Chapter Two

Rogan rose from the chair in his bedchamber and poured a healthy dose of brandy into the snifter. Tossing Lethbridge's missive onto the bureau, he walked to the hearth and stared at the blue ribbons of flames licking the blackened logs. Pity he wouldn't be able to call on Drew in the ensuing days as promised. He so looked forward to watching him squirm beneath his inquest and unwanted advances. Yet, if the whimpers from his throat last night held any weight, Drew hadn't been immune to his advances.

Nor had he.

No matter how hard he fought the sensation of the hard, lean body pressing into his, Rogan's cock had sprung to life and steamed heat had swept over him. Hell, thinking about him now, the bane of his every thought, made him harder than granite. He couldn't—no, he wouldn't—wait. He'd already waited a lifetime, it seemed. Tonight, he'd show Drew he couldn't discard him like a piece of his priceless furniture.

Rogan plucked his coat from the back of a chair, crossed the room and left his bedchamber, his engorged cock straining against his breeches.

* * *

Drew paced his bedchamber with images of Rogan snaking through his brain. Damnation, why had he succumbed to the man's kiss last night? His gut had told him to deliver a hard blow between the man’s eyes, yet he couldn't get his fist to cooperate.

A commotion near the open window drew his gaze. Above the rapid beating of his heart, he heard Lilliput, his beloved terrier, yapping from the bed. Drew's jaw dropped when a dark form slipped over the sill and turned to face him.

He recognized the broad shoulders, muscular thighs and familiar stance. "You! What in hell are you about entering my bedchamber uninvited?"

Rogan smiled and stepped toward him with the nimble grace of a jungle beast. "I'd be pleased to enter through the front entry if you'd care to invite me in."

Drew felt his throat constrict. "Stay back or..."

"Or what?"

Under the amber candlelight, Drew saw every stunning feature of Rogan's face, including the gold flecks in his nut-brown eyes. "I'll summon Fallon, have him toss your sorry carcass out the window."

"Intriguing but acrimonious. Do you wish Fallon to know about our sordid past?"

Drew delivered the words through clenched teeth. "Fallon knows everything...everything."

Rogan's eyes widened but only briefly. "That's twice I've heard those words ‘we know everything.’ I can't say it pleases me. Still, it does simplify things.

Drew watched Rogan make short work of his jacket and next, his waistcoat. Stunned into immobility, a shudder passed through him when Rogan freed the buttons on his trousers.

Before Drew could blink, Rogan pulled a pistol from the scabbard about his shoulder and pointed it in his direction. "Take your clothes off, every stitch."

When Drew hesitated, he pulled back on the hammer. "Do not think to test me; you know I'll fire."

"You would shoot me?"

Rogan shook his head. "No, but I have no aversion to shooting that mop rag on your bed."

Drew's head snapped toward Lilliput and a short groan left his lips. Brockport would make good his threat. The man never bluffed.

"Now," Rogan said with a nod toward Drew's clothing and then directing the pistol toward the bed.

With shaky fingers and rage bubbling up his throat, Drew unhooked the suspenders from his waistband and pushed his trousers and drawers over his hips until they fell at his feet.

How he'd love to tell Rogan to go to hell and take his chances, but he couldn't risk Lilliput's life. How could he be sure the recent speculation about the man was nothing more than that, speculation? For all he knew, he'd shoot the dog and for good measure, finish him off before he left the bedchamber. His mind raced as precious seconds ticked by. He could do nothing at the moment, but at the first opportunity, he'd attempt to disarm him, if he didn't succumb to the traitorous thrills snaking through his body first.

"Step away from your clothing."

Drew obliged and lifted his head, waiting to see what Rogan would do next. He didn't look angry, but Drew couldn't dismiss the aura of danger sifting through the room or the cad's confident stance. Rogan meant business.

"The shirt."

"What do you intend to do?" Drew stalled for time and freed the buttons at a snail's pace before pulling his arms from the sleeves.

Rogan flicked his chin up. "Toss it onto the pile on the floor and drop to your knees. To answer your question, I wasn't certain what I intended to do. Until last night. After our little tête-à-tête, I decided to finish what I started."

