A Taste Of Honey Read online

  "I don't know. Perhaps."

  Honey wrapped his free arm around Antoine's waist and drew him closer. “You like what I'm doing to you?"

  Up close like this, Honey smelled even better than Antoine had anticipated—a mixture of herbs and spices that made him feel a little intoxicated. And the touch of Honey's soft, satiny skin against his own was like nothing he'd experienced before—not even from the most costly whore. “I'm not sure. It feels a trifle strange to be touched in this way by a man."

  "And what about this?” Releasing Antoine's dick, Honey pushed his hand farther between Antoine's legs, inserted a fingertip up his butt and wiggled it around. “You are very tight. I like that. It's good."

  Antoine felt light-headed with shock at the unexpected intrusion into his rectum.

  Honey laughed and kissed him on the mouth. “Come, let us go somewhere more private, and I will show you."

  Antoine experienced a bit of nervousness at the thought of going off somewhere with a man he didn't know, a man obviously determined to seduce him. “Can we not do whatever it is in here?"

  "Not unless you want to suck my dick in public."

  Antoine took a backward step. “I don't want to suck it here or in your room. I'm sorry, but..."

  "Don't be sorry. Just come with me, and I promise in no time at all you will want to suck me just as desperately as I want to suck you,” Honey insisted. Taking Antoine's hand, he urged him to the door and into the hallway beyond.

  "And if I don't?"

  "Fear not, mon ami, I won't force you. And I'm the one who should apologize. I fear I have this dreadful habit of going too fast, and now I've frightened you, yes?"

  "No, I wouldn't say I'm frightened."

  "No? But I think you're a little nervous. A little unsure, too, I imagine. After all, this is your first time."

  A short way down the hall, Honey stopped, opened a door and waited for Antoine to precede him into a small, candlelit room.

  But once inside the chamber, Antoine felt the first fluttering of panic. He was shaking, he felt sick, dizzy, and he needed to leave. Now. He had no idea what had possessed him to take such a dangerous step as coming to a place like this. Even worse, he could not imagine what was about to happen to him now. Whatever it was, he'd lost his nerve. He just wanted to go home to his boring, unsatisfying life. He...

  "Calm down,” Honey murmured, his magic fingers dipping into Antoine's breeches and extracting his now-shriveled cock. “Give me a second to turn this little man back into a big brave soldier again, and you'll feel much better. You'll see."

  Along with his warm, golden skin and delicious scent, Honey had a soft, singsong accent when he spoke that intrigued Antoine. “Where are you from?"

  "I am a Creole from the Antilles. The beautiful island of Martinique in the blue Caribbean Sea. My previous master was a ship's captain, and I was his cabin boy. Unfortunately, the captain lost me to another man in a game of cards here in Paris."

  As he spoke, he dropped to his knees and took Antoine into his mouth. The moment Antoine felt the warm, wet, velvety texture of Honey's tongue wrapping itself around his dick, he began to grow hard again. From that moment on, he was lost as the world spun faster on its axis, and everything became dreamlike and unreal.

  He didn't protest when Honey removed all their garments and pulled him down beside him on the bed, or when Honey kissed him, and their tongues engaged in the most delightfully erotic dance imaginable. And when Honey asked if Antoine would like to suck his cock, he hesitated for no more than a second before he complied.

  However, Antoine did experience a tiny surge of doubt when Honey positioned him on all fours on the floor. And a slightly bigger surge when Honey spread his ass cheeks, and he felt Honey insert the head of his cock in his hole and begin to push.

  Honey's penis felt huge, far bigger than his finger, and it hurt quite horribly. Antoine started to whimper, and begged Honey to stop. “No, no. Please, let me go. It hurts too much. I cannot do this."

  "Yes, you can. But you must try to relax and have a little patience,” Honey soothed as he pushed even harder.

  As far as Antoine was concerned, it felt as if someone was pushing a red-hot poker into his rectum, and he felt a fleeting moment of pity for the whores he'd teased with the genuine article.

