CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Day two mirrored day one, except ballet was replaced by tennis lessons at an indoor sports’ arena in south London. Consequently, the girl and mother arrived home just after the BMW did, but other than that, suburban, middle-class life continued on its planned, regimented way. He was so tired all day that his forehead hit the table of the café over lunch as he watched the mother—who he now knew was called Felicity—meet with her mother and sister, the other two women so closely resembling her that if they weren’t related Ben reckoned there’d been cloning in Knightsbridge recently. Fortunately, his waitress was entranced by the gorgeous man who’d twice occupied her table for lunch, so she brought him a special Turkish coffee with so much caffeine in it he felt his heart racing for the rest of the afternoon. By the time he’d watched them safely ensconced in the house and the lights go off at ten, he was thinking only of bed. He arrived home, parked the bike, didn’t even bother to find Nik, collapsed on the bed and fell instantly asleep.
Days three and four were much the same, except tennis became piano and then violin, and then something called Kuman, which Ben assumed was something to do with humus, but all in all, nothing stood out as a way into the family’s life. School, walk the dog, activity, bed. It was something his chaotic and unhappy childhood had never given him, and everything he did that week was tinged with either guilt or envy. It wasn’t a good way to spend his time, and by Friday he was so thoroughly pissed off he decided to cut the surveillance short and left for home at lunchtime. His mood wasn’t helped when he returned to find Nikolas’s bags packed and ready in the hallway for an early departure to Devon the next morning.
He went into the kitchen and threw himself into a chair. Nik brought him a tea and sat opposite him. Ben saw an ashtray filled with cigarette butts and all his anger and frustration coalesced into that one little metal object. He grabbed the ashtray and flung the contents into the bin, then on an afterthought threw the ashtray in as well. Nik chuckled and said something that sounded like, “Oh, yes, that will stop me,” but it was uttered so quietly Ben couldn’t call him on it. Instead, he flung himself down into the chair and gave Nikolas a swift account of the final weekday routine. They sat drinking their tea, until Nikolas suddenly said, “Go get the car.”
Ben looked up. “Why?”
“I have decided what will be your way in.”
“And…?”
Nikolas smirked. “Get the car.”
§§§
They drove through the Friday London traffic until they came to a large park and drove down a lane toward a ramshackle set of buildings. Ben heard an odd, unpleasant noise long before he worked out what it was. It was only as they climbed out of the car and approached one of the buildings that he understood the cacophony of noise was that of barking. He turned to ask Nikolas what was going on, but Nikolas skirted past him and went into the office. Ben followed and discovered a young woman leading Nikolas into a corridor at the back. The long hallway was lined on both sides by cages, and each cage had a dog in it; some bouncing up against the wire, some just barking, and some running around in circles trying to do both.
Ben stopped at the first cage. The dog looked like an Alsatian. He barked insanely. Ben winced, having had many experiences of being bitten by dogs just like this. He moved on. Nikolas was listening to the girl who was pointing out the benefits of each of the dogs, extolling virtues and playing down problems. Ben continued to walk down the row of cages on his own until he came to one where, at first, he couldn’t actually see a dog. He peered in and then saw a pair of amber eyes watching him from deep within a basket at the back, in the shadows. No barking here. He shook the cage bars and clicked his tongue. The amber eyes didn’t waver. He frowned and whistled. Nothing but a blink. Ben turned and beckoned the girl over. She was still talking to Nikolas but gave Ben’s dog a quick look and shook her head. “That’s Radulf. He’s a sticky, he can’t be rehomed.”
Ben felt Nikolas at his shoulder. “We’ll take him.”
The girl frowned. “No, I’m sorry. He’s had behavioural problems. He was…well, he had a very bad time at his previous home. But we never put a dog down, so you are very welcome to sponsor him.”
When they left later that evening with the large, shaggy dog called Radulf sitting on the backseat, Ben wasn’t sure who’d been conned or charmed more. Him or the girl. Or perhaps the dog. He turned to Nikolas, who for once had opted to drive. He had a slight smirk on his face. Ben frowned. “Can I ask now what’s going on?”
Nikolas nodded. “What is the one thing that the girl has done consistently every day?”
Ben glanced behind at the back seat. “Bloody hell. Walked the dog.”
