“And besides, he’s not under you at all,” Felix said blithely.
Vasily’s breath caught. Surely Felix wouldn’t tell?
“I mean, seeing as he’s—ow!” Felix turned and glared at Leo as he rubbed his side.
Leo glared right back before saying, “What Felix was going to say was that the royal groom is equal in authority to you. Right, Felix?”
“Ofcoursethat’s what I was going to say! Whatelsewould I be going to say?” Felix rubbed at his ribcage. “I swear, it’s as if you think I can’t keep a—” He broke off. “Anyway, congratulations.”
“Thank you, sire,” Mother said, while Vasily remembered how to breathe. “How can I be of service today?”
“Oh, you know. I just like to come and visit my old stomping grounds,” Felix said, wandering over to the bench where the tack was kept. He examined the coiled reins, ran a hand over the bridles where they hung on hooks with an approving hum, and picked up a riding crop, flexing it and flicking the tip softly against his palm. “There’s nothing more satisfying than freshly oiled tack, is there?”
“Oh, I can think of one or two things,” Leo said.
“Are you riding today, sires?” Vasily asked. “I can get the horses saddled for you in no time.”
“Not today, no,” Leo said. “We have other plans.” The wicked smile he was giving Felix as he took the crop out of his hand reminded Vasily of a cat who intended to play with a mouse—although judging by the heated glance Felix sent back, in this case the mouse would likely enjoy it.
Leo strode through the stable door and called, “Come along, Flick.”
Felix hurried after him, grinning from ear to ear.
Vasily turned to Mother. “He still has the crop. Should I go and let him know?”
“Oh, he knows, lad,” Mother said, an amused expression on his face.
Vasily’s brow creased in confusion. “What on earth would he need a crop for if they’re not riding?”
Mother raised an eyebrow, and Vasily had a sudden recollection of something he’d seen late at night in the stables back home when he was younger. His face heated as the pieces fell into place. “Oh,” he said. He paused, Mother watching him intently, and finally said, “Well, that explains why they’re not riding today.”
Mother grinned, and Vasily couldn’t help but feel like he’d passed some sort of test. Turning, Mother settled his hands, warm and enticing, on Vasily’s hips. “Since they’re not taking the horses out today, shall we? We’ll go after lunch, give them a good run.” He stepped closer, his voice low in Vasily’s ear. “We could go to that little grove of trees.”
Vasily’s pulse quickened. “The one where people go to, um, canoodle?”
“To canoodle,” Mother agreed, his breath warm against the side of Vasily’s throat. “Would you like that?”
“Yes,” Vasily said, voice hoarse. “I’d like that very much.” He tilted his head back to lean in and capture Mother’s lips in a soft kiss simply because he could. Mother kissed him back, tender and all-consuming, and it was only because they heard the clatter of boots on cobbles that they parted. Mother looked like the cat who’d got the cream, and Vasily took a moment to appreciate the sight of the man in front of him who was everything he’d ever wanted, even if he hadn’t known it—and who wanted him back.
It was all rather perfect.
ChapterNine
Mother grunted as the gelding he was grooming sagged against him without warning. The horse had been taken out by one of the guards on a late patrol, and grooming him was Mother’s last task for the evening. The beast either didn’t know or didn’t care that Mother wasn’t there as a leaning post. Mother suspected the latter.
“Whoreson,” he muttered under his breath, bracing himself against the weight, but there was no heat to it. He couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, not when he was still floating from the afternoon he’d spent with Vasily.
They’d ridden out to the grove of trees and taken an hour out of their day to kiss and embrace, shedding their shirts in the weak winter sunlight and running their hands over bare skin. They’d both gotten hard and even gone as far as grinding against each other before Vasily had held up a hand for them to stop, worried that someone might ride by.
They’d lain there side by side, panting, and a blushing Vasily had laughed and suggested that they wait until their erections subsided before they rode back. Mother had laughed right alongside him. The sight of Vasily, flustered and grinning, had filled him with warmth and affection despite his blue balls.
And hedidhave blue balls—which was a first for him.
Mother had tried kissing a girl once when he was younger, but he hadn’t seen what all the fuss was about and hadn’t bothered pursuing her further. Nobody, man or woman, had ever tempted him like this. But Vasily? It was like he was cool, clear water on a summer’s day, enticing and irresistible, and Mother couldn’t get enough of him. It was utterly unexpected, which made it all the more intoxicating. Even the softest kisses had his insides melting, and he couldn’t wait to have Vasily in his bed again—maybe even get his hands on his cock. Not that he’d press the issue, because though Mother might be inexperienced, Vasily was young and greener than the grass they’d rolled in that afternoon.
But it was undeniable that Vasily made him want to do things he’d never even thought of, and the insistence of his desire was thrilling in a way that took Mother’s breath away. Even now, with a thousand pounds of horseflesh using him as a leaning post, Mother found his thoughts wandering to Vasily’s bare torso, the scrape of his chest hair against Mother’s fingertips, and the breathy little gasps he’d made when Mother had tugged at one nipple just to see what would happen.
The horse let out a snort when his hand stilled, and Mother grunted under his weight and gave him a gentle shove, causing the beast to move off him.
