Free The Bone Orchard by Abigail Roux

places to end up than in your arms once more.”
    Ambrose stopped long enough to help tug Ezra’s shirt over his head, then sat on the bed and tugged his boots off, letting them clop to the floor with loud thumps. Ezra wondered if the people below them heard it, if they wondered what the sounds were. It pulled a smile from him. It might be fun to be a ghost, as long as Ambrose was here by his side. The mischief they could cause . . .
    He lifted one leg and Ambrose tugged his boot off for him, then the other. In a matter of moments, they were both down to nothing, able to gaze at each other in all their glory for the first time.
    They did so without any reservations, without pause or self-consciousness. Ezra felt as if he’d spent his whole life with Ambrose, as if he already knew every scar on his body and every wound in his mind. When Ambrose reached for him, Ezra gladly climbed onto the bed and straddled him. He placed both hands on Ambrose’s shoulders, gazing down into his striking eyes. He missed the silver he’d grown familiar with, but the warmth and humor in them was still unmistakable.
    He could think of nothing more enjoyable right now than a nice rough roll in the hay. He grasped Ambrose’s face in both hands, kissing him languidly as he rocked his hips. His lover moaned and grasped at his waist with one hand, the other sliding up to cup Ezra’s face as they moved against each other.
    Ezra drew out the kiss as long as he was able, sucking on Ambrose’s bottom lip and licking at his tongue. When he finally pulled back, he was breathless and even more excited for what was to come. Both of them were hard and straining. Ambrose’s hand was on Ezra’s hip, slowly making its way across his belly so he could touch them both.
    “I have a question,” Ezra whispered.
    “Usually you’re the one with the answers,” Ambrose growled, and it sent shivers down Ezra’s spine.
    “If we have no blood to pump through us, how—”
    “Too thinky,” Ambrose grunted, gripping Ezra’s hips and using the leverage of his wiry body to topple them to the side. Before Ezra had even settled into the mattress, Ambrose was on top of him, sliding between his thighs, kissing him in the frantic manner of a man who was in desperate need of more.
    Ambrose’s obvious desire for him made Ezra even more eager. He wrapped around Ambrose, squeezing him with his knees, holding on to his powerful shoulders and demanding longer and deeper kisses. Ambrose’s grip tightened, and he began shoving Ezra toward the middle of the bed.
    The iron headboard banged against the wall. They both stopped and looked up at it, then met each other’s eyes, grinning.
    “If we make enough noise in this room, they may never rent it out again for being haunted,” Ezra observed.
    Ambrose growled deep in his throat. “You saying you want that headboard to bang that wall some more?”
    “Yes,” Ezra whispered urgently.
    Ambrose settled in against him, flexing his hips. Their cocks slid together and Ambrose closed his eyes. “You saying folks need to hear screams and wailing from this room at all hours?”
    Ezra’s gut clenched. He lifted his hips. “I am indeed saying just that.”
    Ambrose captured his mouth in a wet kiss and trapped Ezra under him, grinding their hips and thighs together. He caught one of Ezra’s wrists and pinned it to the bed.
    Ezra spread his legs wider, wrapping them around Ambrose’s thighs as he met Ambrose’s growing fervor with his own. “I thought we’d never get to do this,” he gasped between the assault of kisses.
    “I know.”
    His groin throbbed and heat swept through him as Ambrose’s hard body pressed against his. He reached up with his one free hand and gripped Ambrose’s hair tightly. Ambrose’s eyes were wide and impossibly blue, and the fire of desire behind them was enough to make Ezra groan.
    “I thought I’d never get the chance to feel your touch,” he whispered, and he pushed his hips up into