Until this moment.
Riveting and persuasive, the man’s curious eyes held him enthralled, making him utterly forget why he wanted to shoo the man away in the first place.
As he continued to stare into his eyes, Jonathan thought of the gleaming clockwork gears he used to create his creatures. Boxes of them, all perfectly separated and labeled according to size, filled one wall of his laboratory. But no gear had ever shone as brightly as this man’s eyes.
Shaking himself from his mental dithering, Jonathan said, “I wish for you to leave my stoop at once. I am a very important man who is expecting a very important delivery.”
When the man’s dazzling smile broadened, Jonathan’s ire was piqued.
“Did the neighbor send you?” He would not put such shenanigans past that meddling fool. When Jonathan had rejected the man’s daughters—both horrid creatures who fervently believed in the supernatural—the rotund bully had sent paid men to seduce Jonathan into a dangerously compromising position. However, due to his innocent nature and proper upbringing, Jonathan did not realize this until he’d allowed the impeccably dressed and exceedingly beautiful men into his parlor.
Tea had given way to liquor, which had loosened their tongues and revealed their true purpose: blackmail. Aroused and infuriated in equal measure, Jonathan had sent the low men packing, but he had never quite forgotten the feel of having one man hungrily caressing his cock, while the other rubbed his erection betwixt the split of Jonathan’s bottom—through his clothing, of course. Thank the paragons of science, Jonathan had not been more inebriated. If not for the shock of seeing himself and his companions reflected in the mirror over his mechanical fireplace, Jonathan might have let things continue. Luckily, he stopped them before things became messy.
The shorter of those horrid men had laughed and revealed to him that the neighbor had already paid them, so it mattered not if he partook of their pleasure. The other one, the kinder one had even said he would come back without pay just to hear the plaintive whimpering Jonathan uttered. What Jonathan never confessed to anyone was how that sensation, that feeling of unfamiliar hands and bodies pressed against his, had aroused him to the point where he no longer cared about his tight schedule or the potential mess they would make upon the beautifully crafted beige leather couch.
Ever since that day, he’d hungered for that same wild sensation. No matter what he did, no matter how finitely he scheduled his time, he drifted off into fantasies of becoming the plaything of ruffians. Oh, he would beg for them to stop in their perverted endeavors, but all the while, his prick would swell and his balls would ache. Once, he’d been so ensnared in his flight of fancy, he had ruined the inside of his trousers. That was the day he had decided to build a lover.
All his efforts failed.
Had he been granted access to recently deceased humans, as Man-o-War Limited was, he might have found success too. But they were a limited liability corporation operating with the blessings of the war department, whereas Jonathan P. Quiverbottom was simply a wealthy gentleman. Their manbots had been used in the war with Louisianne, but now that hostilities had ceased, after a resounding defeat along the newly named Farland Mountains, Man-o-War Limited had begun using their technology to craft men-of-all-work bots. Some were purported to be as striking as this creature before him.
Boyish and insolent, the man on his doorstep continued to smile at him while these thoughts sparked through Jonathan’s mind in an instant.
“What is it you grin so foolishly about? If you have come to rob me, you will be dispatched quickly, I assure you.” Jonathan eyed the umbrella in the basebin of the coat-tree. It had a dulled tip, but it would make a serviceable weapon.
“I have not come to steal but to work.” The man’s voice was as rich and as beautiful as his hair.
“I have no work for door-to-door beggars.”
When the stunning man slipped his calloused hand into the front pocket of his trousers, Jonathan clenched his fist around the door’s edge. He would not overreact as he had with the last man who came upon his stoop. He would wait to see what this man withdrew before slamming the door and screaming like a child. Jonathan was grateful for his cool thinking when all he removed was a folded paper.
Taking it up when presented, Jonathan refused to let his features reveal his shock.
“You are the man-of-all-work bot?” He ran his gaze from the top of his head to the tips of his battered boots.
“I am.”
“But where is the delivery mobile, the paperwork?”
“I have delivered myself, and the paperwork is in your very capable, very soft-looking hand.”
He winked!
Jonathan shook his head as if that would dislodge that inappropriate gesture from taking root in his mind. Dangerous territory, that type of thing. Jonathan abruptly recalled the man who had wanted to return to him for free just to hear his whimpering. That man had winked in such a manner before he’d left Jonathan’s home. And that gesticulation had made it impossible for Jonathan to stop longing for him to be his companion, no matter how improper the pairing might be.
Peering more closely, Jonathan realized that this man and that man were one in the same!
About the Author
Reading, writing, and white-water rafting are the three things Anitra Lynn McLeod enjoys the most. She is the author of erotic romances from contemporary to science fiction and everything in between. Even though her tales range from sensual to sizzling, with settings from the high rises of New York to the distant shores of an alien world, one thing all her stories share is compelling characters involved in unforgettable romances.
AnitraLynnMcLeod.blogspot.com
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