Page 95 of Checking Out the Librarian

“Stop.”

Connor froze, arms extended and hips canted back as he leaned across the bed, a snapshot of his back and shoulder muscles creating hills and valleys in front of Jonathan. The only thing he couldn’t see was Connor’s amazing glutes.

He let the moment stretch, until he saw the small relaxation as Connor pressed his forearms into the mattress, letting his imagination take him deeper.

“I require you to remove your towel.”

He stood, and the towel dropped to the floor.

“Now my drawers.” He thought that was the correct term. Connor’s immediate compliance and his trembling hands as he reached to ease the black lace down Jonathan’s thighs confirmed his choice.

When Connor crouched to slide them off, Jonathan wanted to tell him to drop to his knees and open his mouth, but also to get on his back on the bed and get ready, or to get on his hands and knees. He didn’t know how many ways he wanted to thrust into this man. So many. But he’d wait.

“Continue your duties.”

Connor rose, bowed his head, then turned and bent toward the bedding again.

He slid close enough to Connor’s back that he could smell his own bodywash on that wall of skin, the sneaky, thieving man. He breathed on the rise of Connor’s shoulder blade. “You’re new here, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you before.”

Connor froze.

One finger, he’d start with no more than that. He drew a line between the two ridges that defined Connor’s shoulders, then trailed his touch down until he was only a mere inch above where he wanted to push between those delicious juicy mounds.

“You look fresh from the country. Is that where you’re from?”

“Yes, milord.” Connor breathed the words with reverence.

There was a solitary hair, light brown, not causing any trouble at all, decorating the base of Connor’s spine. Jonathan pulled it. “You shall call me Your Grace.”

Connor jerked, and moaned, and then his head dropped forward, in penance, perhaps. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“City life will be challenging for a fresh young farmer.”

He wouldn’t laugh at Connor, but the things this man made him say, the crazy shit that came out of his mouth because of him, un-fucking-believable. But Connor wanted this, and he wanted to give Connor everything, so he stood on his toes and whispered more of it close to his ear.

“Will you like learning to serve me?”

Instead of touching Connor, he trailed the chiffon gathered at his cuff along the ridge of Connor’s shoulders and then he side-stepped to continue letting that fairy-wing white fabric slide down Connor’s arm, brush through the golden strands of hair that grew more thickly on his forearm.

Connor’s fingers clenched in the duvet, then opened, and clenched again, all while Jonathan let the chiffon and nothing else touch him.

Why hello my cock, you like watching this man grab for things he can’t have yet, don’t you?

He started the journey in reverse, but when his cuff reached the center of Connor’s back, he added his fingertips and followed the march of Connor’s spine down, down to the bubble rise of that butt.

Connor shuddered, but he waited. All that body at his command was intoxicating.

“You look like you were well fed back in your village.” He traced his palm slowly over the rise of that gorgeous flesh, the curve that begged to be handled, and under, until he reached the crease of flesh and thigh.

“Yes.” Connor’s next sound was a sigh of pleasure and he widened his stance. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“I can’t have my new valet going hungry.” His fingertips brushed Connor’s balls, firm and tight against his body already, so he turned his hand to cup them.

The weight made him want to sink against Connor’s back and add his own cock to the crease between Connor’s legs, but Connor wasn’t taken apart yet, and he deserved to be. “Have you eaten a man’s cock before?”

Connor half-turned toward him, wobbling slightly as if his knees were uncertain of what to do. “Please let me. Let me.”

“No.” He squeezed the back of Connor’s neck to keep him facing the bed and urged him forward. “Get on the bed.”