Page 42 of His Eternal Temptation

“Yes, Lane.” Rowan shivered. “Want it so much.” His hands ran up Lane’s thighs, over his underwear, and tucked into the waistband. He pulled the briefs down, letting Lane’s hard cock spring free and slap him in the face.

They both moaned.

Rowan mouthed Lane’s length, his hands occupied pulling the boxer briefs to the floor. He pressed his face close, letting Lane’s tip catch on his lips, his cheek, as he dove in to lick Lane’s balls, each motion drenched with desperation, like getting his mouth on Lane was the only thing holding him together.

“That’s it,” Lane praised, running both hands through his hair. “Be a good boy and worship this cock.”

“I’ll be good,” Rowan murmured between licks. “I’ll be good.”

Fuck, Lane was already dizzy. An unrestrained Rowan was enough to get him high.

With a groan, Rowan swallowed Lane down, hands moving to work his balls, his eyes darting upward, seeking approval.

“Perfect, Rowan. So good.”

He moaned around Lane and worked him over like he was starved, the perfect combination of frantic and skilled. So hot and wet. Loud and unashamed to be sloppy.

“What a talented tongue. And you’re so fucking pretty. Never seen someone so gorgeous slurp on my cock. Perfect, pretty boy with perfect, pretty hair,” Lane babbled, and Rowan ate it up like it gave him life.

Shit, he really was needy. Lane had never been with anyone who’d gone this hard for praise. The more Lane talked, the more Rowan seemed to hang on his every word. It was fucking wonderful.

Too soon, Lane couldn’t string together a sentence. Rowan brought him to the back of his throat, and Lane almost came.

“Good. Oh, so good. Shit. Rowan.” Lane tugged him off and met his glowing orange eyes. “Let me see you jerk it, yeah, like that. Good boy. Get yourself off, and I’ll come in your sexy mouth.”

Rowan worked his cock, gaze pointed upward, moisture glistening at the corners of his eyes like little glowing jewels. Lane eased into his mouth. He thrust, keeping it shallow, running his tip along the roof of Rowan’s mouth. One more thrust, and he came with a cry. Rowan swallowed as eagerly as he’d done everything else, his hand flying over his cock.

He let Lane fall from his lips and plunged his face into the crease along Lane’s groin. With a muffled whimper, he came, his whole body shuddering.

Lane cupped the back of his neck, his other hand in his hair. “So good, Rowan.”

Another tremble shook Rowan’s shoulders. He seemed completely undone. Maybe this was the only way he could unwind and truly let go. Lane could have laughed with joy at being able to give him this. He didn’t. Thank all that was damned. He couldn’t risk killing the mood.

Rowan seemed disinclined to pull away, so Lane knelt and pulled him close, resting Rowan’s head on his shoulder, and stroked his hair.

He’d almost say the stern vampire was touch-starved, but he couldn’t be, right? Rowan could easily have as much sex as he wanted. Lane doubted the bite night parties had ceased, and Rowan must have a line of partners waiting.

The things Rowan said last night came to mind: being conditioned to disappoint, his sire’s abuse of power. Lane was guessing, but maybe the touch-starved part of Rowan was old, and even after who knew how many years—decades, centuries—that pain still hadn’t healed.

TWELVE

ROWAN

Rowan sat behind his desk, staring blankly at the wooden surface, and relived pleasing Lane. The way Lane had stoked his hair. Lane’s heavy cock on his tongue. It had been everything Rowan needed, but he shouldn’t have given in.

It was as he suspected. There was no way to find space in the aftermath. Rowan’s urge to let Lane in grew, desires unrelated to sex floating around in his head. Everything weighing on him before returned, crashing around him with a vengeance, and he was tempted to throw it all at Lane’s feet.

See how much I need you now? Do you still love it?

What would Lane do? Take care of him even if it wasn’t fun and sexy? Could Rowan even allow it when his biggest burdens were personal, not practical?

Like a waking nightmare, Cris’s presence loomed, almost as if he’d never died. Rowan couldn’t shake the memories creeping up on him. How cold they were. How empty it had been to love someone while hating them. How desolate to have no one else. And all in glaring contrast to Lane’s warmth and freely given affection.

Would the dark memories fade if Lane touched him again? Would they leave altogether if Rowan shared what troubled him?

Hunger gnawed worse than the day before, his blood on fire, scorching him from the inside out, and leaving him hollow. A void to be filled. Rowan clenched a fist in an effort to keep his fangs from descending. No doubt this wretched burning stoked his bleak memories.

“Talk to me.” Lane had come closer without Rowan noticing, moving from the couch, all the way around Rowan’s desk to his side.