Sleigh Ride (Minnesota Christmas Book 2) (10 page)

Something heavy moved inside Arthur, and as it shifted, he felt floaty, disoriented. These were books he would have loved as a child. These are books he thought he could enjoy
now
. That Gabriel liked them too, had read these in his youth, collected them in his adulthood…Arthur couldn’t sort out all his feelings, there were so many of them. “You’re saying these are your favorite books? These kinds of books? Not
Moby Dick
or
War and Peace
?”

Gabriel winced. “I don’t ever want to disparage a book entirely, but those aren’t…no. I like novels. But yes, comics are my favorites. I love the combination of visual and words, the way—”

He couldn’t say anything after that, because Arthur had put the stack of books on the bed, took Gabriel’s face in his hands and kissed him hard on the mouth.

Ar
thur had kissed Gabriel many times now. The orgasms Gabriel had known at this man’s hands were worthy of epic poetry. But the way Arthur attacked him, like a man starved of air breaking the surface of the water, a supplicant at the altar of his deity—this was new.

Gabriel was used to confident, seductive Arthur. This marauding Arthur, sucking Gabriel’s tongue out of his mouth as he yanked his sweater up to his neck, straining the seams, was raw, untamed—and wonderful. When Gabriel got tangled from his clothes, Arthur pulled back far enough to speak in a low growl.

“Get out of your clothes and get on the bed.”

He was so rough he sounded almost mean, and Gabriel faltered, but not because he was scared. He fumbled so much at his shirt that Arthur took over with such force Gabriel gasped and shuddered.

Arthur paused. Their gazes met, and Gabriel didn’t hide his longing, the way Arthur’s state affected him. Gaze darkening, Arthur stroked the naked, quivering skin of Gabriel’s abdomen. He took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table.

Then he hauled him roughly to his knees, yanked the sweater off the rest of the way and ruthlessly shed Gabriel’s underwear and sweatpants.

Through a haze of lust, Gabriel fell onto the bed, arching his hips to help, then froze as he saw his two favorite books bouncing precariously on the edge of the mattress. He cried out in alarm, reaching for them as he tried to form words.

Arthur stopped, following his gaze. Letting go of Gabriel, he carefully scooped up the books and carried them to Gabriel’s dresser, where he laid them well out of danger.

When he stroked the leather covers as if tucking a baby to bed, Gabriel went raw too. “Arthur,
fuck me
. You have to fuck me.”

Arthur sauntered to the edge of the bed. He still had that wild look about him, as if he’d come unplugged. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you, baby.” He ran a thick hand down Gabriel’s long, furry leg. “God Almighty, Gabe, the shit I want to do to you.”

Gabriel arched again, feeling like ants were crawling across his skin. “Do it. All of it.”

“I want to turn you inside out. I want to hold you down, make you come unglued. I want to tie you up.” A strong, sure hand closed over Gabriel’s knee. “I want to spank you.”

Gabriel’s belly fluttered. “Y-you said that. Before.”

“You said you’d let me.” His hand skimmed up Gabriel’s hip, and his gaze bore into Gabriel’s soul. “Was that the heat of the moment? Saying whatever you had to so you’d get blown?”

There’s your out.
Gabriel licked his lips, staring at Arthur’s. He could reneg. Arthur was making it clear he’d let him.

He was also making it clear he wanted more.
Tie you up. Spank you. Make you come unglued. Hold you down.

Gabriel swallowed against a dry throat. He wanted to feel the way Arthur’s gaze promised he could. But how could he say that? It was one thing to let Arthur blow him, to yield when Arthur chased him, but…to come out and
say
it, to be that vulnerable… The terror turned his arms to lead and clogged his throat.

Bending down, Arthur kissed the inside of Gabriel’s knee. “You don’t have to be scared of me. Ever, Gabriel.”

Tender Arthur was ten times more difficult to resist than when he played aggressor. “Not—you. Not scared of you.”

Arthur’s slow, knowing smile made Gabriel’s belly gurgle. He stroked Gabriel’s thighs. “You’re a good boy, a saintly librarian who doesn’t go out…but what you
want
, what you’re craving at your bones, is to be bad. With a guy like me. You love that I’m rough around the edges. But it’s hard to know I’m safe.” He kneaded Gabriel’s hip gently. “I’m not going to hurt you. You can do whatever you want—and it stays here, with you and me.”

