Page 36 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
Lacing his fingers with Kit’s, who still reeled with the idea of kissing Lando in front of anyone, let alone a parent, Lando led him to the laden sideboard. “So, we’ll have to serve ourselves, I’m afraid.”
Kit chuckled. “I expect I’ll manage. But in exchange for only one kiss?” He plucked at the loose sleeve of Lando’s silk banyan, the dove-grey one. “Wholly inadequate. Especially now I’ve finally got my hands on this.”
A white linen nightgown peeked out from beneath the banyan; Lando’s imaginary row of gossipy mamas must be clutching their pearls in horror. Unmarried gentleman did not parade in their nightgowns outside the bedchamber. Kit was learning by the hour that Lando’s household was a little different.
Unhurriedly, he availed himself of Lando’s upturned mouth, marvelling again at how the man yielded to him and how, in the space of seconds, breakfast had become his favourite meal of the day. His lover’s shape under the banyan was everything the flimsy garment promised, his body hard and lean, wrought iron under soft, soft flesh. One part of Kit became very hard indeed, making his belly tighten with want. He deepened the kiss as his tongue sought out the corners of Lando’s inviting open mouth. He bit at Lando’s plump lower lip and then licked at the sweet taste of him. When they finally parted, they were both gasping.
“Will we be disturbed?” Kit asked. Kissing another (barely dressed) man in broad daylight with servants milling around was possibly the most daring thing he had ever done, far more daring than picking pockets or scheming to bring down a ghastly baronet.
“No.” Lando shook his fair head, breathlessly amused. “They know not to enter.”
Under Kit’s fingers, the silk clasps of the gown fell away. “So I may do this, then.” He drifted his hands lower towards the hem of the pristine linen.
“Yes. You will find that I am quite naked underneath.”
A low grunt of pleasure escaped Kit’s throat. What that fey, fluttery voice did to him. Bunching up the fine fabric, his fingertips encountered the backs of Lando’s sleek thighs. His hands explored higher, roaming over Lando’s firm buttocks and the twin dimples above them. Their kissing turned hungrier; arching into him, Lando circled Kit’s neck with his arms, crushing their mouths as one. Kit glided his palm across a sharp hip bone, then travelled lower again between Lando’s parted thighs this time, then up once more…to the treasure of Lando’s long and slim prick, curving towards his navel from a nest of neat pale curls. Lando shuddered as Kit circled a thumb around the tip, dipping into the wetness.
“You are even more fine here than my hand remembered,” he whispered, and Lando groaned into his mouth.
Kit began a slow steady glide, his own cockstand painfully throbbing against Lando’s bare thigh. Lando desperately clung to him, panting wetly against the skin of Kit’s neck, lost to Kit’s hand on his shaft. Kit had bestowed this simple pleasure on plenty of men over the years and received the same in return, but with Lando, each breathy sigh and urgent moan felt like a treasure to be savoured.
Even as Lando spent in his hand, quietly and efficiently, his cool long fingers tugged at the fall of Kit’s breeches while his mouth ran like silk over his jaw and neck.
“My turn,” he whispered, his lips returning to Kit’s for a long, liquid kiss. When Kit’s prick sprang free, Lando allowed him one last delicious taste, then gracefully lowered himself to the floor.
Ye gods, was there a more glorious sight in all of His Majesty’s great kingdom? Nay, the world? Swathed in dazzling white, Lando knelt at Kit’s feet, his nose and mouth—God, his damned perfect mouth—not an inch from Kit’s needy cock. Clasping his hands behind his back, he threw Kit a last lingering look up, then bowed his fair head.
Plush lips, as warm as sun-baked cherries, pressed tender kisses down his length. Teasing licks and nibbles peppered his lower belly. An undignified sound spilled from Kit’s throat; roughly, he pushed his breeches lower in time for Lando’s tongue to paint a stripe along the warm crease of his thigh. Ignoring Kit’s heavy cock screaming for attention, Lando nuzzled into his balls.
