The Square Peg (20 page)

“This is an exception to the usual rules,” Ben told him severely.

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Shane rolled his eyes. “A little bit of power and it’s all gone to his head. I’m all for

you getting his input, Charlie. Just remember the final word’s mine.”

Ben didn’t appreciate being undermined in front of Charlie, and from the way

Shane flushed, his gaze dropping, he suspected his expression was getting that message

across.

Charlie glanced between them and whistled, a grin spreading over his blandly

good-looking face, the businesslike attitude disappearing. “Trouble in paradise, boys?

Want me to be the in-between man and negotiate a settlement? Just tell me who’s on

top.”

It was clear Charlie could wring a double entendre out of the most innocuous

phrase. Ben suspected that would wear thin very soon, but so far he found Charlie

reasonably entertaining and his attempts to flirt harmless enough. The main thing was

that Charlie was both efficient and cheap.

“You’ll be six feet under if you don’t put a sock in it. He’s not interested. Go bat

your eyelashes at Rob. Course, you’ll need a stepladder first.” Shane’s chin jutted out

pugnaciously, and Ben realized Shane was staking a claim.

That was…sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet.

Ben decided the best way to distract Shane would be to change the subject

entirely. “How are the walls coming?”

“Slowly.” Shane gave Charlie a pointed look, and Charlie took the hint and left

even though he had nothing to do with the walls. “This had better be worth it,

Benedict.”

“It will be.” He hoped.

“Shelly’s overheated that shredder. We’re lucky it didn’t set the place on fire. So I

sent her to pick out some things for the ladies’. New soap dispensers, hot air blower,

paint for the walls, the lot.”

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“We’re going to have to resurface the walls before we can paint. They look as if

someone took a hammer to them.”

“They’re fine,” Shane said with a scowl. “Stop being so fucking fussy. You’re like

an old woman.”

He was what? Ben stood, his lingering arousal shot through with irritation at

Shane’s persistent refusal to see what was in front of him. “Come with me.”

He led Shane to the women’s bathroom and pushed the door open a crack.

“Anyone in there?” he asked, which was stupid because the light wasn’t on, and it

was dark enough that it had to be empty. No one answered, so he went in and flicked

the light switch. “Get in here.”

“Why?” Shane asked, and Ben grabbed his wrist and dragged him over the

threshold.

“Look,” he said, pointing to where the wall was crumbled. “Pretend you’re a

woman for a few seconds. Oh please. Don’t roll your eyes at me. Just do what you’re

told. Women don’t want to come in here to fix their makeup or whatever women do.

They probably want to run back out as soon as possible.”

“Good. Means they’re in the bar buying drinks instead. We don’t make money out

of them in here.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t imply alienating customers is in some way good

for business, because that would mean you were stupid, and I know you’re not.”

“Whatever.” Shane looked around him. “It’s a bit tatty,” he admitted staring down

at a rip in the linoleum. “Still don’t think it’s make or break—”

“Well, it is,” Ben said. “I asked a couple of women I work with what they judged a

bar or a club on, and they both said it was the state of the washroom. I’m not saying we

spend a fortune in here, but I can’t tell what color that flooring is supposed to be.” He

pushed open one of the stall doors, covered with graffiti explicit enough to make him

blink, and he grimaced. The toilet was a bright yellow, the lid to the tank cracked.

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“Jesus, I wouldn’t sit on that toilet unless I was wearing a hazmat suit. And there’s no

toilet roll!”

“Yeah, well, there’s supposed to be.” Shane peered into the next stall. “Some in

here. Mostly on the floor in a puddle of…something. Let’s call it water.”

“Whose job is it to clean the toilets and check on them during opening hours?”

Ben demanded.

Shane backed out of the stall and wiped his hand on his jeans. Ben didn’t want to

know why Shane thought that was necessary. “We have a cleaner who comes twice a

week, and someone’s supposed to check them over at the start of a shift, but I’ve always

delegated it.”

“From the look of the place, it’s turned into one of those jobs people assume

someone else is doing, which means no one is. I want the cleaner fired and a proper

rotation drawn up, with hourly checks, and people initialing to say they’ve done it.”

Shane walked over to one of the two sinks under a small mirror dim with dust and

leaned against it. He looked impatient and bored. “Okay, we can do that. No need to

get worked up about it.”

“We could get shut down! It’s filthy in here. It’s fucking disgusting, and you just

let it slide—” Ben had been annoyed with Shane before, but this was the first time he’d

been genuinely angry. He slammed his hand against the stall door, the hollow thud as

the door struck the flimsy interior wall echoing in the small space.

“Jesus, Benedict, don’t demolish the place with your bare hands.”

Ben rounded on him. “It’d improve it if I did. We’re not opening until both

washrooms are spotless. Have you got that?”

Shane shrugged, the suspicion of a sneer twisting his mouth. “What do you want

me to say?
Yes, sir, you’re the boss?
Don’t hold your fucking breath.”

It was one thing for Shane to disagree with him—this was willful defiance, and

Ben wasn’t going to put up with it. He grabbed the front of Shane’s shirt, dragged him

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away from the sinks, and pushed him up against the wall. “I don’t talk to you like that,”

Ben snapped, shoving at Shane’s shoulders so his head bounced on the wall. “I might

not be your boss, but I deserve some fucking respect. If you can’t manage that, I’m out

of here.” In that moment, he meant it.

