Chapter Four

Craven’s flesh prickled when Beresford ran his hands over his backside. “You really are quite the beautiful boy. Perfectly shaped bottom and begging for my attention, isn’t that right?”

He stifled the urge to tell him to stop. Isn’t this what he’d wanted for a long time, hungered for? He’d never have this chance again with a man who looked like Adonis and had the physique of a Roman gladiator. Even as his heart pounded with fear, he wanted Beresford to take him, wholly, completely. Damnation, had Beresford asked a question?

“Yes, sir,” he whispered and hoped he’d given the right answer.

Craven heard the rustle of clothing and imagined Beresford removing his trousers. Moments later, his suspicions were confirmed. The lord of the manor stood before him in all his glorious nudity, bottle of oil in hand. He removed the stopper, poured a liberal amount of the substance in his hands, and stroked his own cock. Mesmerized by the scene, Craven’s throat grew dry. Beresford’s shaft expanded to full length in seconds, and what a sight. Like every other part of his body, his cock was sleek and large, the mushroom-shaped head and bulging veins sending tremors of longing through Craven’s rushing blood.

Beresford resumed his prior position behind him, parted his cheeks and massaged his hole. Craven’s body lurched with anticipation and he prayed the man wouldn’t make him beg. He would if need be at this point, but hoped it wouldn’t become necessary.

A grunt came from Craven’s throat when Dominic slipped two oily fingers into his entrance. Pain and pleasure shot through his body as the man drove his fingers in and out methodically and stretched him. Beresford placed a hand on Craven’s hip and held him immobile while he worked his magic, bringing him to a frenzied peak. He ground his ass against those imperious fingers in an attempt to drive them in deeper. How did the man hold the power to do this to him? He’d made him shoot his load once already, and damn if he wasn’t on the brink of coming again.

Briefly, he thought about Anthony in the other room and smiled through the delirious sensations. Whatever had happened to his friend, it couldn’t begin to match this exquisite torture.

“Tell me what you want, Saunders.”

“You, sir, oh, please.” His hips undulated beneath the pleasurable torment.

“You’ve been such a good subject; you shall have your wish.”

Craven sucked in a deep breath when Beresford removed his fingers and pushed his engorged cock against his entrance.

“Take another deep breath, and try to relax. Remember, I won’t hurt you.”

Precum leaked from Craven’s cock and drizzled down the extended length. His ballocks tightened and through a haze of lust, he felt Beresford push forward and enter him. On the brink of orgasm, stretched tighter than he ever imagined, he drew a series of long breaths and followed them up with a staccato string of groans. He didn’t want it to be over. Ever.

Beresford filled him completely, embarked on a rhythm of precision-like thrusts, and pounded into him. Craven reached heights he never dreamed possible. He rocked backward and impaled his ass against the hot, hard shaft. He wanted more, needed more, and in that instant, knew he’d never be the same again. He’d crossed the threshold, found what he’d been searching for, craving.

“Beg, tell me how much you want this.”

“Oh, God, yes, sir, I want more; harder, please, faster.”

Dominic drove into him and Craven’s orgasm arrived in an enormous onslaught of cascading lights. He screamed his pleasure, his raw voice echoing in the still room. Beresford’s pace picked up a frenetic tempo, and then warm seed filled his rectum. Craven’s breaths came in harsh bursts. He sagged against the chains and languished in the final throes of orgasm. Never had he felt so incredibly fulfilled.

Long moments later, Dominic stood in front of him and removed the cuffs from the iron bars. Deliriously weak, Craven slumped against the man’s sweat-soaked chest. Beresford picked him up, carried him to the bed, and laid him down as if he were an innocent child.

A warm body snuggled into his back, but his eyes grew heavy and his body ached in places he hadn’t known existed. Stunned by his response to Beresford’s brutal taking of him, he shrank into the mattress, confused, yet undeniably aroused again. What would he say, how would he explain to Beresford his abandoned reaction to what he did to his body, to him? Even now, he hungered for the man’s touch again, wanted to feel his cock deep inside him. Craven closed his eyes and allowed the world of forgetfulness to claim him.

