The Square Peg (19 page)

burning hot, slick and wet, the sounds their bodies made together obscene, arousing.

Deep inside Shane’s arse, Benedict’s cock gave one last throb. Shane came. He

threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut tightly so he could concentrate on every

moment. His nerves were on fire, zaps like electricity surging through him and making

him twitch. He wanted to scream but stayed almost silent, shaking. It was hard to

believe two bodies could do this; for maybe the first time ever, he was aware of how

intimate sex was. In that instant, it was impossible to think he and Benedict could go

back to being anything but this—this fusion they’d created.

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“God,” Benedict said when it was over. He laughed a little bit, and Shane winced

as the movement tugged at his tender arsehole. “Sorry! Here, let me.” Benedict

withdrew slowly, though no amount of care would have prevented the raw sandpaper

feel of the condom scraping along Shane’s tender flesh. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Shane grumbled. “Get rid of that thing and lie down, would you?”

Benedict didn’t leave the bed, so God only knew what he did with the discarded

condom. Shane hoped he wouldn’t find it on the floor, in the dark, with his bare foot.

“Come here,” Benedict said, lying next to him and tugging him closer, and Shane went

willingly enough, resting his head on Benedict’s shoulder.

Usually, Shane hated this part. The more intense the sex, the quicker the retreat

from intimacy as he or his partner realized how much they’d revealed of themselves

and embarrassment set in. He’d sometimes been dressed and out the door—or zipped

up and walking away—before his dick was dry. With Benedict’s arm around him, his

hand against Benedict’s chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat gradually slow, Shane waited

for the crash and burn.

It didn’t come. As the euphoria of a spectacular climax ebbed, he became uneasily

aware there was a physical price tag attached to being fucked that hard, but with it

came a growing contentment. If he’d been a cat, he’d have stretched out long and

purred.

“It’s never been like that,” Benedict said.

Shane smiled, unseen. Blew you away, he thought with satisfaction before it

struck him that Benedict hadn’t said it with wonder, awe, or gratitude, but more a

baffled resentment.

“Yeah?” he ventured, running his hand down Benedict’s chest to his hip

soothingly, over warm, sweat-damp skin. “It was good for me too, if you were asking.”

Which you weren’t
. “Feel like an apple that’s been cored, but it was worth it.”

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“That’s not what I meant.” Benedict sounded angry. “I mean. Yeah, I’m glad. Of

course I wanted it to be good for you. But I didn’t know it could be like that for me. Or

for anyone, I guess. I didn’t know you could be taken over by it like that.”

“Sounds as if you had a lot of crap sex.” Shane rubbed his hand over the solid

knot of Benedict’s pelvic bone, fitting it to the curve of his palm and fingers.

Benedict sighed. “Maybe. I didn’t think it was at the time. I guess I didn’t know

any better. Stupid.”

“You’re not.” Shane felt the need to defend Benedict no matter who was speaking

ill of him. “Not knowing something because you’ve not been exposed to it—that’s

ignorance, not stupidity.”

“So now I’m ignorant? Great, that’s so much better.” Benedict sat up and slid to

the edge of the bed.

Shane endured a sharp pang of regret, then blurted out, “Don’t go.”

“Why? It’s not as if you want some ignorant partner, in business or in bed.”

Shane groaned and covered his eyes with his hand for a moment. “I shouldn’t

have used that word. If I say I didn’t mean it and apologize, will you come back to

bed?”

Benedict turned to look at him. The lighting in the room wasn’t good; he couldn’t

see the expression on Benedict’s face, but Benedict must have been able to see his. “You

want me to stay?”

“Astonishing as it might seem, yeah. Get yourself back here. My legs are too

fucking wobbly to chase after you.”

Benedict hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

He lay beside Shane again, but there was no move to cuddle close. Shane rolled

his eyes. The one time he was in the mood for something that verged on romantic, and

Benedict decided to flip the switch from gloriously demanding and confident to

whatever this mood was.

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“I’m not much for begging when my dick’s soft, but I will if it’s what you need to

hear.”

“Huh?”

“Arm. Around me. We were having a tender moment before you decided to start

whining or beating yourself up, whatever the hell that meltdown was.”

“I wasn’t—” Benedict pushed his hair back from his face, leaving it messier than it

had been before. Finally, he gave in, raising his arm in an invitation Shane accepted at

once.

He slung his arm over Benedict, anchoring him to the bed in case Benedict got any

more daft ideas about dramatic exits, and settled himself comfortably. “See?” he

murmured. “This is nice. Never done it much before, but it’s nice.”

“Yes.” Benedict sounded doubtful, and the kiss he gave the top of Shane’s head

was so clearly dutiful Shane was torn between the desire to laugh and the urge to cry.

“Let me guess. You didn’t go in for this either?”

“Neither did you!”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t living with someone for years. What the fuck did you see in

that Jenson of yours anyway? Hung like a horse, was he?”

Benedict relaxed at that, a soft huff of amusement escaping him. “You’re bigger, if

that’s what you want to know.”

“It wasn’t, but thanks.”

“It’s not a compliment. You were born with it. It’s not as if you can make it bigger

through clean living and exercise.”

“Tell that to my in-box.”

“You know what I mean.” Benedict rolled to his side, bringing them closer, his

hand finding a place to rest against Shane’s arse. The gentle strokes that followed felt

good, and Shane showed his approval with kisses, ending a conversation he wasn’t sure

was getting them anywhere.

