Convincing Leopold

by Ava March

  Never get between a reformed rake and his lover.

  London Legal, Book 2

  Three months ago, Leopold Thornton gave up his old, indulgent lifestyle to follow the man he loves to London. But now that he and Arthur Barrington have settled down, doubts are creeping in.

  Arthur is spending more and more time at his law office—with a handsome new secretary. And Arthur’s ex-lover wants him back. Desperate not to lose Arthur, Leopold resorts to the only trick he knows to convince him to stay—pleasure.

  Arthur knew that life with Leopold would never be boring. But recently their evenings—and afternoons and mornings—have become decidedly more vigorous. Being with Leopold is amazing, but juggling demanding clients and a demanding lover leaves Arthur exhausted and worried perhaps he and Leopold aren’t suited after all.

  As business keeps Arthur later and later at the office, Leopold’s demons begin to haunt him again. To heal their rift, Arthur will have to let go of his own past—and pull his lover back from the brink.

  This book has been previously published.

  Warning: Includes a reformed bad boy who discovers a jealous streak, a solicitor who isn’t always so conservative, explicit male/male scenes in a variety of locations, a complete lack of inhibitions, and a generous heaping of angst.

  Convincing Leopold

  Ava March

  Chapter One

  February, 1822

  London, England

  The click of a lock sliding home echoed in the study. More than a hint of reticence seeped into Arthur Barrington’s gut. Trying to push it back, he briefly closed his eyes, but the effort proved in vain.

  He tamped down the weary sigh that threatened to expand his chest and poured a second cup of tea, then placed the squat porcelain teapot back onto the silver tray. A glass of brandy might better serve to revive his spirits, but he did not want to risk encouraging his lover, Leopold Thornton. To Arthur’s knowledge, Thorn had not touched a glass or bottle of liquor since three months ago when Arthur had pulled that bottle of gin from Thorn’s shaking hand. And he wanted to keep it that way.

  But perhaps Thorn locked the study door only out of habit? He certainly had very good cause of late to turn the lock whenever they were alone together in a room. Or perhaps he was exercising caution? Thorn was well aware of Arthur’s reluctance to share even a chaste kiss unless a door was not simply closed but locked as well. Even if Thorn’s plan for the remainder of the evening involved nothing more than conversation, Arthur wouldn’t want to leave Thorn’s town house without a kiss good night.

  Yes, that could be it. Not fifteen minutes ago, he had told Thorn over supper about his trying day at the office. Thorn had even remarked that he appeared worn out.

  Reassured, he picked up the two teacups and turned from the cabinet situated along the wall. With a wicked glint in his gray eyes that Arthur recognized all too well, Thorn stepped from the closed door.

  So much for his hopes that Thorn had anything benign on his mind tonight.

  He didn’t fight to hold back the sigh. Quite the opposite. A part of him hoped Thorn would pick up on the hint.

  The expectant smile pulling the corners of Thorn’s full lips dimmed a fraction. The barest of hesitations hitched his long, loose stride.

  Guilt stabbed into Arthur. Ah hell. You’re an arse, Barrington.

  “Thank you,” Thorn murmured, stopping at his side to take the proffered cup.

  Arthur tipped his head. They stared at each other for a moment as a debate raged inside of him. Damnation, he was tired. He just wanted to relax and spend time with Thorn. To simply be with him. But how did one say “no, thank you” to a lover intent on seduction? Thorn did not deal with rejection well, and that was putting it mildly.

  The intensity of Thorn’s gaze, so filled with love and devotion, settled the matter for him.

  Arthur forced his legs to take him past the navy wingback chair. His back hadn’t even touched the couch when Thorn sat next to him, so close his thigh grazed Arthur’s. Awareness pricked the skin beneath his trousers, but the lethargy weighing down his shoulders quickly dampened the tingle of desire before it could pool in his groin. Yet no doubt within a handful of minutes, his lover would have the matter well in hand. Literally. And Arthur would leave the town house ten times more exhausted than when he’d entered it.

