Page 68 of To Defend a Damaged Duke
Tommy’s abbreviated laugh ended on a soft moan.A solitary pearl of wetness glistened at the tip of his cock, like a tiny shimmering piece of him.On instinct, Benedict reached out to catch it, then touched his finger to his tongue.
Tommy moaned again, dampness glimmering on his brow.“Touch yourself, Benedict.Watch me as you touch yourself.”
“I can look nowhere else.”Unbidden, Benedict’s hands went to his groin, his sensitive member already stiffening.“The devil’s own serpents couldn’t drag my eyes away.”
Like a voyeur at a paper peep show, he frigged himself hard as Tommy, lost in pleasure, teetered on the precipice.His fist flew back and forth; his chest heaved ragged, harsh breaths.A crimson flush spread across Tommy’s smooth chest.Benedict followed the path of it with his palm to pinch the flat disc of a nipple, then pluck at the other.
Tommy’s crisis rolled though him.The first spill seared Benedict’s cheek, the second plastered his neck, the third splashed his belly.The fourth mingled with Benedict’s own.If any more issued forth it was lost between them as Tommy slumped in his arms.This time, neither of them moved.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ASHINGTON HOUSE, SETin too many acres of rolling Hampshire countryside to compute, had overseen many a wedding.None so gay as Francis and Isabella’s, perhaps.Nor arranged so hurriedly.From the plump, rosy glow of his betrothed cheeks, Benedict suspected his youngest brother’surgesmight have been assuaged sometime before the date was set.For a chap with a sore head, he’d been awfully chirpy the morning after the Horton ball.Then again, so had Benedict.
“Do you think Lyndon will come?”Tommy asked.
They were seated around the fireplace in the Ashington library, a grand old and draughty corner of his vast ancestral home that Benedict didn’t especially care for.Not being much of a reader, he rarely ventured inside.Few did, which meant he and Tommy were blessedly alone.
“One can hope.”Benedict checked his pocket watch.“He’s still only fashionably late.The church ceremony isn’t until three.”
Four weeks had gone by since the Horton ball, during which most of thetonhad decamped to the countryside.For Benedict, the visit was fleeting.He would be returning to town after the celebrations, whereupon he’d enjoy a quiet season in town with his lover.He was counting down the hours.
A footman’s scratch at the door announced Lyndon’s arrival.No one spoke until drinks were served and the footman departed.With his back to Benedict, Lyndon inspected the shelves as if totally alone.He looked better, Benedict thought.Less dissipated.
“Why is he here?”Lyndon queried, running his finger across a row of dusty, burgundy spines.
“Because I requested it,” answered Benedict.And because I can hardly bear leave his side.“I hear you have been staying in Norfolk.”
“Yes.”Selecting a volume, Lyndon turned, weighing the book in his hand.It was one of the ancient ones, beautiful to look at but never opened, and trimmed in delicate gold leaf.“I shall return tomorrow.”
“Is the house sufficiently comfortable?I have not visited for many a year.”
“Yes,” Lyndon confirmed.“If one is an enthusiast of flat, bleak wetlands and a social diary rivalling that of a garden slug.Also, it drizzles incessantly.”His eyes flicked to Benedict’s.“A feature of the Norfolk climate not even a grand duke such as yourself can bend to suit his wishes.”
He weighed the book in his hand again, deliberating.For an awful moment, Benedict thought he was limbering up to throw it.
“Though who knows?”Lyndon continued.“You succeeded in bending the minds of theton, after all.Well played, Your Grace.”
“They saw what they saw,” Benedict replied evenly, “and drew their own conclusions.”
“Did he put you up to it?”Lyndon jerked his chin.“Tommy Squire?”The corner of his top lip curled as if smelling something rotten.“Naturally, I know who you are,Mr L’Esquire.And I know what you do.”His gaze drifted around the vast library, up and across the miles of shelves.“Since when did a molly boy acquire such a taste for luxury?”
“Around the time I acquired a duke as a lover,” Tommy replied.
“If you refer to Mr L’Esquire’s past in those terms within my earshot one more time,” Benedict cut in, “I shall scratch you off without a penny.He is a gentleman of business, running successful gaming establishments, brothels, and blackleg stands.Nothing more, nothing less.And if I hear you are insinuating anything different, then—”
“Yes, you’ll set me free from your apron strings without a pot to piss in.”Lyndon sighed irritably.“Was there a specific reason you requested my presence, Your Grace, or was it simply to parade your well-used male lover?”
The objective was fast becoming to punch the light from his brother’s eyes if he carried on much longer in this supercilious vein.Which would serve no purpose whatsoever, except to temporarily soothe Benedict’s temper and give Lyndon the satisfaction of witnessing him loose it.Under his breath, he counted to ten.
“I have a proposition for you, Lyndon, one you may not like, but which is for your own good.”
Lyndon smirked.“Your transformation into our father is complete, brother.”
In some situations, poor behaviour was better ignored.Though damned difficult.Benedict had already spotted Tommy’s fists curled into tight little balls.He knew what was coming.Tommy had listened, expressed his misgivings, then supported Benedict’s decision anyhow.
“I would like you to spend the autumn in Norfolk.The estate manager tells me there is much work to be done, and ideally, a family member needs to oversee it.That member shall be you, and I expect monthly reports.Mr L’Esquire’s man, Sidney”—at this his brother’s eyebrow rose—“will periodically surprise you with a visit to ensure all is well.It transpires he has family that way.”
“I’ll be sure to kill the fatted calf,” murmured Lyndon.“Though I seem to recall he mentioned something about pigs, so perhaps a loin of pork might suit his palate more.”
