Damon Snow and the Nocturnal Lessons

by Olivia Helling

  I drew myself out of my chair, pulled his chair out enough so that I could slide between his knees. “The lad was lying on a bed, mind, but this will do,” I said. Byrne wasn’t dressed, so all I had to do was slip his gown upward until it revealed his prize.

  His cock wasn’t as stiff as Kendall’s had been by this point, but it was stiffer than it had been of late. It lagged to the right. I brushed my lips against the tip. His cock responded, jerking upward.

  Byrne hissed. “And how is this unspeakable? You’ve done this many times.”

  “So has the lad,” I whispered, letting my breath slide over his cock. It jerked again, gaining length and width. “Many clients pay us to do this. But it wasn’t him who did it. It was the man.”

  “And that…” Byrne broke off as I brushed lips along his length.

  “I’ve never known a client to do this,” I said. “And I’ve never known this act to be so… gentle. Almost like the soft patter of rain.”

  “I’ve never enjoyed rain as much as this,” Byrne said.

  I chuckled, then took the head of his cock between my lips and ran my tongue along until it nudged the little knot between his head and shaft. I brought my hands to his bare thighs to hold him still, to hold myself up, and Byrne liked that even better.

  Slowly, slowly, even as my own cock began to notice my activities, I took his cock into my mouth. Not as deeply as I was capable, for this wasn’t the same thing. He wasn’t fucking my mouth. I was… oh, who knew what I was doing. So when I had gone far enough, I slowly, slowly, achingly slowly drew my mouth back up.

  Byrne hissed, his thigh quivering. He wasn’t flagging anymore. I ran my tongue along that long shaft of his. While no one quite compared to what I had hanging between my legs, Byrne was respectable in size. I had seen enough cocks to know that.

  I repeated the action, all while I sensed Byrne trying not to moan. I felt him push against my hands as he struggled not to speed me up. I remained agonisingly slow, as much punishing him as pleasuring him.

  I slowly took him into my mouth again and again and again, all while Byrne quivered under me. My mouth filled, I chuckled, and he thrilled at the sensation of my voice. I had never known such power with a client. He was like butter in my hands, melting through my fingers.

  I could have kept this pace for hours, ignoring the demands of my own cock. Hours and hours, slowly but ever so steadily building him up until he exploded into my mouth. And I would easily swallow it down, or let it cover my face…

  My gut tightened at the thought, and my cock said what a good idea. Some men preferred that, although this didn’t seem to be quite that moment. Perhaps another time.

  “Oh,” I said, leaving his cock for a moment. Byrne whimpered. His foot slid on the floor. “He also did this.”

  I removed my hand from his thigh and traced the wrinkles in his ball sac. Byrne gasped, and his hips thrust forward, which brought the whole chair screeching forward.

  I gave him a firm tap with my other hand. “Stop that,” I said. “I’m afraid you’re in my thrall, and there will be none of that. You will only receive what I choose to do, do you understand?”

  “Everything that man of yours did?” Byrne asked.

  “Something like,” I said. “And you’ll have to sit there and take it, for you are my boy and you are here at my pleasure.”

  Byrne laughed, then gasped, as I took his head again. Something harder now. I sped up my rhythm, and between my lips and tongue and hand on his balls, gave him no breath in which to protest.

  As if he would.

  But, and with this my cock agreed, one of the few things we agreed on, it was very gratifying to hear Byrne’s moans cut off again and again as if I poured so much pleasure into him that each second brought a new gasp.

  That purring lust I felt inside of Price and Kendall, now it rolled in Byrne’s belly. Perhaps mine as well, although I couldn’t feel it as keenly. Byrne’s lust positively ached to touch me, as if it might die if I stopped touching Byrne for even a moment. It needed me, and I needed it, and… and…

  “You know what they did then?” I asked.

  Byrne made a keening sound. His hands went to my hair, but he didn’t push me back down.

  I pulled away, while Byrne made another longing sound. “You can’t leave me here,” Byrne said.

  I went to his night stand, pulled open the drawer and smiled. Of course, it would still be there. Hopeful minx. I glanced back at Byrne, considering, before removing the bottle. It would be awkward, but I didn’t have the patience to haul him onto the bed. The chair would work. Fortunately, it had no arms.

  I tugged off my pantaloons and shoes, but left on my stockings and everything else. Byrne watched me, his eyes misty and the corner of his mouth kindly smiling as he observed my cock. He saw me pick up the bottle and his mouth opened in a gasp. I held up his hand to pour the oil in and then set the bottle next to his breakfast plate.

  I straddled his thighs and pressed my chest against his. I brought his fingers to my arse, and whispered to him, “The man took the oil onto his fingers, onto his cock, and then he pressed them into the boy, stretched him as slowly as one would a virgin on her wedding night. If her husband were particularly kind.”

  Byrne understood. His other arm attempted to crush me against him, although it was my own embrace that kept me there, and his other hand went to the crease between and slowly circled my entrance. I whimpered, I couldn’t help it, and I didn’t even curse myself for it, for Byrne chuckled at me. Our cocks were pinned between us.

