Brook Street: Thief (8 page)

Drawn to Benjamin, he crossed the room. Palming Benjamin’s hips, Cavin nuzzled the space behind his ear, the soft ends of his hair tickling Cavin’s nose. “Wise man.”

Benjamin pushed back, pressing the hard arch of Cavin’s erection against the crease of his arse. He let out a little grunt then turned in Cavin’s arms. “I try, though it’s my first time displaying such wisdom.”

With a tug on Benjamin’s hips, Cavin brought their bodies together, his mouth covering Benjamin’s. The reminder that he was the only man to have touched Benjamin, the only man who had tasted his lips, heard those little grunts…

His heart clenched. If only he could be the only one forever.

Benjamin pushed on his chest, breaking the kiss. “Let’s get to my bedchamber so we can get rid of these clothes.”

Cavin nipped at his lower lip. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Grabbing Benjamin’s hand again, Cavin led the man to the room at the end of the corridor. He barely had time to notice that Benjamin did indeed have a massive bed, the four posters illuminated by the faint golden glow from the fire in the hearth, when Benjamin shoved him back, using Cavin’s body to snap the door shut. Benjamin’s lips slanted across his, hungry and eager. As Cavin pushed his tongue into Benjamin’s mouth, he blindly slapped the door near his hip. His fingertips found cool brass, and he turned the lock.

Hands tugged at clothing, buttons gave way, fabric was pushed down and off and over heads as they made their way to the side of the bed. Mouths crushed together, they tumbled onto the mattress. Sprawled over Cavin, Benjamin pushed up and leaned left, toward his bedside table.

“Need to light a candle.”

“But the fire’s lit.” He tugged on Benjamin’s waist, wanting the man’s mouth back on his.

“Not enough. I want to be able to see you in all your glory.”

Cavin let out a sound that was halfway between a snort and a chuckle. “All of my glory?”

The candle flared to life.

“Yes.” Knees straddling Cavin’s waist, Benjamin turned the full force of his attention back to Cavin, desire blazing in a gaze that roamed Cavin’s chest. His hands soon followed, and then bending down, his mouth.

Cool and soft, lips coasted over Cavin’s heated skin. A hot tongue slipped out to flick across his nipple. Teeth captured the hardened tip and tugged lightly.

Sensation shot straight to Cavin’s prick, arching his back. His cock jumped, brushing Benjamin’s ballocks. It felt as if there was a line connected between his nipple and his cock. Each flick of Benjamin’s tongue reverberated in his prick, left him panting and desperate for another lick. Another tug of his teeth.

How was it that he’d never realized just how sensitive his nipples were?

Probably because he’d never had Benjamin’s inquisitive mouth on them before.

Benjamin’s lips dragged across his chest to lavish his other nipple with attention. Nipping and licking and driving Cavin to the point where he began to worry he might actually spill his seed if Benjamin didn’t let up.

That wouldn’t do at all. He wanted tonight to last to the dawn, not have it end in a matter of minutes.

Cavin palmed Benjamin’s arse. “Move up.”

Benjamin lifted his head. Wonderful, eager man that he was, he did exactly as Cavin asked, scooting up until the head of his cock was close enough for Cavin to wrap his lips around the crown.

“Ah,
hell.
”

At least Benjamin didn’t shout loud enough to wake the neighbors this time. Shifting his grip, he cupped Benjamin’s hips. The man didn’t need any urging to heed the pressure. He moved his hips in short nudges, sliding his cock in and out of Cavin’s mouth. He had a hand braced on wall before him, the other gripping the headboard, the muscles of his forearm standing out in stark relief under the force of his grip.

On the next stroke, Cavin relaxed his throat and, pulling Benjamin closer, took every last inch of the man’s cock into his mouth.

Benjamin let out a strangled shout, his entire body quaking. Cavin swallowed, using the muscles of his throat to massage the head. And was rewarded with another strangled shout.

Benjamin’s reaction to him ratcheted the lust soaking Cavin’s senses. The man threw himself into every touch, every kiss, every glide of Cavin’s lips along his length. Completely without inhibition. The pleasant, mild-mannered gentleman long gone.

Pulling back, Cavin suckled on the crown, tongue teasing the sensitive spot on the underside, reveling in Benjamin’s pleasure. In the sheer pleasure of his enjoyment and discovery. It made him want to introduce Benjamin to every wicked indulgence. If he couldn’t be with him forever, he could at least be there with him as he experienced everything for the first time.

One last kiss to the head of Benjamin’s cock, and he scooted down. Benjamin widened his stance so Cavin could move between his knees. When Benjamin made to shift to the side, Cavin grabbed his arse.