Gabriel didn’t know how to talk now. He wanted to kiss Arthur. He wanted to roll over for him. He wanted to beg to be fucked. He wanted to let Arthur use him, do things to him. He wanted to be held. He felt so turned sideways and inside out he didn’t know how to function.

Arthur drew Gabriel’s hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. “What do you want, baby? I’ll do whatever you want. Skip whatever you want. I’m all yours.”

Just tell him. For tonight, with him, this once, let go.
Gabriel shut his eyes. “I want…to let go. I want everything you said. To feel…that way.” Arthur touched his face, and he nuzzled his hand. “I don’t want to decide. I want to do whatever you say.” He let out a breath, confessing the rest. “Like the first night.”

Arthur kissed him, soft and sweet, brushing his beard against Gabriel’s chin. “You want it rough? A little dirty? A little shameful?”

Fear-tinged pleasure shivered down Gabriel’s spine, and his lips parted on a sigh. “Yes.”

A kiss on his chin. His neck, his sternum. “You remember the colors? How to slow me down? How to stop me?”

Gabriel tipped his head back, arching into Arthur’s mouth. “Yellow. Red.”

“You gonna use your words when you need them?”

Stop talking. Do me.
“Yes.”

“Okay.” Arthur gave him one more kiss, a wet one on Gabriel’s abdomen. Then he slapped Gabriel’s hip. “Roll over and lift up. Head down, knees spread, butt up.
Move.
”

Gabriel did.

His belly quivered, nerves and fear and shame coiling in his gut as he crawled to his knees.
Exposed.
As he moved, Arthur touched him, gripping his thigh, slapping his butt lightly, each touch sending electric shocks through Gabriel’s skin. It was nothing, though, to the beardy kiss Arthur placed on Gabriel’s ass when he had him all arranged.

“Just let go, angel. It’s all on me. I’m the bad boy tonight, dragging you along. But you’re always safe. You say yellow, I slow down. Red I stop right away. But it’s all okay. I know what’s too far, and I’m watching you. Trust me to take care of you.” He stroked Gabriel’s back. “You ready, naughty librarian?”

Riding on a haze of Arthur’s words, Gabriel released a dizzy breath and nodded. “
Please.
”

Arthur chuckled.

Then he put his thumbs on either side of Gabriel’s ass, pulled him open and thrust his tongue inside.

Gabriel bucked, the shock of Arthur’s wet tongue short-circuiting him. Arthur held him down, trapping his shins with his knees. He buried his face deeper, humming into Gabriel’s hole. Fucking him with his tongue, rubbing the burning ring with the pads of his thumbs. Filling him with spit. Laving his taint with the fat width of his tongue. Tickling his ass with his beard.

Slapping his ass cheek like a bongo drum.

Whimpering, Gabriel tried to wriggle, but when he realized how tight Arthur held him down, he went slack, letting his ass get eaten, his bottom get smacked. He breathed hard, head spinning because of all the sensation going on behind him.

Arthur drew back with a groan. “Yeah. You were made to be ass up for me, baby.”

Darkness unfurled in Gabriel, making him relax. “Yes.”

“You ready for me to spank you, slutty boy? Make your ass red, sticking up in the air for me?”

Those words.
Gabriel’s breaths felt heavy, laced with cinnamon and darkness. He spread his knees. He felt the air on his skin, felt Arthur staring at him. “Yes.”

Arthur spanked him.

They were rhythmic blows, alternating back and forth along Gabriel’s cheeks, making heat and shock ripple inside him. His breath became strange, his brain fuzzy and soft.

“Count for me, Gabriel.”

Gabriel did. The counting took him out of that floating head space even as it pushed him deeper. As if on his own he’d been drifting through ether but with Arthur he was on a guide rope moving with deliberation toward some unknown treasure. Moving without having to move. Being and thinking and feeling without worrying or understanding.

Why had he feared this, exactly?

Distantly he was aware Arthur was doing what he’d promised earlier—the forty blows, increasing in strength, the last few intense. Gabriel felt them all, loved them all. He was doing this. He was feeling this. He
was
this.

The only time he came to awareness was when he felt cold lube being worked into his hole. By the time Arthur mounted him, pushing his thick cock inside, telling Gabriel to put his hands on the mattress and hold on, Gabriel was flying again.

Yes. Fuck me. Make me. Oh, Arthur, make me fly.