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Benedict might have taken a while to wake up to the fact that he was a kinky

bastard, but now that the penny had dropped, well, they could both enjoy making up

for lost time.

No need to stress over the past when the future—and the present—were looking

so promising.

And no need to worry over how willing he’d been to let Benedict control him in

bed. They were just playing. Getting off. It didn’t mean anything more than that.

His bitten, bruised nipple throbbed as he rubbed against Benedict’s chest, and he

winced, remembering Benedict saying he’d like to see it pierced. That would hurt like

hell, and the ring would catch on everything and be a pain in the arse. No fucking way

he’d ever do it.

Unless Benedict told him to and meant it.

Fuck.

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Chapter Eleven

“Careful, it’s—”

The crash that followed made the whole place shake, and Ben glanced at the

ceiling, worried in case it was going to come down and crush them.

“Christ! Watch what you’re doing, will you? You just about took me out.” That

was Shane’s voice, and after that came a muttered apology from Dave.

The renovations were going… It wouldn’t have been accurate to say
well
. In fact,

every time they turned around, they discovered something else that had to be fixed

before they could move to the next step. The list of what they needed to complete before

the reopening the following week was getting longer, not shorter, and Shane’s temper

was getting shorter right along with it.

Ben tried to force his concentration back to the file he was working on. The

secondhand computer they’d picked up at a computer repair shop down the street was

settled on Shane’s desk. The constant grinding sound of the paper shredder in the break

room was getting on his nerves, but he couldn’t complain because he’d been the one to

give the job to Shelly in the first place. The amount of paperwork Shane had let pile up

was ridiculous. Most of it was trash, but sadly it was the kind of trash that couldn’t just

be chucked into a Dumpster.

Together, he and Shane had figured out they could afford to pay the staff their

regular hourly rate during the renovations if they were willing to help in whatever

ways were necessary. Sitting in front of the heavy-duty shredder and feeding old

paperwork into it a few sheets at a time was boring, but Shelly had agreed to it without

complaint. In private, she’d confided in Ben she was saving for a trip to her sister’s

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wedding on the other side of the country. “I’ll scrub floors if that’s what it takes,” she’d

said cheerfully, and Ben believed her.

He rolled his shoulders, still aching from the mammoth task of emptying the bar

and the large storage room that was being transformed into a snug.

He had to persuade Shane to call it something else, but the name had caught on

with the staff and the workmen, so it might be too late.

It had taken five of them hours to finish the task, and it was impossible to move

anywhere without bumping into stacks of boxes piled precariously high. Even Shane’s

apartment had been called into service, giving him something else to complain about.

“It’s only temporary,” Ben had told Shane as they stood on the one clear piece of

floor in Shane’s living room.

“So’s the pain from a punch on the nose. Want me to demonstrate?”

If the couch hadn’t been occupied by six pool cues, a bucket, and a forlorn

arrangement of silk flowers in a basket—the latter destined for the trash—Ben would’ve

bent Shane over it and fucked the sulky look off his face.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t that Shane’s bad temper had worsened. Since the

day of the auction, there hadn’t been an opportunity to reprise their encounter. Ben was

suffering from sexual frustration to the point where even hearing Shane’s voice yelling

at someone got him hard as he considered ways to curb Shane’s impatience.

God, the way Shane had responded to him that day… Ben had watched Shane

striding around, barking out orders to Rob, who towered above him, or to Charlie, who

didn’t but still looked like a man who could handle himself in a fight. Shane was in

charge, deferring to no one. It was difficult to reconcile that Shane with the man who’d

told Ben to use him, play with him, hurt him.

Ben closed the file he couldn’t concentrate on and pushed it aside. He was hard.

He was sitting in an office, in broad daylight, with people wandering by, and he had an

erection.
Inappropriate
didn’t begin to cover it.

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129

A shadow fell across the desk, and he glanced up, hoping it would be Shane. He

was hungry enough for a taste of Shane’s mouth that he was willing to take his chances

on someone noticing them going upstairs to Shane’s place. He didn’t care if it was

cluttered. He just needed a wall to lean against with Shane kneeling in front of him, lips

parted.

“Hard at work as ever, I see. Got a minute?” Charlie held up a sheaf of blueprints.

“Need to make sure I’m putting the wall lights just where you want them.”

“Sure.” Willing his cock to behave, Ben slid his chair out from under the desk

enough so he’d seem accessible but not enough so Charlie could see his erection. “Grab

that chair.”

Charlie sank down on the wooden chair that was, surprisingly, more comfortable

than it looked, and spread the blueprints on the desk. Sure, he had to do it on top of a

bunch of other stuff that was already there, but Ben reminded himself they were

making progress. It wouldn’t look like this forever. “Okay, so here’s what the snug will

look like. Outlets here. Not much choice about those. Building code says there has to be

one every so many feet. They say jump, I jump.” Charlie grinned.

“Sounds like city government for you,” Ben said.

“I hear you. And the lights will be two rows here and here. They’ll be wired

separately, so if someone’s cleaning up behind the bar, the ones out here can be off.

Every little bit counts when it comes to the electric bill.” Charlie pointed to the area near

the bar. “Switches here and here, emergency lights that’ll be on when nothing else is, so

no one trips in the dark on their way out of the door.”

“Good.” Ben tried to look as if he understood what was being explained when in

reality he barely had a clue. Screw it. “Look, I trust you. If you think it makes sense, just

go for it. I don’t think my input’s required. In fact, if I suggest something, you probably

ought to do the exact opposite.”

“That’s not the impression I was under,” Shane said from the doorway.