Page 7 of A Rake’s Gamble

“Yes. I want you to be loud for me.” He thrust again and the Earl cried out louder, begging him for more. He felt like a fucking God, a hero, and to know it was his enemy’s son underneath him, made him fly. He fucked the Earl harder than he’d ever done to anyone before, holding on tight to his wrists, tight enough to leave bruises, and yet the Earl never complained. He kept crying out for more.

“More, please, I beg of you.”

He couldn’t believe his luck and he knew he was flying over the edge, beyond reason, with his body grunting with every thrust, until eventually, the Earl shouted out.

“I’m so sorry.” His lordship came in long streaks over his chest. It was the hottest thing Adam had ever seen and he buried himself deep with a guttural cry as he came inside the Earl. He collapsed onto the Earl and kissed him, unable to help himself, with a tender thank you. The Earl wouldn’t be thanking him tomorrow, but for now, he’d seek out every inch of satisfaction and enjoyment that he could. The Earl’s gaze was hooded, almost drunk on the aftermath of passion, and Adam wished—just for a moment—that they weren’t rivals and he could do this again and again for the rest of his life. He wanted the Earl in every way that it was possible to fuck a man, and some more besides. He wanted to do this under a tree on a summer’s day, and over the kitchen table, and with the Earl on his stomach pressed down hard into the bed, and...

He stopped kissing the Earl and just rested his face against the Earl’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. The man was too tempting and Adam didn’t know what to do about it. Usually after sex, he was sated and after a good cuddle, he was always ready to move onto the next task. This time, he wanted to just lie here with the Earl and be with him again and again. Panic began to grip his chest and he almost ran away, except his eyes were very heavy and this was so nice. He let himself drift off, just like he always did after sex, and he pretended that it meant everything would be just like every other time, and he’d leave afterwards with no regrets. None at all...

Chapter 7

Theo could’ve lain on the Mr Milnes’ bed for hours with the man sleeping quietly on top of him. It was so comforting after the best sex of his life, and his thoughts were remarkably calm for a long time, just listening to the rhythm of Mr Milnes breath as he snoozed. But the tips of his fingers had started to tingle and he realised that his shirt was pulled slightly too tight across his wrists. He was going to get pins and needles in his hands if he didn’t move soon. And he couldn’t contain his curiosity about Mr Milnes comment yesterday—he needed to show him something—but what?

“Mr Milnes.” He whispered gently against Mr Milnes’ ear.

The man hummed but didn’t really stir.

“Mr Milnes. You said you needed to show me something.”

A grumble vibrated through Theo’s chest, and he would’ve used his hands to soothe Mr Milne’s back, but they were still trapped. Mr Milne slowly shifted his head, nuzzling against Theo’s neck. He really didn’t want to wake him, so he clenched his fists a few times, trying to pump some feeling back into them. It worked for a little while, but he really needed Mr Milne to wake up. He could just flip them both over, he was probably strong enough, but it would be too much of a shock and unpleasant for Mr Milnes. Instead, he wriggled a little, and Mr Milnes’ softened cock slid out. Oh dear, he hadn’t wanted that to happen.

“Am I too heavy?” Mr Milne mumbled, and Theo wasn’t really sure he was probably awake yet.

“I just need to free my hands.”

Mr Milne rolled them both to the side, and from there it was easy for Theo to release one hand, and then the other. Blood rushed back into his fingertips with a prickly sensation but then Mr Milnes sighed and wrapped one arm over Theo’s waist, and he wanted to stay there. Cuddling. He never cuddled afterwards; had always treated sex as a necessary function and parted amicably and quickly afterwards. He never knew it could be like this.

“Did I sleep for long?”

“It was fine.” More than fine, really. And then Mr Milnes pulled him closer and kissed him.

“Good. Not everyone likes a cuddle afterwards, but what’s the point in intimacy without holding someone close?”

Theo had nothing to say to that. In the army, they’d just jerked each other off in the quiet moments between battles, and to be honest, he hadn’t been near the front line that often. Being bayonetted in the thigh had given him credibility but he hadn’t been keen to repeat the experience. And at school, experimenting with the other boys hadn’t been talked about. Intimacy wasn’t something he understood very well.

“Wait here. I’ll get a cloth to clean you up.”

Theo’s heart was going to explode if Mr Milnes kept caring for him. Bloody hell. He couldn’t let himself think about this at all.

“Thank you.”

Mr Milnes jumped up, muscles rippling, with his long hair sweeping across his shoulders, and Theo wanted to follow him. Instead he pulled his elbows under him and watched as Mr Milnes left the room, soon to return with a damp cloth that he used to very carefully clean Theo. If cuddling afterwards was intimate, this was an extra level again. Before, he’d always looked after himself.

“You are all flushed. Did I hurt you?”

“No. I’m good. Lovely, actually.” Lovely? Oh dear. He was going to be spoiled for anyone else ever again, now that he knew how nice it was to be cared for. Heat pricked the back of his eyes and he dragged in a slow breath between his teeth to push away the sudden, and unnecessary, feelings. Hopefully Mr Milnes wouldn’t notice. He desperately wanted to push the base of his hands against his eyes to ease the unbidden urge to cry, but he really didn’t want Mr Milnes to notice.

“You wanted me to see something?” It was the reason he’d come here before they’d been so very distracted by each other. His voice cracked and he tried not to clear his throat so it wouldn’t be too obvious that he was slightly overwrought by Mr Milnes’ kindness.

“Yes. But we’d better get dressed first. It’s not a pleasant thing.” Mr Milnes didn’t seem pleased about it. Theo nodded, and forced himself to find his clothes, sprawled all over the floor. Davison, his valet, wouldn’t be impressed at the abuse of fabric, as if that was the most important thing. He sighed as he dragged on his pants, and a few minutes later, they were both reasonably attired and he followed Mr Milnes back into his drawing room, carrying his boots. He could put them on later.

“You said your father wasn’t a fool, but you were wrong.” Mr Milnes opened a small drawer under the card table and took out a box. He handed Theo an old envelope and he dropped his boots to take it. The paper was soft in his hand, as if it had been read hundreds of times.

“I’m not wrong. I said he was many things, but not a fool. He was—”

“A murderer.” Mr Milnes didn’t beat around the bush and Theo’s breath stuck in his throat. It was ... most likely true, but how did Mr Milnes know? Theo had suspicions because he’d walked in on his father beating one of the maids, and the next day, Theo found himself on a boat headed for the Peninsula.

“Yes.”