It was hardly champagne and a midnight stroll—but Gabriel’s proximity was rapidly turning it into the most erotic activity of Edward’s life. However much he tried to stop staring at Gabriel as he moved from book to book, his rough hands treating every volume with utmost tenderness, he found he simply couldn’t.
He’d never had a full-blown cockstand in a library before. Every other room, yes, but never a library. And never so close to Gabriel that he could touch him, could reach out a hand to the nape of his neck, pulling him close, slaking his lust on that harsh, set mouth...
God, why couldn’t he do it anymore? Why couldn’t he be the rake?
“I have to go and—and find Bryce.” He stood abruptly, covering his shame with a volume of what looked like German theology. “Coffee. You know us London layabouts. We lift more than three things and feel exhausted.”
“You seemed to be doing quite well.” Gabriel’s faint tone of reproach faded as he looked at the bare patch of wall, his eyes narrowing. “Wait.” He ran his fingers down the wall. “There’s...there’s something here. Listen.”
Edward drew closer despite himself. He couldn’t help watching Gabriel’s hands, so strong and capable as they traced lightly over the wall. How thrilling they had felt last night, taking his flesh, making it sing...
But he’d held himself back. His nightmare, the demons, had forbidden him. It was the right thing to do, he knew it...but what a pity it felt so horrible.
“Are you listening?” Edward pulled himself out of his reverie. Gabriel had a fist raised to the wall. “See?”
Knock, knock. Not the dull thud that Edward had been expecting. The sound seemed to echo, reverberate...
“It’s hollow.” Gabriel tapped again; there it was, the odd sensation of space. “There’s something behind this. A niche, perhaps.”
Edward tapped hesitantly against the plaster. “What a strange architectural mistake.”
“Not a mistake. A feature. A lot of houses have them. False walls, small niches hidden by plaster. Not everything can be built like everything else.”
Edward struggled not to look at Gabriel as he replied. “I suppose not. There it is, under our hands. Undeniable.”
“Yes. Undeniable. Explorable.” Gabriel’s eyes found Edward’s, steady and full of meaning. “Explorable, if you’re brave enough.”
Edward stared, torn between hope and shame. No matter what he felt, needed, wanted, he couldn’t tell Gabriel. He didn’t have the words.
There was a long, trembling moment of hesitation, until Gabriel turned away. “Or,” he said, his voice unexpectedly harsh, “we could pile the books back up and pretend we never found it. More trouble than it’s worth.”
He bent down, picking up a pile of weighty volumes as if they weighed nothing at all. Edward watched him wearily shove the books back onto the shelf, his heart getting heavier with every pile. He had to let him do it; he had to keep silent...
“Stop.” He held out a hand, blocking Gabriel. “Just stop.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gabriel turned. He let the books he was holding fall to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust. “Tell me, Edward. Just tell me. Or make your play, have the casual encounter you want, and leave me to my ruin. You’ve clearly decided that now is the time, as opposed to last night. God knows what more a library offers, but then I’m not used to the ways of London rakes.”
“I...” God, where was his usual eloquence? The silver tongue that had got him out of so many situations? “I can’t. I just...”
Wait.
Casual?
“Casual encounter? Do you really think that I would take you casually?” Edward struggled to keep disbelief from flooding his voice.
“I imagine so. That’s your usual style, isn’t it?” Gabriel’s gaze was obscenely direct. “I’ve picked up a scandal sheet or two in my time. The gossipmongers rarely comment on, shall we say, the commitment displayed in your encounters. The emphasis tends to be on their frequency. Not to mention their variety.”
“I thought you never read such vile rags?” Edward felt his breeches tighten even more as a faint blush spread across Gabriel’s cheeks. “Has someone been doing a little bedtime reading?”
“I have kept myself informed, over the years. I’m glad I did, seeing as you made your...intentions...abundantly clear last night.”
“And what are my intentions?” Edward bit his lip when Gabriel’s blush deepened, marvelling at the way the man’s dark flesh bloomed into rose. “Go on. Tell me.”
