Miles didn’t tap. He allowed Ian to use his mouth however he pleased, beautifully pliant and eager to please him. It drove Ian absolutely fucking crazy. He found himself thrusting into Miles’s mouth at a dizzying rhythm, half-folded in his effort to get deeper, fuck harder. He curled so far that his chest arched over Miles’s head, low moans leaving his mouth as Miles’s throat kept squeezing around him. Fuck, this felt so good, and the choked sounds and whimpers the boy was making around his cock just turned him on even more.

  “Good boy,” Ian praised him, stroking Miles’s ears, his cheeks, before settling his hands on Miles’s throat. He squeezed it slightly and a moan left Miles’s mouth. It wasn’t a moan of distress.

  Intrigued, Ian squeezed his throat harder, slamming so deep inside it he could feel his own cock from the outside—shit, fucking hell. Ian’s hips moved faster and faster, his hands squeezing the boy’s neck. Fuck—

  He came with a groan, grinding his crotch into Miles’s face and spilling deep into Miles’s throat. His orgasm seemed to stretch into forever, his body and voice out of control. It didn’t help that Miles kept sucking, as if he expected him to come a second time.

  When Ian managed to open his eyes, he found Miles between his legs, his cheek pressed against Ian’s oversensitive cock. Miles still looked overwhelmed, his eyes closed and his breathing unsteady.

  “Was I too rough?” Ian said with a grimace, brushing his thumb against his cheek.

  Miles opened his eyes—and Christ. They looked completely gone, glassy and full of lust. Miles had actually loved what Ian did to him.

  His stomach clenching, Ian threaded his fingers through Miles’s hair, watching as Miles’s eyes cleared, little by little.

  “All right?” Ian said.

  Miles brows furrowed thoughtfully, as if he was evaluating his own mental state, before a small, crooked smile appeared on his face. He nodded, his gaze dropping before darting back to Ian’s. “So, was it better than mediocre?” he said. At least Ian guessed that was what he said. His voice was half-gone, hoarse and barely recognizable.

  Miles’s eyes widened. He glared at Ian and cleared his throat a few times.

  Ian laughed. “Sorry,” he said, tucking himself back and zipping up. “I’ll tell Winifred to get you something for your sore throat.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Miles hissed, blushing.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her you got your throat fucked up by sucking my cock. I’m not suicidal. She will have my balls for this. She’s taken a real shine to you.”

  Miles got to his feet, adjusting himself. “I’ll go take care of this,” he said, almost defiantly.

  “You don’t have to go,” Ian said, returning his gaze to the TV. He patted the place beside him. “Take a seat and finish off. That doesn’t look remotely comfortable.”

  He half-expected Miles to leave anyway, but he seemed really determined to act as if what they’d done was perfectly normal and nothing to be embarrassed about. Ian hid his smile as Miles flopped down beside him and fumbled with his zipper.

  Ian kept his gaze on the TV as Miles jerked off beside him.

  Or tried to.

  After a while, Ian heaved a sigh and said, “Relax, Miles.”

  “I can’t,” Miles said, his frustration clear in his voice. “I want to get off, but I’m too… something.”

  “You’re too worked up,” Ian said. “You’ve hit the plateau and can’t relax enough to come.”

  Miles grunted in affirmative.

  Ian wondered for a moment if he really should do it before laying an arm on the back of the couch behind Miles’s head and looking at him. “Come here.”

  Miles dropped his gaze before shooting Ian a look that somehow managed to be both shy and eager.

  It did strange things to Ian’s insides.

  He pulled Miles toward him and arranged them so the young man was snuggled up against him cozily, his head on Ian’s chest.

  “Go ahead,” Ian said when he felt Miles relax into him. “Touch yourself,” he murmured into Miles’s ear.

  He felt him shiver. Then, Miles slipped his hand down and wrapped it around his erection.

  Ian didn’t look. He held him loosely against him as Miles touched himself.

  It felt strangely not strange at all. Distantly, Ian was aware how inappropriate what they were doing was. They were in a semi-public movie room. Despite the late hour, there were at least a few maids still working. Any of them might enter the room and see him holding his son’s male nanny in his arms as the latter jerked off.

