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Describing the journey to my cock craving.

"

"It is all documented, thank you. And Southern Living has, in fact, shown interest in doing an article."

"It should be enough to get you back in architecture school," Rick said.

"Yes, if I decide to do that. I haven't checked on schools in Washington, D.C., yet."

"Washington, D.C.? I thought you were going to the University of Virginia."

"I was, but Charlottesville is a two-hour drive away. It's just a bit over an hour into D.C."

"So you were planning on staying at Brambleton?"

"Of course."

"Sort of a pity. And more so because of all of the work you've put into the house restoration."

"I beg your pardon."

Rick was wearing that sneery smile of his-the one he sported just before dropping a bomb. Matt was already starting to feel sick to his stomach. The statement William Henry had made earlier in the day flipped back into his mind. His hand was trembling more noticeably and he had to set the snifter down on the table next to his club chair to keep from dropping it on the Oriental carpet underfoot.

His eyes focused on the lush Oriental carpet underneath, and just for a few seconds he fantasized himself on all fours here, in front of the fire in the fireplace, and Rick's hunky, hairy body covering him doggy style and the sneaky lawyer cruelly thrusting again and again inside him.

"Chances are good that the house will be coming down."

"What do you mean?" Matt's ears were throbbing with the sound of the sea; his blood pressure was zooming up. He knew that danger was about to land on him.

"Miriam and Rachel are talking to a developer who wants to build luxury houses on this land. The suburbs of Washington are about to extend this far. They aren't sure he will want to keep the house."

"Develop this land? Brambleton? Tear down the house? They can't. Brambleton is mine. There's a codicil."

"Not that I'm aware of. And there's nothing in the will. Archie had a prenup, by the way. I'm sure he told you that." Rick smiled.

"No codicil? Brambleton not mine? A prenup? What are you trying to pull, Rick?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Rick was looking like the fat cat that got all of the cream.

"Stop this, Rick. You know there's a codicil. You wrote it up. Archie signed it. I watched him sign it."

"There isn't any evidence of a codicil, Matthew. At least there need not be one . . . unless . . . there is something I want from you. Perhaps we could accommodate each other's needs here."

Matt looked up sharply at Rick. The way that Rick was looking at him made it pretty obvious what Rick wanted from him. So, what happened under that pier in Annapolis last year wasn't just a business ploy, Matt thought, mixed panic and arousing anticipation flooding in.

"How much do you want Brambleton?" Rick asked.

They fucked on Archie's bed. Rick first took Matt, with Matt bearing his weight on his shoulders at the foot of the bed and Rick wedged into Matt's butt and holding his legs up and bent close together into his chest. He said he wanted it tight the first time, and Matt, indeed, had found it hard to take a cock the size of Rick's inside him with his channel constricted as it was.

Once bottomed, though, Rick started to pump him hard and deep and fast, punishing him as Matt writhed under him, pleading for mercy and for him to have time to open to the fat cock, but receiving none.

Rick next made Matt ride the cock while he laid on his back, regaining his strength. Matt did so, riding him hard now, lost in the fuck. He was embarrassed at his wantonness under the circumstances, but it had been so long since he'd been fucked, and Rick was being so deliciously cruel. And Rick had a great, cut, tanned body, covered in black, curly hair, and a cock to be proud of.

After resting, Rick pushed Matt onto his side and then reached under him and pulled him up on all fours.

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