Page 22 of The Last Crimes of Peregrine Hind
His patience was rewarded, however, as Alexander fully seated himself and then gave a tentative rock forward. Another one of those heavenly noises left him, and he gave Peregrine a look of dazed helplessness.
“Good?” Peregrine asked. His voice was rough, hoarse, and his entire body was shaking with the restraint it took to let Alexander squirm and writhe on top of him, to let the Dartham lord find the right angle, the right movements.
“Yes,” Alexander breathed, his eyelids fluttering. “More than good. I’ve never—it’s never been like this before.”
“You on top?” Peregrine asked.
“No,” Alexander said, his mouth hooking ruefully to the side. “Never with someone patient on the bottom. One moment—oh. Oh.” He seemed to have found just the right way to move, and he did it again, his erection dragging along Peregrine’s abdomen and making him release another puff of air. Another oh.
Peregrine tried to focus on one thing, any one thing, to keep his building climax at bay, but it was impossible. Even aside from Alexander’s body gripping him like a hot glove, from the sweet sensation of Alexander’s cock rubbing against Peregrine’s stomach, there was the sight of him. The slender hips, the dark hair tumbling everywhere, his face in an expression of surprised ecstasy, as if he hadn’t expected it to feel as good as it did.
It made Peregrine wonder how selfish Alexander’s past lovers had been, that it was a revelation for him to be able to take his time, to put his own pleasure first.
“Spend for me,” Peregrine said, sliding his hands up to Alexander’s hips and then up to his waist. “I want to see you.”
“I think that’s—normally—the seducer’s line—” Alexander panted, but he braced his hands and Peregrine’s chest and began riding Peregrine for all he was worth, choosing the speed and the angle and the depth. Each rock of his hips tightened the grip his body had on Peregrine’s cock; each rock meant that his secret place stroked Peregrine with a slippery, viselike heat. It drew his orgasm closer; it pulled his bollocks tight to his body; it had his hips restless underneath Alexander’s.
“Oh, Peregrine,” Alexander said, his breaths all sounding like gasps now, all of them desperate. “I’m—it’s?—”
He didn’t have to announce it. His prick swelled even more on top of Peregrine’s stomach, and with a low cry, his hips gave a series of quick, arrhythmic thrusts. Peregrine was entranced by the sight of that beautiful organ swelling and then throbbing out jet after jet of white seed, loving the visible proof of the rake’s satisfaction spilled all over his skin.
Alexander’s hips stilled and his head dropped between his shoulders as he panted and quivered his way through the aftershocks. Peregrine somehow managed to hold on, to fight back the tide of his own need to spend, until Alexander was finished.
After he’d settled, the younger man peeped up through a glossy lock of hair that had tumbled over one eye and said, “Some highwayman you are. Aren’t you supposed to be all about plunder and theft? What have you taken for yourself right now? Nothing. You’re more rector than robber, I think.”
Peregrine laughed. “I can plunder more, if you’d like.”
Alexander gave him a coy look from behind his hair. “Will you show me how the soldiers do it?”
“Maybe another time,” Peregrine said. “The soldier’s way is hardly a seduction.”
“I’ll confess a secret to you, Peregrine Hind. You don’t have to seduce me. If you’d like to take me like a soldier would . . . ” Alexander shivered again, his sated cock stirring against Peregrine’s stomach. “I have no objections.”
Neither did Peregrine. If he somehow managed to steal more time with this man, he would want all kinds of lovemaking. Slow and fast, rough and whatever this had been too—not gentle maybe, and certainly not sweet, but the kind of sex where selfishness was transformed into something fantastic. Where one lover’s pleasure spun a silken web around them both, where taking was also giving.
“For now,” Peregrine said, “I’ll take you like a highwayman.” He was already pulling out, moving. Pushing the rake onto his back, and then onto his stomach, which meant his firm backside was there for Peregrine to spread and penetrate once more.
He came into Alexander with a deliberate but inexorable thrust, and then once he’d fully mounted his captive, he started fucking in earnest, with quick, rough strokes that had them both groaning together. As he rutted, he watched Alexander’s slender fingers twisting in the covers; he watched as Alexander reached underneath himself and desperately handled his cock.
The orgasm wasn’t only in Peregrine’s prick, but in his stomach and chest and thighs too, and it thudded through his blood like the drums of war. With a ragged grunt and a surge of his hips, Peregrine’s climax roiled its way up his shaft and then released torrent after torrent into Alexander’s pliant, waiting heat.
Peregrine kept riding his wonderful flirt of prisoner through it all, determined to pump everything into the man in front of him. Sinuous shudders racked Alexander’s body as he came for a second time, and Peregrine caught the quick movements of the rake’s hand as he finished milking his orgasm free.
There was no bliss like this, no satisfaction that matched pulling out and seeing his seed dripping free of this beautiful man’s body, and then rolling his lover over to see the slick mess he’d made while he’d been receiving Peregrine’s pleasure.
Peregrine suddenly wanted never to leave the priory again. He only wanted this, day after day. Alexander Dartham, frolicsome and spoiled and safe.
With him.
It would be worth giving up the road for, it could even be worth giving up revenge for, but for the first time in years, Peregrine didn’t want to think about revenge at all.
Stunned by that realization, and a little panicked by it too, he tidied up the mess they made and then pulled the rake tightly into his arms, trying to breathe past the sudden swell of emotion.
How could it be that this libertine, this Dartham, had become more important to him than the need for vengeance and justice for innocent lives? How could the mere thought of Alexander being hurt by him make Peregrine feel like he’d been torn open by cannon fire?
After only a few short days?
Peregrine didn’t know the answer. He’d walked into this room so certain of his future, so confident in his solution, but perversely, he felt like he knew himself less after losing himself inside Alexander. Like he was slowly dissolving, and the only thing keeping him whole was the warm lover lying dozily in his arms.
