“I don’t...” It ended with a gasp as Lionel ran his tongue over Jim’s left nipple, saving him from finishing the thought. Lionel realized he’d been about to say he didn’t know. Of course Jim wouldn’t know, Lionel chided himself. He was probably the first person in a long while to ask Jim what he wanted, perhaps the first ever. He pushed away that depressing thought.
“Going to make me guess, are you? Then I’ll try this.” He nipped at Jim then began to trace a path along the smooth planes of Jim’s chest with his tongue until he reached the start of dark hair leading down. He nuzzled Jim there, breathing in his scent as he buried his face in the coarse hair. Then his tongue darted out, and he began to lick at Jim, lapping at his balls, teasing. Under him, Jim stretched and moaned, pushing his hips up towards Lionel’s lips. Lionel obliged him, licking then sucking on first one side then the other. “You like this, hm? How about this.” He kept his mouth close as he spoke, letting his breath hit the saliva-slick skin and feeling Jim tremble against his cheek. He kept going, licking the sensitive skin behind Jim’s sac, then farther back, along the valley of his bottom, and finally circling the puckered entrance, letting his tongue dart inside. Jim rewarded him with a sound of such desperate desire, it made Lionel want to know exactly what Jim sounded like when he climaxed.
Lionel pushed himself up and crawled until he was between Jim’s legs again. He ran his fingers over the hard cock in front of him, feeling the width, the sensitive skin of the underside, the leaking tip. He began to stroke again, this time watching Jim as his fingers found every sensitive spot. Jim opened his mouth to say something, but it came out as a moan when Lionel dropped his head and licked the tip of Jim’s cock. He swirled his tongue around, tasting the saltiness, then let it slip into his mouth. He kept one hand on the base of Jim’s cock; at least if he failed with his mouth he was reasonably certain he could please Jim with his hand, and he kept his eyes on Jim, trying to gauge his reaction. He was either better at this than he’d thought, or a very quick study, since each flick of his tongue seemed to make Jim harder, and he made little sounds in the back of his throat. Lionel bobbed his head down, taking more of Jim into his mouth as he stroked his hand up to meet his lips. He tried sucking, hollowing out his cheeks and drawing him further in. Jim trembled under him, and then his mouth filled with the salty taste of Jim. Lionel kept sucking as he dropped his hand to his own cock and began to stroke. It only took a few pulls while watching Jim gasp under him, knowing he had brought that much pleasure to him, to bring himself to climax.
When Jim finally collapsed back, Lionel let the softening cock fall from his lips and pressed a kiss to Jim’s hip, just above the patch of dark curls. Then he slid up the bed to lie alongside him.
“You should enjoy...” Jim murmured.
“I did,” Lionel whispered back. Then he remembered Jim’s hands and reached to undo the knots. As he freed each hand, he pressed kisses to the wrists before letting them go. Jim watched him with a look Lionel couldn’t interpret. He wanted to ask what Jim was thinking, but Jim looked so sleepy and satisfied, he settled for lying back down beside him and gathering Jim in his arms. Jim hesitated then nestled against his chest. Lionel pressed a kiss to Jim’s hair. “Sleep well.”
Chapter 9
***
JIM LAY IN DROWSY SILENCE UNTIL he heard Lionel’s breathing deepen. When a soft snore escaped his lips, Jim pushed himself up on his elbow and looked at the man beside him. Lionel shifted in his sleep, then his arm draped over Jim’s hip, and he relaxed again.
So what was he going to do? He’d thought Lionel would want a quick fuck. A nice interlude between a couple of dare-he-hope friends, one of whom happened to be very good at that. He wouldn’t have been bothered in the least if Lionel had wanted nothing more than a bit of fun. He would have been perfectly happy sucking him off or bending over for him. Instead, the man had insisted on pleasuring him like he was something to be cherished. How on earth was he going to stop from falling in love with Lionel now?
Jim ran the tip of his finger along Lionel’s bottom lip. There was still a little bit of his spend there. Lionel’s tongue moved like it wanted to taste the finger. Jim froze, but Lionel still slept. It was already too late. He had known that in the study—no, in the woods outside or even the inn. He was in love with Sir Lionel Westin, had been since the coach ride, maybe since the first mail coach.
