Free Men of London 02 - Sight and Sinners by Susan Mac Nicol Page A

went into the adjacent bedroom to change. This was obviously Draven’s room—dark, deep shades of blue matched with white and lime green, giving the room a rather nautical flair. A clock shaped like a ship’s rudder ticked quietly on a far wall and here and there were small items of a nautical nature. A ship in full sail, a lighthouse and a pair of nautical rope doorstops lying carelessly on the floor. Taylor changed quickly, towelling his unruly hair dry then putting the towel back in the bathroom. When he stepped out into the hallway, he started at seeing Draven waiting outside.
    “Everything fit okay?” Draven said softly.
    Taylor nodded. “The trousers are a little long but they’re fine. Thanks.”
    Draven eye-fucked him from his toes, up the length of his body and then finally came to rest on his lips. The air of desire emanating from the man was disturbing and playing havoc with Taylor’s decision not to fulfil their earlier intentions. He knew that bloody mindedness had been nothing but wishful thinking.
    His cock inflated slowly in his sweatpants like a rising periscope. He stood stock still as Draven inspected him. The air around them seemed to thicken and warm, much like Taylor’s dick. He knew Draven noticed the tenting in the front and his teeth showed in a wide, predatory smile. That smile made Taylor’s blood tingle, his backside clench and his mouth want to latch onto Draven’s like a Bengal tiger on a succulent morsel of dinner.
    “I like the tattoo,” Draven murmured, waving a hand at the intricate pattern on Taylor’s inside left wrist. It was a pattern of thin, finely drawn vine leaves, winding up along a central stem from the wrist to the crook of Taylor’s elbow. He’d had it done about four years ago when he and a previous boyfriend had decided to be adventurous. Taylor hadn’t wanted any garish colours, so he’d stuck with the soft grey and black tones.
    Draven stepped forward and in one quick move, he slid his hands beneath the loose tee shirt and pulled Taylor toward him. Taylor gasped as his own groin met one equally as hard and the warm, strong hands on his skin sent shivers through his body. ‘ All thoughts of resistance are futile ’ was the first thought that went through his mind.
    God, I sound like someone from Star Trek. I need to get a bloody grip.
    He loved the feeling of someone taking control of him, someone tough and sexy leading the way. He ached for a man strong enough to see what he needed, and not hold back giving it to him. He didn’t want to take it too far but being held down, dominated, needed—that turned him on like nothing else in the world. He’d tried it before in his relationships—the few he’d had that had lasted more than a few weeks. The ones where his lovers hadn’t left him quickly because he was a freak when he had his “episodes,” as one taunting lover had put it, but never been quite satisfied. His partners had either been too rough or not rough enough.
    “You smell like sex and spice,” Draven growled as his mouth slid down Taylor’s neck and he licked the skin like said tiger. “You drive me fucking mad, you know that. I don’t know how you do this to me. Why I want you so damn much.”
    Taylor closed his eyes as the assault on his neck and jawline continued. He couldn’t speak. Hot lips grazed his skin, biting, nibbling and then finally, when he thought he’d go mad from the constant contact, Draven’s mouth found his and Taylor’s knees buckled. Draven’s arm around his waist was the only thing holding him up, he was sure. Never before had he been kissed like this, ravenous, hard, unrelenting as lips and tongue filled him, tasted him, sucked him in and swallowed him whole. When a hand reached into the waistband of his sweats and gripped his cock, Taylor cried out, the sound seeming to inflame Draven more as he stroked him harder and faster, sliding fingers and palm over the slippery essence that coated his dick and making