Drew licked his dry lips against the flames of arousal lashing about him. However futile, he had to resist the brute. Through the open window, a soft breeze rustled the curtains and sent a cool rush of air over of his exposed erection. Rogan glanced down at his prick and smiled. Holy hell, even his rage and frustration couldn't hide his desperate need for the bastard.

Rogan closed the distance between them, clutched the base of his shaft and squeezed. "Ah, hot and hard. Tell me again, Drew. Tell me you don't want me."

Drew peered at him through a long lock of his hair falling across his forehead, surprised his own voice sounded so placid. "This must end between us once and for all."

"Must it? I'll decide when it ends, and I'm not feeling charitable at the moment." Rogan freed his long, thick cock from his trousers. "On your knees and suck me. Take all of it between your duplicitous lips."

Drew eased down to the soft carpet and from his knees stared at the round, meaty cap in front of him. He closed his eyes against the memories and a fine bead of sweat broke out on his forehead. If he lived to be one-hundred he'd never forget Rogan's taste─sweet, salty and pure musky male. The muscles in Drew's jaw clenched and then Rogan wrapped his large hand around the back of his head and pushed it toward his engorged member.

Drew swiped his tongue across the crown and licked along the length, first one side and then the other. He heard Rogan's deep moan through a cocoon of lust, and his own balls drew up tight before his cock lengthened and thickened.

"More," Rogan said, applying pressure to his head. "Swallow me whole."

Emotions Drew hadn't experienced in ages washed over him, stripped his inhibitions away and laid bare his soul. He set upon Rogan's cock, taking the entire length into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He retreated, leaving only the tip of the man's prick in his mouth. Rogan emitted a guttural growl when Drew nipped the sensitive crown and ran his tongue across the leaking slit.

How he'd wanted to punish Rogan, make him hunger and suffer in the way he'd hungered for him every day he'd been married to Claudia. His late wife's face floated behind his eyelids. Beautiful, sweet Claudia, who'd always been there for him, who'd understood the depth of his love for this undeserving beast of a man.

Driven by hurt and anger, Drew swallowed Rogan's cock again and sucked. He felt his cheeks deflate and his jaw ached from the thick length. God, the man was enormous. A fire throbbed in his groin and spread outward to every limb. He wanted Rogan inside him. Sweet Mother of Jesus, he wanted the man to take him, wholly, fiercely, hard and deep.

* * *

Rogan looked down at the exquisite man on his knees sucking his cock. Jesus, words couldn't describe the breadth and depth of his desire for Drew Hibbard. The flick of his tongue over the cap of his prick nearly drove him to his knees. Blood rushed to the crown and he felt his cock throb with an unbearable ache when Drew swallowed the full length and sucked him off.

Only Drew, with his decadent full lips and perfect cut-glass features, could drag such a response from him. At the moment, his cheeks were sunken and short breaths passed through his nostrils as he pulled, tugged and nipped at his shaft until Rogan thought he might go mad.

"Enough. "Rogan's voice sounded foreign to his own ears. He grabbed a lock of Drew's hair and yanked him to his feet. "Kneel at the foot of the bed, face down on the coverlet."

Rogan walked to the small oak table beside the bed, opened the drawer and found what he needed—a vial of oil. After pulling off the stopper he held it to his nose and allowed the faint scent of lavender and eucalyptus to wash over him. He tipped the vial over his palm and spread the drops around his hand.

Taking a deep breath, he clasped his own cock and ran his hands up and down the length until it shone slick under the candles' amber glow. Drew knelt by the bed, his smooth skin and firm bottom beckoning him. Rogan stood behind him, savoring the moment. Anger burned in his chest for all that he'd been denied in the last several years. But he couldn't take Drew like an animal, wouldn't rush this encounter, despite the overwhelming wrath and hunger compelling him. He wanted to remember every second, feel Drew's hot, tight ass grip his cock like a vise.

Rogan grasped Drew's slim hip with one hand. With the other, he spread his cheeks and nudged his pink hole with the head of his cock.

