Page 17 of Moaning Under the Mistletoe
“Bosh. I’m nobody.”
Oh God. He’d said that part about Oscar being special out loud. Thankfully the dark hid his aghast reaction. There was only one thing for it. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You have an Earl chasing after you.”
“Is that what this is?” Oscar sounded like he was enjoying torturing Ambrose, and why shouldn’t he? People usually saw his title and didn’t bother to tease the man behind it. Oh. That would explain the feelings. If he had any sense left in the world, he’d send Oscar home right now in this cab and he’d walk and walk until he was too tired for desire. But all his good sense was currently in his throbbing cock, begging to be touched by Oscar, who managed to be tucked in against him without touching him where he most wanted it. Was it deliberate? It was incredibly hot, and he tugged at his cravat to get some cooler air against his throat.
“Don’t be self-depreciating. If you weren’t worth it, I would’ve sent a note tomorrow with my address.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Here I am.” It was the closest he’d get to admitting that he wanted Oscar in his bed tonight. And maybe every night. His heart skipped a beat, then relaxed, apparently not freaked out by that idea. There was nothing else to say. He’d admitted more than he ought already.
Chapter Eight
There was somethingglorious about knowing he could bring an Earl to the brink with just a few teasing words. Oscar had discovered that some people liked to submit so they could get lost in the moment and disappear. He wasn’t like that at all. He liked to push and tease until a man couldn’t stop until he’d fucked Oscar senseless. He loved the back and forth, the build-up before the final release. There was something delightful in knowing he could take someone to a place where they’d give him anything he asked for, and a little bit more. Starting out soft and gentle and driving them towards a lack of control; hard, fast, and rough. Bloody glorious. All he had to do was ask and they’d deliver exactly what he wanted. He loved it when someone was so desperate to have him that they became senseless and urgent.
He stroked his hand down Bennington’s arm, across the fine woollen fabric, until he held his hand, and he focused his attentions on each finger. They were thick, covered in callouses from riding, and not as soft as many of the peers he’d enjoyed over the last month. He much preferred a man who worked with his hands, they tended to know what to do with them, and the Earl had the perfect blend of arrogant command and competent hands to satisfy Oscar.
“Do you intend to fuck me and send me home?” He needed some distance because it was far too soon to beg to stay in Bennington’s bed all night. And they hadn’t really discussed what he meant by this understanding of his. Oscar might have spent the last month busy fucking many of his club’s members, but those were all temporary, one night only deals, and this proposal of Bennington’s was something completely new for him. Besides, if he was going to commit to just one man for a month, he needed to know he wasn’t going to be left with just his hand to entertain him most nights. It would be better if they fucked frequently in the next month, until they’d have done everything and were bored with each other, then he could get back to his newly discovered life as club owner.
“No. You are not going home tonight. Once will not be enough.”
Oscar pressed his face against Bennington’s neck to hide the smile that he couldn’t stop. “How fortunate that I don’t need to be back at work until noon.” The club closed at dawn with cleaners coming in for a shift before opening again at noon. He’d quickly become accustomed to those hours, much more his style than working as a bank clerk during the day. Bennington muttered something that he didn’t catch and then the hackney lurched to a halt.
“Come. We are here.” Bennington pushed Oscar’s legs off his lap and he nearly fell off the seat onto the floor. With an undignified yelp, he righted himself, then followed Bennington outside. Bennington stood on the front step, with his buckskins perfectly in place as if Oscar hadn’t spent the cab ride here sitting on his lap. The house was a beautiful stone townhouse with imposing windows overlooking the square.
If he closed his eyes and just followed Bennington’s masculine scent—whiskey and tobacco and nutmeg—he wouldn’t need to see how intimidating the buildings were. It was like stepping into White’s the other day, but worse because this was a private home. He didn’t know anyone who lived like this; he’d gone from a small room in his parent’s house near the docks to living in the club in Ismail’s private room adjoining the office. And worse, the door opened for Bennington, as if by a magical force. Did Earls not even have to open their own doors?
“Thank you, Crowther. That will be all for tonight. Please tell Wootten I won’t need his services until noon.” And with that, Bennington marched up a grand staircase.
“Come on.”
Oscar’s feet were heavy, like bricks had been tied to them, but he forced himself to follow Bennington. God, this house. It was more impressive than the bank he used to work in. He jogged up the stairs, trying to catch Bennington, whose long legs made it look easy. He tried to pretend his heart wasn’t in his mouth and he wasn’t gaping at everything like a damned tourist. Maybe if he closed his eyes. He tripped on the next step, proving that wasn’t the greatest idea. It was one thing to be fucked by an Earl in his own office where he was comfortable, and quite another thing to see the grandiose way Bennington lived. But one look at Bennington’s ass and thighs as he climbed the stairs ahead of him reminded him why he was here. The trappings of Bennington’s life were irrelevant to them spending a month enjoying each other’s bodies.
Oscar trotted along the hallway, needing almost to jog to catch up to Bennington’s long strides, and then suddenly, Bennington opened a door. Oscar followed him through, expecting Bennington to be in the room, but he wasn’t. He’d stayed to hold the door open, and then he closed it behind Oscar with a definite thud.
“That’s shown the door what you intend.”