“Right here.” Cavin spread those firm cheeks, exposing his entrance.

“Cavin?” Benjamin asked between panting breaths.

“Trust me,” he murmured. Then he pulled Benjamin’s arse down to his mouth.

Closing his eyes, he flicked his tongue across tight, puckered skin.

“Hell!”

“Shh,” he whispered against the man’s entrance. “Don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

Adjusting his grip, he spread Benjamin wider. Then using his tongue, he teased the man’s hole. Tracing the perimeter, lapping across the surface.

He rarely indulged in the act. Much too intimate to share with a man he didn’t care to know and only intended to spend a few hours with. But with Benjamin?

Anything for him.

Tomorrow didn’t matter. All that mattered was right now. The way Benjamin’s moans filled his ears. The tension in the body crouched above him. The little nudges of his hips, grinding against Cavin’s mouth, desperate for more.

When the tight ring of muscle began to relax, he pushed a thumb inside and stroked, his mouth working all the while. Kissing and licking, keeping the sensitive flesh slick and wet. He slid his other thumb in to join the first, stretching Benjamin, preparing him.

“Cavin…Cavin…” Benjamin groaned.
“Stop,”
he gasped, abruptly pulling free of Cavin’s fingers. A knee whisked across Cavin’s face as Benjamin moved to kneel at his side. “Not yet.”

Stop
and
not yet
didn’t go hand in hand. He glanced down Benjamin’s body and found his answer. The man was clutching the base of his prick, as if pushing back a climax. The crown was flushed red and glistening with moisture.

Cavin dragged a forearm across his wet mouth. “Do you want to sit on my cock?” He felt the weight of Benjamin’s gaze settle on his prick. “It won’t hurt like last time,” he added, hoping to alleviate any of those concerns.

“Didn’t last long. The pain, I mean. And hell yes, I want to sit on your cock.” He reached to the bedside table and opened a drawer.

Cavin held out a hand toward the glass bottle. Benjamin handed it over, and Cavin slicked his cock with a generous amount of oil.

“Hop on,” Cavin said, gripping the base of his prick, holding it steady for Benjamin.

A smile on his lips and eyes banked with lust, Benjamin straddled Cavin’s waist.

With his free hand, Cavin reached behind Benjamin and pulled one cheek back. “Might hurt a little bit from the stretch. Not a lot, but a bit. Just breathe through it.”

Benjamin planted his hands on Cavin’s chest and nodded once. Then he lowered. The head of Cavin’s cock slid over slick skin then made the breach. A wince tightened Benjamin’s mouth, closing his eyes. A brief pause, a deep breath, and Benjamin sank the rest of the way down, trapping Cavin’s cock in tight heat.

A groan rumbled Cavin’s throat. He resisted the urge to thrust up, to pound into Benjamin’s body. It was only Benjamin’s second time. He needed at least a moment, and likely many more, to adjust to the intrusion.

He wrapped a hand around Benjamin’s erection, stroked the length, hoping to make it easier for him. A moan slipped past Benjamin’s lips. His hands tightened and flexed against Cavin’s chest.

Slow and tentative, Benjamin began to rock into Cavin’s grip, pushing into the strokes of his hand, and fucking himself on Cavin’s cock.

“That’s it. Move for me, Ben.”

Benjamin rocked faster. Cavin grabbed his hips, urging him onward. Benjamin’s cock and ballocks dragged against Cavin’s lower belly. With each push back, a grunt shook Benjamin’s chest.

Consumed by pleasure, the man was utterly gorgeous. Bottom lip held between his teeth. Lashes grazing flushed cheeks and sweat dripping down his temples. Without a trace of hesitation, Benjamin took what he wanted. And Cavin willingly gave him everything he had to give. Holding back his own climax, waiting for Benjamin. Waiting for his lover to find his release, even though the slick tightness of Benjamin’s body proved an almost unbearable temptation.

Benjamin leaned down, crushed his lips to Cavin’s. His tongue thrust boldly inside Cavin’s mouth.

And Cavin couldn’t hold back the orgasm. His shout was lost in their kiss as he spilled deep within Benjamin. His lover continued to ride him, slamming down harder, prolonging the climax, milking every last drop from Cavin’s prick. Then Benjamin sat back, reached for his cock. A howl ripped from him. Seed shot from his prick, landing on Cavin’s chest.

Panting hard, Benjamin dropped down, catching his weight on his elbows. A wince pulled his mouth. He quickly shifted his hips up, Cavin’s prick slipping from his body. Benjamin let out a sigh. A dreamy smile played on his lips, his eyes heavily lidded and full of complete contentment.