And that would make it all the harder when Lionel found out everything. He might be able to accept that Jim had been born to a family of pickpockets and thieves, that Jim had worked in a brothel when he had nowhere else to go. Maybe it didn’t seem real to him yet. Maybe he didn’t realize how many men Jim had been fucked by, how many men had used his mouth and his arse before him. Had Lionel ever hired someone to warm his bed? Had he ever had to? A man like him would have men throwing themselves at him. But even if he really could accept Jim’s years with Madame Rosamond, who ran a high-class establishment even if some of the patrons had exotic tastes, when he found out about his time with Lord Dixon, there was no way someone like Lionel could ever understand that. And Jim didn’t want to be there when Lionel heard about the depths he’d sunk to, the months with no clothes, the business meetings where Dixon would bring him in to pleasure the whole table when he wanted to break tension or throw everyone off, the weeks spent in a stall in the stables to give the workers some fun.
No, Lionel would never understand why he did that, and why would he want to touch someone like that, press his lips to a mouth that had sucked off a roomful of men in one evening, not once but often? Jim knew he should crawl out of the bed now, grab his clothes, and slip away to the next mail coach to anywhere. And then Lionel stirred in his sleep and fumbled again until he got his arm back around Jim’s waist, and Jim didn’t move. He didn’t think he could. He slid back under the blanket and let Lionel’s arm pull him closer.
When the sun started peeking through the gaps in the drapes, Jim eased out of Lionel’s bed and gathered up his discarded clothes. There was no one in the hallway, so it was easy to slip back into his room. He dressed quickly in the same clothes he’d worn the day before. He wondered if anyone would notice and quickly realized they would. But it couldn’t be helped; they were all he had. At least now the staff would believe him when he said he wasn’t one of Lionel’s important friends.
Lionel. Now that was the puzzle. Jim tried to do something with the limp cravat around his neck. He’d been tied up many times before, but he would never have expected Lionel to be aroused by such things. It was a nice bit of the puzzle to tuck in the back of his mind and examine at leisure, but the rest of the night made even less sense. Whenever he’d been tied up before, it had been to whip him or flog him or find some humiliations to pile on him. But Lionel had done it to worship him. There was no other way he could describe what Lionel had done to him. Almost as if...
No, that was silly. He gave his cravat a final tug and decided it was beyond hope. Lionel was just a very considerate man. It shouldn’t surprise him at all that Lionel would want anyone he slept with to have a nice time, even a whore. That was all it was—Lionel’s innate kindness. And it wouldn’t do to read anything more into it. Imagine if he had gone down to breakfast pretending that the evening had been anything other than a bit of fun between two people sharing a house. Sir Lionel would have regretted the evening at once if he thought his actions had caused any confusion, any false hopes. And then there would be the embarrassing necessity of pointing out that there was no way someone like Sir Lionel could ever have more than a casual bit of fun with someone like him, and if he knew everything, even that wouldn’t be possible.
Jim smoothed his hair down and sat by the window until it was a decent hour to go looking for breakfast. If he had any sense at all, he’d leave now and find somewhere with a suitable cottage, not an unsuitable man. But if he had any sense, he wouldn’t have come to Hensley House at all. He sighed. Besides, he couldn’t let Sir Lionel think something he’d done last night had d
riven Jim away. No, he’d wait for breakfast and try to look as if nothing had happened.
Lionel rolled over drowsily and felt around the blankets, but there was no one there. He opened his eyes and looked, but the bed was definitely empty except for him. He sat up and looked around. The room was empty too, but there was a fire in the grate, and his discarded clothes had been draped over the chair. Lottie, of course. Jim would know that there would be a maid coming to light the fire and draw the drapes. That had to be why he’d left. Lionel dragged himself out of bed and gathered his clothing and hung them up. Baxter would never leave him to undress alone again if he left his clothes in that state.
