A Suitable Replacement (Deceived) Page 9

  Where would Kelcey have gone? They needed … well, pretty much everything. Who knew how long they would be gone; the bare minimum was two months, but there was always the slim chance the wedding would be delayed. But if he was correct about the princess being pregnant, the chance was very slim indeed.

  Max slowed as the cry of a paperboy caught his attention, and paused to hand over a coin and take a paper. Tucking it under his arm, he crossed the street to a tearoom and slipped inside. Taking a seat and ordering a pot of tea, he opened the paper and began idly to read.

  His eyes caught on a familiar name—Harold Lancer, the university professor who had headed the expedition Max had joined. He'd forgotten, in the chaos that had met his return home, that Professor Lancer was due to give a presentation on their early discoveries and future plans. A pity he'd not been able to bring along his own work; his team would be most irate that all of his reports were going to be late—reprehensibly late, assuming he managed to write them at all.

  Further down the page was an article about the Gorson Award. Nominations had begun and finalists would be announced the beginning of next year. Max folded the paper and set it aside, scowled at his tea.

  "You look terribly depressed for a newly married man."

  Max startled, fingers knocking into the cup he'd been about to pick up, and jerked his head up to direct his scowl at Kelcey. "You take entirely too much pleasure in being sneaky."

  Kelcey laughed and dropped down into the seat next to him. "I am not sneaky, merely quiet, and you are the one who keeps forgetting the fact. I was headed back to the hotel when I saw you sitting here. What has you looking so despondent?"

  "Despondent? Nothing that dramatic, and nothing important. How has the shopping gone?"

  "Shopping." Kelcey shrugged. "I've obtained trunks, toiletries, stationary sets, various and sundry other items that I thought would be nice to have. It will all be delivered over the next couple of days. All that is wanting is clothes, and I made arrangements with a shop that promised they could have everything altered and ready in time for our departure."

  Max smiled. "You are efficient, sir, an admirable quality."

  "I think under the circumstances you can use my name," Kelcey said.

  "True," Max replied. He took a sip of tea, then tested the name out. "Kelcey."

  Kelcey grinned, then neatly stole his teacup and drained it. Giving it back, he took the paper and began to skim it. Max snorted softly and refilled his cup, sipping at it as he stared out the window at all the people passing by. What would he be doing if he was at home? Frantically trying to finish his reports, or more likely letting himself be hopelessly distracted by Kelcey.

  He could not believe they were married. It was not something he had ever truly expected to happen to him, as reserved and strange as society regarded him. What was he supposed to do with a spouse gained under such peculiar circumstances?

  Certainly he knew what he wanted to do. That fleeting kiss remained vividly in mind … but since that moment, they seemed to have settled into a cautious friendship and he was at a loss as to how to change that. No etiquette lesson hammered into his head ever covered such a situation. He'd had a glimmer of a plan upon waking, but Kelcey's absence had dashed it.

  Friendship was the wisest decision, but dissatisfaction gnawed at him. Max wanted to return to the hotel, crawl back into bed, and pretend that all was well and normal for a few more hours.

  "This is your expedition," Kelcey said.

  Max turned back to him. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Professor Lancer headed it; he's a brilliant man, specializes in goblin weaponry. Working with him was an honor."

  "Shouldn't you be attending this?" Kelcey folded the paper again and set in on the table, mouth pulled down in a tight frown as he tapped the article with his fingers. "You should be there."

  "Not at all," Max said, waving the words away. "He's only doing an introductory presentation. Full lectures will be done year after next, throughout the year as a series of guest lectures. Mine will likely not even be approved, though in compensation they may assign me something less controversial to prattle about."

  "They won't let you talk about magic?"

  Max laughed. "Of course not. The term is 'magic theory' because that's all I do—theorize. There is plenty of evidence to support my theories, but all that evidence is subjective, inconclusive. Most people consider me a crackpot; even you were surprised that was my focus of study. No one is going to let me stain such an important new discovery with crazy theories."

  "But you were invited to join the expedition; that must mean someone has faith in your studies."

