Free Boats in the night by Josephine Myles Page A

up at him with an unfathomable expression?
    It was that gaze that did for him in the end. That and a well-timed squeeze to his nuts that burst ripe pleasure inside him, sent it shooting down his nerves and blossoming all over his body.
    “Fuck! That’s it, enough!” Smutty had to grasp Giles’s head to get his attention, get him to pull off. “Gonna come.”
    His spunk arced out as Giles continued to pump his cock. Plumes of white splashing
    against the flagstones and rapidly turning into dark stains on the dust. Smutty threw his head back again as starbursts exploded across his closed lids. He gasped for air in the stuffy heat, hips stuttering as the aftershocks reverberated through him.
    And then Giles tucked him back into his jeans and fastened them again, before rising to his feet.
    Aware of a need to reciprocate, but wilting in the heat, Smutty started to sink to his knees. His stomach rumbled again, like thunder in the hushed glasshouse.
    Giles hoisted him up. “I’ll be fine. Let’s eat first. You’ve been working hard today.
    Need to keep your strength up.”
    Gods, he sounded like a mother hen. Smutty grinned. “Got something in mind I might
    need my strength for, then? ‘Cause I’ve gotta tell you, that kitchen table of yours looks like it’s good for more than eating off. Not sure how well I’ll be able to concentrate on the food, thinking about you doing me there.”
    Giles flushed a fetching shade of tomato, took hold of his hand, and pulled Smutty
    towards the glasshouse door.
    Chapter Ten
    Giles ran a hand over his aching jaw as he peered into the fridge, searching for
    anything suitable to offer a man who’d spent the whole morning toiling away. He pulled out a packet of Parma ham, a jar of tapenade and a round of soft goat’s cheese. At least they should be easy to chew. Giles wasn’t sure his jaw muscles were up to much mastication after blowing Smutty.
    “Sorry,” Giles said, on discovering a bag of yellowing leaves and foul smelling liquid.
    “I don’t seem to have any salad left. It keeps going off.”
    “What are you talking about? You’ve got loads growing outside.”
    “Hardly. It’s all just weeds.”
    Smutty gave him a look that walked a fine line between exasperation and smugness.
    “You’d be surprised. Gimme a minute, I’ll come back with some salad.”
    While Smutty was out on his insane mission, Giles set the table. As the earthenware
    plates thunked onto the hefty slab of oak, he remembered Smutty’s lewd comment about other uses for the kitchen furniture. It was just a joke though, right? People didn’t really have sex on tables in real life—that was the stuff of fantasy. There’s no way Fabian would have let Giles bend him over a table. Not when there was a perfectly comfortable bed upstairs.
    Besides, it couldn’t be hygienic, getting bodily fluids on a food preparation surface. Although if Smutty were standing at one end and leaning forward with Giles behind him…
    The image Smutty’s words had conjured refused to go away, and with a groan Giles
    realised his erection was back at full mast. Without pausing to analyse what he was doing, he raced up the stairs and ransacked his bedside cabinet.
    Yes, there was the lube all right, but where were the condoms? Eventually he found
    the crushed box lurking under a gallery guide to a Paris exhibition of Fauvist art. That was appropriate somehow, as it was while wandering the halls of the Musée d’Orsay that Giles had had his first inkling Fabian might not be as exclusive as he’d claimed. There had been something about his manner when talking to the young museum guard—a man who even
    Giles could tell was as queer as they come—that set off an alarm inside him. He’d asked Fabian about it over dinner, trying to make it into a joke, but he must have been less diplomatic than he’d intended because they’d ended up having a blazing row back in their hotel room.
    Giles had bought the pack of condoms the