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“I never wanted that with anyone but you,” Derek whispered, allowing his lips to lightly graze the bridge of Jonas’ nose.
“What of Giles?” Jonas asked, his voice low and strained. “He seems rather fond of you and speaks as if you have had him many times.”
Derek chuckled, nuzzling Jonas’ nose with his own and then allowing his lips to graze his cheek toward his jaw. “My dear Jo, still the epitome of innocence even in a den of sin. I find you absolutely adorable.”
With a grunt, Jonas gulped down his claret and slammed the glass onto the table. Yet, he did not push Derek away or attempt to rise from his chair. Did he anticipate what would happen with as much excitement as Derek?
“Haven’t you ever been so restless with need that you could not eat or sleep or find peace?” Derek murmured. His mouth traveled the strong ridge of Jonas’ jaw and his tongue flicked against a warm earlobe. Jonas shivered but remained still and silent. “Have you ever had a cockstand so hard and so persistent that you could think of nothing other than finding sweet, blessed relief? When the need to sink your cock bollocks-deep in to a tight, warm hole overcomes you, it is difficult to muster any concern for who that hole happens to belong to. For a brief time, that person—thatman—is yours to take and use as you see fit. In a moment of raw and naked desire, you give him all of it—your pain, your need, your hope. It is only a pitiful substitute for the intimacy and passion you truly want, a shadow of what you might otherwise have with the person you love. But it is enough, even if it is fleeting. Even if you hate yourself afterward, because for that passing moment you can close your eyes and pretend you are fucking the person youreallywant. Kissing and sweet words ruin the illusion, so you avoid them. They can only be shared with one person, and if you cannot have them with him, you will not have them at all. Some things are sacred, Jo, even for a degenerate like me.”
Derek drew back to stare Jonas in the eye, measuring the effect of his words. Jonas’ eyes were glassy and his lips parted, each breath warm and labored. He met Derek’s gaze with a scathing glare, disgust curling his upper lip.
“When overcome with that sort of carnal urge, one’s hand will typically suffice.”
“Is that what you do, Jo? Use your hand to bring yourself off?”
“It is safer that way,” Jonas replied, though his voice was thin and strained. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and Derek could see the rapid hammering of his pulse at the base of his throat.
“Show me,” Derek rasped, his own desire swelling to its limit. He wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees between Jonas’ spread legs and press his mouth against the growing bulge in his breeches. Jonas would have no choice but to submit per the terms of their agreement. Yet, Derek sensed he was not ready for such an act just yet.
Jonas flinched as if Derek had physically struck him. “I beg your pardon?”
With a grin, Derek straddled Jonas’ legs and sank onto his lap. Hands braced on Jonas’ chest, he inched forward until he could feel the half-hard erection pushing against Jonas’ fall. His belly clenched at the sensation, his prick twitching and pulsing at even so light a touch. Even with layers of clothing between them, Derek could feel the heat Jonas radiated, the sheer power of the organ between his sculpted thighs.
“I want to see what you do when you think of me,” Derek said, loosening the knot of Jonas’ cravat. Leaving the linen to hang around his neck, Derek flicked open the buttons at his throat, baring tufts of dark hair. “I want to watch you wrap your hand around your cock and stroke yourself until you spend.”
Jonas rested his head against the back of the chair and stared up at Derek, his hands fisted tight. “You assume I think of you when I pleasure myself?”
Derek stroked his hands up Jonas’ chest, reveling in the heat and power emanating from the broad slabs of muscle. He slid his fingers along the parted edges of Jonas’ shirt, toying with his soft, downy hairs.
“Would you have me believe you do not?” Derek asked.
Silence greeted his question, neither a confirmation nor a denial. Jonas stared up at him with unfocused eyes, as if he were suspended somewhere between dream and reality. Derek could understand the feeling. He had waited for so long to have Jonas again. While what he would demand as the spoils of his victory would not be nearly enough, Derek would accept what he could have and hope this would not be his last chance. Jonas was responding to him, even though he did not wish to. His entire body had gone rigid, his cock now so hard that his desire was unmistakable.
It took great effort to lift himself off Jonas’ lap, but Derek managed it. Returning to his side of the table, Derek pulled his chair back and positioned it so he sat facing Jonas. Spreading his legs and bracing his hands on his thighs, he stared at Jonas, allowing his eyes to travel over the disheveled cravat and open shirt, the flat belly, the needy cock swollen beneath black fabric.