  As the pain increased, Antoine tried to shake Honey off, but the man had wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, making escape impossible. “Relax, my friend. The first time is always difficult. But wait and you will see this little bit of discomfort is nothing compared to the pleasure you'll receive."

  Antoine didn't believe that for a second, but as he stopped fighting the inevitable and made himself relax, the pain did lessen a little. And then went away completely as Honey stopped pushing and began to squeeze and stroke Antoine's prick.

  "I'm big, and you're a virgin, so if you could just oblige me with a few drops of your cum, it will make this much easier. You understand what I mean?"

  "I'm afraid not.” What one thing had to do with the other was beyond Antoine, and anyway he was right on the verge of coming and didn't care.

  Honey gave his cock another squeeze and the orgasm exploded like a dam bursting. It curled Antoine's toes and spread through his body, but as he felt Honey cover the head of his dick with his hand, catch his juice and spread it over his hole, he realized there was a connection. A little lubrication and Honey was now able to slide all the way in with no problem.

  It still hurt, but now Honey was able to ride him in earnest. He was now pumping in and out of Antoine's back entrance with a powerful thrust Antoine found more satisfying than anything he'd experienced with a woman. And if that wasn't exciting enough, Honey proceeded to increase Antoine's pleasure even more by using his hands to rub his shaft back to life.

  The second time he climaxed, Antoine felt it happen for Honey, too. He felt the tiny hesitation, the sudden tightening of muscles, and spurts of hot semen running down his legs. Then, the rush of emotional gratification gradually ebbed into nothingness, and they collapsed in a heap.

  * * * *

  Antoine awoke to a soft tapping sound somewhere nearby. He looked around for Honey, disappointed to realize the other man had gone and that he was now alone in the small, candle-lit room.

  The last thing he remembered was being held in Honey's arms and the two of them lying naked on the floor, gasping for breath while their hearts beat in counterpoint. Now, he was fully dressed again and lying on the bed.

  He sat up and rubbed his sleep-filled eyes, wondering how his clothes had magically put themselves back on his body. Had it all been a dream? Had those magnificent orgasms been nothing more than the product of his imagination? A drug-induced illusion, perhaps? No, that wasn't possible. He had neither eaten nor drunk as much as a crumb or the tiniest sip of anything. He'd heard all about the dangers that lay in wait for the unwary in the lesser-known establishments such as this, and he'd taken the appropriate precautions.

  The sound came again, and he realized someone was knocking on the door. A moment later, the door opened a few inches and the face of the footman filled the space.

  "Your driver attends, my lord,” the man informed him.

  "Thank you,” Antoine muttered. Awaking alone like this had made him feel nervous and uncertain. He wanted to inquire as to Honey's whereabouts, ask when he could see him again, but first, he needed to feel his way—find out what was expected and how one went about things here. Even the house on la rue Charles V had rules, an established code of behavior all clients were expected to follow, even though it was never spelled out.

  After what had transpired, be it part illusion, part dream, or all cold, stark reality, he knew this was no men's club where members sat around and discussed politics or plotted the destruction of their enemies. This was the ultimate house of pleasure—a place that catered to a man's innermost needs, although he hadn't realized until tonight just what his needs were or how powerful his response would be to another m
an's touch.

  There was soreness in the region of his rectum and between his legs, but the feeling was more exciting than painful, and Antoine knew he would want to return here, time and time again. But could he do so whenever he wished, the same as with the house on la rue Charles V? Or was this the type of establishment where his membership would require the owner's approval?

  What if, the next time he came, the door was slammed in his face?

  As the footman saw him to his carriage, Antoine considered asking if there were any rules he should be aware of. But before he could do so, the man expressed the hope milord had enjoyed his evening and would come again soon, and Antoine felt an unexpected rush of relief, knowing his worries had all been for nothing—his acceptance as a regular visitor had just been confirmed.

