Inspired by Madelynne's super sexy post from Dark Designs, it occurred to me that I'd got a hot boy on boy scene in my latest release, the reprinted GOTHIC BLUE... So after a quick skim through it, I found this intense encounter between the mysterious and powerful Count André Von Kastel, and Jonathan, the rather confused boyfriend of the heroine, Belinda. While Belinda is out in the garden, up to heaven knows what with Japanese beauty Michiko, Jonathan finds himself alone with the seductive Count... and at his mercy.
Now read on...
‘The idea of Belinda with another woman is new to you, is it not?’ the Count continued, ‘And puzzling... You wonder why you do not feel more jealous.’
‘I... I’m not sure what I...’ Jonathan faltered, swirling his glass then lifting it to his lips, trying desperately to analyse his feelings. About Belinda. About Michiko. About all the strange revelations... About the man with whom he was sitting and drinking. The man who suddenly seemed far closer than he had a moment ago. So close that their thighs were almost touching. So close that he could see the toned shape of the musculature beneath André’s tight, faded denims... and the size of the firm bulge at his crotch.
With brandy in his mouth, Jonathan spluttered furiously and felt himself choke and start to cough, his face turning a bright, blushing red. Eyes watering, chest heaving, he felt his brandy glass removed deftly from his hand, and the impact of a solid, well-placed thump against his back. He coughed again, gratefully this time, and suddenly found he could breathe deeply and evenly.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, wiping his bleary eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. ‘Maybe I’ve had too much to drink.’
‘Perhaps you have not yet had enough?’ countered André, and Jonathan felt the hand that had struck him stroke his back.
The caress was so light and innocuous it was almost illusory, but coming after the realisation of a moment ago, it made Jonathan start to shake and blush again.
‘Here, but drink slowly this time.’ André held out the refilled brandy glass, ‘Sip by sip.’
When Jonathan took hold of the fat, rounded glass, he was alarmed to feel André’s hand curve around his, lifting the drink to his mouth. The Count’s skin was extraordinarily cool, yet its very coldness was exotic and exciting, and sent a thrill through Jonathan’s shocked body.
I can’t be feeling this! thought Jonathan helplessly, feeling it anyway. He’s two hundred years old... I don’t know him... Dear God in heaven, he’s a man! He’s a man!
‘Sip,’ André urged again, his free hand returning to Jonathan’s burning back.
Jonathan sipped. Far faster than was wise, but he was desperate for some kind of anaesthesia. He was experiencing something he had never felt before. Never in his wildest dreams or darkest nightmares expected to feel, and the worst part was that it was ravishingly delicious. The brandy seemed to be having no effect on him whatsoever, but as he was allowed to take a breath, André’s cologne made his head whirl. It was the smell of roses, and a sharp visceral musk.
‘Think of Belinda and Michiko,’ whispered the Count in his ear, ‘Imagine them together.’ That long cool hand was still on his back, moving a little, rubbing him through the cotton of his shirt, ‘How does that make you feel?’
‘I don’t know!’ cried Jonathan, horrified by the strange sound of his own voice. Its shrillness... Its girlishness...
‘Does the idea of same-sex love repel you?’ André’s voice was deep now, very masculine and cajoling. ‘Surely not...’ The final two words were not a question, but an observation - and not one about Belinda and Michiko.
I’m being seduced, thought Jonathan. Just as Belinda was, here on this couch. And for all her single mindedness and all her steadfast resistance of any kind of exploitation, she succumbed to this man within moments of meeting him.
‘Jonathan?’ prompted André gently, his hand still now, and so chilling through Jonathan’s lightweight shirt.
‘I don’t know,’ repeated Jonathan, feeling all broken apart, but somehow strangely resigned. He looked up, staring into the middle distance, intensely aware of the alluring figure beside him, yet knowing it was he, himself, who had the choice.
‘Look! Get it over with, if you’re going to,’ he said suddenly, unable to cope with the growing tension any more. If André made a move, and it was thoroughly repellent, well, at least he would know. He would know, and he could leap up and flee the room as fast as his feet would carry him. And if it wasn’t? He couldn’t know until the moment.
‘It is your choice,’ said André quietly, as if he had viewed the brief debate in Jonathan’s mind. Maybe he had?
Jonathan turned his face, and found his lips just inches from his companion’s. He could smell the brandied sweetness of André’s breath and almost drown in the aquamarine pools of his eyes.
He’s so beautiful, thought Jonathan. He attracts me. I want him. But my body doesn’t quite know how I want him... He shuddered, filled with thoughts and fears of buggery. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said, his voice extraordinarily small.
‘Do not worry,’ said André, reaching up and undoing the thong that tied his striated locks back, ‘I know everything we need to know.’
Jonathan bit his lip to restrain a gasp, a sigh. André’s hair was soft, thick, and shiny despite its peculiar coloration. Jonathan felt a strong urge to bury his hands in it.
‘Go ahead, do it,’ urged André.
His breathing shallow, his heart racing, Jonathan put up his hands and slid them up through André’s silky tresses until he was cradling the other man’s head. He watched André’s lips part, almost in ecstasy, revealing the soft rosy interior of his mouth. Without thinking, Jonathan lunged forward and kissed him.
It’s just like kissing a woman, he thought, feeling André’s strong, slender arms come around him. The sensations were the same: velvety lips under his, parting provocatively and admitting his tongue. He was so used to kissing like a man - probing strongly and taking the initiative - that he continued to do so, while André seemed perfectly happy to let him, relaxing back on to the settee and drawing him down.
‘Mmmm...’ murmured the Count as they broke apart for a moment, and he reached up to touch Jonathan’s chin. ‘Not so bad, is it?’ He smiled, and then took Jonathan’s hand, from where it still held his head, turning his face so he could moistly kiss its palm.
‘No... no, it isn’t,’ stammered Jonathan, disconcerted as André surged up against him, kissed him again, and at the same time began unfastening his shirt buttons. Before he knew it, the garment was open to the waist, and the loose tails pulled out, then André was shimmying along beneath him and sucking at his nipple. He felt the Count’s teeth close wickedly and he groaned.
Jonathan had always had sensitive nipples and loved to have them played with and nibbled. For a moment, he thought of Belinda, and how beautifully she did this for him, but the next instant he was dragged back to reality, his body excited by the extra layer of piquancy that having a man’s mouth on him created.
nb. Mansnogs courtesy of The Velocity of Vincent
And now... a SEX IN PUBLIC service announcement!
Just to remind American readers that...
WICKED WORDS: SEX... IN PUBLIC is now available!
To celebrate the US publication of this selection of exhibitionist frolics we're giving away a copy of SIP... and I'm topping that off with a copy of GOTHIC BLUE too! To be eligible for this splendiferous two-book mini-prize, just leave a comment about this post... whether about SIP *or* GOTHIC BLUE... and in a couple of week's time, we'll randomly draw one name from the list of commenters and announce the winner here so they can contact us for their prize.
For more fascinating facts about SEX... IN PUBLIC check out this archived post, and to buy the book, either whiz over to Amazon.co.uk or Amazon.com
I thank you for your kind attention... :)
WendyPortia aka Portia Da Costa
Dowager Duchess and Mad Old Woman of Black Lace
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