Page 81 of Phobia
“I kissed him.” My voice was lower than I’d ever heard it before. I inched forward, and the boat rocked. My stomach lurched, but I paid it no mind. Oliver scooted back, his back flat against the side of the boat as another rain droplet splashed his lovely cheekbone. “That’s all.”
“Oh.” His cheeks were red, his eyes still wide as he waited. There was a hurricane inside them as he mulled over the words, confusion too—like he didn’t understand why I’d been so severely punished for such a simple mistake. “I thought the upper class were more open-minded—”
“We are,” I agreed, well aware of his thought process. “It wasn’t the fact he was a boy that my father disliked.”
“Then what—?”
Another inch. Soon enough, I’d need to rise to my knees if I wanted to get any closer, but like Oliver was a wild, unpredictable animal, I knew approaching slowly was the key to gaining his trust. “He wasn’t—isn’t—my betrothed.”
Impossibly, Oliver’s eyes bugged out of his head even more. He choked out a confused noise. “This isn’t the dark ages—” Another inch. I could clearly see the way his trousers were straining over his cock. He wasn’t hard yet, but spread like this, it was only a matter of time. “How can you be ‘betrothed’?”
I knew Oliver shared my tastes.
I’d heard it enough over the time we’d spent working together. The men at the boatyard were quick to praise his silver tongue, for more than one reason. I just…had never known what that meant for him. That maybe…all along, like he’d said…what he’d been craving was a warm meal, not a hot cock.
The idea they’d paid him for pleasure and he’d left empty with heavier pockets made my blood boil.
Now though…
This was different.
Our worlds should never have collided in the first place.
Nothing about what we were doing was transactional.
There was lust in Oliver’s eyes, pure and carnal. Behind the fear, the trepidation. Hidden in the tumultuous waters that lurked in his pale green gaze. His attention darted to my lips, and my pulse thrummed with the wickedness of what we were doing—whatIwas about to do.
I’d never had sex before.
I’d kissed plenty, sure.
But this…no. Once I’d started, I wasn’t sure I could stop at kissing.
I was the kind of man that took what I wanted, once I realized what it was. And despite the fact that I had no idea what I was doing, I could not stop thinking about that goddamn fucking mouth. Quick as lightning. Mischievous. Sometimes even cruel. Delicious. Forbidden. Just begging to be fucked.
“It’s a political marriage,” I murmured to soothe him, eyes still trained on his lips. “She and I have been friends for as long as I can remember.”
“I don’t understand.” When I glanced up there was judgment in his eyes, a look I wanted to squash quickly as it clouded my view of his lust.
“Alana and I are more similar than you might think.”
He flinched at the sound of her name, but I hurried onward, my fingers creeping under his trouser hems till I could toy with his supple calves. “She likes women as much as I dislike them.”
“Oh.” The warmth in his eyes came back. The heat. Oliver’s cheeks flushed. “So you…”
“Wanted to…” I trailed off, suddenly unsure.What had I wanted?To try something new? To take something I desired? Before I was married off to produce an heir neither Alana nor I even wanted. Duty. We had a duty to fulfill, and when that was done we’d live happily in our separate wings of the house, with our separate lovers for company.
Thatwas why our betrothal had never angered me.
We’d hatched up our plan the moment the contracts had been signed. Alana herself, had had far more conquests than I. It wouldn’t surprise me if they numbered in the hundreds. It wasn’t until recently that I’d felt the need to act on my baser urges. I’d had an easy enough time ignoring them, for the most part, put on the back burner as I attended balls and galas, and spent my days soaking up lessons on how to take over for my father when it came time.
As I’d aged, however, my desire for touch had only grown.
I ached to sink my cock into something hot and tight. To fuck hard and fast like I craved instinctually.
Working at the harbor as I had for the last month, I’d heard many sordid tales. Sexual escapades that had me hard as a rock, and desperate to hide it.
My need had festered beneath my skin for far too long.
