Once the delicious sensation faded, he felt drained, completely satiated, and he remained where he was until his heart settled down to its regular beat, and his breathing returned to normal.
A knock on the door brought him back to earth. He quickly rearranged his clothing and covered his stained breeches with a linen napkin. As expected, it was Jacques, his manservant.
"Your mother has a guest for lunch today and wishes you to join them,” Jacques said, as began to gather up the breakfast dishes.
"Who's the guest?"
"Lord Whittlesea, your aunt's husband. He arrived very late last night."
"Whittlesea? I wonder what he's doing here,” Antoine said, pretending complete ignorance of his uncle's visit. “Is my aunt with him?"
"Apparently not. I understand his lordship came to Paris on business and was taken ill. When your mother found out, she had him brought here in order that he may receive proper care and be able to recover before returning home to England."
"He was all alone when this illness beset him?"
"So I am told, my lord."
* * * *
Antoine wasn't the least surprised when Whittlesea failed to put in an appearance at lunch. According to Antoine's mother, his lordship was still feeling unwell and had asked to be excused. Antoine didn't know if the man was genuinely ill or if he were hiding in his room, wondering how much his sister-in-law knew, and praying his secret would not be divulged. But, suspecting the latter to be the case, Antoine murmured something about it being unfortunate Francine was not there to care for her husband, then listened while his mother updated him on a number of new scandals involving various mutual friends.
After returning to his rooms, Antoine wandered to and fro, picking things up and putting them down again, wishing the hours away. His nerves were in tatters, rendering him unable to concentrate on anything except the unfulfilled ache in his cock and a burning desire to see Honey again. In an effort to calm himself, he poured a small amount of cognac into a crystal snifter, but while the strong liquor burned his throat and warmed his belly, it did nothing to cool his ardor or curb his impatience.
He thought about ordering his carriage in the hope he could fill the intervening hours by finding some form of distraction elsewhere. He could visit one of the cafés and spend time with his friends. Or perhaps an hour or two at the house on la rue Charles V would relax him sufficiently to endure this tedious but necessary period of waiting.
But before he could make up his mind as to what he would do, the most marvelous idea dropped into his head. Instead of wasting time with friends or the dubious pleasures of madame's girls and remain awake most of the night, why not go to the house on la rue Violette now and await Honey's arrival?
Suddenly, he was in a froth of impatience and indecision. What to do first? What to wear? With it already late in the afternoon, there wasn't a moment to lose. In another hour or two it would be dark, and he wanted to be there first. He rang the bell for Jacques.
A knock on the door preceded his manservant's entry into the room. “You rang, my lord?"
"Yes, Jacques. I wish to go out. My dark blue velvet, I think."
By the time it was fully dark and candles had been lit throughout the house, Antoine was dressed in his new blue velvet jacket and cream breeches, and his wig had been freshly powdered. He was now ready to venture forth into what promised to be the most exciting night of his life.
When he reached la rue Violette, the house was in darkness, but the man he employed to live there and attend to the comfort of his guests answered the door the instant he'd made his presence known with a quick rat-a-tat-tat with the brass knocker.
The servant bowed and bade him enter with a soft, “My lord."
"Is he here yet, Thomas?"
"Not as yet, my lord."
Thomas picked up a silver tray from a nearby table and followed Antoine into the salon. “A glass of wine to soothe the nerves, perhaps?"
"An excellent idea."
At one time, Thomas had worked for madame as her majordomo. But when Thomas slipped on the ice-covered front steps, broke his right leg and was left with a permanent limp, madame told him his services were no longer needed and threw him out. Antoine knew nothing about the man's dismissal until he found Thomas begging on a street corner, and demanded to know what he was doing there.
Horrified to hear of madame's ill-treatment of a longtime, loyal servant whose age and disability prevented him from finding other employment, Antoine had taken pity on Thomas’ predicament by entrusting him with the care of this house—a step that had proved beneficial to them both. In exchange for a home, Thomas had proved himself capable and trustworthy, both in the care of Antoine's property and the occasional guest. Most important of all, Antoine knew he could count on Thomas’ discretion. No matter who came into this house or what happened beneath this roof, Thomas would never breathe a word to a single soul.
In exchange for the glass of wine, Antoine placed a small leather bag of coins on the tray. “This should be enough to cover the extra food for our guest and any other expenses he may have, and I put a little extra in there so you may purchase yourself a new pair of boots,” he added with a smile as he glanced down at Thomas’ cracked and broken footwear. “It's almost winter now, and it won't do for a man of your age to walk about the streets like a barefoot urchin. You will probably catch la grippe."
Thomas’ eyes looked extra-bright for a moment, but then he looked down at the floor. “Thank you, my lord. You are too kind."
"Loyalty and honesty should always be rewarded,” Antoine replied virtuously. “And since our new guest will likely be here for some considerable time, you need to be properly garbed. There should be enough in there for you to purchase new breeches, along with a new shirt and vest and whatever else you may require. You should also stock up on provisions. Buy whatever our guest desires. If you need more money, you must tell me."
Antoine took a sip of his wine, and as Thomas returned to his duties, he heard what sounded like a visitor at the front door, demanding entrance.
