.
And almost knocked myself out on the headboard.