“To...to have someone. Me.” Gabriel’s eyes were steady, even if his voice wavered. “To have me.”
Edward slowly stood, not even attempting to conceal his aroused state. He’d had men say filthy things to him before, in much less salubrious places than the library of Hardcote House—but there was something about Gabriel’s lips, the way they pouted slightly as they formed the word have, that had him positively inflamed. Something about the way he stood, the way he kept his back uncommonly straight... Why, it was enough to drive a man to distraction. Painful, intensely pleasurable distraction.
Their kiss kept clouding his mind. Deep, searching, uninhibited, yes, that was in Gabriel somewhere.
All he had to do was draw him out.
“Do you know how I spent last night, after our little meeting?” He lowered his voice, letting it fill with the desire kindling inside him. “I didn’t sleep. I thought of you. And I wouldn’t describe my thoughts as casual. Not in the slightest. In fact, I was tremendously focused.”
Gabriel didn’t respond. Edward watched the base of the man’s throat quiver, fighting the urge to put his mouth to that visible heartbeat.
“I am good at things. It’s what I do. Whatever I turn my hand to, whether it’s shooting or smoking or cards, I do it excellently. Ask anyone. Ask those scandal sheets you’ve no doubt got stored under your bed.” Edward moved closer, unable to stop himself, watching the man’s body stiffen with tension. “I am excellent at things I’m indifferent to. Imagine how spectacular I am at the things I like.”
“There’s something telling about what you say, although I doubt you know what it is.” Gabriel’s expression was impossibly dark, his voice low and grim. “You speak at length about your own excellence, while assuming that I have no experience or natural skill.”
The idea of Gabriel having gained experience from any other source sent an unwelcome shiver of jealousy down Edward’s spine. Of course he hadn’t considered it—the idea was repellent to him. He wanted all that passion, that clumsy ardency, for himself alone.
“You treat me as if I’m made of glass. Like I’m some blushing country bumpkin who’ll scream and faint.” Gabriel leaned closer, his voice becoming an angry, molten murmur. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
Edward shivered. God, this was dangerous. So foolish—and so tempting that he burned with the desire to touch him, tease him. Please him. “Don’t push me too far. I’m warning you.”
Gabriel’s voice was a potent and unwelcome aphrodisiac. “Warning me? I see. Well, then.”
A moment of silence passed. Edward stood fixed, waiting, overcome with the nearness of Gabriel’s body. Finally the silence was more than he could bear. “Well then what?”
“Well then.” Gabriel sounded almost frustrated. “Stop me.”
Edward opened his mouth, ready to argue, to question—and gasped as Gabriel’s lips touched his neck. He leaned helplessly against the hollow wall, the plaster cool against his fingertips, a delicious contrast to Gabriel’s heat. Gabriel’s mouth swept lightly over his skin, kissing with the same blissful concentration that he had to Edward’s lips the night before, this time with the teasing playfulness of someone who knew they had all the time in the world. Every brush, every delicate lap of his tongue and graze of his teeth, sent near painful shocks of awareness along every one of Edwar
d’s veins. Soon he was panting, unable to keep silent, completely at the mercy of Gabriel’s cunning mouth.
“That doesn’t sound like a no. Come now. I’m hardly touching you.” Gabriel gently brushed his lips against Edward’s cheekbone, his voice still full of that pained, dark frustration that belied the lightness of his movements, and Edward quivered with the effort of keeping still. “I’m not even holding you in place.” He rested his palms flat against the wall, on either side of Edward’s face. “Look. No hands. So stop me.”
Edward closed his eyes, letting out a long, shuddering sigh of longing. This weakness, this lack of self-control, was simply not to be borne...but his brain had apparently delegated all decision-making to the lower parts of his body, which didn’t want him to move a muscle. Or at least any muscles that were involved in walking away.
“Stop me.” Gabriel’s voice took on an even more serious note, husky with longing. “I mean it.”
“No.” Edward’s voice, a breathless croak, startled even himself.
“Be clear.” Gabriel bit softly at Edward’s earlobe, sending waves of pleasure rippling through Edward’s extremities. “Stop, or don’t stop. Say it.”