Baxter. He’d be coming any minute to help Lionel dress. Lionel grabbed his forgotten nightshirt and pulled it on. He wouldn’t want to shock Baxter when he came in. Or Lottie. What about Lottie? But perhaps he had been too far under the blankets for her to be able to see his lack of a nightshirt. Or the room may have been too dark. Or perhaps she paid him so little notice when she came in that he could have been walking about in a state of undress and she wouldn’t have noticed. He hadn’t heard any sounds of shock, so perhaps it had all been all right.
“Sir?” The door opened, and Baxter glanced around the edge.
“Good morning, Baxter. I’m only just waking up myself.”
Baxter stopped hiding behind the door and came into the room. “Very good, sir. I thought the green coat today. It makes you look quite dashing. And perhaps you would consider the buckskin breeches?”
Not with Jim in such close proximity. “Trousers will do. The grey perhaps?”
“With the green, perhaps the brown if you don’t like the breeches. And a nice Gordon knot, I think.”
Lionel nodded his approval. Since he’d rejected the tight breeches, he didn’t want to have Baxter think his opinion wasn’t valued, especially after having sent him to another room the night before, even if it was a room with the upper servants and almost at his request.
Once Baxter had declared him ready to face the day, Lionel went in search of Jim. He found Jim in the breakfast room, surrounded by open newspapers. “Good morning.”
Jim glanced up. “Morning,” he said and went directly back to his papers.
Lionel went to the sideboard and filled his plate. There were no servants here, no reason for Jim to be so casual. Unless that was all last night had been for him. He knew nights like that had been part of Jim’s profession—all of it, really. Perhaps it hadn’t meant any more than that to him. Lionel felt like a fool. Of course, Jim wouldn’t have been interested in him. It had probably been some way to thank him for letting him stay the night. As if he needed to be thanked for letting a friend stay. That was why Jim had been so insistent on Lionel taking his pleasure, seeing it as a commodity, a way to pay him back, as a wine merchant might leave a bottle of some nice vintage. He stacked some toast on his plate. He could manage toast. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Unless Jim thought that was how he’d seen it. What if Jim had thought he’d meant for it to be payment? That would have been just the same, wouldn’t it? How would he know? Lionel stared at the toast, unsure if he could even manage that now. He’d have to watch Jim, watch how he acted. Maybe there would be a clue to what he had intended. His instinct told him to say something to Jim, at least say he’d enjoyed himself, but Jim hadn’t said a word about it, and he was the one with experience. Surely he knew the proper way to treat someone the next morning. He was a professional, after all.
And if that was how he thought of him, no wonder he wasn’t mentioning it. Lionel felt terrible that the thought had even crossed his mind. No wonder Jim hadn’t said anything. Did he know that was what Lionel had thought? Because certainly it wasn’t all he thought of him. Lionel brought his toast to the table.
Jim glanced up when he sat down. “I was thinking of seeing about properties this morning. If you could suggest somewhere to hire a cart?”
So Jim was in a hurry to leave. That seemed to answer it then. He wanted to be away from here and settled in at his little cottage with its little back garden. This was just a convenient stop on the way there, not where he wanted to be. “No need. You can borrow a horse from my stables. There isn’t much around here, I’m afraid, but I can certainly take you around to see what there is.”
“I’ve never had much chance to ride.”
Another foolish mistake. If Jim had lived in London, of course he wouldn’t know how to ride. He’d take a hack if he had to get anywhere he couldn’t walk to. Horses in London were for people who could afford to stable them and rode on Rotten Row or someplace like that. “Then you can borrow the gig.” What if he didn’t know how to drive one? Lionel added, “And as I know the area, I’d be happy to take you around.”
“That would be nice.”
Lionel had to stop himself from trying to find meaning in that phrase. “I’ll tell Peters to arrange it after breakfast.”
“No, I mean you don’t need to. I mean, it was very nice of you to ask me to stay, but I should really be going.”
Lionel froze with his cup halfway to his lips. He’d known Jim would leave sometime, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon. “You can’t... I mean, you haven’t seen any properties in the area. And I’m sure it will rain again tonight.” Lionel looked towards the window, but the blasted sun was shining. “The barometer clearly said rain.” Lionel had no idea what the barometer said or if the house even had one, but Jim looked down at his plate.
