Chapter Three

? ?

M ichael’s crude command went directly to Percy’s groin. His ballocks lurched up, tightening against his body. He coasted a hand over the soft silk of the back of Michael’s waistcoat, then down to palm the man’s arse and pull a cheek back. Short dark hair dusted his crease and swept down his strong thighs, the area around his entrance slicked with moisture from Percy’s mouth. The rectangular end of the plug clutched tightly in his other hand, he made to lift his arm, then paused.

Michael hadn’t told him to fetch the oil, yet . . .

Leaning down, he spit on Michael’s entrance. With a hand that shook slightly, he used the narrow end of the plug to spread the moisture there. Then he pushed just the tip inside. Careful and slow.

A part of his mind marveled that Michael was allowing him to do this, yet another part oddly wasn’t surprised. The man radiated confidence—the same confidence that drew Percy to him. Michael pursued what he wanted without regret, without shame, without hesitation. He sparked the craving within Percy to be like him, to be that confident, that sure of himself.

Dropping his head, Michael pushed back. “More, Percival. Shove it in my arse.”

A thin whimper slid past Percy’s lips. Increasing the pressure, he did as Michael demanded. He couldn’t tear his gaze from Michael’s arse as the flared length of the plug disappeared into his body, his entrance stretching, yielding to the increase in width. Then his hole closed snugly around the narrow base and the rectangular end settled against his skin.

With a gravelly, distinctly satisfied grunt, Michael straightened. He turned to face Percy. His eyes were heavy-lidded, the crests of his cheeks flushed the tiniest bit, his thick cock standing stiff and hard between his bare legs. Yet his cravat was still neatly tied, his waistcoat fully buttoned. A debauched, proper gentleman. “Well done.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. Just knowing he’d pleased Michael . . . there was nothing quite like that feeling in all the world.

“Would you have liked the plug to be your cock?”

The question took him aback. “You’d let me?”

“Indeed, if you wish to try it. Have you ever buggered a man?”

“No.” He’d never been with another who’d wanted that from him.

“Then I can be your first.” Judging by the possessive glint in his eyes, the notion seemed to please Michael. “Not tonight, though perhaps soon?”

Percy nodded. “Perhaps soon.” A rather intimidating prospect, to be responsible for Michael’s pleasure in such a fashion. But the idea of Michael ordering him to bugger him . . . of it being his cock , and not steel, sliding into Michael’s arse . . .

A heavy bolt of lust shot through him.

“Back to tonight. Is there anything else you wish to ask for?”

Michael had said earlier they could stop at any time, and Percy found he was ready to shed the responsibility for the night. It had been exhilarating—oh, most assuredly—and even enlightening. But he yearned simply to do as bid again.

He shook his head. “Do with me what you will.”

That possessive glint made its way to Michael’s mouth, curving his lips. “First, though, I find myself rather overdressed for what I have in mind for the remainder of our evening. Since my valet is not available to see to the task, you will serve in his place.”

“Yes, Michael.” Taking a half-step closer, he reached up. The backs of his fingers brushed Michael’s jaw as he tugged on the white muslin, unraveling the neat knot. He’d removed Michael’s trousers many times, yet to have the pleasure of undressing him fully? To have that particular task entrusted to him?

His breath stuttered. He gently pulled the length of fabric from Michael’s neck. Michael kept his attention fixed straight ahead, his chin slightly lifted, bearing Percy no mind. Just as one would pay a valet no mind as the servant went about his duties. After folding the cravat over his elbow, he set to work on the buttons of Michael’s waistcoat. One by one, he slipped each small fabric-covered button free, all the while resisting the urge to lay his hands on Michael’s broad chest. To feel the heat of his body seeping through the fine silk.

He stepped behind Michael, took hold of the shoulder seams of the waistcoat. Michael shrugged, and Percy pulled the garment free.

Percy pursed his lips. How did a valet remove a gentleman’s shirt? As he’d never had a valet of his own, he hadn’t a notion of how to accomplish the task.

But before the worry could fully grip hold, Michael whisked the shirt over his head, solving the problem for him.

Determined to do his very best, he did not allow himself to soak up the sight of Michael’s glorious bare back. Instead, he quickly took the shirt from Michael’s outstretched hand. Once he’d folded the garments and placed them on the chest of drawers, he returned to stand before Michael.

“Well done. Now get on the bed, Percival.”

He scrambled onto the bed. There were so many possibilities that he hadn’t a notion of what Michael might want from him. The unknown somehow made everything that much more wicked, and at the same time, that much more . . . comforting.

Pushing the pillows aside, he positioned himself in the middle of the large mattress on his back. And waited.

A satisfied nod, and Michael turned from the bed. With each step he took, Percy caught a glimpse of steel between his cheeks. Knowing the plug was in Michael’s arse right at that moment . . .

He caught the groan just in time to keep it from rattling his throat. He knew exactly how that particular plug felt. The lightness of it, the way it’d moved with him, yet at the same time lit up every nerve in his arse with each step he’d take.

After reaching into the trunk, Michael strode back to the bed, a long leather carriage line held in one hand and a glass bottle of oil in the other.

With a satisfying thump , Michael dropped the coiled line onto the mattress. “Arse up,” he murmured, grabbing two of the pillows.

Planting his feet, Percy arched his back to lift his hips off the bed.

Once the pillows were positioned under his hips to Michael’s satisfaction, Michael grabbed the leather line.

The ropes beneath the mattress creaked softly as Michael knelt on the bed beside him. Every movement was deliberate yet efficient as Michael restrained him, his expression intent, his dark brows scrunched together the tiniest bit. One end looped and knotted above Percy’s knee to draw his leg back, the line passed between two of the wooden spindles spanning the length of the headboard, then wrapped and knotted around first one wrist then the other. Michael didn’t need to ask Percy to draw his other leg up for the line to be looped above that knee, the end secured with a simple slipknot.

