One Summer Night

Chapter 1

Chapter 1July, London 1801

Martin had planned to remain in the Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese tavern for only one drink, to loosen his shoulders, chat idly with his companions and unwind after a long day hunched over his desk in a stuffy office in Whitehall.

Given the steamy summer weather, it was stifling in the cramped tavern, and the noise of the customers, although jolly, was increasing in volume. Martin finished the contents of his tankard, made his excuses to his friends, weaved his way around the overcrowded tables, and then almost as he reached the door, he stopped in his tracks.

Even in profile, the stranger standing near the bar was strikingly out of place in these commonplace surroundings. From what Martin could perceive, he was of middling height, slightly made, and with a fair ethereal beauty. While Martin was peering through the gloom to get a better look, the man turned full face, and their eyes met.

He was every bit as enticing as his profile had promised. Although dressed carelessly, he had a look of the quality about him, with those finely-wrought features, almost too delicate for a man, and a slender physique not accustomed to strenuous labor. But what captivated Martin was that intense gaze. The rest of him might look youthful, modest, even unassuming, but those deep blue eyes were worldly, knowing, and outrageously provocative.

Without breaking the connection, he gave a lazy smile, one that made Martin’s lust snap and stir, and then as if he had been waiting only for Martin, with a raised eyebrow, he c****d his head in enquiry in the direction of the door.

Martin nodded, instinct overriding his habitual caution, and, opening the door, he watched as the young man prowled toward him, his hips swaying deliberately as he sashayed past Martin and onto Fleet Street.

Although still warm, it was blessedly cooler outside, but Martin felt flushed with the promise of this instant attraction. With a quick wary glance over his shoulder to check no one observed them, Martin followed his quarry to the narrow lane near the tavern.

Before he could speak, the man was on him, his slender body against his, writhing urgently. “God, you need this, don’t you?” Martin muttered, as with not even the prelude of a kiss, the other man buried his head in Martin’s neck, rubbing his torso provocatively to inflame Martin’s senses past all reason.

At that urgent thrusting, any sense of self-preservation deserted Martin. He gripped the man’s high, firm arse, letting him grind himself to near oblivion on Martin’s very interested stand, and his heart nearly stopped when the man raised his head to whisper in Martin’s ear, “f**k me, now. Please.”

Before Martin could think, Dear God in heaven! Right here, right now? He can’t mean that! The man reached down to grip Martin’s cloth-covered c**k with a moan of anticipation. Martin’s vision adjusted to the dim light, and as he hastily undid the front fall of his breeches, he could sense the other man moving slightly away to perform the same hasty action. Then the stranger turned and braced himself against the wall, legs apart, the curve of his white buttocks merely a faint shadow, reminding Martin why that part of the body was commonly called blind cupid.

Martin could not help but place a hand on that pale bared skin, clutching and groping as the other man shivered at the sensation. Martin’s fingers slid over the tempting slope of his bum, between those parted thighs, and as they drifted lower, with an erotic shock, he realized the other man was already oiled and fully prepared for a tupping.

Martin jettisoned any shred of control or decency at this discovery, and naked lust roared through him. Gripping those slim hips with one hand and angling himself with the other, flexing his knees to adjust to the height difference, Martin pushed, gently at first, as the other man lowered his head, arched his back, utterly abandoned as he let out a low groan of fulfillment.

A scant few minutes before, Martin had been over-warm and slightly bored. Now, he was in heaven. The soft grunts and moans from his partner in wantonness encouraged him to pick up the pace, giving him what he needed, a hand creeping around to grip the man’s ready length, until he stilled, burying his head against the sleeve of his jacket, stifling his wild cry of satisfaction.

Martin was not long behind him, hips jerking wildly, utterly inflamed as he sought welcome oblivion in such a receptive body. For a moment that could have lasted an hour, they were completely still. Then after the high of mutual ecstasy came the mundane functions of disconnection and buttoning up.

Martin was about to ask for a name or if he could see him again when he was distracted by a noise from the main street as a crowd of patrons piled out of the inn, laughing and joking. When he glanced back, the stranger had already disappeared, slipping past him in the darkness, leaving him alone and bereft in the anonymous alley.