Bennet, Pride Before the Fall (Love Austen 3)

Their noses were so close Bennet’s skin buzzed. “I do.”

“So why do you look so surprised?”

Because Bennet had never wanted to be consumed so much in all his life. “Because I never thought we’d reach this point.”

Whispered words against his ear, ending with a nip to his lobe. “What point?”

“The point you’ll do more than look. The point where I’ll let you.”

Shirt undone, air shifting over his smooth torso, Bennet shrugged out of the quality material. Darcy plucked it from the cushions and, with more care than expected, tucked it away on a shelf, out of the way. “Now I wish I hadn’t strewn yours across the Scrabble board.”

“Mine are nothing special. Yours are.”

Bennet smiled into another kiss, and gasped at Darcy’s touch exploring his pecs and hardened nipples.

Bennet leaned back into the cushions, taking Darcy with him by the waist of his suit pants. Their bodies pressed together, Darcy deliciously heavy atop him, his stomach cool against his, their rigid lengths nestled side by side.

Wondrous, intelligent eyes soaked Bennet in, and it was the first time he’d cared what his partner really saw when they looked at him. He couldn’t take the intensity of Darcy’s observations. Bennet swallowed. “Would you kiss me and not stop?”

The whisper fell intimately between them. He stirred under Darcy, flushing.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Bennet raised his head and captured Darcy’s lips. Darcy obliged, his kiss tender and unhurried. Bennet shivered with it, the intensity only increasing. It was too much; it wasn’t nearly enough.

Darcy, broad and solid on top of Bennet, trembled too. Bennet couldn’t forget this might be as far as Darcy had been with anyone in a while—and with another man, ever.

“You’re so perfect at this, I forget . . .” Bennet murmured. “God, you feel good.”

Darcy clasped Bennet’s nape, fingers sliding over his scalp as he deepened his kiss. Bennet curled a leg around Darcy’s hip and arched into him at the slickening urgency of their tongues. Darcy thrust gently against him, tightening his grip on Bennet’s hair.

Their kisses became panting breaths and whispers. He told Darcy he was holding him perfectly, that he wanted to do this all night, that he wished there was less fabric between them.

Responding to Bennet’s need, Darcy lifted his weight and fished for the button on Bennet’s jeans.

“Good plan.” Bennet unzipped his pants and shoved them off with his briefs, then helped Darcy reach a similar state.

He palmed Darcy’s firm ass, steering him against him once more. Their hard, naked lengths touched. Darcy’s balls rested silkily against Bennet’s.

Darcy sucked in a breath, and Bennet’s pulse raced.

“That feels . . .” Darcy shifted, and groaned again. His husky voice tickled over the bridge of Bennet’s nose. “I like that. Very much.”

A wide smile tugged at Bennet’s lips, and he ran his hands up Darcy’s back to his shoulders, massaged up his neck into his hair and pulled him down into a languid kiss. Their noses grazed and bumped, mirroring other, more sensitive parts of them.

Hooking Darcy’s gaze, Bennet messily licked his fingers. He felt Darcy’s cock twitch against him, and smiled as he reached between them.

Darcy’s weight collapsed onto his body with a long, sexy moan.

Bennet gasped at the pleasure spiraling through him as he stroked. Darcy shifted, easing the access, slipping his fingers between Bennet’s. The pad of Darcy’s finger dragged along the head of his cock on every stroke and Bennet’s murmurings became senseless as they chased after release, warm breathy groans falling into each other’s ears, necks, mouths.

He loved the feeling of Darcy shifting over him, loved every guttural gasp and shudder. Loved the sound of a foot kicking through Scrabble tiles. Loved witnessing Darcy letting go.

Bennet kissed the strong cords of Darcy’s neck and nibbled at the soft spot beneath his ear. Darcy took over, working them fast and furious. They were both close.

Darcy plunged his tongue into Bennet’s mouth, and kissed, and kissed, and kissed until he moaned, “Bennet.”

Bennet whimpered. Their gazes locked and they gasped against each other’s lips, spilling warmly between their stomachs.

Darcy crumpled against Bennet and Bennet reveled in the solid weight against him. Catching his breath be damned. Their release grew cool and sticky between them. Bennet cradled Darcy’s face, Darcy’s fight against an instinctive shyness visible as he met Bennet’s eye directly.

But Bennet thought he could read through Darcy’s impressive control. Happiness warred with caution, and shock at what they’d done warred with pride of having done it.

A light ticklish feeling rushed through Bennet, consuming him, making it hard to find his voice.

He dropped his hands to Darcy’s shoulders, glancing around the room and then at the sticky mess between them. “We didn’t think this through, did we?”

“At least we’ve established that I do not, in fact, always think before I act.”

Bennet laughed, and Darcy carefully pulled off him, urging Bennet to stay. He grabbed his suit shirt and wiped Bennet’s stomach, then his own. Bennet pulled his jeans up and took in the mess of their game. “What do you think? Call it a draw?”