It was hardly the time to mention that he’d been sent down from school for writing an examination paper unfavorably comparing the believability of the Bible to Grimm’s fairy tales. “I have read it, and there’s no mention of dinosaurs, either, so they can’t possibly be real, I suppose?”
Joachim grumbled. “They didn’t have archaeologists in Biblical times to look for the bones.”
“No. But perhaps there will be an entire branch of science dedicated to studying the ethereal world in two hundred years.”
“But if ghosts are real, why can’t I see them?”
“Isn’t that the entire purpose of this drive we’ve taken today? Tell me—if you see spirits, or ghosts, or whatever this thing is we’re hunting tonight, will you be honest and tell the world about it? I do warn you; it’s detrimental to one’s career aspirations in academia.”
“I won’t see anything, but if I did, then I’d be obliged to be honest about it.”
Ainsley wished Violet wasn’t under the table so he could reach out and put his leg between Cockburn’s. See if he was willing to touch back. Not so easy with a shoe and a hip.
Cockburn placed his knife and fork across his now empty plate and settled back in the bench. “You have done me a favor by driving me up here, Dr. Graham, so I’ll take this as seriously as I can manage. Tell me about your experience with the...thing.”
There was no hint of unkindness in the Englishman’s lovely eyes now, and Ainsley was lost in them for a moment before Joachim looked away with another of his darling flushes.
“I have no idea what this is other than its presence makes you feel as though you’ve slipped inside an icy cold bog and you’ll never get out.” He gave a full-body shake. “Right. So here’s my proposal. We head out and set up our camp for the night. It won’t be dark for hours. I’m exhausted—I had very little sleep last night and I’d like a nap. And then perhaps we’ll come back for another drink and you can see the thing that the locals are all scared of?”
The plan was to shimmy off those ill-fitting trousers of Joachim’s and get rid of the ache in his balls, but nap sounded much less lecherous.
“Perhaps we ought to go for a walk?” Joachim checked his wristwatch. “It’s only half six. It won’t be dark until close to ten, will it?”
Three and a half hours might be long enough to rid Ainsley of this desire. Might.
“No worries. A stroll might help us relax.”
Because, honestly, Joachim looked on edge and that was no good.
He might get distracted and use his teeth, and that wasn’t what Ainsley had in mind.
Not even close.
Chapter Nine
Joachim
Ainsley didn’t even fucking deny it.
Bloody Hugh.
Why was Joachim being such a sulky child about that? Because he was going to wring his own neck if he didn’t stop coming off as a petulant brat. What did it matter? He wasn’t looking for any sort of relationship with Ainsley Graham any more than Graham was interested in one. The Scot was friendly and absurdly handsome, but still angling for sex as though he hadn’t spent the previous night with another man.
Besides, his strong belief in ghosts was unsettling.
Ainsley didn’t admit to a belief in spirits in a casual way that wouldn’t have mattered. He did it in his own brash manner. Confident that his own reputation would keep him from being ridiculed.
Said confidence was enormously attractive. It was increasingly difficult to remember why he was set against sleeping with the man. A bit of cutting off his nose to spite his own face, to be honest. What harm could it do as long as he remembered that Ainsley would never be more than a fling? Not much, but it would take care of the desperate need to work the desire out of his system.
It had been much, much too long since he’d had any release with another man.
He gave Ainsley the lead and followed him out of the pub and back to the car. They drove perhaps a mile and then, tucked behind laburnum was a hedge that separated...hmmm. What did it separate? It was scraggly, even though it was the end of April, and both sides of it were barren for a good twenty feet. On either end it was lush, and the far side drifted into a small wood. It was on the edge of the trees that Ainsley pulled the car and retrieved the camping supplies.
“Can I give you a hand?” he asked as Ainsley unrolled the supplies. Ainsley waved off his offer and the tent was erect in under ten minutes. It wasn’t flamboyant or plaid like everything else having to do with Graham; fatigue green with a small screen near the buttons to close it. Just large enough for two rather tall men and a dog to sleep. Piled on top of each other, most likely.