“Exactly. And what’s the one thing no woman or little girl can resist?” When Ben became more confused, he explained patiently, “A missing dog.” He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Radulf is going missing.”
Radulf didn’t look as if he wanted to go missing just as he’d found his way into a brand new Range Rover. He was hanging his head out of the window, grinning, the flaps of his muzzle lifting in the air stream. “Why this dog?”
Nikolas shrugged. “He wasn’t supposed to be rehomed. If we lose him, no one will care.” Ben widened his eyes. Nikolas laughed. “Stupid child. I chose this one because of his name. Radulf is Danish, Ben. So now you are outnumbered by more civilized Europeans.”
When they got back to the house, Radulf settled peacefully enough into the kitchen. Nik took a photo of him on his phone, and half an hour later came back with a series of posters showing his sad, appealing, lost-dog face peering out over the words: Lost and much missed. Please call Dean…and Ben’s burner cell number. He handed them to Ben. “Put these up around their street over the weekend. Monday, he will be in the park when they walk. They will find him.”
“This all sounds remarkably simple and complex at the same time. I like my ladies that lunched option better.”
“I did not.”
“What do we do with the dog when he’s gotten us an in?”
“He becomes—what is that expression she used? I did not understand it. Sticky? Yes, he becomes sticky again when we return him to the shelter. Sort him out for the night. I am going to bed. I’m leaving at five tomorrow.”
Whether Nikolas had intended for the dog to take Ben’s mind off his departure and absence for the weekend, Ben couldn’t say, but it was an effective tactic if he had. He spent an hour walking the dog around outside, then another half an hour defrosting some sausages for him, and then another hour returning to the kitchen to try and get him to shut up when he whined at being left alone. Eventually, Ben fell into an exhausted sleep and didn’t wake until well into Saturday morning, by which time he reckoned Nikolas was already in Devon, with his wife. He didn’t have time to miss him, as the dog had got his revenge at his odd treatment the previous night—and possibly the still semi-frozen sausages—by ripping and chewing everything he could find, which included Ben’s leather jacket he’d left on the back of the kitchen chair.
Ben was delighted, therefore, to spend the afternoon putting up posters of a dog who was very soon to be very missing. He hammered one right outside the family’s house, another three on their way to the park and one on the park gates.
However, many people stopped to talk to him and ask him about Radulf, so by the time he was finished, he was actually feeling a bit sad about losing his dog—until he got home and remembered he wasn’t lost…yet. Radulf had opened the kitchen door somehow and had made his way up to the bedrooms, where he’d continued his reign of terror on the soft furnishings. Ben wasn’t particularly into furniture or rugs and didn’t really care for material possessions, but he did value the bed and had kind of liked the sheets on it, mainly for the fact he indulged his favourite activity on those sheets. Not now though. Radulf had indulged his, and Ben realised he’d forgotten dogs needed to go out every day. Frequently. He shut the door in a wonderful act of denial and called their cleaning service. He also ordered a new mattress and bedding.
Radulf was, by now, whining by the empty dish Ben had improvised for him the previous night. He attached Radulf to the lead and went out, walking him determinedly to the shops, where he bought some dog food and other things he’d need, until he could lose the dog for real on Monday. It was now Saturday evening, and Ben hadn’t given Nikolas a thought, except to be glad he’d not seen the house earlier. The cleaning service had done their job by the time he returned. The new mattress arrived with the alacrity only money could bring forth, and everything was back as it should be by midnight.
Utterly shattered and suffering from two sleepless nights, Ben took the dog out for another walk before bed. He actually enjoyed it. It was cool and quiet, and he couldn’t fault Radulf on a lead, he walked as if trained to heel. They pottered about for an hour, came back and crashed, Radulf in his new basket and Ben on his new mattress. He spared one tiny thought for Nikolas who he wished was there to christen the new bed, before passing out until late Sunday morning. The dog had apparently been asleep all night, too, and Ben could spot no damage.
