Raphael Laurent dropped down onto the tree branch and blinked against the bright light spilling from the window. He didn’t have to wait for his vision to adjust to know he was already in the room. The hollow tightness in his chest eased and Raphael took the first unrestrained breath he had taken since last night. Air filled his lungs. Cool and thick and ever so sweet. An old remnant of his conscience tugged on the back of his mind, threatening to douse the arousal quickening his pulse. Pushing it aside, he flicked the length of his greatcoat behind him.
He certainly needn’t worry he would go to hell for his unsavory behavior. Raphael had been in hell, or rather a very good imitation of hell, for the past thirty-six years.
Cloaked in the shadow of the tree trunk, he unbuttoned the placket of his black knee breeches and pushed aside his shirttail. Gaze fixed on the nude pair standing at the side of the bed, he pulled out his cock and ran a hand along the hard length. His touch light, mimicking hers.
For at least the hundredth time, he silently thanked whoever had left the large oak tree standing behind Madame Bessette’s brothel. The limbs strong enough to hold Raphael’s weight and positioned perfectly. Not directly in front of, but slightly to the right of this particular window. The window to Hannah’s bedchamber -- the favorite whore of Lord Aleric Vane, third son of the Duke of Haverton.
A whore who did not ever feel a need to close the drapes. The heavy scarlet velvet was pulled back, exposing the decadent room. Scarlet and cream patterned paper covered the walls. A bed large enough for any games Aleric wished to play stood to the left of the window. Discarded clothes were scattered on the wooden floor at the foot of the bed. The fire burning in the grate surely kept the November chill from the room.
Raphael flared his nostrils -- damp earth, dry leaves, cool moist air, and a foul combination he could only attribute to London. Not one hint of Aleric. The window must be closed tight. Why couldn’t it be summer? The window would be open and he’d be able to catch the scent of Aleric’s arousal on the night air. Male sweat mixed with the musky hint of pre-come and the heady spice of his blood rushing through his veins.
No bother, though. It was only a thin pane of glass. He had his eyes and ears, and they were more than up to the task.
Hand braced against the tree truck, Raphael continued to stroke his cock as he watched Aleric’s large hands coast up and down her back. His dark hair mingled with Hannah’s honey brown as he dropped his head to nuzzle her neck. Raphael lips tingled, as if the silken strands of Hannah’s hair tickled the surface. Idly stroking Aleric’s prick, she pressed her mouth to his chest.
If only she would move one small step right, then he would have a full view of Aleric. As it was, her slight form shielded half of the impressive width of his chest. Denying Raphael the hard abdomen, the crease of his navel, the thin trail of dark hair that led to --
She dropped to her knees, Aleric’s arousal now visible over her slim shoulder. Thank-you, Hannah. Raphael’s cock twitched. A frisson of lust raced up his spine. He could almost feel the wet heat of the whore’s agile tongue lapping at the head of his cock; a light whisper of a caress, teasing the tip. Frustration welled up inside him.
Spearing one hand into her hair, Aleric cupped Hannah’s skull. She heeded the silent request and opened her mouth, taking Aleric’s cock inside. Fisting his cock, Raphael thrust his hips, mimicking Aleric’s subtle motions in rhythm to Hannah’s expert attentions.
Aleric closed his eyes and tipped his head back, exposing the strong cords of his neck and the proof of his quickening pulse. Hunger spiked Raphael’s desire, the mix potent and heady, consuming his senses. He bared his teeth, his jaw slowly opening and closing, his head going light. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. He could hear the beats of Aleric’s heart, feel the vein yielding beneath his assault…
His hand began to slip from the tree trunk, his body swaying toward Aleric, when he regained himself. With a quick shake of his head, he straightened and willed the sharp points to recede; running his tongue over his teeth and forcing the need back. Hell, one of these nights he’d fall out of the tree if he wasn’t more careful.
He blinked, clearing the lingering haze of hunger from his vision, and refocused on the bedchamber.
Hannah’s grip on the base of Aleric’s prick shifted. On the next upward glide, she straightened two fingers along the rigid length. Then sliding down, took both Aleric’s cock and her fingers into her mouth. Once she had sufficiently wet them, she reached behind Aleric’s ballocks, all the while her rhythm never broken.
Raphael could tell by the look on Aleric’s face that she didn’t penetrate him. The little minx teased. Talented whore, that Hannah. He could well understand why Aleric preferred her.
The moment Aleric tilted his hips, seeking more, she pulled her lips from his prick and reached into the top drawer of the bedside table. Anticipation shortened Raphael’s breaths. Holding onto the tree, he leaned forward, craning his neck, trying to see into the drawer. He let out a low grunt of satisfaction. Not his favorite, but the glass plug was a close second. The tapered width substantial enough for a pleasing stretch. Enough to fill Aleric’s passage. To stay firmly in place.
Stroking Aleric’s cock, she looked up and showed him the toy. The wavy ends of her honey brown hair grazed the arch of her lower back. “Shall I?”
A smirk pulled one edge of Aleric’s lips. Holding her gaze, he widened his stance.
She chuckled, low and throaty, full of wicked delight. She brought the glass plug to her mouth and sucked on it. Raphael rested his shoulder against the tree and slipped two fingers into his mouth, wetting them. Cupping Aleric’s ballocks in her palm, she spread his firm cheeks with two fingers. Hannah slowly pulled the toy from between her lips. The glistening wet length caught the candlelight.
Raphael’s arse tightened in envy. Bark scratched the soles of his bare feet as he shifted on the limb, widening his stance. Careful not to wipe off the moisture, he worked his hand down the back of his loosened breeches and slipped the prepared fingers between his cheeks, hovering over his entrance.
And eased them inside just as Hannah pushed the glass plug inside.
Aleric lifted slightly up onto his toes and then sank down on a grunt. Through ingrained habit, Raphael bit his bottom lip stifling his own grunt. Needing to ease the ache, he worked his fingers deeper. Thick and lush, pleasure spiraled through him, but it wasn’t enough. His gaze fixed on Aleric’s prick jutting from the dark thatch of hair, the crown flushed plum-red, the length wet from the whore’s mouth. If only that thick prick was inside him right now. Stuffing him full. Stretching him wide. Slamming into him.
©Ava March
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I'm guest blogging over at Oh Get A Grip! today. The week's topic is 'Don't be scared; it's just a genre', and part of the topic includes writing a short piece in a genre you're not all that comfortable with. If you have time, stop on by and see which genre I picked. And thanks to Devon Rhodes for the invite to guest post! 