“Stay with me tonight,” Benjamin whispered.

Unable to voice a refusal, to have to bear witness to the disappointment on his lover’s handsome face, Cavin gave the only answer he could. He cupped Benjamin’s jaw and slanted his mouth over his. Their tongues twined together, every detail imprinting itself on Cavin’s senses. The taste of Benjamin, the softness of his lips, the feel of the man crouched above him. He would never forget Benjamin’s kiss.

* * *

Benjamin knew before he was fully awake that he’d find the space next to him empty. He passed a hand under the coverlet, the sheets cool to the touch and without a trace of warmth from Cavin’s body. The man had left some time ago.

“Likely the second I fell asleep.” With a weary shake of his head, he swung his feet over the side of the bed.

He tugged open the drapes, letting in the full force of the early morning sun, then pulled on the trousers Cavin had stripped from him last night.

Before he shaved the stubble from his jaw or even put on a shirt, he went out into the corridor.

A check in the guest bedchamber turned up an empty room. The navy coverlet was thrown back, the white pillow undisturbed, just as he had left the bed last night.

He should have known that kiss had been a no.

An ache began to build in his chest, dull yet sharp and heavy.

Cavin was gone.

Chapter Eight

Benjamin tapped the end of his pen against the ivory teacup on his desk, the partially written letter to his eldest brother long forgotten. A fortnight. A goddamn fortnight, and nothing. Not even one glimpse of Cavin.

Footsteps passed by the open door to his study. He looked up in time to catch sight of slim shoulders and a dark mop of hair.

Dropping the pen, he pushed from his desk. There was one person in this house who had information on Cavin, and it was about time Benjamin pressed for answers. No more allowing Sam to dodge his questions. It hadn’t helped that Benjamin had been reluctant to outright ask after Cavin—he’d only nudged around the subject, not wanting Sam to wonder why Benjamin was so interested in his brother. But a damn fortnight had passed and he was beyond tired of waiting for Cavin to call.

Hell, he hated feeling so powerless. Being reduced to simply
waiting.
And visiting that damn hell. All for naught.

He found Sam on his knees in the entrance hall, a scrub brush in hand and a bucket of water beside him.

“Good afternoon, Sam.”

Sam pushed to his feet. “Good afternoon, Lord Benjamin.” He gave Benjamin a deferential tip of the head. “I’m sorry. Am I in your way? Mrs. Gilroy asked me to see to the floor and—”

Benjamin held up a hand to stay him. “No, you’re not in the way. Mrs. Gilroy’s informed me that you’ve been doing a brilliant job. You’ve provided much needed help to her and for that you have my thanks.”

Confusion flickered across Sam’s face. “Are you going to toss me out, sir?”

“No, Sam. Not at all.” He added a smile, hoping to ease the boy’s concern. “A thank you does not mean goodbye.”

The boy’s brow furrowed, as if uncertain what to make of Benjamin’s comment. Sam was such a suspicious thing. And wary. It made Benjamin wonder anew what had driven Cavin to bring the boy to the house.

Worry began to build in his gut, but he reminded himself, for what felt like the hundredth time over the past fortnight, that it did no good to allow his mind to wander over all the possible, and dire, reasons that could have pushed Cavin to knock on his door with Sam in tow. Perhaps Sam’s wariness had nothing to do with why he needed a position
“far from home.”
It
was
the boy’s first position in a household, after all. Benjamin didn’t consider himself an intimidating presence in the slightest, but he was Sam’s employer. The person who paid his quarterly wages and had the power to toss him out at a moment’s notice. Likely having to converse with Benjamin made the boy uncomfortable.

Sam shifted his weight, glancing to the bucket at his feet. “Is there anything else you need, sir?”

He ignored Sam’s obvious attempt to get rid of him and instead asked, “How is your brother? Is he well?”

“Yes, sir. Cavin’s well.”

“Have you seen him of late?”

Sam nodded. “I see him every few nights.”

“Where?”

“In the back garden. He comes to check on me. It’s not a problem, is it?” Sam asked, turning worried gray eyes to Benjamin.

“No, of course not. He’s your brother. You can invite him in, if you’d like. No reason to keep to the garden.” Cavin had been there, at his house, and Benjamin hadn’t known? “When was he here last?”

“Two nights ago.”

He had been in his study two nights ago, waiting for Cavin to call. “Has he mentioned me at all?” He wanted to ask Sam so much more. Had Cavin said anything to indicate he was upset or angry with Benjamin? Why didn’t the man want to see him? Had Benjamin done something wrong?

“He asked after you.”

That was at least something. “And?”

“I told him you were well.”