“Don’t stop.” The words came out in a sudden rush, as earnest as a prayer. “Please. Don’t stop.”
“Good man.”
At the touch of relief in Gabriel’s voice, Edward inwardly rejoiced that the man felt the same longing he did.
“Now stay still. Stay still until you can’t bear it.” Gabriel nipped again at Edward’s earlobe, and Edward couldn’t help gasping. “Or until I can’t bear it. Whichever one comes first.”
His mouth sank onto Edward’s neck again, vigorous, playful, lavishing attention with such ardent skill that Edward half wondered if he’d die of pleasure. Nothing but a hand span separated Gabriel’s body from his, but it felt like a thousand miles. He quivered, moaning again as Gabriel’s lips met his, their kiss marked with a touch more urgency than the last. God, to feel this mouth on his chest, his thighs, his cock...
“That’s right.” Gabriel’s voice was thick with hunger. His kiss was stronger this time, hasty, each daring flicker of his tongue making Edward’s cock strain to the point of pain against his breeches. He dipped his head lower, kissing the hollow at the base of Edward’s neck with deliberate, wicked lightness, and Edward cried out with frustrated need. “Are you getting close? Close to doing something unwise?”
Edward nodded, eyes shut, half laughing at his own weakness. Where had his infamous air of cold command gone? He never played without a full advantage...but here he was, giving up all his cards.
Damn the man. It was impossible not to break. He needed him now, more than he needed air or light, and he’d be hanged if he wasn’t going to get what he wanted.
“Then do it.” The slight hesitancy in Gabriel’s voice sent a surge of pure lust to Edward’s loins. “Do it. Please.”
With a low moan of animal want, Edward fell upon Gabriel’s mouth. Fierce, greedy, he snatched at the waistband of Gabriel’s breeches, pulling the stiff mound of his cock to press sinfully hard against his own. Gabriel’s moan hummed through his mouth, the delicious friction between their two bodies tempered with the pain of being constrained by fabric. It was the first touch, the first real moment after teasing, maddening moments of play, but it felt like the hundredth, the thousandth...and the first, still the first, with all the excitement that entailed.
For a moment Edward wondered if it would always be like this, each new touch, with Gabriel...but no, he couldn’t think about it, more kisses and gasps and slow, revelatory sighs, or his desire would overcome what little reason he had left.
But then, did he need reason? It felt like all he needed was Gabriel, hot and hard and ready for him. The nightmares were nowhere to be seen, ghosts chased away by the warm afternoon light.
He could do this. He wanted—no, needed this. He hadn’t been this close to finishing in his clothes since adolescence. And the fact he was still in clothes meant Gabriel, and possibly himself, would finish without ever being close to an uncomfortable revelation of the scars on his back.
Gripping Gabriel’s broad back, he shamelessly rubbed himself against Gabriel’s own swollen member, moaning at the pleasure of it. “Oblige me.”
Gabriel’s hand immediately slid below the top of his breeches, warm and sure. Edward let his head rest against the wall, moaning quietly as Gabriel’s fist finally closed around his bare cock, his other hand tugging his breeches downward, his mouth hot and open against Edward’s throat.
For a moment they stood wordless, panting, Gabriel’s fingers tight around him. When he finally began to move, his hand working Edward’s cock with the same skilled, patient assurance that his mouth had lavished on his neck, Edward swore with a violence that turned the air blue. “Oh, God. Just like that. Don’t stop.”
Gabriel kept going, his grip the perfect bend of strength and sensitivity, his lips coaxing every last ounce of self-control from Edward’s core. With his remaining hand, he pulled at his own breeches, freeing his cock. “Touch me.” The authority in his voice had Edward tense with excitement. “Now.”
Edward reached downward, fingertips slowly tracing over Gabriel’s thick shaft, and was rewarded with a bitten-back swear word.
Gabriel gasped. “I... I didn’t know it felt like that. Another person’s hand.”
“It does.” Edward gently squeezed Gabriel’s cock, revelling in the look of startled bliss spreading over the man’s face. “Now...do you want me to stop?”