  He took a sip of tea to cover his heavy sigh and contemplated the fire in the gray marble hearth. The heat from the steady flames easily reached the couch, seeping through his trousers to warm his shins. A potent lure to give in and let his eyelids drift closed, but he refused to allow himself to deliver that insult to Thorn.

  When he and Thorn had first arrived back in London from their short holiday at Thorn’s country estate in Yorkshire, there had been quiet evenings interspersed with the more…vigorous ones. When he could simply enjoy Thorn’s company. The perfect balance of searing passion and comfortable companionship. So perfect, in fact, they had reduced his lingering worries to mere nothingness. Yet lately when he met Thorn in the evenings, all the man wanted was to indulge in carnal pleasures. Even when in view of Thorn’s servants, the heavy undercurrent rode behind his lover’s every word, every glance, every discreetly cloaked touch.

  You’re a damn prude for complaining about it.

  Yes, indeed. His lover was a beautiful man—all lean, graceful lines and with flawless pale skin that begged to be kissed. A man who could suck an orgasm right out of him. Who didn’t have a single qualm about putting that sinful mouth on the most…well, sinful places on Arthur’s body. And who wanted to be with him, and only him.

  That last bit still had the power to astound Arthur.

  But why couldn’t they spend the evening together every now and then and not have it involve one or both of them removing their trousers?

  “Supper was quite nice,” Arthur said in an effort to pull his mind from his worries. “Please extend my thanks to your cook.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  Porcelain clinked against porcelain as Thorn set his cup and saucer on the floor. A hard shoulder brushed against Arthur’s as Thorn shifted, turning his upper body toward him. A hand settled on Arthur’s thigh. Long, elegant fingers which had never seen a day of honest work kneaded his muscles. Adept and gentle, approaching a soothing massage, yet Thorn’s intention could not be any clearer.

  “You seem tense.” A chunk of Thorn’s wavy black forelock hung over one eye, the ends just skimming his long lashes, but it couldn’t hide the concern that touched his gaze.

  “As I mentioned earlier, I had a long day at the office. Didn’t get as much done as I hoped.”

  “Unexpected visits from clients?”

  “No. Not today. Fenton needed assistance drafting a will. Took an ungodly amount of time.” The new secretary would be the death of him. The young man was supposed to help take some of the burden off Arthur’s desk. Likely would eventually, but given Arthur had hired him a month ago, he still needed a considerable amount of assistance. And since his other secretary didn’t do much more than keep Arthur on schedule and organize the office, Fenton needed the sort of assistance only Arthur could provide.

  Thorn’s lips thinned into a compressed line. Then that thoroughly wicked smile tipped the edges once again. He leaned closer. Warm breaths fanned Arthur’s ear. Slow and enticing, sensation rippled down his spine.

  “Well then, let me help you to relax.”

  The promise of sinful pleasures soaked Thorn’s voice, melting Arthur’s resistance as only this man could. The tingle of desire sparked anew: stronger, hotter, sharper than before, enough to temporarily mask
the weariness. He did not put up a fight when Thorn pulled his teacup from his grasp, setting it on the floor next to Thorn’s cup.

  Within the blink of an eye, the long length of Thorn’s body pressed against his side. Elegant fingers coasted up from Arthur’s knee, not pausing once on their way to their target. With unerring accuracy, Thorn located Arthur’s prick beneath the placket of his trousers and stroked the length.

  He rested his chin on Arthur’s shoulder as his hand did wonders to coax Arthur’s cock to attention. Thorn swiped his fingers over the crown, then went back to pumping the length, his palm swooshing softly over the fabric. Seeking more, Arthur spread his legs and pushed up into that wonderfully firm grip.

  “I missed you today,” Thorn whispered.

  A flush of warmth filled Arthur’s chest. Damnation, it felt good to be missed, to know there was someone out there—or more precisely, the man right beside him—who looked forward to seeing him. The edges of his lips quirked. “I just saw you this morning.”

  He felt Thorn shake his head. “You didn’t wake me when you left, so I didn’t see you.”

  Another stab of guilt to his gut. Arthur had been deliberately careful when he’d slipped out of Thorn’s bed. “It was not even dawn. Didn’t want to disturb you,” he murmured. He had a strong premonition he’d receive another invitation from Thorn to remain with him tonight, yet he pushed that worry from his mind and let the man’s hand command his complete attention.