Derek pressed the heel of his hand against his own erection, gritting his teeth around a groan of pure, raw need. “Let me see it, Jo. Take out your cock.”
ChapterFive
Jonas swallowed past the lump in his throat and stared in Derek’s direction without looking directly at him. He was far too enticing with his long legs spread and his forearms exposed by rolled-back sleeves. His hands rested on his thighs, twitching with an eagerness he could not hide. Jonas did not have to ask if his directive had been a jest when it so clearly had not been.
Jonas did not have to do what Derek commanded. He could stand up and walk out of this room without looking back. He could find some other way to put a stop to the match between Derek and his sister. Perhaps Viscount Gilbanks could prove a useful solution. The man clearly cared for his sister and might be coaxed into making an offer of marriage. That thought put a bitter taste in Jonas’ mouth. He did not want Julia to marry someone who had to be browbeaten into the nuptials. Jonas wanted her to find a love match and live out her days in happiness. Perhaps he wanted it so badly for Julia because he could never have such a thing for himself.
This was the only way. When Derek said he would do something, one should believe he intended to go through with it. Jonas wholeheartedly believed a marriage would take place if he did not intervene. But, if he could force Derek to cease his pursuit, Julia could move forward and seek a more suitable husband. Frustration railed through him at having lost yet another game, but the hope of one final chance to win kept him from surrendering to hopelessness. Jonas would give Derek what he was owed and approach the final game differently. He was not too prideful to admit that he had been wrong to push for the second game so soon. He had been unsettled by last night’s kiss and further addled by encountering Derek at the ball. That mistake would be easier to avoid next time, because he would be aware of how high emotions could weaken his wits and skill. Fortune had been on Derek’s side twice now, which meant Jonas was due a stroke of good luck. But first, he had to get through the rest of the night and whatever Derek had in store for him.
“I will not lay a hand on you, Jo,” Derek said, as if sensing his reticence. “I just want to watch. Let me see your beautiful cock.”
Derek’s words, delivered in a low, velvety voice, stroked down Jonas’ spine like a caress. He shuddered, his fingers clenching into his palms. His body, hard and eager, warred with his rational mind. Yet, he could not refuse. He was a man of his word and Derek had won fairly.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Jonas let one hand drop to the fall of his breeches. Derek went rigid in his chair, his chest swelling as if he held his breath. Jonas allowed his vision to go hazy around the edges, obscuring his view of Derek. This would be easier if he could pretend he was alone. He knew without having to ask what Derek would command him to do. They had performed this act for one another on multiple occasions, finding pleasure in mutual stimulation without actually touching one another. It had seemed like a game of sorts when they were younger men. It wasn’t until Jonas had grown older and been forced to look back on his memories that he saw it for the act of deep intimacy it was.
Derek remained silent, seeming content to wait for Jonas to work up the nerve to follow through. Moving quickly lest he change his mind, Jonas slipped the first button loose, then another. His hands shook as his fall fell open, exposing the ridge of his cock through the white cambric of his shirt.
If Jonas had not hesitated with his fingers fisted in that fabric, on the edge of yanking it up, he would not have noticed Derek mimicking his motions. Suddenly, he could not look anywhere but at Derek. The surroundings of a molly whore’s bedroom became an incomprehensible blur and Jonas could hardly blink, let alone tear his gaze away from the sight of Derek’s long, dark fingers loosening round, gilt buttons. The fall of his breeches dropped open, and Jonas caught his breath at the sight of Derek’s hard, dark brown length showing through pale fabric rendered transparent by a spot of wetness. Derek’s wetness. Jonas’ mouth watered as he imagined what it would taste like on his tongue. It had been so long, yet he could vividly recall the feel of Derek in his mouth, the scent of his musk, the sharp sting of hands tangled in his hair.
Jonas’ throat began to burn, and he was forced to breathe again, feeling as if his head floated high above his body, as if part of him had disconnected from his body and mind. It hovered above Jonas, looking down in silence as the feelings of the moment wiped away all logical thought. His cock rose in his lap, pushing desperately against his shirt and begging for freedom.
Derek went still, his hands cradling his erection but keeping it covered, reminding Jonas that he had stopped undressing. Reticence fallen aside, Jonas slowly pulled the shirt up toward his navel, wincing at the teasing drag of the fabric over the tip of his cock and the hairs running up his lower belly.
