The Man Who Hated Ned O'Leary (Dig Two Graves 2)

And then he was looking at Ned O’Leary. The one who’d revealed his secret desire by glancing at Cole for far too long on the day they’d first met. The one who had been too innocent to realize Cole was trying to court him. The one from before Cole’s heart had turned into iron, and his blood into ash.

“There you are,” he breathed, closing the razor, because he might have cut himself otherwise. His head was a tangle of thorny vines, and he didn’t have the strength to force them apart.

“Here I am.” Ned’s smile was shy and soft, like that of a young man who’d seen too much cruelty and had finally returned home. Cole couldn’t hate him for it.

He’d missed that smile. And Ned’s gentleness. The warmth of his confident yet thoughtful touch. They used to be such a perfect match.

“I—”

Ned didn’t let him speak. He leaned forward just enough to grab the front of Cole’s shirt with his bound hands, and kissed him.

Chapter 10

Cole wasn’t sure whether his heart had stopped, or if it beat too fast for him to comprehend. The gentle pull on his shirt knocked the air out of him, but it was the kiss that set every bone in his body on fire. Ned’s lips were like summer sunshine, like a warm pond deep in the forest, sweet as raisins dusted with sugar. He tasted of the past Cole had been trying to bury, and this one lick brought it back in a whole array of colors, smells, and sensations.

When he opened his eyes, his Neddie was looking back at him with so much hope and determination, Cole’s will to resist broke.

They didn’t speak. When Cole chose to deepen the kiss, Ned opened his lips, reminding Cole of all those times he’d done that in the past. He was offering himself, pliant and shivering when Cole’s fingers found their way to his pants.

Their kiss only broke when Ned pushed his bound hands behind Cole’s head and rested their sweet weight on his nape. A voice at the back of Cole’s mind told him Ned might try to choke him or break his neck, but it was just a whisper, and when Ned held him close, nothing seemed more important than getting to touch the warm skin, to draw lines with his tongue and create intricate patterns by connecting freckles with damp trails.

Ned’s lips still tasted of the lavender tooth powder he’d used earlier, and he smelled of shaving soap, but also wood, and winter sunshine, which Cole was desperate to feel on his cold skin.

Ned’s pants finally opened, and Cole yanked them down along with flannel long johns without ever breaking the kiss or attempting to slide out of the firm embrace.

Every inch of Cole’s skin was on fire, fueled by the clash of arousal and sadness burning in the pit of his stomach. He pushed Ned back on the blanket nest, already rocking against him and dying to feel him again. At some point, he didn’t even know when, he’d become numb to the world around him, and the intensity of emotion stabbing his heart made the icy walls around it melt. He’d been living in a cave, and was now exposed to sunlight for the first time in seven years. It hurt and made his eyes lose focus, but he didn’t want to run back inside.

Ned hooked one leg over Cole’s hip and moved against him while his tongue responded to every lick, every caress. They were so close now, but no matter how hard Cole grabbed Ned or how ferociously Ned sucked on his tongue, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. No, he needed more.

Closer.

Harder.

Faster.

Frantic with desire, he opened his pants and yanked at the front of his union suit. A button must have snapped, because cold air touched his skin, but his cock was free at last and so very rigid he could barely think of anything but burying himself in the heat of Ned’s body. His grooming pouch lay at arm’s length, and he dabbed his hand inside it, squeezing the tin pomade box.

Kisses became bites as he turned his head to make sure it was the right container. He nipped Ned’s newly smooth cheek as they rocked against one another, caught in a moment of breathless passion that couldn’t be stopped. He’d touched Ned’s cock in the bathtub, but that had been utilitarian in nature. This was different, and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the thick rod that already glistened in invitation.

It was the first prick Cole had ever touched, and in the short months of their relationship, he’d become addicted to its flavor. Memories of silent tumbles in their tent returned with force, prompting him to think of the musky scent of Ned’s balls, of the salty juices rolling down his tongue as if the last time he’d sucked Ned’s prong had been only days ago.