“I suppose I could wait and see what the weather looks like.”
Lionel relaxed and put his cup down. “That’s sensible. And feel free to use anything in the library. There’s newspapers and maps and whatever you might want.” Jim didn’t react to that, so he added, “And if you’d like, we can take the gig out, and I can show you around. I haven’t had this place very long, so I haven’t gotten around to fixing everything up. Maybe you could give me some advice on the gardens.”
Jim smiled a little at that. “I take it those are the weed-infested bits of ground I saw outside my window?”
Jim was joking again. That had to be a good sign. “That’s them in all their glory. Anything you can tell me to fix them would be appreciated. My only idea is to let the weeds grow and see if any of them are pretty enough to keep.”
Jim laughed. “I think I can do better than that.”
Lionel smiled and nodded to the sideboard. “You didn’t take any of the sausages. They’re one of Mrs. O’Brien’s specialties.”
“Then I’d better try some.” As Jim went to the sideboard, the wind picked up and lashed the window with some of the fallen leaves. Jim glanced outside. “Clouds rolling in.”
“It seems the barometer was right.” Lionel relaxed back in his chair. At least it gave Jim an excuse to stay around.
Breakfast left Jim in a much better mood than he’d woken up in. Lionel was still friendly; that was good. He didn’t seem to have found their evening together distasteful, and he was still trying to help him find his cottage. Clearly, he didn’t think Jim should be back in a brothel or left on the street. He still seemed to think buying a cottage was a normal thing for someone like Jim to do. He’d even offered to help him look for one, which should have made Jim happy but instead made him worry that Lionel wanted to be rid of him. As he was finishing the last of his eggs, Jim considered whether or not he should accept Lionel’s offer of a tour of the grounds. It would be a reason to spend time with the man, and a chance to do something to repay his kindness if he could offer some suggestions. The only question was how to suggest it. He should have accepted when Lionel had originally offered. That would have been so much easier. But the rain was already letting up, so there was no reason not to walk outside.
When Lionel put his fork on his plate and got to his feet, Jim knew he had to come up with something to say. He was just getting ready to when the door opened and Mr. Harrison came in with a tray of letters. “The morning post, sir.”
“Thank yo
u, Harrison.” Lionel flipped through the envelopes and furrowed his brow at a couple.
Jim pasted a casual smile on his face. Of course someone like Lionel wouldn’t really have time to go traipsing about the countryside with him. He had a company to run, after all, and a brother who needed rescuing on a regular basis, and who knew what kinds of responsibilities came with a spread like this one. He didn’t have time to be entertaining a prostitute outside of the bedroom. “Important things?”
“Possibly,” Lionel answered without looking up. Jim had the feeling he wasn’t even paying attention to who it was he was talking to.
“Then I’d better let you take care of them.”
That made Lionel look up. “No, we were going to go for a drive, or a walk, or...”
Jim forced his smile back into place. “No, I can see you have a lot that needs doing. I can walk the grounds myself just as well, and I’ll bring you back a report of what I see.” That was the best solution. He could still be helpful to Lionel, but he wouldn’t be in the way. And if Lionel looked a little disappointed by that answer, well, that was probably all in his head. “I’ll just get my overcoat,” Jim said as cheerfully as he could and made for the door. He didn’t think he’d need his overcoat, but it got him out of the room and away from Lionel and all the ridiculous fantasies he came up with when he was near the man.
It didn’t take long for Jim to find his overcoat. Someone had brushed the dirt off of it and hung it on the rack near the front door. As Jim was putting it on, he wondered where to start his tour of the grounds. He should have asked Lionel. In fact, that was an excellent idea. He would go back and ask Lionel where on the grounds he should start. And if Lionel offered to show him the areas he was most interested in fixing up, well, it would only be practical to accept the offer. He hurried back to the breakfast room, only because he wanted to catch Lionel before he became engrossed in some work, nothing more.
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