“No.” Gabriel leaned in, leaving a slow trail of kisses along Edward’s neck, slowly stroking Edward’s cock in time with each kiss. “No, I don’t.”
They began to move together, slow, deliberate. Edward threw his head back against the wall, wondering dimly when it had last felt this good. Every movement Gabriel made washed away a previous encounter, making every sensation new again. He drew Gabriel’s mouth back to his, kissing him deeply, moaning as their hands worked in tandem.
He needed more. “Disrobe.” He tugged at Gabriel’s shirt, exposing a sliver of smooth, tanned flesh. “Now.” He watched, inflamed, as Gabriel began to pull at the linen...and stopped.
There were footsteps in the corridor. Light, uncertain ones, accompanied by the rustling of a skirt.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Edward stared at Gabriel, torn between lust and fear, the silence only heightening the blood pounding in his ears. He was still gripping him tightly, oh-so-tightly...a wicked part of him whispered, Carry on.
“Your Grace?” Caroline’s voice. Calling him. “Your Grace? I have a problem that requires your attention.”
The frustration on Gabriel’s face was almost laughable. So laughable, in fact, that Edward had to shove a fist into his mouth to keep from guffawing. After a moment Gabriel buried his face in his shoulder, his body shaking, his laughter soft and despairing against Edward’s skin.
They held each other as Caroline’s footsteps died away. When Gabriel looked up again, the twist to his mouth had Edward weak at the knees.
“First my fever. Then your valet. Then my extreme annoyance at you, then your sudden concern for a rake’s best practices, and now my sister.” Gabriel sighed, his body still pressed tight against Edward. “We’ve established that I can’t, in fact, keep my hands to myself...but am I ever going to get my hands on something more substantial?”
“We must have at least a week until you have to go back to Hardcote.” Edward let Gabriel go, sighing with annoyance as their bodies parted. “Over one hundred hours. There cannot possibly be enough disastrous interruptions to fill every single one.”
“Knowing Hardcote, and my sister, and you, I’m not so optimistic.” Gabriel tucked his shirt back into his breeches, pulling a hand through his hair. “Not by any means.”
“You...you don’t know me.” Edward caught Ga
briel’s hand as it fell, grasping it. He didn’t know why it was so important that Gabriel not believe the worst version of himself, the one who pranced through scandal sheets, but it was. “Not if all you’ve seen are newspapers. Not if all you’ve heard is gossip, and my brother.”
“I knew you before. Very well, actually. So let me learn now.” Gabriel brought Edward’s hand to his mouth, briefly brushing his lips against Edward’s wrist. The tenderness of the act, the sweetness of it, made the ache in Edward’s loins all the worse. “Let me learn again. Now wait here, until you can’t hear my footsteps.”
He walked to the door, leaving Edward leaning against the wall. With a single, burning look back, Gabriel was gone.
Edward stayed against the wall, trying to control the pounding of his heart. As seductions went, and as far as rakes were concerned, he was turning into a miserable failure. Every time he tried to take the upper hand with Gabriel, he ended up wanting to beg for more.
There were customs in London, modes, traditions, ways of doing things. He could make his move, play his hand, and vanish into a laughing crowd.
Here, however, there was no escape route. Nowhere to hide, from Gabriel or himself.
The corridor was silent. Edward slipped out of the door, making his way to his bedroom. If he could avoid Lady Ploverdale, so much the better, especially in his half-crazed state—
“Your Grace?”
No such luck. Caroline stood at the top of the stairs, her gaze frank and open. A tangle of coloured threads lay in her hands; Edward cautiously approached, wondering what on earth it meant.
“Your kitten.” Caroline held up the threads. “He has managed to break into an embroidery bag in the morning room—it must have belonged to your mother. He ran off with the green thread and hid under the chair. When I put my hand underneath, he hisses—I worry that he’ll hurt himself. Could you come, please?”
“Of course.” Edward followed, obscurely grateful. He could finally rescue something for a change, instead of being rescued.
The Vicar and the Rake (Society of Beasts) Page 11