Retreat From Love by Samantha Kane Page B

the glove to his nose and sniffed. It smelled like Anne, like lilacs and sweat and leather. He closed his eyes with a groan. Good, it smelled so damn good.
    With a sigh Brett ran his other hand over the outside of the glove. It was soft and shiny smooth in places from wear. The stitches were so fine that the seams were almost unnoticeable. The fingertips were the softest, the smoothest. He ran his index finger over his lips. It was like kissing Anne. Brett touched the tip of his tongue to the fingertip of the glove. It tasted…used. Old. Sweet and salty. He unconsciously shook his head.
    That wasn’t what Anne would taste like at all. Well, perhaps sweet and salty, but in a different way. He imagined she would taste a little like wild blueberries, sweet with just a hint of tangy sharpness as she burst against his tongue. Fresh and delicious. With a wry grin he remembered Freddy’s words today. “I only know what you taste like in my dreams.” Yes, Brett had dreamed about it too.
    Brett ran his gloved hand down his chest, stopping to rub his nipples with the supple, worn leather. He shivered at the sensation. He pinched his left nipple hard, twisting it, and the sting combined with the warm, smooth leather made his cock jump.
    Freddy, yes, Freddy would do that. He wouldn’t be gentle with Brett. He’d make him pay for making Freddy wait so long. He’d pinch and nip and pull and twist and torture him until Brett was begging for it.
    47
    Samantha Kane
    A part of him tried to stop. He tried to think of Bertie, and why the things he was thinking of were impossible. But all he could remember was how possible they had seemed today when Anne was gazing at him with such longing and tenderness, and Freddy’s hot gaze was turning his lust into an inferno. Freddy had gotten hard watching Brett play with this glove today. He’d wanted Brett’s hands on him. Brett knew how much Freddy wanted his hands.
    Brett let his gloved hand glide down over his stomach and into his pubic hair. He leaned back against the pillows as he rubbed the glove all over his inner thighs, his balls, his cock. He shivered as some of his pubic hair got caught on the leather and pulled slightly. Would Freddy like this? Would he like Brett to touch him with the glove? Would Anne? Somehow Brett knew they would both like it, very much.
    He wrapped his hand around his cock as best he could. The glove was stretched as much as it could and still Brett’s hand was too big for it. It did not cover his entire hand, leaving the lower half of his palm naked. But it wasn’t the tightness of his grip that would make him come tonight. It was the glove, that small bit of Anne, touching him, holding him. Slowly he bent his knees, bringing his legs up, and he let them fall open so he was spread wide. He began to pump his fist along his cock, the leather hitting the sensitive little bump on the underside of his cock just below the head. It was an exquisite feeling.
    His free hand slid down to cup his balls. He squeezed them lightly and ran one finger down along the seam beneath them until he touched the entrance there. His fantasy became more focused. He lightly rubbed the tight ring with the tip of his finger as he pulled and twisted his cock with his gloved hand. He imagined Anne working his cock like this while Freddy played with his hole. Yes, Freddy had offered Brett his delectable rump, but he’d also made it clear he wanted to fuck Brett. The first time Brett had realized what Freddy wanted he was shocked. But the idea had taken root and grown and become an obsession. What would it feel like? This wouldn’t be the first time Brett had fingered himself and imagined it was Freddy. He was a spineless bastard. He wouldn’t let himself have Freddy even though he could, but he’d lie here in the dark at night and fantasize about it.
    Brett’s finger dipped just inside the tight ring of muscles. It was rough and it hurt, and Brett pulled it back and caught some of the