  “Turnabout is fair play,” Byrne said. He pressed against my entrance for a long moment. I almost squirmed. Then his finger entered me. I breathed in relief, and held onto him for dear life.

  I had been prepared many times before. On Sunday nights, before the festivities, all of us mollies were expected to be prepared or suffer the consequences. In the frenzy, few slowed down enough for this. Other times… well, I was just eager to get it over with. With my nature, I was able to take more than anyone else could, with less preparation.

  This time, though, it was like each moment stretched forever. Each prod, each exploration, brought me gasping into Byrne’s shoulder. He held me there, my arms wrapped around him, as Byrne slowly loosened me up.

  I couldn’t take much more of this, but as he said, turnabout was fair play.

  “You’re sticky,” Byrne whispered to me.

  “You — you have oil — oil-slicked fingers inside of me,” I said. Byrne wasn’t making it easy to hold a conversation.

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said, and I didn’t have the mind to decipher it.

  “P-please,” I said, and I didn’t even have the wherewithal to feel pathetic over it.

  “Please what?” Byrne asked.

  I laughed. This was a good day for impossibilities. I said the same thing that Kendall had. “I need your cock inside of me.”

  Byrne groaned so loudly that I thought he had climaxed just at those words. I thrust my hips forward to check, and he groaned again, but no, he had just really enjoyed me saying that. Enjoy it, I thought to him, because it likely will never happen again.

  I loosened my grip, and it was easy enough to move within Byrne’s. His fingers left me. I doused Byrne’s cock with more oil, rubbing vigorously until Byrne almost cried out for not being able to thrust into my hand.

  I rose above his lap, and with one hand guiding him, slid down onto his cock. I gasped, and swore an oath. Something Whitechapel-like, but Byrne was a little too distracted to lecture me.

  For that moment, I was convinced that I needed him plunging inside of me more than I needed air. I lifted myself up, and plunged in again, to the hilt. Hard enough. Not fast enough. I could never keep his cock in position to thrust that way. I rolled my pelvis forward, and his cock moved inside me, and I groaned. Oh yes, that was the way.

  I was done with slow and gentle. I needed to feel, really feel it, fast and hard, and from the way Byrne groaned, the way
his lust responded to each movement of my hips, he was done with slow too.

  I set the pace, but it was never fast enough. Like a lordling who had started to race his friends on horseback, starting at a walk, before moving at a trot, then a canter, and full out canter, and knowing, knowing in his gut it wasn’t fast enough. He wouldn’t outrace his friend. He must move faster.

  Byrne’s bollocks might not be slapping against my arse, but it still made me gasp and moan. Never scream, which was good, I supposed, although I didn’t bloody care if Byrne’s entire staff heard me.

  I just needed to keep driving my hips forward. Feeling him inside of me. Feeling the warmth starting in my stomach, as if I had a terrible itch there that I had just started to scratch.

  Then it was upon me, climax. Just like the night before, behind the curtain, but this time was better, for my cock rubbed against Byrne’s stomach, and his cock was so deep inside of me as I rode him, as I jerked my hips forward even harder and faster. That feeling in my belly just kept getting stronger and stronger, until it suddenly just was. My body tingled. I burst out with another oath, and then stopped, gasping. I collapsed forward onto Byrne.

  Byrne held me against him, and I still felt his cock, hard and throbbing, inside of me. I gasped against him, and he stroked my back, even though he must have desired nothing more than to flip me over to finish himself off. If only he had the strength to do that anymore.

  I pulled myself up, ran a hand through my hair, and gathered my strength back up to continue rocking against him. My legs quivered underneath me.

  “Shh, shh,” Byrne said. He tried to pull me back against him.

  I shook my head. “You haven’t finished.”

  “Yes, I have,” Byrne said.

  “No,” I said, for I could see how much will it took to remain so languid.

  “I saw you arrive,” Byrne said. “I never have before. You have a wicked mouth.”

  “Yes, and I curse a lot too,” I said. “Just let me—”

  “Cuddle you against my chest? Yes, all right,” he said. He pulled me against him again.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said, but didn’t tear myself away.

  “There now, I’m starting to flag,” Byrne said.

  “How can you smile?” I couldn’t see his expression, but I could hear it in his voice.

  “Because I’ve never seen you come before. I must be the only one in the entire world.”

  “I didn’t know you were a cherry-picker,” I said. “I’m no virgin.”

  “You’re not a virgin,” Byrne said. “I know. I know that very well.”

  “I have before,” I said.

  “Perhaps,” Byrne said.

  “You are annoying.”

  “So you wrote.”

  Byrne’s cock slipped out of me, although I knew he hadn’t come. How long had it been since Byrne had reached satisfaction? “I thought the naughty part was the whole point of the exercise,” I said. “So why not allow me to finish you?”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Byrne said. “You still grasped it, though.”

  My eyebrows furrowed. “Your cock?”

  “Ha! No, not my cock,” Byrne said. “The point. Aiding those two. Believing that they were in love.”

  “Why would you care?” I asked. “There’s nothing in it for you…”

  Except that I had managed to excite him — voluntarily, even, as if I had orchestrated this entire thing. So why hadn’t he let me finish him?

