Free Convincing Arthur by Ava March Page A

more than just the
    head of the man's cock. He knew exactly what it felt like in Arthur's position, the hot
    flare as the lingering ache in his bum turned into a delicious throb, the echo of fullness
    without the stretch. Split between the sudden desire to fuck and get fucked anew. “Feel
    good?”
    “Hell, yes. Damned incredible.”
    “Good. Now quit teasing and fuck me.” He tugged on Arthur's shoulders again
    and shifted beneath him, trying to work himself on the man's prick, to scratch that all-
    encompassing itch for more.
    Arthur cursed under his breath. Leopold felt the shudder rack the man's body. A
    bead of sweat trickled down his temple, dropped onto Leopold's chest. He couldn't tear
    his gaze from Arthur's as the man pushed deeper. One long, agonizingly slow thrust.
    “All right?” Arthur asked, his chest heaving.
    “More than all right.” Arthur's ballocks were pressed against Leopold, his prick so
    blissfully deep inside him he could barely form the words. To be fucked after an
    orgasm… Nerves already shimmering with sensation, impatient lust sated, he could lie
    back and simply enjoy the sweet burning stretch. The glorious friction. That feeling of
    being possessed. Claimed. Taken by another. By Arthur.
    His entire body went lax even as his cock hardened anew. Lips parting, his head
    tipped back, hands kneading Arthur's bulging biceps as the man fucked him with slow,
    powerful strokes.

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    “God, you're beautiful, Thorn.”
    At those hoarse words, soaked with awe, he dragged Arthur down, needing his
    kiss. He was surrounded completely by Arthur. The man's weight on top of him, his
    cock inside him, his tongue twining with Leopold's. He opened his heart, poured every
    bit of love he held in his soul into that kiss.
    And as those thrusts turned determined, slamming relentlessly into him as
    Arthur's body tightened above him, their kiss still unbroken, the orgasm ripped
    through him. Arthur's shout of completion drowned out his high, keening cry. And the
    last thing he remembered before unconsciousness claimed him was a breathless thank-
    you whispered in his ear.

    Convincing Arthur

    57
    Chapter Six

    Sprawled on his stomach, Leopold blinked his eyes open. Thin shafts of weak,
    gray daylight seeped into the darkened room from the breaks in the closed drapes. A
    steady drum of rain beat against the windows. The fire had burned itself out at some
    point during the predawn hours, leaving the hearth dark.
    He pushed up onto his forearms and looked beside him. Rumpled sheets and
    blankets, as if someone had thrown them aside while getting out of the bed. The fluffy
    white pillow still held the impression from Arthur's head.
    Leopold grinned and flopped back down onto the bed. He tugged the blanket
    draped over his hips higher, seeking its warmth. Waking up with hope in his heart was
    a singularly wonderful experience. The fact that Arthur had left did not dim his spirits
    one bit. He had not expected Arthur to remain until dawn. The man seemed
    accustomed to rising early, and likely unaware Leopold did not employ a valet or allow
    any servants to enter his bedchamber during the night or the morning. Since he hadn't
    given his staff the same orders regarding Arthur's bedchamber, it was probably best
    Arthur had returned to his own room during the night, before a servant sneaked in to
    light the morning fire. Arthur did worry about keeping up appearances, after all.

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    Something to keep in the forefront of his mind when they returned to London. Not
    a cause for concern, though. He'd willingly leave his old life behind for Arthur. More
    than willingly. Long ago, he had grown quite tired of it. Hours upon hours spent at the
    gambling tables, the near-constant haze of drunkenness, the steady stream of visits to
    brothels and molly houses, and house parties that were little more than excuses for
    orgies, surrounded by acquaintances but no one he called friend. He had never relished
    it