There was the mumble of voices and then the door to the salon opened and Thomas announced, “A M'sieu Honey has arrived, my lord."
Honey managed to take one small step across the threshold before he hesitated and stared at Antoine in obvious surprise.
"I remember you,” he said, depositing the cloth-covered bundle he carried on the floor. “Antoine, correct? I believe we met a few nights ago at a certain establishment in Montmartre."
Antoine swallowed his feelings of impatience, along with a little more of his wine. “Two nights ago to be precise."
"Ah, yes.” Honey smiled and ran the tip of his tongue slowly along his upper lip. “I remember you very well, mon ami. It was your first time."
Honey had on the same tan breeches and white tunic he was wearing the first time they met. The casual outfit suited him, emphasizing both his male beauty and his undeniable sexual appeal. Antoine felt his knees weaken and his dick stand up to attention as he returned the other man's smile. “But, hopefully, not the last."
Honey shrugged and made a frustrated gesture with his hands. “There is nothing I would like more. But at this moment, I am not what you might call the master of my own fate. My life is in complete disruption, and I have no idea what is to happen next. I do not even know what I am doing here. Unless, perhaps, you have had some hand in the strange happenings of these past two days?"
"The man who brought you here didn't explain?"
"No.” Honey shook his head, and Antoine noticed the young man looked bone-tired as well as confused. “He came to the club last night and said he'd come to take his lordship to stay with members of his wife's family who would care for him properly and where he would be more comfortable. Later, he returned and took me to the attic of a private house where he said I must remain hidden until new arrangements could be made for me. This evening, the same man came to see me again. He told me that I now had a new patron and then he
brought me here.” Honey's smile was tentative as he took a cautious step in Antoine's direction. “Please, Antoine, tell me. Is it you who will be my new patron? If not, then who?"
"Would you like it to be me?” Antoine's cock literally ached with the need to feel Honey's magic touch.
"I would like it very much.” Honey twisted his lips and shivered. “I cannot, in all truth, say I wish to continue in the service of the Englishman."
"You don't like his lordship?"
"Not at all.” Honey shivered again and moved a little closer to Antoine. “His lordship is a most unpleasant person. Slightly mad, too, I suspect. He has no interest whatsoever in making love. All he wants is for someone to whip him and urinate on him, then have them insert strange objects into his rectum. I do not enjoy doing such disgusting things. I promised myself that once we reached London, I would find the opportunity to run away."
Antoine knew he shouldn't ask. Honey might sound and act like a gentleman, but he was a servant and a whore, a man of the lowest possible class. Nevertheless Antoine had to know. “Did you enjoy yourself when you were with me?"
"With you, Antoine, it was wonderful.” Honey's smile lit up his face until his golden skin glowed like sunshine. He moved closer, so much closer Antoine could smell his essence and feel his heat, and the ache in Antoine's dick became unbearable. “The other night, I know it was your first time with another man and so you are completely inexperienced in this regard. Perhaps what I am about to say will sound strange, and indeed perhaps it is, but from that first moment when I saw you enter the salon at the club, I felt a certain ... je ne sais quoi. Almost as if I'd been waiting for you all my life, and suddenly there you were. I think it was the same for you, ne c'est pas?"
It had been exactly that way for him. “Perhaps. I don't remember.” Antoine's mouth felt dry and his nerves were tighter than violin strings. He didn't know if it had truly been that way for Honey, too, or if his words were merely flattery, and if it was the latter, he didn't want to know. He just wanted Honey to cease this ridiculous conversation and proceed with what they both craved.
Honey smoothed a hand down Antoine's belly and gently squeezed his cock. “Would you like me to remind you?"
Antoine clenched his hands to stop himself from ejaculating prematurely. “More than anything else I can imagine."
Honey laughed softly, a delicious sensation that heated Antoine's blood and made his heart beat faster. “Very well. But first, I would suggest we lock the door."
"Lock it if you wish. But I can assure you it will be quite unnecessary. We will not be disturbed."
"In that case, why don't you sit down in the chair over by the window and make yourself comfortable."
Antoine settled himself in the chair, and Honey knelt on the floor before him. Leaning forward, Honey pressed his lips lightly against Antoine's and, at the same time, he unfastened Antoine's breeches and began to gently caress his shaft. “You are already very hard, mon ami,” he observed. “Much too hard for the leisurely lovemaking I would like to share with you, so rather than spoil our pleasure, we must attend to this fellow's needs first."
Honey took Antoine's penis into his mouth and began to suck him, and for a moment, Antoine thought he might faint from pure pleasure. This was even better than the first time because now he knew what to expect. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, determined to hold himself back long enough to enjoy what Honey was doing to him and to allow the wonderful tension he felt to build gradually.
Honey started to suck him a little harder. But then Honey stopped what he was doing, urged Antoine forward on the chair and pulled his breeches down to his ankles. As he resumed the sucking, he added to Antoine's pleasure by squeezing and fondling his balls until Antoine began to emit small groans of excitement. He was on the edge. One more hard suck, and he would explode.
