Page 33 of Enemies with an Earl
Bentley shrugged a shoulder, doing his damnedest to look bored. So, Sam gave the man a little show and dropped a hand to his aching shaft, giving it one slow, torturous stroke. Sam’s hiss of relief filled the chamber, quickly followed by Bentley’s soft whimper. Bentley’s hungry gaze followed Sam’s hand, features tightening painfully. His fingertips dug into the wall behind him, like he was actively preventing himself from reaching for Sam. It was going to be glorious to witness this man come undone.
Sam’s stare settled on Lord Bentley’s hips. Shite. Sam could barely manage a swallow. The man’s cock was nearly as pretty as the man himself. Long, thick, but not too thick, angry and jutting out like it was calling for Sam.
Lust pooled in Sam’s groin. God, heached. He needed to feel this man’s heated skin, cock rutting against his. But he wasn’t done with his torture. The man needed to suffer a bit. Sam wanted the man panting,begging.
“I have a nice cock, don’t I?” Sam asked, his grin spilling into his tone. He took a step closer, his hip brushing against Bentley’s cock, the weeping tip slipping against Sam’s skin. A ripple stole over those delicious, defined stomach muscles. “I know how to use it, too,” Sam whispered, bringing their hips together and lining up their cocks.
Bentley sucked in a breath, his hands flying to Sam’s hips. Their gazes clashed, and deep in those amber depths was that emotion again. Trepidation. And something else, something that looked like it was pulling him away from Sam. Pulling him away right before Sam’s eyes.
Sam held still, even though his body screamed and raged at him to do otherwise. He knew Bentley wanted this. He needed to distract the man from whatever was going on behind those amber irises, whatever was whispering warnings in the man’s mind.
He leaned forward, lips hovering over the shell of Bentley’s ear. “Not to be presumptuous, but I’ve been told I inspire a certain reverence in bed,” he teased. “Men calling me their God. Just thought I should warn you.”
“Bloody hell,” Bentley grumbled, but he relaxed slightly against Sam. “Is there a way to turn you off? A lever or something I can pull.”
Sam sniggered into Bentley’s neck. “Oh, there’s a lever, my lord. Do you need help finding it?”
Before Sam could blink, his jaw was trapped in an unyielding grip, jerked over so he and Bentley were nose to nose.
“That’s enough,” Bentley growled. “Hold your fucking tongue and”—he gave a small thrust—“see to the task at hand.”
Sam froze, and desire shot straight to his ballocks, fierce and piercing, sending his blood to boiling. They watched each other, the heavy rhythm of their breaths the only sound in the silent chamber. This was an authoritativeness he wouldvery, verymuch like to get behind. All hesitance was gone now. Just determination. His shaft twitched against Bentley’s, and a small hiss fled those pink lips. Tempting, full lips. Lips Sam very much wanted a taste of.
Slowly, deliberately, Sam leaned forward. They looked so soft compared to their sharp owner. He ran his nose along Bentley’s. Then he took his taste. He sank his teeth into the man’s bottom lip, dragging it with him as he pulled back just enough to feel the resistance before letting the pink plush flesh spring free.
His gaze flicked back up to Bentley’s, throwing every ounce of saucy defiance into that simple stare. “No.”
Bentley’s nostrils flared, but his eyes darkened. Sam thought his little lordling might hate that he loved Sam’s insolence. But Sam wasn’t moving forward until Bentley specifically stated he wanted Sam. Sam wanted to hear the words. Wanted the arrogant man to admit he was desperatefor Sam.
“Not until you say what you want.Whoyou want.”
Sam thrust once more, then leaned back and wrapped his fist around them both. His oil-slicked hand slid over them, hand loose, preventing them both the friction they needed. It was more contact, but it was worse than before in what it denied. Bentley’s hips thrust into Sam’s hand. A silent plea for more. More friction. More speed. But he wasn’t talking yet, wasn’t begging yet. So, Sam denied them both.
Bentley squirmed against him, seeking. His thick fingers dug into the flesh of Sam’s arse and—holy shite—the man was strong. He yanked Sam into him with a forceful thrust. Sam groaned at the bone-melting need flooding him, but he pushed back and held himself still. Now that he was ready for it, he easily braced himself while Bentley ineffectually tried to pull them into a faster rhythm.
“God damn it, Thorne. You are the most infuriatingly loquacious pest I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.Fuckme already.”
Sam grinned, and Bentley’s jaw ticked deliciously. He wanted to lick the muscle. “That wasalmostpassable, but not quite sufficient.You didn’t use your manners.”
Bentley cursed, and he shook his head, amber eyes wide in disbelief. “I may actually strangle you.”
Sam leaned in, letting his lips drag over Bentley’s skin as he spoke. “Mmm, how positively wicked of you. That’s twice now you’ve threatened me with that.” He pulled back and fluttered his eyelashes. “You really need to work on your threats, my lord.”
Bentley’s fingers tightened in response. Someonereallyliked that idea.
“All you have to do to get what you want… Is say please.” Sam ran his nose against Bentley’s neck, and his eyes rolled back. The man smelled edible. Earthy, woodsy, mixed with aroused male.
“Fuck. Please,”burst from Lord Bentley.
Sam groaned, closing his fist a little tighter. “Who? Who do you want?” And then he trailed his tongue over the curve of Bentley’s ear.
Bentley shivered, his hips canting into Sam’s fist.
“You,” he said breathlessly. “You, Thorne.Please.”
Thank Christ. Sam wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to hold himself back. He kept his lips on the shell of Bentley’s ear. “Good boy.” Which elicited the most beautiful needy noise from the man’s throat. And then Sam gave them what they both wanted. He squeezed his palm tighter around them and stroked, quick and sure, twisting over their heads on every pull upward.
Bentley pressed himself back into the wall, his gaze dropping to where Sam’s fist shuttled over them. To where they both thrust desperately into Sam’s fist. But Sam only had eyes for the man coming undone in front of him. Flushed freckled cheeks, amber eyes as richly colored as the autumn foliage they’d be seeing soon. Mouth parted, making that soft jaw even softer. Powerful muscles flexing as he met Sam like an equal, thrust for thrust.