  Ian found it hard to care. This felt weirdly natural: the way this ridiculous boy fit in his arms, the way he smelled, the way his breathing hitched when he stroked himself just right.

  The closer to the edge Miles got, the closer to Ian he squirmed until his one leg was thrown over Ian’s and he was gasping into Ian’s neck. “Tighter,” Miles demanded breathlessly, and Ian obliged, tightening his arm around him harder and harder. He was sure it must have hurt, but Miles moaned and came, shuddering against him.

  “This is the second shirt you’ve ruined,” Ian commented mildly when Miles’s breathing evened out.

  “I’m sure you have more,” Miles muttered, sounding completely out of it. He showed no inclination to move away, still snuggled up to Ian, all sweet and soft.

  After a while, he yawned, blinked at Ian owlishly before lifting himself and planting a chaste, affectionate kiss on Ian’s cheek. “Thanks.”

  Ian’s insides felt decidedly strange.

  He cleared his throat a little and gently moved him off his lap.

  Miles stared at him in a way that could only be described as longingly.

  Ian wanted to feel weirded out or annoyed about it, but he couldn’t summon either feeling. Maybe he would, later. But at that moment, all he could feel was contentment.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, not without amusement and got to his feet. “I’m beat. Put the movie on pause and go to sleep, too. We’ll finish watching it tomorrow.”

  “Maybe I want to watch it now,” Miles said, lifting his chin, his eyes full of mirth and challenge. “Maybe I’m not tired.”

  “You’ve been yawning. You just like being contrary.”

  Miles smiled up at him, holding his gaze. “Maybe. But you’re still unbearably overbearing.”

  Ian raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t we established that your brother brainwashed you into thinking that it’s a good trait?”

  Miles laughed. “Brainwashed being the key word.”

  Looking at that warm, open smile, Ian had an unsettling realization that he didn’t really want to say goodnight. He frowned. “Goodnight.”

  Miles smile faded, his face falling.

  Jesus, the boy didn’t even bother hiding his disappointment. Was he for real?

  Ian tore his gaze away and strode out of the room.

  Miles’s soft “Goodnight” was still sounding in his ears as he entered his bedroom, trying to ignore the feeling of dissatisfaction under his skin.

  What the fuck, seriously? His fixation on Miles was starting to shift into a bizarre territory, even for him. It was bad enough already that he’d spent far too much of his limited free time with Miles. His unwillingness to be away from him even at night was… He didn’t even know what the hell it was.

  At this rate, before long he would end up tucking Miles into his bed, regardless of the obvious, juvenile crush the boy had on him, a crush that he should have nipped in the bud when he first noticed it.

  Fucking hell.

  Maybe he really was an asshole.

  Chapter 9

  Miles had always mocked his siblings and their significant others for the stupid, ridiculous way they had behaved around their love interests. The mocking was good-natured and loving, of course, but he couldn’t deny that he had felt a little superior as he watched his brothers and future in-laws make fools of themselves. That would never happen to him, Miles had thought confidently. Even if he turned out not to be asexual, he’d never behave like a total idiot. Or so he had thought.

  But the morning after he’d sucked Ian off, when Ian entered Liam’s playroom to say goodbye to his son before work, Miles had the dubious pleasure of experiencing what he had mocked his siblings for. He felt himself flush, for no bloody reason. He didn’t know where to look, his gaze moving erratically from Ian’s hands to his blue shirt that made the color of his eyes pop.

  Wrenching his gaze away, Miles fixed them on the impeccable cut of Ian’s dark-gray suit, studying the way it hugged Ian’s broad shoulders and—

  Ugh.

  Feeling mortified and utterly confused—what the hell, he didn’t behave like an idiot last night when it had actually happened—Miles moved his gaze to the safest thing in the room: Liam.

  The boy was avoiding his father’s gaze, but at least he wasn’t crying or trying to squirm out of his arms. That had to be encouraging, right?

  Miles frowned, feeling utterly under-qualified for this job once again. He still felt that Ian would be better off finding a nanny that actually knew a thing or two about children’s psychology and child care in general.