But before that could happen, Honey again released him and moved back. Antoine wanted to scream with frustration. “Please, please don't stop."
"If you'll stand up, I can make it even better for you."
Antoine wasn't sure he could contain his orgasm, let alone stand. His legs were trembling like leaves in the wind. But, with Honey's help, he struggled to his feet, and, as Honey pushed the chair away, Antoine leaned against a nearby cabinet and grasped the edges for support. “Please...” he muttered. “Please..."
As Honey resumed sucking his cock, Antoine felt Honey's fingers move wetly up his crack and begin to explore his hole. First one finger moved inside, then it was joined by a second, the two digits pushing and stretching, then they began pumping in and out in tandem with Honey's sucking, a delicious sensation which seemed to grow stronger by the second.
Antoine tried to hold back, he truly did. However, he was no match for Honey's clever tricks, and as his juices burst forth, draining him of everything, including his ability to remain upright, his legs let him down and the next thing he knew, he was beside Honey on the floor.
"You feel better, yes?” Honey purred as he began nibbling Antoine's ear and laving it with his tongue. “How did you like that?” he inquired a moment later after his inquisitive tongue had delved beyond the outer rim of Antoine's ear and made Antoine shiver with excitement.
To Antoine's surprise, his ears were apparently every bit as sensitive as his cock. This latest trick of Honey's had brought his rod back to life, demanding attention, and he wanted more. Now!
He fumbled with the opening of Honey's breeches. He wanted to suck and feel, too, and show his magnificent new lover some of the same kind of pleasure he'd been so willing to share.
But Honey laughed and pushed Antoine's hand away. “It's much too soon, mon ami. Better that we wait a little while. Loving is a serious matter that should be relished and enjoyed, not rushed. Much better we take some refreshment to restore our energy and a little wine to help us relax."
"You're hungry?” Antoine demanded.
Honey nodded. “To be honest, yes. I haven't eaten since yesterday evening."
Antoine was feeling a tad peckish himself. “The man who brought you here didn't give you food or drink?"
"He brought me a jug of water after he took me to the attic room and promised to come back with food. He must have forgotten. But it didn't matter. I felt so nervous and upset, I could not have eaten so much as a crumb."
"But you feel better now?"
Honey's dark brown eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes. Thanks to you, mon chèr ami, I am feeling quite myself again."
After rearranging his clothing, Antoine rang the bell for Thomas and asked him to bring food and more wine.
In what seemed like no time at all, Thomas returned with several platters containing cold roasted chicken, an assortment of cheeses, a baguette, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a large carafe of red wine. “Bon appétit, messieurs," the elderly manservant said as he bowed low and backed out of the room.
Honey snatched up a chicken leg and quickly devoured the succulent meat, then he reached for a second piece. “Mon dieu, Antoine, this is so good, and I am so very hungry. Please excuse my terrible table manners."
Antoine leaned back in his chair and watched Honey eat. He was fascinated by the way Honey's flashing white teeth and mobile pink tongue stripped the flesh from the bones in so expert a fashion that not a shred was wasted. There was also something so deliciously primeval about the way Honey ate, Antoine could imagine him hunting for his food in the forest and then returning to a cave to cook and eat his kill.
The thought sent a shiver of sexual awareness sliding down Antoine's back and he poured himself a glass of wine in the hope it would calm his nerves. He had never wanted anyone with the same intensity he wanted Honey, and he'd never had a lover who could push him to such heights or reward him with such satisfaction.
The women of la rue Charles V and all the dreadful rituals and devices were an embarrassing memory he could not forget quickly enough. After experiencing Honey's gentle hands and mouth, it was difficult to believe he could have been
so cruel and wicked. Of course, he had been so dreadfully frustrated there had been times when he couldn't have stopped himself even if he'd tried.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing important."
Honey reached across the table and touched Antoine's hand, then he picked up the last piece of cheese, popped it into his mouth and leaned back with a sigh. “There. Now I feel better."
Antoine pointed to the carafe. “Another glass of wine?"
"No. However, I would like to change my clothes if that is permissible. I must take care of what I am wearing for those times when I would like to look my best."
"Those are the only clothes you have?"
"I also have what I call my house clothes."
Antoine had a dim recollection of torn knee-breeches and a disreputable grey shirt. “You mean those rags you were wearing while you were tending to his lordship's needs at the club?"
"They're old but quite clean. Perfectly suitable for indoors."
"No. Absolutely not. The only place they're suitable for is the nearest rag bag. I can't believe his lordship would allow a servant of his to dress so ... so poorly.” Antoine took Honey's hand in his. “Promise me that you will throw those dreadful things away, and tomorrow I will have my tailor attend and measure you for new clothes."
Honey frowned. “You do not have to do this. I am quite content with what I have."
"Perhaps so, but I am not content,” Antoine said, gripping Honey's hand firmly. “I am not suggesting you should have clothes fit for the king's court, just a few more items. Better quality materials, and a bigger selection from which to choose."
"If that's what you wish. But may I put on my old things, just for tonight?"
"Tonight, you have my permission to do whatever you wish,” Antoine purred as Honey began stroking the palm of his hand.
A Taste Of Honey Page 4