  “Did it feel pleasant? Watching them?”

  I burrowed my head into his shoulder.

  “Damon?”

  “It felt lonely,” I said. Leaning against the wall, with only my own hand to touch me. Those two had had something more. Something I could never touch.

  Byrne stroked my back. Was this what Price had done to Kendall when I couldn’t see? It was calming, soothing…

  I pulled back and stumbled on my feet. “You’re probably tired,” I said. Too tired to remain in the chair.

  “I don’t know if I can stand,” Byrne said. He watched my knees shiver. “I don’t know if you can hold me up.”

  “I can do a lot of things,” I said. I went to his wash basin and dampened the cloth. I really had come against his stomach. His nightshirt had gone transparent because of my seed. I wiped off his cock and his hand, found another night shirt for him. My legs had recovered their strength enough by then, or through sheer force of will, for me to help him to the bed and replace the nightshirt.

  Seeing him safely into bed, only then did I start to take care of my own appearance.

  “You are so kind to me,” Byrne said. “For once.”

  “I should be,” I said, joking. “I’m your heir.”

  “Not yet,” he said.

  I hurled the cloth down. Of course not. When had I actually believed that he would follow through on his bet? I found my pantaloons and pulled them on, and replaced my shoes.

  “Damon. Damon!” Byrne called.

  I stopped, and turned back to him, my head tilted forward with a frown.

  “This was merely the first lesson,” Byrne said.

  “Lesson?”

  “Yes. I did say,” Byrne said. “There’s still a lot more that I want to teach you.”

  “What could you possibly teach me?” I asked. “I already know how to suck your cock.”

  He looked disappointed. “But this won’t be the last encounter. You never thought a man could love a molly, did you? Or even another man. For each new entry in this journal, you’ll have to learn about another patron and then write what you learn about love.”

  “About love?” I looked around the room, as if something I saw would make all this make sense.

  “And then — then, I swear to you, I will make you my heir.”

  “Are you pulling a funny?” I demanded. “What could I possibly learn?”

  “A lot,” Byrne said. “And you won’t know until you try.”

  “So what… I bring in this journal to you once a week and you’ll grade me?” I asked.

  “Only when you’ve learned something new about love,” Byrne said. “And no, even I don’t know what you’ll learn. But it will be important, I assure you.”

  I wished I hadn’t tossed the towel away, for I wished to throw it then.

  “I’ll even pay you for each journal entry,” Byrne said.

  “On top of my usual fee,” I said.

  “Of course,” Byrne said. “I know you.”

  He thought he did. But if he were willing to pay extra for me to carry tales to him… why not? I nodded.

  “Go into my dressing room to the display table. Inside, there’s a small black box. Fetch it for me.”

  I did as he asked, and set the box into hands.

  He opened it, revealing a pair of silver cuff links. “These are for you.”

  My eyes widened. They were the most expensive gift I had ever received. They must have cost a good sack of pounds.

  “I don’t keep coin around generally,” Byrne said. “But these will look good on you. At least until you pawn them.”

  I opened my mouth to protest. But Byrne did know me. What good were silver cuff links to me? Stolen, most likely. I closed my mouth. Even so, I knew they wouldn’t end up at the pawn brokers.

  “So this next lesson,” I said and took the box.

  Byrne smiled.

  Can’t wait to find out what Damon Snow does next?

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  http://oliviahelling.com/damon-snow-2

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  Coming Soon:

  God Cursed

  “I should have run faster.”

  Cain, god of death, was devoured by those who were supposed to worship him. His blood made them into vampires. In his grief, his twin brother declared that vampires chose to be vampires because of the evil in their hearts. All vampires must be destroyed.

  Seraphin plunged into hell when Alexis turned him into a vampire against his will. He must be evil, if he is a vampire. His suffering at Alexis’ hands is his only comfort — it is his punishment for becoming everything he was taught to revile. Even after attracting the vampire hunters’ attention at the minister of trade’s ball, Seraphin is denied the solace of a righteous death. Alexis rescues him, fleeing to far away Venezia for a fresh, but Seraphin knows it will be more of the same.

  But then Adrian’s Blessed Child pops out of the canals and into his lap. Kayto, a naive but lascivious blessed creature made in the vision of his feline god, refuses to leave Seraphin alone. Seraphin knew he shouldn’t have fed him. As much as Seraphin is drawn to him, he can’t allow himself to tarnish such a divine figure. But how can he protect Kayto, when he couldn’t even protect himself?

  Find out more at http://oliviahelling.com/god-cursed

  About Olivia Helling

  Olivia Helling doesn't believe in love at first sight... but maybe, just maybe, it blossoms along a few books. That is, after all, how she fell in love with her husband.

  Olivia writes about the darkness and flaws from within, the struggle with self-confidence, self-perception and fear of failure, and fantasy and historical worlds that refuse to allow love between men. So be warned: happily ever after is not guaranteed.

  The protagonist and love interest don't always end up together by the end of one book. But when they finally come together, their love will be a thing of beauty.