Stringing together an entire stream of curses, Kit looked down again. Then wished he hadn’t. Lando planted another teasing row of kisses along his shaft before lifting his gaze for an instant, eyes wide innocent pools of blue. Then, as if in prayer, his pale lashes lowered, and in one slick move, he swallowed Kit down.
“My God,” Kit gasped, nearly spilling right then and there. “If you continue like that, I fear I shall not delay our breakfast much longer.”
With a sound very much like a muffled snort, Lando withdrew to the tip, only to circle the slit with his tongue before sheathing him once more inside the velvet glove of his throat. “My God,” Kit repeated, grasping blindly for the sideboard. “Now you are simply showing off.”
Lando’s cheeks hollowed around him as he lathed Kit’s cock with a punishing rhythm worthy of the devil himself. Kit’s eyes shuttered tight. If he dared look again, he’d spend. But he needed to block off his ears, too, because Lando’s tiny whimpers and moans as he sucked forth Kit’s soul were more intoxicating than the finest French claret. Already, a tight tingling had started up in his spine, spreading to his groin. Stuffed in Lando’s mouth, Kit swore his prick was thickening more than it had ever done before. As his breaths came in short, fractured bursts, Kit clutched at Lando’s blond head, fighting his every desire to thrust deeper and harder.
“I’m…Lando…I’m…” This wasn’t the first cock sucking of Kit’s life, of course not, but never so expertly or so…ravenously. As his crisis swelled, he tried to push Lando’s head away; one drank coffee at breakfast, not another man’s cloying release. But it was too late. In a rush, his seed spilled from him to pour down Lando’s throat.
“Lando, I’m sorry.” Panting, Kit hauled Lando to his feet. “You are…”
His words fizzled out. On legs like jelly, Kit crushed the slighter man in his arms. Their hearts thudded against each other, and it was unclear who was supporting whom. All that mattered to Kit, as his blood returned to his brain and his mouth relearned how to form words, was that this precious, extraordinary, fragile soul knew how much he was loved.
“You…yes,” Kit managed, his breath finally recovered, then stuttered to a halt again.Loved? Was that what this was? He pushed the thought aside. Only madness led that way. “You…your skills make a man feel quite lacking in control.”
“One is only as accomplished as the tools one works with.” Lando gave a lascivious glance down to where Kit’s half-flaccid member was tucked away again within his breeches. “Though I accept the compliment, a measure of its veracity is whether breakfast is still warm.” His reddened mouth broke into a smile, and he reached up to seal it with Kit’s. Kit tasted himself on the other man’s lips.
Arm in arm, Kit allowed Lando to lead him to the sideboard. He perused the lavish offerings and poked at a dish of crisp bacon rashers and plump sausages. “Toasty warm,” Kit declared. “I am vindicated.”
He piled his plate high with bacon and helped himself to sausages, suddenly starving. “There are so many jokes I could be tempted to make, but now that I’m an earl’s lover and a man with his own valet, I shall refrain from doing so.”
“Then allow me to do it for you.” Lando smiled broadly as Kit took his seat. “Cook’s sausages are a little on the small side this morning, don’t you think?”
“And this chair at the foot of the table feels too large,” responded Kit, patting his knee. “Care to share?”
He wondered what Johnson, the footman, would think if he could see his lordship now, daintily perched in Kit’s lap and nibbling on delicate slivers of kipper, having already put away a coddled egg. If sucking Kit’s prick was what it took to get the man to eat properly, then Kit would present himself as a willing volunteer every morning.
“Lord Cobham has sent a note,” Lando announced. “Johnson intercepted it. He requests a meeting with us both at White’s later today. For dinner at four. Sir Richard and Gartside will be joining too. Cobham has asked that Mr Hamilton refrain from attending in order that he may talk more freely.” He grinned wickedly. “Which is just as well as the matinee performance of Dick Turpin doesn’t finish until five.”
