The Sugared Game - K.J. Charles Page 0,28
if you wanted. Sell the bookshop, throw away the knife. Go home. Marry Mary Alice.”
“She’s already married.”
“Use your ingenuity. Go and find the life you were supposed to have.”
“What if I don’t want it any more?” Will asked. “What if there’s something else I want instead?”
“Is there?”
Their eyes were locked. The silence rang like crystal.
Oh, what the hell. “You sodding know there is.”
Kim’s throat moved in a swallow. He had a fine-boned throat with a hollow at the base; he’d groaned, before, when Will had licked it. He didn’t say anything for a long second, in which Will wanted to move and didn’t quite dare, and when he did, his eyes flicked away from Will’s face. “I stayed away.”
“I noticed.”
“You deserve more than I have to offer.”
“I know.”
“God’s sake, Will. Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”
He hadn’t. He was beginning to wonder if he ever would. But he knew how to make everything feel simple and obvious again, if only temporarily, so he said, “The door’s locked.”
It was what they’d said before, to mark out a space for themselves in the maelstrom of last November. No guilt, no thought of anyone else, no obligation, just a little place in time.
The look on Kim’s face showed he remembered. “Damn you.”
“Same to you.”
He wasn’t sure who moved first. It didn’t matter. They rose and came together in silence, kissing with an intensity that pulled the marrow from Will’s bones. Kim was kissing him hard, his long fingers in Will’s hair, Will’s hand round his lean arse. His mouth was hot and hungry, and Will kissed him ferociously in return, almost angrily, with a knot of need and frustration and fearful desire roiling in his gut.
After a few frantic moments, Will pulled away. They’d crashed down on the sofa at some point, Kim underneath, Will over him with one leg on the floor for balance.
“What do you want?”
“You,” Kim said. “In my mouth, if we’re doing this. I have thought about you fucking my mouth on a near-nightly basis since November.”
“Same.” Will started undoing his buttons, watching Kim watch him. “I keep thinking about the way you look when you suck me. The way you sound.”
“How do I sound?”
“Desperate.”
“That’s about right,” Kim said, as Will knelt over him.
Kim’s lips came round his stand. Will rocked forwards, hearing Kim’s little strangled grunt, felt his prick rub against lips and tongue. He groaned. Kim moaned agreement.
“Christ, I love this,” Will rasped. Kim’s arms were above his head. Will trapped the slender wrists, watching his own tanned hands with their calluses and scars and fight-thickened knuckles, rough and ugly against Kim’s smooth skin. Kim arched under him and Will thrust a little harder into his mouth, and again, finding a slow rhythm that set Kim rocking under him. He’d be stiff as a post, Will knew.
“I love watching you do this,” he whispered. “Knowing you love it. Knowing it’s making you hard.”
Kim made an urgent noise. Will leaned in, just a little harder, prick rubbing deliciously against the roof of Kim’s mouth. He was on the back foot with Kim most of the time, what with his wealth and class and brains and limitless capacity to lie, but in these moments when he was bare and raw, exposing the desires Will knew shamed him for all the bravado, the balance tipped.
It flooded Will with an urgent tenderness. He pulled back, dragging his prick from Kim’s receptive mouth, holding his hands down still.
Kim moved underneath him, a slow undulation of the hips. He was still entirely dressed. Will let go with one hand and shifted back, unfastening Kim’s trousers and freeing his erection, stiff and leaking. It was slimmer than Will’s own, not intimidating in size, hot to his touch as he wrapped his fingers round it. He stared down.
“Will?”
“Can I—” He didn’t know how to voice this, which was ridiculous, because he had no trouble with the words when Kim was doing it. “Do you like being sucked off?”
“Don’t be kind to me, Will.”
“I’m not. I want to make you beg.”
“Oh. Well, then.”
That sounded like a yes. Will leaned down and tentatively put his mouth on the prick he held.
He hadn’t done this in a long while but it was like riding a bicycle: you were unlikely to forget. He explored a little with his tongue, feeling the smoothness of the head and the ridged shaft. Kim inhaled sharply, but stayed quiet, for once. Will licked around it, put his mouth over it, claiming the end,