  "I was invited because of my expertise in goblin biology and 'chemical' weaponry. That is why you saw me studying goblin blood the one day. I was running tests to finish a series of long-running experiments. I was allowed to pursue my 'eccentric studies' in my free time, but that was all. Professor Lancer thinks my ideas are not without merit, but he was not funding the expedition."

  Kelcey's frowned deepened, etching deep lines into his brow. Max started to lean over to smooth them away, then wondered what the devil was wrong with him. "I'm sorry you face so many challenges. I do not know how anyone can consider you less than brilliant. Perhaps I do not know much about science, but my understanding from the books I've read is that most of what we accept as truth now started out as the musings of a so-called crackpot."

  Max opened his mouth, closed it again, and swallowed, staring at the table too overwhelmed to speak.

  "I—did I say something wrong?" Kelcey's fingertips lightly touched the back of his hand.

  "Wrong?" Max laughed shakily and finally looked up, smiling at the concern on Kelcey's face. "Sir, you said very much the right thing. If we were not in a public place I would kiss you madly."

  Kelcey's mouth dropped open before he closed it with an audible clack and gave Max a grin that was equal parts eager and shy. "I will hold you to that later, my lord."

  Max returned the smile as he stood, setting coins on the table to pay for the tea. "Shall we attend to the matter of clothes?"

  "We shall." Standing, Kelcey offered his arm. Max took it, letting Kelcey wend them through the bustling streets to a quaint little shop a couple of blocks away.

  A smartly dressed elderly woman greeted them, smiling as she recognized Kelcey. "Hello again, my lord. I see you found your husband. Congratulations to you both. If you'll come this way, I have a dressing room prepared for you and several items for you to try."

  She led them down a short hallway to a room all the way at the end. It was pretty, with green and white striped walls and a green, yellow, and blue paisley rug on a polished floor of warm-gold wood. There was no window, but several bright lamps with colorful shades cast plenty of light. Nodding to a pile of clothing on a large table, she said, "Clothes for you to look through. Once you've made your selections, ring the bell, and I'll send someone to measure for alterations."

  "Thank you," Max said, immediately setting to work looking through everything. Kelcey spoke quietly with the woman for another moment, then the door closed and Kelcey joined him. It was quite the assortment; clearly clothes ordered but never picked up. Most of it was out of fashion, but that was Max's entire wardrobe anyway. He looked over a handsome blue jacket that seemed large enough to suit Kelcey.

  Kelcey turned when Max nudged him, brows lifting in silent query, still holding a shirt he had started to lift from the pile.

  Max abruptly recalled Kelcey's words in the tearoom. Shoving the jacket into Kelcey's arms, he reached up, grasped the sides of Kelcey's head, and stretched up to cover Kelcey's lips with his own. Kelcey gave a soft gasp, and Max used the chance to turn the kiss intimate. He had said madly, and he meant it. He lapped at Kelcey's mouth, then slipped his tongue in, tasting tea and something smoky. He kissed harder, shifting to twine his arms around Kelcey's neck, toes barely touching the floor anymore. His world narrowed to exploring, claiming that extraordinary mouth he had admired more times than h
e cared to admit, the lips he had pictured wrapped around his cock as he brought himself off in bed.

  He drew back to bite at those lush lips, then deepened the kiss again, sucked on Kelcey's tongue, explored every bit of his mouth he could reach, employed every filthy skill he had ever learned. Another soft groan was fed into his mouth, the jacket between them fell away, and then Max was held flush against that ridiculous body, feet separated entirely from the ground. He wanted to push Kelcey up against a wall and climb him, or drop to his knees and find out how Kelcey tasted, how quickly Max could make him come.

  When the kiss finally ended, they were both panting. Kelcey's lips were swollen and wet, clothes mussed and his neck cloth beyond saving. Kelcey licked Max's lips and slowly let him go, arms falling away once Max was standing again. "You were not lying when you said 'madly'."

  "Why would I lie?" Max asked, mouth curving into a pleased smile as he turned back to the table to resume rifling through the clothes. "You should retrieve that jacket; you would wear it well."

  "Jacket? Oh!" Shaking his head, Kelcey stooped to retrieve the blue jacket. "It's handsome." He traced the gold vines and pale blue flowers embroidered on the wide cuffs.

