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Twelve
Finally.
A smile spread across Reginald’s face as he held onto his pillow and he had to bite into his lip to keep from screaming. It hadn’t been that much more than a day but it had felt like a lifetime since Paul had gone down on him.
“I didn’t think I could love you more but I love you even more with a mustache,” Reginald purred and wiggled his ass, rubbing his hole against Paul’s face. Lord, Past Paul was thorough and could not get enough of Reginald’s ass. He’d confided that he’d always wanted to taste a man “down there” and Reginald was all too happy to oblige.
Paul angled his head to the side so he could drill with his tongue and Reginald giggled as his taint was tickled.
“Hmmm…” It was a low, lazy chuckle as Paul pulled Reginald back and onto his knees and rose over him. Paul’s lips trailed up Reginald’s spine before he nipped his shoulder and nuzzled his ear. “Can I fuck this again?” He whispered as fingers strummed and teased Reginald’s hole.
“You’d better. You’ve got me so wet and I’m so ready,” Reginald pouted and arched his back, offering his ass as he pressed his face against the mattress.
There was a strained hiss as Paul kneaded Reginald’s ass cheek, then grabbed him by the hair. “The mouth on you, my lord! You say such wild, wanton things and it makes me reckless.”
“Good. I love it when you’re reckless,” Reginald cooed but he knew that this was as close to reckless as Paul would ever get. His lover might be a bad, bad man in the sheets but Paul was a knight in shining armor on the streets and he never put himself first. There was a crash downstairs and Paul straightened and leaned away but Reginald grumbled in protest. “Gates probably dropped something. Keep going.”
“We should see if he’s alright,” Paul murmured but he slapped the puckered flesh around Reginald’s hole with the head of his cock.
“He’s fine. Fuck me.”
“Like this?” Paul asked as he held onto Reginald’s hip and slowly slid all the way home. He filled Reginald with thick, throbbing heat and bucked hard, grinding against his ass.
“Yes!”
“Lady Marston, please! You must wait!” They heard Gates cry and there were muffled thuds in the hall.
“I think he’ssstalking toyou,” Reginald slurred and groaned euphorically as his prostate was crushed.
“No…” Paul tapped on Reginald’s back frantically. “I don’t think Gates means—” But he was cut off as the door was thrown open.
“Ma’am, noooo!” Gates cried as he fell into the room with an armful of mauve velvet and blonde curls.
“Get off of me!” A shrill voice demanded as Gates was pummeled with a fur-trimmed bonnet and an umbrella.
“Please, your ladyship!” Gates tried to block her swings while attempting to shield her eyes.
“Stop it! You blasted old fool!” She spat at him as she twisted and kicked while Paul scrambled off the bed and lunged at the bathroom door. “I saw that!” She declared and cheered triumphantly as she shoved Gates off of her. “What do you have to say for yourself, George?” She swept a heap of ringlets out of her face and pointed at Reginald.
“Um…” He scratched the back of his head as he considered. “You’re the one who barged into my bedroom and attacked my butler while I was…indisposed. I believe you have some explaining to do.”
“Indisposed?” She gasped and pointed at Reginald wildly. He was still naked and sprawled in the middle of the bed. “I know what you were doing!”
“I should think it was fairly obvious.” Reginald craned his neck to see where Paul had gone. “He was just about to fuck me senseless before you crashed into the room.”
“George! How dare you talk to me like that?” She clutched her cheek as if he’d slapped her.
“Why not?” He asked and sat up so he could swing his legs over the side of the bed. He stood and went to get his kit from the desk.
“Cover yourself!” She protested as she shielded her eyes.
“In my own bedroom? In front of the woman who claims to be my wiiiifvlllahhh!” He gagged. “Nope. I can’t say it.” He shrugged before giving Gates a nod. “I’m going to need the gin after this.”
The furious blonde spluttered and stomped. “I will not be dismissed! I am your wife! I am the Marchioness Marston. Do you have any idea of what I’ve been through? I left Milthorp as soon as word reached me. I did not stop to rest, I was so appalled and ashamed. How could you, George?” She stomped her foot and glared at him but Reginald just found it all the more curious.
Is this what I was afraid of when I ran away? He wondered as he began to circle her, noting the pointedness of her nose and her chin and the way her tiny fists curled at her sides.
“Would you be still and face me? In your robe,” she demanded but Reginald shook his head.
