Page 32 of Enticement
“Are you trying to make a bleedin’ date with me?”
“I’ll let you know a time. I guess we know the place.”
“Fuck!”
“Oh, yes. Just imagine it, Ross. Your cock swelling against my arse. Going in deep. I’m pretty tight back there and hot. And you needn’t worry about Evie, ’cause she can be right there with us, engaging that voyeuristic streak of hers.”
“Uh!” Whatever Ross was trying to say lapsed into a serious of indecipherable grunts.
“Are you going to come for me, Ross? I need you to come for me.”
Already there, Ross gave an orgasmic “huh” and a series of airless gulps as his cock gave up its load. Kit talked him through it, staying with him, embracing him with words and endearments until he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure from his friend. A loud clatter spoiled the concluding moment of post-orgasmic closeness.
“Sorry, I dropped the phone,” said Ross. “Hell, Kit, I’d better go. I need to get cleaned up. My next appointment is in forty seconds.”
Kit nodded at the phone. Despite the clipped manner of Ross’s voice, he could hear the desire still rattling around in his chest.
“We’ll talk about stuff when I get home,” said Ross.
“I can talk real dirty.”
“I know. Do I ever know.”
Kit let the phone fall from his hand, and it dropped onto the carpet. Despite the fact that his cock still lay hard in his hand, he gave a contented stretch, hands spread over the cushions with his fingers splayed. Save it, he thought, looking down at his cock, which lay flat against his belly in a small puddle of precome. A bit more self-denial would keep him stoked until Ross got his arse home. Shit! Maybe the guy would be peeling him off the ceiling after a single touch by then. His nerves were certainly pulled taut enough to strum, and his cock was just begging for a kiss or two, or better still Ross’s solid male palm wrapped around it.
Of course, there remained the issue of Evie too.
Game plan loosely in place, and having tucked his stiffy back in his pants, Kit wandered back through to the kitchen. He made a cup of tea and swallowed it while it was still scalding, before heading back outside to contend with the remaining snow on the driveway. Only, there were four large sacks of newly delivered coal sat in the way.
“I guess I’ll be shifting them first,” he said to the back-end of the coalman’s truck. “Gee thanks, mate.”
Sodding coal fires! Great for a seduction, bugger all good for anything else besides making a mess. The fuck with that! He was installing state of the art central heating and a clean burning, real-flame gas fire in Rose Cottage. And he intended to crank up the thermostat every time Ross or Evie came round.
It really was time they upped the stakes.
Evie got home at half past five to find Kit out on the driveway splitting logs with an axe. She parked on the roadside and hung back near the gateway to watch him. He’d thrown his jacket over the top of the wheelie bin so that he had on only a black, long-sleeved T-shirt. Two oriental dragons entwined the sleeves and faced each other across his chest, mouths open, forked tongues flicking forth with intent. The shirt lifted every time he raised his arms, displaying a good five inches of his ripped torso, flesh she’d felt beneath her fingertips only a short time ago, and based on the liquefying action it had on her cunt, skin she longed to feel again.
Her anger had subsided a little since they’d parted, largely because the planning meeting for Melton Manor had turned to the subject of a slave auction, and since she had no intention of letting anyone get their hands on Ross, Kit was her prime candidate for volunteering his services.
“Frightened I bite?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and prompting her to shuffle forward up the driveway to prove she wasn’t.
“I know you bite. You told me so.”
“Actually, I said I like being bitten.”
She noticed he had gloves on, leather ones with the fingertips cut off, and his hand sat in a disconcertingly comfortable manner around the axe haft. He’d probably spent a good portion of his former life in Kirkley cutting firewood, if that swing of his was anything to go by.
Kit brought the weapon down hard on another unfortunate log and the splintered pieces shot off his improvised breezeblock stand in three different directions.
Another pace closer—she couldn’t help it. It felt as though something was dragging her. When she tried to blindside herself with visions of Ross’s imminent arrival, she found she couldn’t actually form his image properly in her head. Instead, her gaze just kept swaying between Kit’s tight arse and his wiry shoulders. Maybe it’d be better if they properly smoothed things out between them before they had to face Ross, and got their story straight, so to speak. She didn’t want to start the weekend with a row, but how did you tell your boyfriend you’d snogged—actually, considerably more than snogged—his best mate without causing a cosmic outburst?
“What happened earlier can’t happen again,” she told Kit.
No amount of deciphering could translate the look she got in return. “I heard you spoke to Ross.”
“So what if I did?” She circled around behind him, and Kit’s gaze followed her the whole route. Even when she stopped before the coalhouse door his gaze remained unblinkingly fastened upon her.
“Feeling guilty?” he asked.