And God, wasn’t that a thought?
Not Violet—she could sleep outside. Keep watch. Not that there would be anything to keep watch over. Well, there might be inside the tent but...
Hugh. Who was he? Had Ainsley actually succeeded in his plan of seduction? Because he was prone to leering at Joachim, unlike a man who’d been well satisfied less than twenty-four hours before. He was young, though. Young men were supposed to have amazing stamina. Joachim couldn’t be sure; when he was young, he was ankle deep in mud, or rehabilitating at a veterans hospital. Neither place conducive to the sorts of sexual exploits he’d longed for.
“Come and see if this will work for you.” Ainsley’s legs slithered inside the tent.
Joachim crouched down and peered inside. It was tight, but the roof was at least five feet up, which was good. He had a phobia of small, confined spaces pressing down on his face.
And could now tick the box that he wasn’t particularly keen on medieval roads buried under a city, either.
Ainsley lay on his side, shoes and jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled up. A smattering of reddish-brown hair scattered over his arms. But no freckles. Just an expanse of creamy skin.
Taking the time to kick off his shoes, Joachim crawled inside.
Dear Lord, Ainsley was every temptation he’d ever had.
But it was only for sport. And he’d keep that idea front and center.
“Snap it shut—see if there’s enough room for us both.” There was an edge to Ainsley’s voice that caught at Joachim’s entire being.
Mouth dry but with steady hands, he closed the flap and turned around. Ainsley sat with his legs tucked under one thigh, unbuttoning his shirt. Joachim’s belly gripped with want. Ainsley’s copper nipples were small and tight, and surrounded with sparse hairs and acres of smooth skin. It was all Joachim could do to keep from brushing his thumb across one to watch it rise.
Stretching himself out long, Ainsley lifted one foot and then the other, pulled off his socks, and unbuttoned his trousers, leaving them gaping open. “I’m going to take a nap. Then we can prowl around. Is that all right with you?”
Ainsley lifted a tentative hand and rubbed his small finger under Joachim’s eye. A burst of heat made him catch his breath.
“Fine. Sleep sounds...heavenly to be quite honest.” Because he could indulge in the charade as easily as Graham.
No one had ever looked at Joachim as though he was the most delicious thing on earth quite like Ainsley did right then. But he’d be damned if he allowed his emotions to get involved. Not with this man who pranced and flirted and expected everyone to bow to his demands.
“But, can I ask? Did you find your Hugh last night? In Edinburgh?” Shite. That didn’t sound like he was jealous, did it? Because he wasn’t. Couldn’t be.
“Hugh? Er, no. Barley said he hadn’t been round for a while.” Ainsley shrugged and Joachim bit back the pleased smile that wanted to dance. Because Ainsley’s vision was locked on his lips in a very heartening way.
“Make yourself comfortable.” Ainsley’s high, arched brows lifted a hint as his gaze dropped to the tight buttons around Joachim’s neck. God, they were choking him, weren’t they?
; He slipped the first three buttons from their restriction with no problem, but watching Ainsley rub his tongue along his bottom lip left Joachim incapable of finishing the task.
“Let me.” Ainsley’s long fingers made short work of the placket of buttons and he hooked his thumbs to push it off. His ragged nails scratched at the soft skin on Joachim’s shoulders, and he pressed his arms back so the shirt could slip down to where he could pull it off by his shirtsleeves.
“I’ve decided I’m going to kiss you, Cockburn, if that’s quite all right with you?” He looked at Joachim full-faced, color staining his cheekbones.
We shouldn’t. We really shouldn’t.
“Yes.” His traitorous mouth answered faster.
Ainsley traced over his collarbone to the back of his skull until his head was pulled down and their mouths met. Gentle for one kiss. A skim of lips over lips.
“Lie down,” whispered Joachim, struggling to take control of the situation before he drowned in the sensation of Graham’s scent. Ainsley complied and Joachim’s palm curled around his cheek, his jaw, until his pointer finger pressed at the opening between the ginger’s lips.