  Max glanced at him, humming in approval as he saw he'd been correct about the color. It looked magnificent against Kelcey's dark skin. "Try it on. It looks big enough, but I would imagine your shoulders are never an easy fit." Except perhaps for Max's hands when—

  Cutting that thought off before he surrendered to impulses best ignored, at least for the moment, he picked out a few things for himself and set them aside, then looked for a few more articles for Kelcey.

  "A little snug," Kelcey said, "but I think it can be fixed?"

  Eyeing him critically, Max finally nodded in agreement. "Yes, I think so. Toss it in the pile." He glanced through what remained one last time, pulled out two shirts, and called it done. "Now for the awkward part."

  "All the worse since you had to kiss me like that right before it," Kelcey said, but the reproving words were ruined by his smile.

  Max resisted the urge to kiss him again, but only because he had no desire to suffer from frustration and humiliation himself while he was poked and prodded for fittings.

  But struggling not to think about it only made the long afternoon all the more interminable, and by the time they were finally finished he was ready to scream with frustration. He had only managed to resist temptation in the past because Kelcey was Mavin's former fiancé and he had been certain Kelcey did not like him. With those barriers gone …

  "What shall we do now?" Kelcey asked, fussing with the cuffs of his new jacket as they stepped out onto the street. "There's a decent pub close by; we could get something to eat. Is there anything else for which we need to shop?"

  Max started to say no, he wanted to go back to their room and resume what they had begun with the kiss—and then it occurred to him there was something they needed. "Yes, actually, unless you don't want to go back to the room and fuck me."

  Kelcey's eyes widened, then he ducked his head. "I, uh, may have already made that purchase."

  Max laughed and hooked his arm through Kelcey's. "Then I say we return to our room and enjoy what time we have before we are stuck on a ship with no privacy for two weeks."

  "Yes, my lord," Kelcey said, and started whistling as they headed back to the hotel.

  The returned to the hotel as quickly as they could manage without making a spectacle of themselves, but was still the longest journey of Max's life, minus their recent escape from a royal marriage. By the time they reached their room, impatience and want had left Max aching.

  He watched avidly as Kelcey began to strip. If Max had his way, he would issue a household rule that Kelcey was never allowed to wear clothing. Covering that body was a crime against creation. At the very least it was a crime against Max. "I did not think it was possible for you to be more distracting, but I have been soundly proven wrong, sir." He stepped in close and splayed his hands against that magnificent chest, rather enjoying how small his hands looked against the broad, smooth swath of dark skin. Kelcey's hands covered his, dragged them up to wrap around his neck as he bent to kiss Max in a way that made their kiss at the tailor's seem a paltry thing. It left Max's lips throbbing and sore. He wanted more, wanted to be left aching and bruised and too exhausted to think.

  Large, warm hands cupped his ass, held him tight against Kelcey's body as that mouth sucked at the edge of his jaw before dipping to score his throat with teeth, soothe the marks with his tongue. Max's fingers flexed and unflexed on Kelcey's shoulders, moans and whimpers slipping free as he tried to move, feel more, get his own turn at tasting, but was unable to do more than writhe and beg and suffer. He whined, high and desperate, when Kelcey stopped and let him go. "Don't stop."

  "I'm pausing, there's a difference," Kelcey replied, grinning boyishly as he pushed Max's jacket form his shoulders and started on the buttons of his shirt. "I want more of you, and I am bloody tired of being the only one naked."

  "You're only half-naked." Max stared at the trousers he still wore, the bulge straining against them, and reached out to cup it, run his fingers over it. Kelcey swore, moving toward and away from the touch, fingers slipping on buttons. Snickering, Max pushed his hands away and finished removing his own shirt.

  He shivered when those large fingers traced over his scars, lingering on the one on his side. "You have more scars than me, and I'm the one who gets into fights professionally."

  Max shrugged. "Explosions come with their own risks, especially where reckless young men are concerned. You also forget that I grew up with Mavin." He worked Kelcey's trousers open, pushed all the bothersome fabric out of the way, making a soft, rough noise of approval when he pulled out Kelcey's cock and wrapped his fingers around it. He ran his thumb over the tip, wrapped his fingers around it, enjoyed the heft and weight, body thrumming with anticipation.