  * * * *

  The following evening, when Antoine arrived at the club, the same liveried footman appeared to help him alight from his carriage and escort him inside. However, when he told the boy who served the drinks he was looking for Honey, the boy informed him there was no one there of that name.

  "Not at this moment or not tonight?” Antoine demanded.

  The boy lifted his thin shoulders in an offhand shrug, and said, “Not any time, my lord. I have not heard of anyone by that name. But you are welcome to look around. There are plenty of attractive young men in the salon for you to choose from. Whatever your pleasure, lord, you have only to ask."

  Antoine wanted Honey. His dick was hard as a rock and throbbing with the need to be touched by Honey and only Honey. “Perhaps someone else here has heard of him?"

  The boy treated him to another shrug. “If there was someone here of that name, I would know of him. But I do not."

  Antoine stared at the boy, again wondering if the events of the previous evening had been some kind of strange dream or illusion. Perhaps the perfume on the young man's skin had affected him in the same way smoke from an opium pipe affected the smoker's brain. No! Honey had not been a figment of his imagination, an illusion or a wispy, insubstantial character in a dream. Honey had been very real, very strong, and Antoine had a sore hole as proof. “Is it possible Honey was a guest like me?"

  The boy appeared to relax slightly. “That is certainly a possibility, my lord. Although if he was a guest, it is impossible for me to know whether or not he will return."

  "You're saying guests can ... er ... umm ... commingle, so to speak?"

  "It would be most unusual, my lord. But if that is what the guests desire, it is permitted."

  "And how do I tell the difference between the guests and the..."

  "The men of this house wear a narrow gold band on the second finger of their left hand. I suggest you confine your selection to one of those, my lord, the boy advised as he turned away.

  Antoine considered following the boy's suggestion, but after glancing over the various men who wore the requisite gold band, he flicked his fingers at the footman and said he wished to leave. He wanted Honey, not some weak substitute.

  As he waited for the footman to inform him his carriage had arrived, a young man, with his head bent low, came hurrying along the hallway and disappeared into what Antoine knew from the previous evening to be one of the private rooms. Despite the man's attempt to avert his face and the fact he was even more poorly dressed than he'd been the previous evening, Antoine knew right away it was Honey. The same slight Asian caste to his dark eyes, the same high cheekbones, and the same pale golden skin that combined to make him quite the most handsome man Antoine had ever seen. Just then, Honey reappeared, holding something covered with a cloth that he held in a way that shielded his face as he hurried back in the direction from whence he'd come.

  The mere sight of Honey had made Antoine's dick thicken and grow. He was tempted to call out his name, but he held back. Whatever game Honey was playing, he wasn't dressed like last night, or even like one of the other men of the house, and yet he clearly wasn't a guest either. Nevertheless, Antoine knew he wanted to have him ... again and again. He also knew it was a need that surpassed mere obsession. He wanted to possess and be possessed by Honey to the exclusion of everything he'd ever had before or even contemplated for the future.

  He wondered briefly if these strange feelings could be love.

  He'd never been in love, but he'd heard other men talk of the phenomena and how it made them deaf, dumb and blind to everything but the object of their adoration. How they would do anything, up to and including murder, for just one touch, one kiss, or a single night of passion held close in the arms of their beloved. And now, for the first time, Antoine understood exactly how those other men felt. He would do anything, if his reward could be one more moment of Honey's time

  The boy with the drinks reappeared, and Antoine clutched at his sleeve. “Him. That's the one I want,” he hissed, pointing to Honey's fast disappearing back.

  "No, no, my lord. You must be mistaken. That man is not a member of this household. I cannot say for certain, but I imagine he must belong to one of our guests.” He gave a derisory sniff. “A servant of the lowest class by the look of him. The kind who does odd jobs and runs errands."

  "I don't care if he also empties the chamber pots and wipes his master's backside,” Antoine shot back.

  A thin smile covered the boy's face. “I imagine he does that, too, if his master demands he perform such services."

  "Your carriage is here, my lord."

  Antoine frowned and turned in the direction of the speaker. “My carriage?"