  “And I had such plans for the morning.” All traces of a pout vanished, replaced with a sinful, confident tease. “I guess I shall just have to indulge them now.”

  One tug and Thorn had the placket undone. Arthur lifted his hips slightly, giving him access to reach inside. With an ease borne of near countless repetition, he pulled Arthur’s erect cock from the confines of his drawers and trousers.

  Hand wrapped around the base of Arthur’s prick, Thorn bent his upper body over Arthur’s lap. “Love you.” Thorn’s whisper teased the head of his cock. Light and delicate, a ghost of a caress that nevertheless tugged at his heart. Then those full lips opened wide, and Thorn took him inside his mouth.

  All thoughts that didn’t have to do with pleasure fled Arthur’s brain. Threading his fingers into Thorn’s hair, Arthur let his head fall back as he gave himself up to the decadent sensation of his lover’s mouth, let the combination of slippery wet heat and perfect suction coax the lust fully to the surface.

  He blindly coasted his other hand along Thorn’s back, the sleek muscles hard as iron beneath the fine wool coat. Up and down, Thorn bobbed along his length, each stroke somehow better than the last.

  To think not ten minutes ago he had longed for a quiet evening. What the hell had he been thinking? Definitely not about this.

  “Your mouth,” Arthur muttered, suspended somewhere between utter relaxation and pulse-pounding desire. Of their own accord, his hips moved, nudging in counterpoint to those amazing strokes. “So good.”

  Thorn’s purr reverberated against his shaft, adding another layer that nearly robbed him of all sense. In a long, slow glide, his lover pulled up to tease the highly sensitive slit with the tip of his tongue. Then he plunged back down his shaft. All the way down.

  “Ah, hell, Thorn.”

  The most luscious constriction squeezed the head of his prick. Thorn swallowed, the muscles of his throat working in a decadent massage. Arthur’s eyes rolled back. His fingers tightened in Thorn’s hair, and then he forced his hand to relax, to release the harsh hold on those silken strands. The last thing he wanted to do was cause his lover pain.

  After a moment that felt like forever yet like the blink of an eye, Thorn eased back and resumed those bone-melting strokes.

  Arthur tipped his chin down, drawn by the urge to watch those lips that felt like wet silk slide up and down his prick. Thorn’s long black lashes rested against high cheekbones flushed with desire. Each deep breath whooshed from his nose, tickling the base of Arthur’s cock, his focus absolutely and completely on lavishing Arthur with pleasure. He had been the recipient of his lover’s skilled mouth too many times to count over the past three months, yet each instance never failed to hold him in awe. And the sight alone of Thorn’s full lips wrapped around his length was enough to bring him dangerously close to a climax.

  Tingling fingertips of sensation tickled his ballocks. The muscles of his thighs drew tight to the point of trembling. Just as the release began to coil down Arthur’s spine, Thorn pulled free.

  Still crouched over Arthur’s lap, Thorn darted his tongue out to swipe his bottom lip. Unable to resist a taste, Arthur hauled the man up and kissed him, sweeping his tongue inside the hot depths of his lover’s gorgeous mouth. On a low moan, Thorn shifted even closer. What could only be an erection nudged his hip as Thorn met the strength of his kiss and then some.

  Soft, eager lips, the hint of stubble from Thorn’s day beard, the enticing spice of his cologne… Arthur could have spent the entire night on the couch with Thorn in his arms, their tongues twining together, poised right on the cusp of an orgasm. Not so close to a climax that the need to spill his seed had crossed the line of desperation, but that perfect point where lust pounded through his veins, heated his skin, every sense heightened and consumed by his lover.

  Thorn broke the kiss far before Arthur was ready. Arthur leaned forward, pursuing those lips, but Thorn shifted back just enough to stay out of reach.

  “Do you want to bend me over the arm of the couch and fuck my arse?”

  Hell, Thorn said the wickedest things. Crude and obscene and thoroughly erotic. A growl rumbled through Arthur’s chest.

  “Yes?” Thorn asked, arching a dark eyebrow as he slid his hand along Arthur’s spit-slicked shaft.