A hand began to jerk his cock, a rough thumb working his glans, his slit. Gabriel followed it, peaceful now inside his bubble. Arthur’s thighs slapped his sore, burning ass, and he sighed. More.
More, take more.
Arthur pounded inside him, lighting up his over-sensitized prostate. Gabriel moaned and tried to make his body more boneless.
Do it.
Send me deeper.

When he came, it was a wave crashing unexpectedly over him—not hard and sharp, like he’d have expected, but more a deep, shuddering sigh. Further waves crashed as he landed. He fizzled and purred as Arthur pumped inside him, stiffening as he came. But mostly Gabriel drifted down, a leaf into a still, warm pond.

He was aware of Arthur turning him over, of being drawn up to the pillow and nestled into Arthur’s broad, furry chest. His ass burned, inside and out, but it felt good. Like without it he’d have drifted all the way away. He could feel his brain trying to chatter, but the wall of bliss was too thick.

It was wonderful.

Arthur kissed him. A lot. Gabriel tried to kiss back, not wanting to be rude, but he felt drugged, floating. Arthur told him, gently, to be still, so he did. Arthur brought him water and rubbed lotion into his fiery skin.

Arthur stayed with him all night, cuddling Gabriel to him, encouraging him to rest his head on Arthur’s chest.

Gabriel slept without dreaming, a peaceful, endless slumber. When he woke, his ass burned, but his whole body felt languid and wonderful, as if he’d come out of a two-hour massage. Blinking, he raised his head. It was almost bright outside—he’d slept late.

Arthur was still there, in the bed with him, asleep. Groggy, Gabriel sat up, but only a little, and stared down at his bed partner. For a moment he remembered how wonderful the night before had felt. How much he’d let go. How safe he’d felt. How it had been bad—but okay.

A knock sounded on the front door, and he startled, turning toward the sound—and as a voice called out from his porch, all Gabriel’s good feelings bled away.

“Gabriel?”
Pound pound pound.
“You missed the meeting, and the board asked me to stop by.”

Corrina. Heat flushed Gabriel’s face, and terror burned in his heart. Corrina, his boss, on his doorstep.
I missed a meeting. I slept that late.

I fucked Corrina’s son. I let him hold me open and spank me and use me like a whore.

The pounding came on the door again, loud enough to make Arthur sit up. He rubbed his eyes as he came awake, and Gabriel stared at him, remembering.

Reeling.

Arthur got a look at his face and blinked awake, taking Gabriel’s hand, reaching up to stroke his curls. “Hush. It’s okay, baby.”

“Gabriel?”
Pound pound.
“Gabriel, is everything okay?”

It wasn’t. Arthur stared at Gabriel with gentleness, but with Corrina pounding, with dawn beating on his face, all his ghosts came rushing back. His mother, scandalized at catching him masturbating to an underwear ad. His first boyfriend’s raised eyebrows and wry comments about what a little whore he was with a few glasses of wine in him. The darkness he worked so hard to push down, the wants, the needs, the fears, all bared with Arthur, the truth naked between them.

Gabriel wanted,
needed
to roll it away.

Arthur wouldn’t stop touching him. “It’s okay. I promise. Everything we did was okay.”

It wasn’t okay. Tension bled into Gabriel’s shoulders, made his cock shrivel and all but tuck into his body. “Red,” he whispered.

Ten hours too late.

With sorrow, Arthur watched the last threads of Gabriel’s composure unravel, making him shrink into the bed. Arthur wanted to soothe him, talk him out of his freak-out, but his mother kept pounding on the door.
One fire at a time,
he told himself as he climbed out of the bed, reaching for his own pants.

When he headed for the front room, though, Gabriel came alive enough to panic. “You can’t— If you answer—”

Arthur knew Gabriel’s panic wasn’t about him, but it still made him sad. “Hon, if one of us doesn’t answer the door, she’s going to call the police, because she’s already half convinced you’re dead or dying in here. If you answer, she’ll be even more convinced it’s true, the way you’re all freaked out right now.” Plus Gabriel still didn’t have on pants. But Arthur wasn’t drawing further attention to that.

Arthur should have known his mother would pick this moment to show up and make things worse, though in hindsight that had been his bad, not setting an alarm, not bothering to find out what time Gabriel needed to go to work.

He just hoped it wasn’t as critical as it felt it could be.

“Hold on,” he bellowed when his mother started banging so hard the knickknacks on Gabriel’s shelf rattled. “I’m coming.”

The pounding stopped abruptly. “Arthur?”

He tugged his shirt over his head and opened the door. “Mom, I need you to listen.”