They opened, and Joachim stroked Ainsley’s tongue, which curled around Joachim’s finger, sucking. Ainsley’s eyes narrowed to slits of desire.
Ainsley wrapped his fingers around Joachim’s wrist, as though there was a chance he could be in charge, but if Joachim allowed that, he might as well write himself off as smitten.
Rising to balance on his side and elbow, Joachim inhaled and a rush of determination flowed through his chest. Take control, you bloody idiot.
Soon enough, the handsome ginger gave up and allowed his mouth to be plunged again and again. His back arched, throat tilted back and open, sucking that finger like it was Joachim’s prick.
One of them groaned—Joachim had no idea which. Both, perhaps. His lips hovered as that finger slid in and out of Graham’s wetness as though he was going to fuck Ainsley’s mouth with both finger and tongue at once and somehow nothing on earth had ever felt more erotic.
“Please,” Ainsley whispered when only Joachim’s fingertip connected to his bottom lip.
He’d never seen Ainsley like this before—compliant and nearly vulnerable.
“Yes, I think you’re ready now.” Joachim dragged the wet finger down the side of Ainsley’s throat, down to his nipple as his mouth dropped the final few inches. His tongue swiped longways across Graham’s, pressing as deep as the finger had.
He was going to come from this kiss, for fuck’s sake. And he didn’t care, as long as Ainsley’s mouth was on his. Fingers raked across his chest once more as they dropped lower, tracing the path of hair that ran to the waistband of his trousers. The fly was flicked open and pushed down under his hipbones.
Ainsley lifted his mouth, rubbing his thumb under Joachim’s wet bottom lip. “Can I take these off?”
As if he had any wish to say no at this point. He nodded, his eyes not leaving Ainsley’s, which were heavy lidded. He lifted his hips enough for the fabric to be pushed down to release his erection. A groan accompanied a grip around the length of him, thumb brushing over the eye, already wet.
Ainsley’s kiss pressed deeper as he continued working to remove Joachim’s clothes.
“Dear God, all this glorious hair hidden under your clothes. A sin, that.” Ainsley sat up and pulled Joachim’s trousers off the rest of the way, tossing them at the bottom of the tent. The ginger bent and pressed his teeth into the meaty muscle of Joachim’s upper thigh, and he curled up his spine at the frisson of pain that was equally unexpected and deliciously wicked, to be honest.
Those gray eyes widened, and Ainsley’s naughty grin deepened. “Liked that, did you? Good, I’m an unapologetic biter.”
Joachim’s erection stiffened.
Ainsley had to notice as his hand was still stroking it. He dipped his mouth to Joachim’s earlobe and sucked it between his teeth so he cried out, then licked the coil of his ear. “Don’t fret—I’m not a vampire. I only bite where it won’t hurt. Too much.”
Only once had Joachim been with a man who was rough in bed. During the war he and George had gotten a weekend’s leave from the front and spent the entire forty-eight hours fucking away all the pain and terror they’d witnessed. George was dead a week later, but Christ; Joachim had brought himself off innumerable times remembering how he’d felt, overpowered half the time and fucking George raw the other half in that shabby little room.
In the light of day, he tried not to delve into what that said about him.
Teeth dragged down his neck, his chest, and clamped on his nipple so hard Joachim lost his breath. He whimpered when Ainsley gripped his prick even harder. Dear God, he might not survive this, after all.
Ainsley rose to his knees and pushed his own trousers down with one hand, the other not letting Joachim go. Sensing the struggle, Joachim helped drag the last remnant of clothing down over Ainsley’s ankles, his hand tracing back up over the sinewy muscles of Ainsley’s legs.
“Don’t be so gentle—I won’t break, I promise.” Ainsley nipped a path down to Joachim’s pubic bone and then licked back up so his muscles rippled.
His own hands dug into Ainsley’s thighs so it was his turn to yelp. He raised his head and Joachim lost himself in those dark, dark eyes. “More,” Ainsley said. “I want to feel it.”
Did he? Well, that was a bit of all right.