* * *

Dominic awoke in the middle of the night to the sensation of a warm body beside him. He rubbed his eyes and cleared his befuddled brain, remembering the titillating images of Craven Saunders strapped to the horse. God, he’d never seen such a magnificent body. Handsome didn’t begin to describe the young man―beauty personified did.

He’d meant to teach him a lesson and release him, but the situation got out of hand. His body had responded in spades to the perfect features, the green eyes with the minute brown flecks, the straight, aristocratic nose and generous mouth. The flaxen hair, long and silky, matched all too perfectly the arched brows and fastidiously trimmed mustache. The boy’s expression of intelligence and courage did not suit the name his addlepated parents had bequeathed him at birth. They should have christened him after a Roman or Greek god.

He should not have questioned the trespasser at length, should have doled out his punishment and freed him immediately. Although he suspected his upbringing had been similar to his, he didn’t want to know at the time, didn’t want the burden that came with involvement, intimacy. Better to slake his lust with strangers, like he always had, people who mattered little to him. “Too late for that,” he said under his breath.

He looked over at the pesky malingerer in his bed. His cock ached and the blood rushed through his veins. Craven would disappear soon and Dominic would never see him again, never revel in the exquisite joining of their bodies. He’d never found such pleasure with another man, and the list loomed longer than his gangly grandfather’s arm.

Of late, he’d thought much about his promiscuous peccadilloes and meaningless life. Oh, he knew he’d never have children, and he accepted that. Would he ever find that special mate, a lifelong companion to spend the end of his days with? The men had come and gone from his life—his choosing—but he hungered for something more substantial with every passing day. A committed, monogamous agreement is what he longed for.

He had the wherewithal to provide an elegant life for himself and a person of his choosing. Until Craven stumbled into his world, he didn’t think it possible he’d find one. He couldn’t allow him to wander away, become another one-night poke. He had to see the blasted little spy again. But how?

Dominic slipped from bed, walked to the bureau and poured himself a brandy. Craven’s clothing caught his eye, and not far away, his own discarded attire lay in a heap. Inspiration struck. He plucked his cravat from the floor, removed the ruby pin and slipped it into the pocket of Craven’s trousers. A little slight-of-hand, trickery even, but one way or another, he had to see him again.

Dominic climbed beneath the coverlet, and as if his thoughts could summon him, the boy stirred and reached for him. Surely Craven was in the midst of a dream when he found his hard shaft and stroked it. Dominic shivered and found himself unbearably titillated by the boy’s ministrations. He closed his eyes and savored the sensations, his pulse escalating into a wild rhythm.

The breath caught in Dominic’s throat when Craven slid down his body and took the tip of his cock into his mouth. He nipped and nibbled, licked and sucked until Dominic rose off the bed and clutched the sheets in his hand. “Christ, I must have died and gone to heaven.”

Craven released his shaft and flicked his tongue over the head, only to take it into his mouth again and swallow it until the tip nudged the back of his throat. Dominic writhed, bucked beneath him, and wondered if he’d stumbled into the midst of blissful dream. The sensations indescribable, every inch of his skin burned, and the blood rushing through his veins thrummed in triple beat.

On the brink of orgasm, he pulled Craven up to his mouth and kissed him, his tongue plunging in hard and deep. Pulling from the kiss long moments later, he said, “You don’t know what you’ve started.”

“Yes, I do.” He didn’t hesitate but rather delivered the emboldened words straight up. “You said I would beg before you finished with me. Do you want me to beg now?”

Dominic didn’t answer him, but rather flipped him onto his stomach. Again, he reached for the oil. The last thing he wanted was to physically hurt this beautiful creature. Strange, he didn’t think about that when he first entered his own bedchamber, and yet now an overpowering urge to protect him ruled his every thought, every action.

Dominic straddled him and pushed his engorged cock into Craven’s hole. “Christ, you’re so hot, so tight.”

