Page 49 of Once a Gentleman
He clenched his arse, trying to relieve the ache, and succeeded only in reminding himself of how it had felt to contract his muscles around Andrew’s thick length.
At last, blushing and furious and half-hard, he snuck into the drawing room through the connecting door and liberated a cushion that had been left lying on a sofa. He seated himself upon it, very gingerly, in his chair.
The mining reports, once he settled himself enough to look at them, failed to hold his attention.
I adore you. I am entirely yours.
After some half hour of staring down at columns of figures and dry, scientific descriptions of ore quality, he began to be angry.
No, not angry.
Absolutelyirate.
Andrew had done this to him, with his hot, clever mouth and his practiced seduction and his strong, skilled fingers, his huge prick and his—hislies, for what else could you call such protestations of love from a man like him?
And he would tell him so, speak his mind and inform him this could not be tolerated. That no one could be expected to work under such conditions as these.
With a wince, he levered himself up and stormed out of the study, leaving the door bloody well open behind him. He didn’t care. Let Samuel, or Mrs. Felton, or anyone look at those reports from the copper mine, because Kit would not be doing so.
Samuel materialized in the hall as Kit approached the stairs, making him jump nearly out of his skin.
“Sir, are you unwell?” he asked, as blandly as if he had not probably heard at least some of what had gone on in Kit’s bedroom that morning.
Kit blushed furiously, feeling as if every one of his deep, sweet aches and bruises could be seen through his clothes, exposed to the world. “I am entirely well. Where is Mr. Turner? I need to—I require—his opinion on a matter of business.”
His other business departed at dawn, according to Samuel.
Kit’s face felt as if it had been lit on fire. Samuel raised one eyebrow in a way Kit could not help finding unacceptably impertinent. “Mr. Turner has just rung for me from his bedchamber. Ought I to tell him you wish to see him at his earliest convenience?”
Kit gaped at him in dismay. Oh, God, that was not a message Kit could have Samuel deliver. And he needed to see Andrewnow. Not in the study, not later on, but at this moment and…in his bedchamber, because that would offer the maximum distance from the servants, would it not? So that no one would hear Kit’s shouting.
Samuel’s other eyebrow rose to join the first, and he cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, sir, I believe I hear Mrs. Felton calling my name from the kitchen. She has been experiencing some difficulties with the stove. I know this is far outside your place in the household, but if you are going upstairs in any case, perhaps you would deign to tell Mr. Turner that I have been delayed for some little while? His bedchamber is at the very end of the corridor, sir.”
Relief and gratitude struck him forcibly, followed instantly by even more powerful mortification.
“I don’t mind,” he choked out, and fled up the stairs.
He hesitated as he reached the end of the corridor, standing in front of the very last door. How many men had Andrew taken there, in both senses of the word? But he had not come to be taken, he had come to have it out once and for all.
Andrew’s voice came through the door. “Bloody well come in, Samuel, I don’t have all—”
Andrew flung the door open and broke off abruptly, staring at Kit.
For a long moment, their eyes met and held, and Kit’s heart kicked into a gallop. The air around and between them seemed to coagulate with a tension so thick Kit couldn’t draw breath.
Andrew stepped back, holding the door open, and Kit followed him, his feet moving without his conscious intent, dreamlike.
When he crossed the threshold, Andrew shut the door.
Kit opened his mouth to tell him precisely what he thought of him.
And an instant later, he was spun about and shoved into the door, which rattled violently in its frame, with Andrew’s mouth on his.
The heat of it arrowed down, through his chest and into his belly, his muscles clenching and his cock rising so quickly all the blood left his brain. He forgot everything in the press of that muscular body, the hands on his shoulders and his waist and his arse, his tongue dueling with Andrew’s and the moan of satisfaction that vibrated from Andrew’s throat.
Andrew tore at Kit’s cravat and waistcoat, muttered something that sounded like, “Too much effort,” and dropped to his knees, pressing his face against Kit’s hard prick and making him arch and cry out.
His trouser placket was opened in a moment, and big hands pinned Kit’s hips against the door as Andrew bent and swallowed him down without another word and without ceremony.