Technically true, if
well
encompassed being frustrated and worried from waiting. “When do you think he’ll stop by next?”

Sam shrugged. “A couple of days, maybe.”

“Would you please let him know I wish to speak to him the next time he calls?”

Sam nodded.

“You will tell him?” Benjamin asked, needing to be certain.

“Yes, sir. I’ll let him know.” Sam tugged on the bristles of the scrub brush in his hand, his gaze going to the bucket once again. “Will that be all, sir?”

Benjamin kept the sigh inside. He could question the boy all afternoon and likely wouldn’t learn much else. “Yes, Sam. Thank you.” He made to turn but stopped. “One more thing, Sam. Where did you call home before you came to work here?”

Sam dropped to his knees and dunked the brush into the bucket. “It was on the east end of Town.”

“And where exactly would that be?”

“East.”

Benjamin rolled his eyes, but the effect was lost on Sam as his attention was on the gray marble floor, head tipped down and dark hair hanging over his eyes. The boy might not physically resemble Cavin, but he was just as evasive as his damn brother.

* * *

Cavin ducked inside a tavern, escaping the light misty rain that had begun to fall over the city, and quickly scanned the room. Bodies packed in a single row about the bar, a barkeep busily filling pints, three to four men around most every table scattered about the tavern. Most happy to be done with their work for the day, and made more jolly by the ale in their hands and the food on their plates.

Satisfied there was no one present he was acquainted with, he took up a spot at a small empty table in the corner nearest the door, sitting with his back to the wall.

When a serving girl approached, he shook his head. “Not yet. Waiting for someone.”

Well, no, but she would soon forget him among all the other patrons demanding her attention and likely wouldn’t notice for quite some time that only one remained at his table.

Content to be out of the rain for however long it lasted, Cavin slouched down in the chair, settling in, and shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers unconsciously searching the lining and coming up empty.

He should not have rented the room for another week. Should have saved the money, found some other place to sleep that wouldn’t charge rent and still held a high probability of him not getting his throat slit in the dead of night by someone intent on stealing his shoes. Like one of the benches in one of the squares near Benjamin’s home. As long as he left before dawn, he doubted anyone would have noticed him. Instead, he’d rented that tiny room in that hovel of an inn with the hopes of soon finding work. Now he had nothing but that room.

At least he had a roof over his head. He should be grateful for that. And tomorrow at dawn he’d go back down to the docks and see if anyone was in need of a man for the day. Without any skills and without any recommendation, all he had was his ability to lift objects and follow basic instructions. Perhaps tomorrow someone would give him a job, if only for a day, trust his word that he would do an honest day’s work.

That was all he needed—a job. Some sort of position. Anything and in any part of Town. He wasn’t finicky in the slightest either. It could involve hauling carcasses out of a butcher’s shop for all he cared.

Hell, he hadn’t thought it would be too difficult to find something if he put his mind to it.

He had thought wrong.

St. Giles had sunk its teeth into Cavin and refused to let him go. He swore the docksmen could smell the stews on him. Knew exactly where he had come from, and they didn’t much want to be party to his attempted escape.

If no one would give him work… Well, he’d probably end up facedown in a gutter, where he should have ended up years ago.

Letting out a resigned sigh, he scrubbed a hand across his face, palm dragging over his bristly jaw. Oddly, the thought of his own demise didn’t unsettle him all that much. Maybe it was because he was so very tired, the weariness pervading every inch of his being, dulling his ability to care overmuch if he did indeed end up in a gutter. It had only been fourteen days, and already he felt beaten down by the futility of it all. He was tired of inquiring, of being an inch from dropping to his knees and begging, and still receiving a curt no. Tired of walking all over London for naught yet knowing tomorrow he would need to do it all once again. Tired of the loneliness, tired of the low hum of anxiety from being truly on his own for the first time in twelve years, tired of the worry that was quickly turning to fact that he would never be able to break free of St. Giles.

Even if he was proving incompetent at taking care of himself, at least he’d managed to take care of Sam. The boy had a solid position, safe under Benjamin’s roof. A position Sam should be able to hold for some time, as the boy had given Cavin his word during every visit to Benjamin’s tranquil back garden that he’d been behaving himself. And Benjamin… Cavin winced against the sharp jab in his chest. The man had likely forgotten him by now. A fortnight had passed. The dalliance over. Benjamin had his answer about himself and had probably already taken up with one of his vaunted, like-minded friends. And it was for the best.

The serving girl passed his table, her brown skirt brushing the edge, and set a plate before each man at the table next to his.

The thick scents of cooked pastry, meat and onions filled his nose. His stomach grumbled. He hated kidney pie, hated the taste, hated the smell. But hell did it smell damn good right now.

