Page 42 of The Soldier's Scoundrel
Jack spoke slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Oliver. “My mother was a fortune-teller. One of the more unscrupulous of a pretty bad lot, as far as I remember. Anyway, that’s where I got the idea of laying the cards out to see if they tell a story.” Now, when Oliver saw Jack’s cards, he’d see deceit and dishonor, as surely as Georgie and Sarah did. He’d understand that it was in Jack’s blood, in his soul.
“Quite,” was all Oliver said before reaching down to tilt Jack’s chin up towards him. Jack’s instinct was to shrink from the touch. He felt too exposed, too vulnerable, like there was too much written on his face to let Oliver look at him. But he didn’t move away. Instead he turned his face into Oliver’s hand, brushing his lips across Oliver’s palm. And when Oliver bent his head to take Jack’s mouth in a kiss, he didn’t shy away from that either.
But here they were on familiar enough ground. This terrain Jack could navigate without leaving himself too open. He tugged Oliver off the table and onto his lap, cupping his hand around the bulge in the other man’s breeches. It likely said no very favorable thing about Jack’s character that he somehow thought putting his hand on another man’s erection was a suitable way to avoid intimacy, rather than to increase it, but he wasn’t going to waste any time figuring that out now. Not when there were other matters needing his attention, such as the fact that he had a beautiful, eager, charming man in his lap, pressing into his touch.
Before he could properly appreciate that circumstance, Oliver wriggled out of his grasp and pulled him to his feet.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked, as Oliver shoved him backwards onto the table.
“For a man who makes his living figuring things out, you’re terribly slow sometimes.” He pushed Jack back so he was lying flat on the table. The look on his handsome face was positively villainous. “It’s a flaw,” he murmured, unfastening Jack’s trousers.
“You don’t—”
“Shut up.” Oliver pulled the trousers down only enough to give him access before bending to swipe his tongue over the tip of Jack’s prick.
“Jesus.” Jack scarcely had the presence of mind to prop himself up on his elbows in order to get a better look. Oliver’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes raised to Jack’s. He quirked his lips up in a smile before leisurely running his tongue up the length of Jack’s shaft. “You’re killing me,” Jack said.
“Is there something you want me to do?” Oliver inquired, the picture of innocence.
“God damn it, yes,” Jack growled. “Take it in your mouth. Please. Now.”
And he did. Thank God he did. He sucked Jack down, taking him to the root. It shouldn’t feel this good. Nothing should feel this good. Jack shouldn’t allow it to feel this good. He had thought to avoid letting Oliver perform this particular act, thought that would somehow keep Jack from being at the young aristocrat’s mercy. But that had been a terrible strategy, both because it denied them this pleasure and because it was too late for Jack to avoid being in Oliver’s thrall. If Oliver wanted to make Jack his working-class plaything, then so be it. Jack couldn’t help himself. Any opposing arguments he could come up with were outweighed by the feel of Oliver’s tongue swirling around his cock, to say nothing of the foolish way his heart sped up whenever Oliver was near.
He watched in fascination as Oliver’s pink cheeks hollowed each time he drew Jack deep into his throat, his eyes raised to watch Jack watching him.
When Oliver moaned around Jack’s shaft, Jack couldn’t hold back a stream of mortifying babble, words of praise and want and pleading. He was embarrassed by his loss of control but also beyond caring. Oliver’s only acknowledgment was to reach for one of the hands Jack had braced on the desktop, and to place it on his own head. Jack realized he was being offered a measure of control.
Jack leaned back on the desk and twined his fingers in Oliver’s hair, only exerting the faintest amount of pressure to guide his head up and down. Oliver then tugged Jack’s breeches down farther, began letting his fingers play with Jack’s bollocks and—
“Oh, fuck,” Jack groaned.
Oliver was stroking his entrance with one wet finger. He must have taken Jack’s moan as a sign of consent because he began to gently probe Jack with that one finger.
It was too much. As soon as that finger pushed inside him, he was gone. “Oliver,” was all the warning he gave as the pleasure started to gather inside him. He twisted a few locks of the other man’s golden hair around his fingertips as he emptied himself into his lover’s mouth with a groan.
His hands were still in Oliver’s hair a minute later when Oliver slumped beside Jack on the tabletop, resting his head on Jack’s shoulder.
“God almighty, Rivington,” Jack said, kissing the top of Oliver’s head, “that was some professional-quality cocksucking.”
“Why, thank you.” Oliver’s smile was quite smug, and rightly so. “I take it you don’t feel that this particular nobleman’s son needs to be tutored in that matter?”
Hell, he had remembered that. Jack pulled Oliver close for a kiss. “I’m a fool.” He reached for Oliver’s erection. “Let’s go to bed.”
They were interrupted by the unexpected sound of hoof beats on gravel, followed by shouts and footsteps. Both men hurriedly got themselves to their feet and put their clothing in order. Jack smoothed Oliver’s hair and saw the look of concern on the other man’s face.
“Could something have happened to Charlotte?” Oliver asked, his brow furrowed.
“No,” Jack said firmly. “Not with the men I have on her and Montbray. But let’s go and see what this ruckus is about so we can put your mind at ease.”
They stepped out into the hall, where they found a man covered in the kind of dust that came from a day spent traveling. Jack’s heart sank immediately when he realized who the man was.
“Mr. Turner, sir, I came as fast as I could.” It was the man who had been shadowing Montbray. “Lord Montbray is dead.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
With a sense of dread, Jack forced himself to look at Oliver, watching his expression go from surprise to confusion as his gaze settled on Jack.