Arms above his head, legs back, arse exposed, Percy was almost completely immobilized. A light tug of his arms pulled his legs back further, past the point of comfort. Yet there was just a bit of give in the line, enough to allow a little wiggle and to keep the leather from biting into his skin. Designed to control a strong team of six, the line was also broader than the usual variety, making it the ideal width for the use Michael had put it to. In his time with Michael, Percy had quickly found he had a fondness for both knots and leather. The security of a knot binding him, the thick, woodsy scent of leather. Ropes were quite nice as well, but they couldn’t rival the feel of smooth leather against his skin.

Michael ran a fingertip beneath the leather wrapped above one knee, clearly testing to ensure it wasn’t too tight. “All right?” he asked.

In his prone position, Percy nodded as best he could. Oh hell. More than merely all right . Each beat of his heart reverberated in his prick, the hard length resting on his lower abdomen. Fluid dripped from the small slit, wetting his skin. And his arse . . . His muscles tightened. His arse was completely Michael’s to do with as he pleased.

A fact Michael demonstrated by dragging a fingertip down from his ballocks to his entrance. Such a light touch, yet there was no denying the authority, the command behind it.

“This gorgeous arse is much too pale. But first . . .” The scent of almond oil filled the air as Michael poured a generous amount into his palm. “I want you prepared for my cock. I want you ready for me.”

Yes . At the first brush of an oil-slicked finger, Percy closed his eyes. A swirl of a fingertip over his skin and then that digit pushed inside. The teasing touch long gone, he took each firm stroke, bottom lip held between his teeth. With no warning, one digit became two. Then three. There was no other word for it: Michael prepared him. Methodically. Resolutely. And the absolute lack of softer sentiment cranked the lust even higher.

His prick ached for a touch. Needed it. Michael wouldn’t have to do anything but wrap a hand around Percy’s cock to trigger the climax building swiftly within. A fact he was certain Michael well knew. Hell, even his climax was Michael’s to do with as he pleased.

Those fingers left him. Left him aching and empty and wanting.

He heard the loud crack of skin against skin an instant before the delicious sting radiated through him. Blow after blow, the rhythm as consistent and solid as the man himself, Michael smacked the exposed bottom curve of his arse, alternating from one cheek to the other.

Percy reveled in each sensation. The brief feel of Michael’s bare palm on his skin. The sharp fiery impact. The way the sting flared and then seeped into his muscles, ratcheting the ache to be filled. To be taken by Michael. The plea screamed to the surface, yet ingrained habit had him tamping it down, keeping it locked inside.

The sensations began to blur together. Every last trace of tension left his body. He gasped for breath, felt the tickle of warm moisture slide down his temples. Intense pleasure saturated his senses, left him lax in the lines and almost at the point of sobbing in earnest.

And then there was silence. So immersed in Michael’s rhythm, Percy’s breath stumbled when the next blow didn’t come.

“Gorgeous.” Michael smoothed a hot palm over his smarting skin. “How many was that, Percival?”

“Nineteen.” He could barely form his mouth around the word, hadn’t a clue how he even knew the answer. Yet he always did.

“Very good.” The mattress shifted beneath Percy. There was a faint clink of glass against glass. A fresh hint of almond oil beneath the scent of male sweat. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Percy forced his eyes to focus on Michael kneeling between his spread legs. Met Michael’s intent gaze.

“Don’t look away.” With a hand on Percy’s hip to hold him steady, Michael pushed his cock inside him.

A groan rattled his throat as he was stretched wide. So damned wide. Without a single pause, Michael pushed deeper and deeper. Until his groin pressed against the just-spanked skin of Percy’s arse. Until he filled him completely.

His eyelids threatened to close. The pleasure . . . so intense, so perfect. The empty ache finally, blissfully satisfied. Yet he kept his gaze fixed on Michael’s as ordered, and earned the ultimate reward.

He watched as lust took hold of Michael’s features. Darkening his eyes to almost a midnight blue, pulling his upper lip, tightening his jaw. Michael took hold of Percy’s hips with both hands and pulled back, teasing the rim of his entrance with the head of his cock, then plunged back inside.

“Tell me, Percy. Do you like it when I fuck you?”

Percy bit his lip, almost hard enough to break the skin. Tension threatened to seep into his muscles, to mask the all-encompassing pleasure. Yet it wasn’t the demand, but the plea in Michael’s eyes that finally pulled the truth from him.

He nodded once.

A deep growl rumbled from Michael’s chest. “Tell me. I want to hear it.” Michael pulled back and slammed into him.

“Yes, yes.” The words tumbled past Percy’s lips before he could yank them back. And once the words were free, he couldn’t stop them. Did not want to stop them. It was as if every word he’d ever tamped down demanded to be heard. “Please, Michael. More .”

Buried hilt deep, Michael paused. “Very well done,” he whispered, his features momentarily softening, telling Percy louder than words just how much his voice meant to him. And then he proceeded to give Percy exactly what he’d asked for.

The hard thrusts shook the bed. With each slam of Michael’s hips, Percy’s cock slapped against his belly. But the contact wasn’t enough. His senses teetered on the cusp of a climax, and Michael held him there. Poised, ready, desperate. He gave him more and more and more. Driving more pleasure into his senses. Faster, harder, deeper.

Michael finally reached for Percy’s cock. Strong fingers wrapped around his length. And the orgasm blazed through him.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

As the sound of his own shouts echoed in his ears, Michael rammed into him to the hilt, filling Percy with hot seed.