One of the men dug a fork into the slice of pie on his plate, piercing the oven-browned crust. Brown gravy dripped from his fork laden with chunks of kidney and beef as he brought it to his mouth.

Cavin’s stomach grumbled again, clenching and protesting its empty state. A wave of lightheadedness flooded his mind. He gave his head a quick shake, trying to right his senses.

Through sheer force of will, he pulled his attention from his neighbors’ plates. His fingers searched the lining of his pockets but found nothing again. Not even a farthing. Rummaging through rubbish bins was out of the question. Rotten, moldy food was not worth temporarily appeasing his empty stomach, for it wouldn’t remain there long. There were always the alleys, where a few shillings could be earned simply by accepting an invitation. But the thought of doing that?

A harsh grimace pulled his lips.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t turn himself into a whore. He refused to allow himself to sink that low.

Another sharp stab of hunger to his gut pushed him to look over his shoulder, out the smoke-glazed window of the tavern. Men passed by on their way home from an honest day’s work.

Dropping his right arm to his side, he flexed his hand, stretching his fingers. Then he got to his feet and made his way toward the door.

Nobody kept all their money in their pocket. All he needed was a couple of coins. Nothing more. Just enough for dinner.

* * *

Benjamin turned the page of the book propped on his lap. Perhaps he should have taken Woodhaven up on his offer to attend the theatre. His friend kept a box, always proved to be good company, and if the performance on the stage didn’t hold his attention, perhaps the antics of the crowd would serve as a sufficient distraction to the questions tumbling about his head. Reading certainly wasn’t doing any good.

It wasn’t as if he had a pressing need to remain home. Still, he’d declined Woodhaven’s offer. Stayed home to wait.

Bloody pathetic.

Closing the book, he set it on the side table and glanced to the clock on the mantel. Half past ten. Might as well retire for the night. And there truly was no hope he’d receive answers anytime soon. Cavin wasn’t due to stop by and check on his brother until tomorrow night.

He reached for his glass and drained the remaining brandy in one long swallow.

A knock sounded on the study door. “Lord Benjamin?”

Sam’s voice, not Cavin’s.

“Yes, Sam.”

The door opened, revealing Sam, flushed-faced and chest working under the force of his panting breaths. The wet ends of his hair stuck to his cheeks, the shoulders and sleeves of his coat darkened from the rain.

“Is something amiss?” Benjamin asked, getting to his feet, his gut tightening with a heavy sense of foreboding.

“Cavin. He was nicked. They took him in.”

“Who took him in and to where?”

“A watchman. To the station house.”

Benjamin’s stomach fell to somewhere around his knees. “Do you know which station house he was taken to?”

Clutching his side, the boy gasped for breath. “Fleet Street.”

“Did you run all the way back here?”

Sam shook his head. “Only ran up from Bond Street. Was able to find a hackney outside Seven Dials.”

The absolute worst area of the rookery. Benjamin held back the urge to ask the boy why the hell he’d been there, for he had a strong suspicion he could guess the answer—Sam and Cavin’s home was somewhere near Seven Dials, which was most definitely “east of Mayfair.”

He should have known. Cavin had given him a few clues. His reluctance to discuss himself, his home, his area of employment. The tattered hems of his pants muddied from a long walk, the simple, plain clothes. The rigid set of his spine during dinner, as if he’d never been in such surroundings before. Hell, Cavin had even told him his mother was Irish, and Seven Dials was renowned for its large population who had come from Ireland. But neither Cavin nor Sam fit the image he held in his head of someone who lived in the rookery, and their voices didn’t grate against Benjamin’s ears, their speech not littered with incomprehensible cant. Yet that faint coarseness behind Cavin’s gorgeous voice, the same coarseness he heard in Sam’s, was a remnant of his deliberate attempt to disguise the rookery.

“Please, sir,” Sam implored, eyes wide and round and pleading with Benjamin. “Hale won’t protect him no more. Cavin could be transported or thrown in a hulk.”

Benjamin didn’t think twice. Didn’t hesitate. “Run down to the livery, tell the grooms to have the carriage brought round immediately. Frank’s already gone for the day, so tell the grooms I need one of them to ride with the carriage.” He grabbed the coat he’d earlier thrown over the back of the other wingback chair and shoved his arms into the sleeves. There was a strong possibility that tomorrow Cavin would be taken before a Justice. The law did not dally when it came to lesser criminals. Once a decision was brought down, Benjamin’s hands would be tied. If tonight he could find out the circumstances behind why Cavin was brought in, maybe he could persuade the protesting party to change his mind before tomorrow.