As a reward, he walked the dog to the canal path, and they did about five miles together before stopping for a pub lunch, where they both had burgers and chips and beer, the sort of food Nikolas would never allow him to eat. The dog particularly enjoyed his beer, and the five miles back were very cheerful between them. Ben tried out his Danish, something he’d never dare do with Nikolas yet, and Radulf listened attentively, not commenting on the pronunciation. They got home, made some tea, something Radulf also appeared to enjoy when it was cool enough for him, and they settled down to watch a sleazy torture-porn movie—again, something Nikolas would never have tolerated had he been home. It was an extremely successful miserable weekend, and Ben couldn’t say he was that devastated at the thought of another like it, should Nikolas be required to stoke the home fires once more. He was slightly more despondent by the time the movie was finished but refused to admit he wasn’t content any more in his own company. He took the dog for a final walk, retracing their route to the canal and sitting on the bank for an hour while he allowed Radulf to run around without his lead.
When Ben returned home, there was a light on in the kitchen, and Nik was sitting at the table in one of Ben’s old T-shirts and a pair of faded jeans. Inevitably, he was smoking. One look, one glance at bare feet and rumpled hair, and Ben was entirely lost. The reality of his lonely weekend crashed around him. Before Nikolas could speak, ask about the dog or Ben’s weekend, Ben seized him, dragged him to his feet, and enveloped him in a deep kiss, pushing his tongue between the smoky lips, breathing in the smoke, running his hands over Nikolas’s warm skin. He backed Nik toward the stairs, continued an awkward kiss as they mounted them then pushed him into the bedroom and onto the bed, fumbling with zip and cotton until he reached skin.
Until he had Nikolas like this beneath him, he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge how much he’d missed him.
Nikolas made to remove Ben’s shirt, but Ben took his wrists and pinned them to the bed, silently shaking his head. He kissed Nikolas again, his tongue dancing against Nikolas’s then, very deliberately, allowing no refusal, he turned the older man over and eased the jeans off his backside. It was such a slow, sensual move that Nikolas glanced back at him with a curious expression. It was one of acknowledgement, perhaps, that in this Ben was now his equal and could command and take as he chose.
Ben lowered his mouth to the small of Nikolas’s back and kissed him, trailing his tongue lower. Nikolas arched his shoulders in surprise and pleasure. Ben pulled away and pushed him back down roughly. He slid up so his mouth was to Nikolas’s ear and said in a choked voice, “I had no idea how much I could miss you. One month together, and now I am entirely lost without you.” He gazed at the pale, lean back beneath him. Had he ever taken them to bed purely for Nikolas’s pleasure before? Wasn’t it always about him? Hadn’t it always been his beauty and his vibrancy, and Nikolas enjoying him from the shadows? Ben felt astonished when he realised how much he wanted to make this about Nikolas. He pressed his lips back to Nikolas’s skin.
Perhaps the wait and the scrutiny had made the other man even more sensitive, but Nik pushed up onto his forearms, his head hanging down, strong shoulder blades sticking out like broken wings of dubious grace. Ben kissed one then the other before he trailed his tongue down the prominent spine. Nik hung his head further, muttering something in his own language. Ben now caught a word or two and risked saying hesitantly, “Jeg elsker dig.” He wasn’t sure if his pronunciation was good, but Nikolas’s head came up, and he twisted around to stare, so Ben reckoned I love you had worked for his first attempt at this impossible language.
“Tell me what you want, Nik, what you want me to do.” Nikolas’s eyes widened. Ben realised with something of a shock Nikolas had never done that. Never once indicated he liked or wanted anything. He just didn’t talk about what they did at all. Ben wasn’t exactly vocal, but he did murmur yeah or there or again, harder, deeper occasionally. This was damn well chatty compared to Nikolas. Even now, Nikolas shook his head fractionally. Ben frowned and pushed roughly at the back of his head, holding it down, shaking it a little in admonition. He said hoarsely, “You have the right to pleasure.”
Nikolas jerked his head away from Ben’s hand and turned, propped up on one elbow. Very slowly, he brought his other hand up to Ben’s mouth, running his finger over his lips. He shifted on the bed, kicked his jeans off, and then with a firm grip around Ben’s neck brought him down to his cock. It lay hard upon his abdomen, flushed. When Ben put his lips to the tip, Nikolas arched, and finally Ben heard him say, “Yessss.” He took the heavy shaft deep into his throat, forcing himself to accept it, then pulled his lips off, dragging them along the glistening flesh.
“Tell me what feels best.”