Joachim angled his leg around the other side of Ainsley’s, and pulled the man’s hips and prick against his own, grinding Ainsley tighter with his forearm holding them close. Glorious. With his free hand, he grasped both of their cocks together and tugged up, base to tip. Ainsley’s head lolled back, tongue running over his top lip, eyes fluttering shut.
“Fucking hell, yes.” Ainsley’s kiss-swollen lips were painfully gorgeous.
Joachim rubbed his thumb over the heads of their twined pricks, both wet enough to make it silky smooth. Soft skin dragging against soft skin. Ainsley’s hips bucked against Joachim’s like he might come sooner than later, but Joachim wasn’t ready for this to be over. With a grunt, he flipped Ainsley onto his back and rose up on his knees, still stroking his own cock.
Ainsley reached his hand up to take over, but if Joachim allowed that, he’d be lost.
Joachim shook his head and pinioned those wrists above his head. The younger man panted. Nodded hard. Joachim stretched his body over the Scotsman—pressed him underneath so he couldn’t even wriggle—and claimed his mouth until the ginger was close to sobbing.
Much better. Perfect, even.
He lifted his head, worried he’d gone too far, but when he shifted his weight onto his knees and let go of the ginger’s wrists, the younger man hooked his arms and legs around Joachim and pulled him back even tighter than before. Ainsley’s fingers dug into Joachim’s bum, flicking his thumb up the back of his balls.
“Fuck my mouth.” Ainsley’s voice hitched.
God, he’d never last five minutes.
“Now.” Ainsley was insistent. Of course he was. He was autocratic and demanding. And Joachim was going to do exactly what he wanted him to.
Only, he was going to stay in charge of the situation so he could walk away unscathed.
He sat back on Ainsley’s thighs and took his cock into both hands, stroking it until Ainsley begged again. Which he did. Joachim pushed his knees toward Ainsley’s armpits and tilted forward, his prick sitting on those lips, now obstinately shut.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded. Ainsley’s eyes twinkled and he shook his head once.
A game? He could play this game.
He kneed Ainsley’s arms higher and pressed them under his shins. Ainsley gasped and opened his mouth slightly.
“Open your mouth, now,” he said again, this time with more authority.
In a stage whisper, Ainsley said, “Go
d yes, please. Tell me what to do.”
Joachim pried Ainsley’s jaw down with his thumb and pressed the head of his cock inside, shuddering from the warm wetness and the tongue that was not only welcoming; it sucked him in deeper.
Fuck.
In the back of his mind, a siren screamed a warning as though he was back in the trenches.
He did his best to block it out because this was too enjoyable to ruin.
Joachim fell forward, arms stiff on either side of Ainsley’s temples, and watched his cock disappear until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Chapter Ten
Ainsley
Fucking hell, Ainsley loved sucking a fat cock. Loved the way he had to fight to breathe, loved the way the spit ran down his cheeks, tickling his neck.
And damn, Cockburn was slow, like he might spend the next five hours fucking his mouth, and the way he had him pinned down... Ainsley couldn’t do anything about it.
Not that he wished to, even if his jaw ached at some point. Which it didn’t yet, but would at this rate. And bugger all, his own prick was desperately lonely, under the bulk of Joachim’s brute of a body. His hips reached into the air, into nothing at all, which was its own kind of torture. A delicious kind, but it did help keep him focused on the task at hand. All that aching, wanting need for some sort of friction, but then he’d come and it would be all over, and he still wouldn’t know what it was like to have Joachim’s prickly cheeks on his thighs.
Christ on a stick—he needed to know what that felt like. Even if it meant he went back for a second go, which wasn’t the intention at all. He meant to release this pressure and then stop fixating on what it would feel like, because he’d know. And knowing for sure would be a letdown compared with the fantasy of it.
It always was. Always, for fuck’s sake. One of the great tragedies in Ainsley’s life—which, to be honest, had very little else that could be considered hardship in any objective way—was that nothing ever lived up to his expectations.
Best Laid Plaids (Kilty Pleasures) Page 7