Page 22 of A Gentleman Never Keeps Score
Hartley swallowed. “You know I was.”
“What did you do about it?”
The force of the memory sent a spasm of lust through Hartley’s body. “I brought myself off.”
“No, you can do better.” His voice was a rumble, a soft entreaty. “Where were you?”
“My bedchamber. In bed.” When Sam kept looking at him expectantly, he added, “In my nightshirt.”
“How did you do it?”
“Uh, the usual way?”
Sam clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “A hand on your prick, all right, that’s a given. Where’s your other hand? Bollocks? Arse? Nipple?”
Hartley hoped it was too dark for his blush to be visible. “Nipple,” he managed.
“And what did you think of?”
“Sucking your cock, obviously.”
“Anything else?”
“You fucking me.” Silence, during which all Hartley could think of was that he was now gripping Sam’s hand hard enough for his fingers to hurt, but he didn’t slacken his hold and Sam didn’t pull away.
“Huh. Wasn’t expecting that,” Sam finally said. “Thought you wouldn’t go in for that.”
“It’s only pretend,” Hartley snipped, as if he needed to explain how masturbation worked.
“How hard are you right now?”
Hartley drew in a sharp breath. “Very.”
“So am I. You can take it out, you know. The table’s there. I wouldn’t even have to see.” The noise that came from Hartley’s mouth might have been a whimper, but he preferred not to think of it. “Or you could leave it be, either way suits me.”
“I could show you what I did that night,” Hartley said.
“So you could,” Sam said equably. “If that’s what you wanted.”
Hartley imagined it: Sam’s warm brown eyes on him, hungry and intent, but not demanding anything. The familiarity of his own hand, but with someone else nearby. “Or I could do it with your cock in my mouth.”
A strangled oath, and the hand beneath his own flinched. “Jesus.”
“Unless you—”
“Yes. Do it.” His voice was a rasp. “I mean, if you please.”
“It’ll probably be a mediocre cock-sucking at best. I’ll be too distracted.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. If it’s half as good as the last time it’ll still be the best I’ve ever had.”
He was probably just saying that to be kind, but Hartley still preened a bit. “Well, then.” With that, he pushed his chair away from the table and slid to his knees.
The sight of Hartley kneeling between his spread knees made Sam’s mouth go dry. But he wasn’t ready. “No. Wait. Get up for a minute so my cock doesn’t get ahead of my brain.” Hartley let out a near-silent laugh, but he stood and then perched on the edge of the table, looking down expectantly at Sam. “Where do you want my hands?” Sam asked. “Or where do you not want them?”
Hartley opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, as if he were giving this serious thought. Good. Sam wanted to get this right. “You can touch me, but don’t move me around.”
“Right. You’re in charge.” Sam had never been with anyone with this amount of haggling beforehand, but it turned out he liked it. He liked knowing that they were both doing what pleased the other. He also liked knowing that he was keeping Hartley safe, and that Hartley trusted him with his safety. “You tell me right away if something’s not right, you hear?”