  Ian brushed his lips against Liam’s forehead and met Miles’s gaze over the boy’s head. “Good morning.”

  Miles just nodded, his tongue thick and uncomfortable in his mouth. God, what was wrong with him? So he had sucked the guy’s cock. Big deal. Why was he being so ridiculous about it now?

  “Morning,” he managed at last, his voice sounding throaty and strange even to his own ears.

  Christ, the blue of those eyes didn’t even seem real.

  Realizing that they’d been just staring at each other for too long (or was it just him?), Miles dropped his gaze hurriedly. To Ian’s strong, elegant hands. Hands that had been stroking his hair and gripping his throat as Ian’s cock fucked his throat—

  His face far too warm and his jeans suddenly far too tight, Miles cleared his throat and said, “You should probably go before you’re late, Mr. Caldwell.” He nearly face-palmed as soon as he said that. Had his brain relocated to his prick?

  Ian’s eyebrows flew up. “Mr. Caldwell? I thought we were past that.”

  Miles pulled a face, laughing. “Please ignore what I say. Apparently you literally fucked my brains out last night.” He shut his mouth as soon as he said that, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

  Ian stared at him.

  Then he set Liam down and walked toward where Miles was sitting.

  Miles’s heart hammered somewhere in his throat as he looked up at him.

  Ian studied him intently.

  “Did I?” he murmured, his fingers threading through Miles’s hair.

  Miles was very proud of the fact that he managed not to make any embarrassing sound. He’d never thought having his hair touched could feel this good.

  “You don’t have to sound so smug about it,” Miles said, unable to stop himself from giving Ian a smile.

  Ian didn’t return it. “I still have twenty minutes until I have to leave,” he said, his fingers stroking Miles’s nape.

  Miles’s eyes had been slipping shut when he realized what Ian meant. He snapped them open. “You can’t seriously…” He glanced at Liam and glared at Ian. “Seriously? Your son is right there.”

  Ian didn’t look fazed. He shrugged carelessly, glancing at his watch. “My son is three, not an infant. He can play on his own for a few minutes, and we’ll be within earshot. Come on.” Taking Miles’s wrist, he pulled him up and out of the room.

  Though “pulled” was probably incorrect. There was some pressure on his wrist, but Ian wasn’t pulling him out of the room, per se. Miles was well aware that he could free himself any moment—if he wanted.

  If he wanted.

  His stomach squirming, Miles glanced back at Liam for the last time. The boy was already engrossed with his toy train as Miles followed his father to the adjoined bathroom, his heart pounding.

  “You’re making me feel like a terrible nanny,” Miles said as Ian closed the bathroom door. “More terrible than I already thought I was.”

  His gaze cool, Ian unhooked his belt and started working on his fly.

  Miles’s mouth filled with saliva. God, why was this so hot? Watching a handsome, arrogant man in an expensive suit unzip his fly shouldn’t be so bloody hot.

  “I’ll be the judge of it,” Ian said. “Aren’t I the one who pays your salary?”

  A laugh bubbled in Miles’s chest. “You pay me for being your son’s nanny, not for sucking your cock!”

  Ian raised his eyebrows, his lips twitching. “I sure hope not. A prostitute would be significantly cheaper. Get on your knees.”

  Miles tried to glare at him, but it probably wasn’t very convincing considering the fact that his knees had already given out and his hand was already stroking Ian’s cock to full hardness. It took just a few strokes this time before Ian was completely hard in his hand.

  Miles stared at the proud erection jutting out of Ian’s fly—Ian was still fully clothed but for his undone fly—and licked his lips.

  Fuck, he wanted to suck it.

  “This is so wrong,” he still tried. “Liam is just a wall away. This is weird, Ian.”

  “Don’t be a prude,” Ian said, taking Miles’s face and nudging his cock against his mouth. “He can’t see us.” He glanced at his watch, “Seventeen minutes now.”

  Miles glared at him but took his cock into his mouth. He couldn’t deny that there was something arousing about sucking Ian’s cock in broad daylight. There was plenty of staff around at this hour. Someone was supposed to arrive with Liam’s breakfast soon. They could come across him sucking his boss’s cock any moment now.