A decadent shiver raced over him, the delicious tightness of Craven’s muscles gripping his prick like a vise. Dominic paced his rhythmic thrusts, the lust thrumming through his veins in a way it never had before. Holy hell, had he fallen for this nestling in such short order? How was it possible after all the countless interludes? What was it about this young man that drove him wild with desire, yet wrenched emotions he thought long ago dead? Tenderness. Caring. Love?

A whimper fell from Craven’s lips when Dominic held his hips immobile and deep-hilted his cock until he hoped it nudged the back of his throat. An overpowering need to brand him, claim him forever overrode sane thought. Craven couldn’t have been stretched more, the perfect fullness adding to frenetic thrills coursing through him. He rode him hard, vaguely aware of the moans from his lover’s lips as his pelvis pitched forward and thrust back against his hands.

The blood rushed to Dominic’s crown and his climax peaked. His cock ached and wept inside the tight walls, yet still he held back. He wanted this to last forever. Soon the stranger who’d walked into his life would vanish, and he no longer knew what would become of him. His entire world had changed from the first moment he’d laid eyes on Craven, and the thought he’d take the sun and the moon when he left made him more bereft than he thought possible.

He released a hand from his hip and reached for Craven’s hard shaft, stroking it in perfect sync with his thrusts. Jolts of unbidden pleasure surged through Dominic. He could no longer hold back the tide. Riding the crest of orgasmic ecstasy together, they climaxed simultaneously. Dominic shot his seed deep into Craven’s insides at the same time Craven emptied his load into Dominic’s hand. Their sweat-soaked bodies collapsed onto the mattress, their chests heaving with labored breaths.

Long moments later, Craven turned to him and said, “My God, I had no idea it would be like that.”

“I’m glad it pleased you,” Dominic said and meant it.

“Pleased me? The word indescribable couldn’t do it justice.”

Dominic rose up on an elbow and looked down at him. “You’re free to go if you like. I apologize if I hurt you earlier, and again now.”

“You didn’t hurt me. Scared more than anything else, yet I figured whatever you were about to do, I deserved it.”

“Why were you spying on Beresford Hall?”

“Anthony . . . oh, God, Anthony!”

“I assure you, he’s well and good. He’s been entertained in the parlor while you’ve been with me. Something tells me Anthony put you up to this.”

Craven shrugged. “I suppose it was his idea initially, but I encouraged him to continue.”

“You were honest with me when you said you were curious?”

He nodded. “Rumors about Beresford Hall drew us.”

“Rumors?”

“Yes, Anthony knows about the society, and Martin.”

“Society?” A chuckle left Dominic’s throat. ‘What’s the name of my society?”

“Carnal Cravings,” he said.

A full-blown laugh followed his answer. “Oh, that’s priceless, very good, indeed, Carnal Cravings. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Craven. There is no society and no such name.”

“Why are all the other men here then?”

“Similar likes and tastes, but we’ve never taken the time to put a name to our depravities. We meet at Beresford Hall twice a month and whatever happens, happens.”

A sick knot formed in Craven’s gut. He didn’t want to imagine Dominic fucking someone else. Christ, how had it come to this so readily?

“I should leave. I imagine Anthony believes I’ve met my worst fate.”

“Oh, something tells me Anthony is faring well. I sent two of my closest friends into the room to entertain him.”

Craven climbed from bed and grabbed his clothing from the floor. He dressed with haste and turned toward the bed before exiting the room. The awkward flush on his face was priceless. Dominic knew he’d awakened feelings in Craven, feelings the boy had wondered about for years, just like Craven had awakened sensations in him that had long lain dormant. He’d certainly had his share of sexual liaisons, but none compared to what he’d just shared with this stranger.

“Thank you sounds a little crass but, thank you,” Craven said. “You needn’t worry about me spying again. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“See that you don’t,” Dominic said in an attempt to sound stern and detached.

He watched Craven slip from the room and shut the door behind him. Then he pulled the covers up to his chin and felt his brows crease. What events would unfold when Craven found the ruby brooch in his trousers?