  "You ordered it to be brought ‘round, sir."

  "Yes, so I did.” Antoine pushed his lips out in a pout and fluttered a hand at the footman. “Well, now you can send it away. I've changed my mind."

  The footman disappeared, and Antoine returned his attention to the boy. Something was going on here, a mystery he intended to solve. “If he's a servant of one of the guests, what, pray tell, is he doing here?"

  "That, my lord, I do not know. I agree, it seems a little unusual, but then I often find life itself very unusual."

  The boy's flippant attitude was starting to irritate Antoine. If he were in his employ, he'd have the little bastard flogged. “Then find me someone who does know."

  The boy gave what Antoine interpreted as an impertinent sniff and set his tray of drinks on a small table. “Wait here, my lord. The only person who may know is la patronne. I will see if she is willing to speak with you."

  Willing? Antoine's temper moved up another notch. He was not particularly surprised to learn the owner of the establishment was a woman. In his experience, the so-called fairer sex were often cleverness itself in matters of business, even better than their husbands in seeking out opportunities to turn a sou into a gold louis. However, he was more than a little taken back a few minutes later when he was shown into a small room furnished with a small desk and a single chair, and found the sole occupant to be the elderly madame from la rue Charles V.

  "You seem surprised, my lord,” the woman said, her dark eyes as cold as two chips of ice. “Surprised a woman would own this house? Or does the surprise lie in the fact the woman is me?"

  Antoine smiled, well aware this particular woman reacted far better to a steady stream of flattery than she did to a litany of complaints and criticisms. “I confess to being a little surprised on both counts, madame. However, I applaud your business acumen in understanding the rules of supply and demand, especially as they relate to the needs of a man."

  As he'd expected, the woman preened like a peacock. “I thank you for your kind words, my lord. I realized some time ago that adjoining houses were not acceptable to some of my clients. Some of them require—how do I say this?—more secrecy, more distance, more..."

  "More privacy, madame?"

  "Exactement!" She hesitated, using two fingers to smooth out a non-existent wrinkle in her black dress. “I have been given to understand you wish to know why one of our guests has his manservant in attendance. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, madame. If you con
sider the question improper, then I apologize. However, I assure you I have a most excellent reason why I must ask."

  "And that is?"

  Antoine smiled. “You first, madame."

  Twin spots of color appeared in the woman's cheeks, but she managed to hold her annoyance in check. “The answer to your question is quite simple, my lord. The guest was taken ill yesterday afternoon—whether he'd had too much to drink or had eaten something that disagreed with his stomach, I cannot say. He was in considerable discomfort and when he asked if his servant could be summoned to attend to his needs, I saw no reason to refuse the request. The guest is both important and influential. I'm sure you understand my meaning, my lord."

  "Of course.” Antoine hesitated. On the one hand, the explanation sounded perfectly plausible. On the other, he knew madame well enough to know she was lying through the few rotten teeth she had left in her miserable head. “Although, if the situation is as you say and the man was called to administer to his master's indisposition, then pray tell me what he was doing consorting with guests in the salon yesterday evening? In case you are not aware, madame, he approached me. And I had every reason to believe he was part of this establishment since he introduced himself as Honey and took to me one of the private rooms, where he seduced me."

  "Yes, yes, so I understand.” The woman tapped her fingers impatiently on the desk. “I am sincerely sorry, my lord. Perhaps his master was asleep, and with time on his hands, he entered the salon out of curiosity. He is young and easily excited, and I am sure what he saw intrigued him. I assure you it will not happen again."

  "And what if I want it to happen again?” Antoine murmured, wishing such relief were available for his aching cock.

  A faint but regretful smile softened the thin lips. “Then I am afraid you are in for a disappointment, my lord."

  "Why not? Give me his master's name, and I will ask him to name his price."

  "No. I cannot do that.” The madame shook her head. “My business is based on trust, my lord. To divulge names and break that trust would be foolish. And I can assure you I am anything but a foolish woman."