Drew gasped. "Oh, God."

"Oh, God, what?"


"You sure you don't want me to leave? If I recall your words, you didn't invite me in."


"Invite me in now, Drew. Say it."

A long breath of air left Drew's lips and he trembled. "Please stay.

Rogan pushed inside, burying only the crown. Drew grunted and every muscle in his body grew taut. His channel gripped Rogan's cock. Rogan tipped his head back and panted through the exquisite sensation.

"More, Rogan, more."

Rogan pushed in, the blinding rush of pleasure stunning him like a flash of lightning had struck him. "Christ, you're so hot, so tight."

Drew's skin stretched taught around Rogan's pulsating cock. He gritted his teeth and paced his thrusts, easing back, driving in again and again.

Drew whimpered and pushed his ass back against his thighs. "Harder, faster."

With a bestial growl, Rogan grabbed his hips with both hands and sank in to the hilt. A muffled scream tore from Drew's throat and he bucked like a stallion, his hands wringing the coverlet.

Rogan paused, allowing him to adjust to the full length and width. "Want me to cease?"

Drew's words came out in a choked whisper. "I'll shoot you with your own pistol if you do."

Pulling back swiftly, Rogan thrust in again, repeating the measured strokes until Drew writhed mindlessly beneath him.

"Oh, God, oh, God."

Rogan's climax peaked; he couldn't hold back much longer. Drew's breaths came in short, hard bursts and his body stiffened. White lights flashed behind Rogan's eyes; he concentrated only on the burning heat and blissful tightness encasing his cock. Drew's pelvis pitched forward and canted back. He called out Rogan's name at the exact moment Rogan's world shattered.

With a final thrust, Rogan deep-hilted his weeping prick and collapsed on top of Drew, stunned by his warring emotions. Long minutes later, his breathing still erratic, Rogan whispered, "Christ," and eased out of Drew's tight hole.

Drew crawled onto the bed and rolled onto his back, with Rogan doing the same beside him.

"Where do we go from here?" Drew said.

"You tell me what happened and I'm out of your life . . . gone like a frigate rolling out to sea. Forever," he added with finality.

"Beg your pardon?" Drew rose from the bed, plucked his trousers from the floor and pulled them on, up and over his hips. "You must take me for a complete fool! I owe you nothing. On the contrary, you should explain your actions."

Nostrils flared, hands on hips, Drew spread his legs, obviously bracing for battle. Another wave of uncontrollable desire whipped through Rogan. Good God, he wanted the man again, right now. Visions filled his mind, every debauched, erotic picture of Drew straining beneath him moments ago, his pained whimpers filling the room. The vignette whispered over him until he grew painfully hard again.

Rogan bounded to his feet and stood toe-to-toe with Drew, the anger returning in a rush. "I'm done playing this cat and mouse game with you. You will tell me why without so much as a word you gave me the direct cut or I'll beat it out of you. And take great pleasure in doing so."

"You wouldn't dare and don't think for one minute if you do I won't—"

Fallon’s voice drifted through the door. "Drew? Are you well?"

For a timeless moment, Rogan's gaze locked with Drew's. Nothing in the universe existed, not the mantel clock ticking away the seconds or Lilliput's tiny whimpers, not even his own ragged breathing.

"I'm fine, Fallon. I had a bad dream.

"Open the door, please." Fallon's voice held urgency. "I need to see you with my own eyes you are well."

Drew glanced toward the window. "Leave, Rogan. We have nothing more to say to one another. If I don't open that door in the next minute, Fallon will break it down."

"Do you think me afraid of your godfather? Perhaps at one time, but not anymore, Drew. Be forewarned, I’d love to take him down, and one day I will."

"I beg of you, I don't want him harmed. Please leave, Rogan; let it end it here, now."

Rogan snatched his clothes from the floor and walked to the window. He turned one last time and faced Drew. "The day of reckoning is coming."

Rogan ducked beneath the sash and scrambled down the apple tree, one sturdy branch at a time. When his feet hit the ground, he looked up toward Drew's bedchamber. "Soon, very soon."

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