Nikolas swore and flung an arm over his face, as if this childish gesture would prevent him from having to do the talking thing again. Ben took him to the back of his throat once more, heard a deep sigh of pleasure, and was about to accept that as likely the only thing Nikolas was willing to say, when Nikolas murmured, “I like that—deep, in your throat.” Ben groaned in pleasure at the wasted voice and strangled vowels he loved. The groan vibrating in Ben’s throat made Nikolas cry out, “Christ,” and arch like a bow. Ben worked the glistening shaft until his throat felt raw, and then he felt fingers tugging on his hair, warning him to pull off. He went deeper, kneeling up, his fingers pressing and working the base of the impossibly tight cock, and then Nikolas jackknifed up, and Ben’s throat was filled with warmth. Nikolas cursed again, still holding the back of Ben’s neck. “Yes, fuck, yes.”
When he was done, Nikolas lay back, staring at the ceiling. Ben wasn’t sure if the other man was more shocked at the pleasure of his intense release or at the fact that he’d said fuck as he came. The sophisticated exterior of Sir Nikolas Mikkelsen was cracking. Ben wondered where else he could make an inroad to the hidden interior. He rose over the supine body, lying groin to groin, chest to chest, his head held back to watch Nik’s dilated pupils. Nikolas’s eyes were like the peat pool on the moors where Ben had grown up. He wanted to fall into them, lose himself. He opened his mouth against Nikolas’s. Nikolas accepted the kiss, automatically parting his lips, then his face scrunched up and he pulled away. Ben held his head back in place and eased his come-covered tongue into Nikolas’s mouth, teasing it around the walls. Nikolas retained an air of disgusted superiority for a moment then he shivered in pleasure, seized Ben’s head, rolled them so he was on top, and controlled the kissing. Incredulous, Ben realised his mouth was now being explored, licked out, tasted. They eased apart, regarding each other, and Nikolas said huskily, “I love to kiss you.”
Ben smiled. “See? Not so hard to tell me what you want.”
Nikolas eyed him for a moment. “I like to tell you what to do. Maybe I now order you to turn over, hmm? You like to be ordered, don’t you, Benjamin?”
Ben loved the way Nikolas’s English twisted away when he was concentrating on the purely physical. Nikolas held his shoulders down. “You want me to take the power from you. Powerless you can truly belong to someone. You ask me what I want? I want to own you, Benjamin. It is not good to want this. It is dangerous—ownership and power.”
Ben put a hand to Nikolas’s cheek. “If I asked you something, would you tell me the truth?”
“Without knowing what is it you are going to ask?”
Ben nodded.
Nik narrowed his eyes and pouted, thinking. “All right.”
Ben stroked his thumb over the razor-sharp cheekbones. “I want to know how old you are.”
Nikolas’s eyes widened. He quirked his lips up then began to laugh. “If a genie ever offers you anything your heart desires, let me answer for you. You have just wasted a great opportunity. This is not a secret. I assumed you knew. I am forty-two next week.”
“Next week? Were you planning on telling me?”
“No. Why would you want to know?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because?”
“Ah. For because.”
“Wow. Forty-two. And you can still walk unaided…”
Nikolas made a small noise of amusement in his throat and pressed his hand over Ben’s mouth. He pulled Ben’s thigh up with his other hand. “Tell me if I am ever too far gone for you, Benjamin.” And on Ben’s name he thrust himself in, hard again, easily able to make Ben arch in pain and shock, then in pleasure and need. He kept up a relentless pounding, face to face with Ben, not kissing, just staring at him, branding him with the look of total possession. Finally, he flipped Ben over, dragged his backside into the air to finish them both off, holding Ben’s head down with one hand, his other working underneath. With a hoarse, choked cry, Ben came into Nikolas’s hand. It was all Nikolas needed to finish, and with a last few faster thrusts, he shot a second load deep into Ben’s body, marking him as a possession on the inside as thoroughly as he had outside.
Ben collapsed. Nikolas sank on top of him, and they lay with hearts beating way too fast as they came down from the rush together. They were still joined. When Nikolas made to pull out, Ben slipped a hand back, holding him on. “Bo I…”
Nik grunted. “Did you just ask me to drive more carefully?”
“No, I said don’t pull out.”
“I think perhaps we will practise your Danish together.”
“What’s happy birthday?”
“Happy birthdays don’t exist, Ben, only in stories for children. Go to sleep. You have a dog to lose tomorrow.”