  Another tremor shook his thighs. “You damn well know the answer.” As if he could ever resist such an invitation.

  Thorn’s lips, flushed red and wet, kicked up in a confident smirk. He got to his feet and moved to the side of the couch, one hand tugging at the placket of his trousers and pushing the garment down while the other slipped into a pocket of his iron-gray waistcoat for the small glass bottle he always seemed to carry with him. He poured a generous amount of oil into his palm and set the bottle on a nearby table. Bracing his other hand on the arm of the couch, he reached back under the tails of his coat.

  The sight of his lover preparing himself without a single inhibition pushed Arthur to his feet. He quickly unbuttoned his coat and shrugged it from his shoulders, letting it fall to the couch cushions. He didn’t miss the way Thorn’s hungry gaze tracked his every movement as he made his way behind the man—his cock bobbing with each step, the need to bury himself hilt-deep in Thorn cranking higher and higher.

  Thorn bent his upper body over the thickly tufted arm and spread his legs as far as the trousers around his ankles would allow. He flicked his coat and shirttail to the side, exposing his firmly rounded arse. Glancing over his shoulder, he winked. “Have at it, Mr. Barrington.”

  Arthur’s palm itched to give him a smack on the arse. Instead he pushed his own trousers down so they hung low on his hips, far enough to prevent any unwanted oil stains. He palmed Thorn’s arse, pulling back one cheek to reveal his well-oiled hole, and pushed inside.

  Thorn let out a short grunt. Then he thrust back, fully impaling himself on Arthur’s prick. “Fuck me, Arthur. Fuck me hard.”

  The last three months had convinced him that when Thorn asked for hard, he wanted exactly that. No consideration. Yet Arthur held still for the space of three heartbeats, allowed his lover at least a moment for his body to adjust to the intrusion. Then he shifted his grip, hands splaying over Thorn’s hips to get a firmer hold on him.

  “I fully intend to.” The words were a growl. He pulled almost all the way out, savoring the slick glide, and then snapped forward and picked up a hard, driving rhythm.

  “Yes, yes.” Thorn moane
d, bucking back, lengthening each thrust.

  Grabbing Thorn’s shoulders, he slammed harder. Thorn took it all, begged for more. Hell, Thorn made him feel like a savage. Primal and base. Unable to resist the need to completely dominate him. To fuck him so deeply the man would be forever branded as his own.

  The release once again began coiling down Arthur’s spine, drawing his ballocks up tight. Desperate not to come off before Thorn, he tilted his hips, changing the angle of his strokes, trying to peg the man’s gland.

  Thorn’s gasping moans grew more frantic, the sounds hitching in his throat. Arthur leaned over Thorn’s back and slipped a hand inside his lover’s coat pocket, fingers finding the soft linen.

  He had just wrapped the handkerchief over the head of Thorn’s cock when the man let out a hoarse groan. His body clutched Arthur’s length in time to the liquid heat splashing against the fabric.

  Thorn’s orgasm sparked his own. Searing pleasure flooded Arthur’s senses. He set his teeth against Thorn’s shoulder to stifle the shout as he climaxed, his hips sputtering to a halt.

  He gave himself a moment to catch his breath, then tightened his hold on Thorn’s waist and straightened, taking his lover with him. Thorn sagged against him, lax and boneless, allowing Arthur to hold him upright. He nuzzled the side of Thorn’s neck, dragged his lips past the starched white cravat, over his jaw and to his ear. “Kiss me,” he murmured, needing to feel those beautiful lips beneath his own.

  “I fully intend to,” Thorn replied, the pleased, sated smile clear in his voice.

  Thorn turned, his arms wrapping around Arthur’s waist. Their equal heights made them perfectly matched, and all Thorn needed to do was tilt his chin slightly to the side to claim Arthur’s mouth.

  Soft and slow, with just a hint of tongue, Thorn kissed him. He had never been much for kissing before Thorn, the urge for that intimacy simply not there. Likely a byproduct of his one and only other relationship. Yet with Thorn, he could never get enough. And the sounds the man made, those little rumbles of air in the back of his throat…