Page 49 of Chasing Benedict
“It certainly isn’t anything to scoff at,” Alex replied, his hand falling away before returning, a slick finger edging its way between Benedict’s buttocks. “But only I know how this curls your toes.”
Benedict’s cock pulsed in Alex’s hand as the oil-coated finger found the puckered circle of his hole. Part of him rebelled against an intimacy he hadn’t experienced in years—one that only Alex had performed on him. But he was drowning in pleasure and need, the vulnerability of last night following him into the morning. His guard was down, Alex was near, and Benedict didn’t want him to stop.
He groaned when Alex’s finger eased through the tight ring of flesh, his hand still working Benedict’s cock. Alex was slow and gentle, working his second knuckle in before withdrawing and plunging again. Benedict trembled and thrust into Alex’s hand, the probing finger sending ripples of sharp and aching pleasure throughout his entire body. Alex panted against his shoulder, his own cock stone-hard and pressed against the back of Benedict’s thigh. Benedict came within minutes, his seed spilling hot and fast, his arse clenching around Alex’s finger.
Alex eased away, pressing a short kiss to Benedict’s neck before leaving the bed for the washroom.
“Tease!” Benedict called after him, rolling onto his back and cringing at the mess coating his belly.
“We don’t have time for more,” Alex replied, followed by splashing at the washstand. “But if you’re amenable tonight … I’d very much like to pick up where we left off.”
“I’ll consider it,” Benedict said, entering the washroom and nudging Alex aside so he could clean himself up.
When he finished, he turned to find Alex leaning against the door, watching him as if anxious.
Benedict wiped his hands dry on a clean bit of linen. “Please tell me you aren’t going to start treating me like I’m made of glass because of what I told you last night.”
Alex averted his gaze. “We exposed a lot of things last night. I don’t know about you, but I’d never told anyone a word of what I confided in you last night … except Katherine, of course.”
Benedict was surprised that the familiar emotion of jealousy and hatred didn’t come over him as it typically did when Alex mentioned Katherine. After last night, he’d come to see that Katherine had been just as much a pawn in the machinations of his father as Alex had been.
“The air has been cleared,” Benedict insisted, even though he couldn’t predict what might happen from here. “There is nothing else to say.”
Alex met his gaze again, lips twisting as if he were working himself up to something. “Ben, I—”
“It’s time for me to meet Fisher,” Benedict cut in, a surge of resistance rolling through him. He thought he knew very well what Alex meant to say.
The final words spoken last night still echoed through his mind, heavy with meaning and a question that didn’t need to be asked.
I love you, Ben.
“I really need to tell you this,” Alex argued, following Benedict back into the bedroom.
“Can it wait? Fisher is already itching to tear into me after I cut my training short yesterday. Agitating him means I’ll be too stiff and sore to fuck you later.”
Alex perched on the bench at the foot of his bed and watched as Benedict retrieved a clean set of training clothes. “I was led to believe it would be the other way around.”
Benedict smirked as he buttoned his trousers. “I think I’ll keep you in suspense until this evening. We’ll talk then, all right?”
Alex gave him a stern look. “Talking first, then fucking. I won’t let you distract me.”
“Of course you won’t,” Benedict teased, retrieving his worn training boots. “Try not to grow bored in my absence.”
His playful mood faded away once he was out of Alex’s sight, the impending conversation of the evening now occupying the entirety of his thoughts.
I love you, Ben,Alex had said, but what he hadn’t asked was,Do you still love me?
It was a question Benedict was in no way prepared to answer. He had come here thinking to earn the money he needed and leave Alex behind when he was done. But now that he knew the entire truth, how could he turn his back? It seemed that nothing had changed for Alex despite years of separation and the mystery surrounding their parting of ways.
But what of Benedict? He had been changed so deeply by the events following their separation. Aside from the mad-doctor's torture, there had also been the unwelcome development of Cynthia Milbank—which Benedict still hadn’t revealed to Alex. He wanted to and he would, perhaps even tonight. The last of their secrets would be exposed, and even as he wondered what Alex’s final confession might be, Benedict also thought of what might happen next.
He still had the threats of Cynthia and his father hanging over his head, and Benedict couldn’t allow himself to forget that. In a few weeks, he would be prepared to deal with Cynthia and turn his attentions to his father. He would stop at nothing to win in their battle of wills.
As he was greeted on the ground floor landing by Fisher and the footman serving up his gruel, Benedict tried to turn his mind from questions he couldn’t yet answer. But, as he went about his rigorous training routine, a single question reverberated in his mind as he considered finally being free of the two people seeking to ruin him.
What then?
AFTER AN EXHAUSTING DAY OF TRAINING,Benedict left the gallery with sore muscles and a pounding headache. He was tired, starving, and ready for a filling meal. Fisher had promised to subject him to treatments of ice and then heat to soothe his body and prepare him for more training. Benedict didn’t mind being made to sweat under piles of blankets beside a roaring fire. It was the ice that required the full force of his determination and will. Instead of allowing Fisher to lay him in a tub and cover him with ice, Benedict insisted on laying atop a pile of blankets and having the ice packed around him. Fisher had argued this point, but Benedict had insisted until the old man gave in. He had never revealed his aversion to bathtubs—even though Fisher prescribed hot baths every night after training.