  The thought made him moan around the length in his mouth. The hard floor was hell on his knees, but the pain just added to the sensation, making everything sharper and more intimate. When Ian finally grabbed his hair and started fucking his mouth with short, fast strokes, Miles felt the now familiar thrill shoot through his body. He liked this. Fuck, he loved this so much. He loved giving up all control to Ian and feel Ian take pleasure in him.

  By the time he felt Ian’s come hit the back of his throat, his jaw was aching, his throat was sore, and his head kind of hurt from hair-pulling, but he could barely think from arousal.

  “Thirteen minutes,” Ian said, checking his watch. “Good boy.”

  Shivering, Miles buried his face against Ian’s abs and quickly got himself off while Ian’s fingers played with his hair. He came with a high-pitched whine, the noise muffled by Ian’s warm skin.

  The fingers in his hair still stroked it for a small while before Ian pulled away to straighten his clothes.

  Miles opened his eyes and watched him dazedly, still feeling off after his orgasm. He wanted… He wanted Ian’s hands back on him.

  Finished with his clothes, Ian looked at him. A strange expression flickered across his face.

  “Come on,” he said roughly, taking Miles’s arm and hauling him up. He fixed Miles’s fly.

  Mike just blinked at him. His mind felt… empty, but not in a bad way. He felt mellow, loose. He wanted to bury his face in the crook of Ian’s neck. He wanted to be held.

  He didn’t want Ian to go.

  His shook his head, trying to clear his head, unsure why he suddenly felt so damn needy.

  Ian studied him with a slight frown, his eyes attentive.

  Later, Miles would blame it on his brain still not working properly after his orgasm. Later, he would come up with dozens of reasons for why he’d done it.

  But at that moment, he didn’t really have a reason. It just felt natural.

  He wanted it.

  Miles took half a step closer, pulled Ian’s head down, and kissed him softly on the lips.

  Ian inhaled sharply, but he didn’t push him away in disgust as Miles half-expected him to.

  Encouraged, Miles gave him another soft peck, enjoying the way Ian’s stubble felt against his clean-shaven chin. Fuck, how could such an innocent kiss feel so good?

  “My!”

  Wide-eyed, Miles flinched away from Ian and whirled around.

  Liam was peeking into the bathroom, his blue eyes wide and wary as they flickered between Miles and Ian. “My mine,” the little boy mumbled, his thumb in his mouth.

  Miles felt a grin split his face. It was the first time he’d actually heard Liam talk since their first meeting. He hadn’t even been sure Liam knew how to talk. Hearing the boy actually form sentences, no matter how grammatically incorrect, was beyond encouraging. It was also very encouraging that Liam didn’t seem to mistake him for his mother anymore and knew his name. At least Miles assumed that “My” meant “Miles.”

  He looked back at Ian, wanting to see Ian’s reaction, but Ian’s expression was absolutely inscrutable. He wasn’t even looking at his son. He was looking at Miles.

  Miles felt his face become warm.

  Um. Right. The kiss.

  Finally, Ian glanced at his watch and said, “I have to go. I’m already late.” He strode past Miles, raking his hand through Liam’s dark hair as he passed him. “Goodbye, son. You can have Miles all to yourself until I’m back.”

  The little boy glared at his father’s back before rushing to Miles’s side and grabbing his hand in a distinctly possessive manner. It would be ridiculously adorable if it weren’t a little disturbing.

  “Your dad wasn’t hurting me,” Miles said gently, sinking to his knees to look the boy in the eye. “We’re friends, and friends touch each other. Okay?”

  Liam looked at him skeptically and said nothing.

  “Now I know you can talk, so you will talk, mate,” Miles said, leaning in to kiss the boy’s nose before thinking better of it. He’d just sucked a cock—the boy’s father’s cock—and he should really wash his mouth first.

  “In the future, when the adults are… talking in another room, I want you to knock, okay?”

  Liam tugged at his hand. “Play!”

  Sighing and figuring that it had been too much to hope that the boy would understand what he was saying, Miles let Liam tug him out of the bathroom.

  At least Liam was talking again.

 

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