Page 5 of Ravishing Among the Roses
Gabriel’s eyes widened and he rocked back on his heels, staring up at him with those dark brown eyes. So incredibly beautiful. “Yes. I want to kneel before you and worship your glorious form with my lips. Yes I want to taste you, all the way in the back of my throat. I want to swallow you down and make you moan with pleasure. Yes. I want this. I want you.”
Well, that was rather specific and detailed and exactly what Edmund needed. No surprises. “I...” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I would like that.”
“Shall I begin?” Gabriel asked.
“Please.” Edmund shivered as Gabriel ran his finger up his stand, from the base to the tip. It was unexpected and he barely had time to enjoy that when Gabriel’s wet mouth covered him. Damnation. He was going to spill like a school boy. He rested his head back on the door and stared at the plaster ceiling, trying to think of anything else, but he couldn’t. His entire self was focused on the flicks of Gabriel’s tongue, the long slides of his mouth. God, he was so good at this with everything pulling pleasure direct from Edmund’s balls. He shoved his hands into Gabriel’s hair, clinging on, and Gabriel responded to his touch with a moan that sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body. He clung on tighter, wanting this experience to go on forever, but knowing it wouldn’t last very long at all. He wanted to remember every lick, every suck, every single moment of this. He wanted to thank Gabriel with a long kiss, his body pulled tight against his own, but instead he was going to go home with this memory, and so he didn’t close his eyes when his body became heavy with pleasure. He stared at Gabriel as if he could keep this picture forever.
His own coarse fingers threaded through Gabriel’s black hair, the red dress pooling around Gabriel’s body, all brightness and light, and the little moans that they were both making filling the air with a desperate music.
“I’m going to spill.” He wanted to warn Gabriel, and the wonderous man only sucked him deeper, tighter, and of course, his body responded with a shout and shudder, releasing all the pleasure into Gabriel’s mouth like an uncontrolled bull, bucking with it, hips thrusting as he used Gabriel, riding his face. It was completely and utterly glorious. And then Gabriel staggered to his feet, and licked his lips as if he’d enjoyed it.
“Thank you.” Gabriel’s voice crackled, hoarse and Edmund liked it more than he should. A tiny nasty voice in the back of his head threatened to ruin all this joy. Was he just like his brotheras he gained enjoyment from someone being wrecked by serving him?
“Thank you. It’s been a while since I was so thoroughly and wonderfully fucked like that.” Gabriel smiled. He actually smiled and Edmund was going to melt.
“I didn’t use you?” He had to know if Gabriel liked it.
“Only the perfect amount. I’m here most nights if you want to use me again.” The warmth in his voice sent the worry fleeing and Edmund nodded. He hoped this was true and he wished he could trust people with their words. “It’s been an absolute pleasure.”
“Do you want me to do the same for you?”
“Oh no. Didn’t you notice? I came along for the ride already.” Gabriel waved his hand and a wet patch was obvious through the fabric of the red dress. If Edmund wasn’t already completely empty, he’d have spilled again at the sight. This man had come from only Edmund’s touch in his hair and his cock in his mouth. He couldn’t breathe at the sincerity of it. The evidence that Gabriel had enjoyed himself was too much to bear when combined with his own pleasure. He buttoned up his fall with shaking fingers, nodded and ran from the room, knowing that if he stayed, he’d never want to leave. And then something would happen that would ruin this moment. Good moments always ended being ruined somehow. That was Edmund’s lot in life, and so he left before that could happen.
Chapter 4
Edmund awoke with tepid light attempting to come through the windows. December in London wasn’t a time for grand skies or beauty, and he’d woken much later than usual. At home, he had a routine, and it gave him comfort. Being in London came with expectations that he wasn’t inclined to meet. He wrapped his hand around his cockstand, memories of the night before flooding in, and he jerked himself off quickly.
The pale colours of the room, all pale blues and yellows were nothing like the black of Gabriel’s hair and the brilliant red of his dress, but it didn’t matter, his body remembered and dreamed and hoped for a future that would never happen. He’d never dare to go back to the King’s Book Club. He’d never see his angel again, but that also meant the memory of last night would never be tainted by a future disaster. He spilled into the sheets, quickly, glad that he’d always have this memory.
One thing for himself, never ruined by anyone else.
He didn’t bother ringing for a servant, dressing himself in simple garb before heading directly to the kitchen. The cook at Lamington House had always been kind to him and he could avoid his brother by eating in the kitchen, not the breakfast room. As soon as he pushed on the door he regretted his choice, as loud voices flooded his senses. He almost left again, except one of the voices tugged at a memory, and ... curse his curiosity ... he walked into the kitchen to spy Gabriel talking to Cook.
“Mr—” Edmund stopped. His face flamed with heat. He couldn’t remember the man’s surname, all he could remember was the sensation of that mouth on him. He’d been told, he was sure of it, but all he remembered was that he had the name of an angel. Gabriel.
“My Lord. Please sit. I have some fresh bread and perhaps you want some kippers?” Cook said.
“Just the bread and butter, please.” He saw down and ignored Gabriel, although a little thought kept chirping away. Why was his angel in the kitchen on his brother’s town house? And when did he start thinking of him as ‘his’ angel? He was doomed. He should ask for clarification, but he ate his breakfast instead. There was a familiarity between Gabriel and Cook, as if they’d known each other for a long time, and slowly he realised that they must be related. They shared no colouring, Cook had big blue eyes and faded blonde hair with pale skin, but there was a certain something in their mannerisms. The more he looked the more he saw the similarities to Cook, Gabriel’s lack of height, the same cheekbones and jaw, the way Cook had that little cowlick in her fringe that she fussed with, and how Gabriel’s hair did the same. The man was, on closer observation, obviously related to Cook. He wondered if he should say something, when the back door opened slowly, and his nephew peered inside.
“George.” Edmund leaped to his feet. He’d been told George was staying back at Eton over the break, and that’s why he wasn’t here at Lamington House. But George held one finger to his lips.
“I’m not here.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s my fault. I upset His Grace, and he’s banished me from the estate.”
Cook bundled George into a hug, and Edmund held his breath. Somehow Cook knew that a tight hug was better than a light touch.
“It’s not your fault, darling boy,” Cook said.
“It is. I should know better than to bait him, but he called me selfish for not wanting to row for Eton. The Galforths have always rowed ever since it was invented at Eton, andit besmirched his good name to have a son so selfish that I wouldn’t do that.”
Edmund had rowed for Eton, and Oxford, because it was expected of him. He’d never contemplated that he had any other option. “I don’t understand.”
“His Grace told me I was selfish. I yelled back and said I wasn’t selfish, and it wasn’t fair to call me that when all he cared about was his image.”
“And then he banished you?” Edmund could hardly breath. The notion that someone might argue with his brother like this took more courage than Edmund had.