  Dropping to his knees, he replaced his thumb with his tongue, enjoying his first musky, faintly bitter taste of Kelcey's cock. Fingers sank into his hair, the room filling with Kelcey's moans as Max continued to explore his cock with tongue and lips, one hand wrapped around the base, the other curled around Kelcey's hip.

  "You—are going—to be the death of me," Kelcey bit out. "Gods above, you are exactly as wicked as you look."

  Max stilled, pulled away and looked up at Kelcey, blinking slowly. "No one has ever described me as wicked."

  "They're all fools," Kelcey said. "I thought you wicked almost from the start. Temptation sent to drive me mad."

  "I'm not going to drive you mad."

  Kelcey at him as though Max were the mad one after all. "You will if you do not get on with sucking me."

  Laughing, Max sucked on the bare tip, then pulled away again. "If you want your cock in my mouth, sir, then put it there."

  The hot want that burned in Kelcey's eyes sent a rush of excitement and power through Max, seared in him a need to see that look every day for the rest of his life. He whimpered as Kelcey fisted his hair, grip stopping just short of painful, dragged Max in and pushed his cock into Max's mouth. He groaned, tipping forward ever so slightly, driving his cock even deeper. Max almost choked, but he was used to far rougher treatment. Bracing himself by wrapping his hands around Kelcey's firm ass, he relaxed his jaw and let Kelcey fuck him, use him, until his jaw ached and his lips were bruised, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, spit wetting his chin and his throat was raw. "Gods, you're unbelievable," Kelcey murmured, thrusting one last time before spilling down his throat. Max swallowed all that he could, but was too worn out by taking Kelcey's cock for so long to manage all of it, the excess dribbling from the corners of his mouth and down his chin.

  He gasped and shuddered as Kelcey's softening cock slipped from his mouth—and made a garbled noise when Kelcey's lips replaced it, moving gently over Max's abused mouth, deft tongue cleaning his face. "You, my lord, are an addiction. I thought you would be as imperious in bed as you
are out of it."

  Max shrugged, feeling suddenly skittish, because Kelcey was hardly the first lover to make that remark. "I behave as my station requires, sir."

  Kelcey made a low, almost growly sort of noise and pushed him down to the floor. The rug was scratchy against Max's sweaty back, but he remained where he was when Kelcey pressed a hand to his chest. Kelcey moved away, rifled through his discarded clothes until he found the small porcelain jar of lubrication he had clearly been seeking. Settling between Max's thighs, trailing his fingers down them, teasing over Max's tightly drawn balls and aching cock, he said, "I like you behaving this way. Are you as inclined toward experiments in bed as you are out of it?"

  "Perhaps," Max muttered, cheeks staining red even as he watched Kelcey slick his fingers, licking his lips in anticipation—arching up, desperate and needing as Kelcey teased his hole with one warm, slippery finger. He closed his eyes, hoping that might make him somewhat less crazy. "Not quite as adventurous as my sister, however. She discovered the alternative uses of a riding crop and never looked back." He just wished she had bothered to lock the parlor door before she had started on her eager miss.

  The fingers teasing him stuttered, stopped. Max opened eyes to see that Kelcey had frozen, mouth open in shock—and he would swear those dark cheeks had a flush to them. He laughed, poorly smothering the sound with the back of his hand. "You are picturing my sister wielding a riding crop!" He laughed harder, twisting to smother it against the rug.

  It turned into a yelp when the rest of his body was turned and he was urged to his knees, face shoved harder into the rug before he got his arms folded beneath him to serve as a sort of pillow. Max moaned as Kelcey abruptly left off the teasing and careful coaxing to thrust two fingers deep into him, crooking and twisting just so, making Max whimper and then scream.

  He tried to reach a hand back to wrap around his cock, but Kelcey caught it, pinned it to his back, leaving Max helpless, no choice but to endure the way those fingers were steadily fucking him, two becoming three, pushing and twisting, pulling out only to shove back in—