Shane lifted his chin and stared back, anger flaring in his eyes. “Respect doesn’t

mean I have to bow to your every whim.”

“Maybe it does,” Ben said. He felt a thrill of desire as he realized Shane was

already hard, just from being pushed around a little bit. “What if that’s exactly what it

means?”

“You can’t…you can’t just—” Shane closed his eyes, but not before Ben saw the

shock of desire there, the heat. “Jesus.”

Ben felt his world lurch the way it did when he was around Shane like this, both

of them turned on, in need of something he wasn’t sure either of them could define. His

anger transformed to lust, potent and consuming. He didn’t want to yell at Shane now.

No, he wanted to give orders and watch Shane obey them.

“You’re going to show me how sorry you are,” Ben said. His cock was rigid, as

hard as it could get. Days of frustration, then Shane’s attitude, insubordinate,

antagonistic, when Shane should’ve been apologizing for the state of the bathrooms—

he couldn’t take it. “For the way you’ve let things slide, for speaking to me like that.”

Shane swallowed, the ripple of his throat drawing Ben’s gaze. Shane’s eyes were

still closed, and that wasn’t good enough. Shane wasn’t allowed to hide from him.

“Open your eyes,” Ben said and slapped Shane’s face, lightly enough not to mark

it, relying on the gesture itself as enough to get those pale eyes staring back at him.

“That’s better.”

He watched Shane’s eyes go from hazy, dazed, to focused. Focused on him. Shane

wet his lips and forced out a hoarse, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

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There was a moment when Ben thought that was it, that they were done, but

Shane’s eyes flickered, a faint frown showing, as if he was disappointed with how easy

it’d been to gain forgiveness.

“But I told you to show me,” Ben said, and he put his hands on Shane’s shoulders,

pushing down firmly.

Shane resisted him, twisting in Ben’s grip without making a genuine effort to

break free. Ben was under no illusions about which of them would win a fight. He was

taller than Shane, but Shane was infinitely tougher. If he was doing this to Shane

without getting a knee buried in his balls or a fist in his stomach, he hadn’t crossed a

line, though he wondered how close he was getting.

“Fuck you!”

“Not what I had in mind.”

“You’re a sarcastic son of a bitch when you put your mind to it,” Shane spat, but

another shove at his shoulders had him sinking to his knees, hands already moving to

undo the front of Ben’s pants. “Bastard.” Shane pushed pants and briefs down together

and pressed his lips to the base of Ben’s cock. The dry drag of skin on skin made Ben

groan.

“Show me you’re sorry,” he said. “And do a good job.”

Shane licked a wet line the length of Ben’s cock to the tip, then closed his mouth

around the head and sucked. He wasn’t being gentle, and when he glanced up at Ben’s

face, something in his eyes was eager. One hand on Ben’s hip steadied him against the

wall, and he found a rhythm, bobbing his head to take Ben’s cock in deep, almost to the

base. His other hand rubbed Ben’s balls, tugging at them.

Ben wanted to be able to thread his fingers through Shane’s hair and fuck his

mouth. That would have to wait, sadly. Instead, he slid a hand around to the back of

Shane’s skull and pushed forward with his hips, just a little bit, watching for Shane’s

reaction. They were getting in deep here without having talked about it, and he didn’t

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want to take it too far. God, Shane’s mouth was perfect, warm and slick, and he relaxed

and let Ben do what he wanted, not fighting it.

“Good,” Ben said, more because he wanted to than because he thought Shane

needed it. “I’m going to come in your mouth. Tell me if that’s not okay.”

Shane’s gaze lifted to meet his; then Shane’s eyes closed, and he moved forward,

taking Ben in even deeper. It was a clear answer.

Ben wondered what he would have done if it had been a different one. He could

see himself pulling out of Shane’s mouth, but not letting Shane rise, holding him there,

letting his climax leave Shane’s face dripping.

“You make me want to come just by being like this,” Ben told him. It might be

ruining the mood to break out of his self-imposed role as stern employer disciplining an

errant worker, but he had to say it. “I feel as if I’m the one on my knees, not you.”

Shane didn’t stop the fiercely adoring licks he was somehow managing to give

Ben’s erection even when it was fucking his throat. His shoulders moved, a restless

shrug that seemed to say he wasn’t buying it.

It wasn’t the time to start an argument. Not when Ben had reached the point

where staving off his climax to enjoy another minute inside Shane’s warm mouth was

impossible. He let pleasure take him, his final thrusts rougher, deeper, until Shane’s

teeth scraped his shaft and the flash of pain triggered his orgasm. He emptied his balls

into Shane’s throat in a stuttered gush, the sensation exquisitely satisfying, then drew

back just far enough to let Shane swallow.

Shane started to pull his mouth away completely, his lips wet, swollen, his face

flushed, but Ben stopped him, his hand still cupping the back of Shane’s head.

“Clean me first,” Ben said.

Shane moaned around Ben’s cock, the sound sending a shiver of renewed lust

through Ben. Shane tried to obey Ben’s final order, but after no more than a few sweeps

of his tongue across Ben’s still-stiff cock, he jerked his head free, panting harshly, his

chest heaving. His hand dropped to his groin, clutching desperately at his cock,

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outlined through his jeans. Ben had seen his share of porn over the years, but nothing

had ever turned him on as much as staring down at Shane, fully dressed, his lips slick

with Ben’s spunk, droplets of it beading the stubble on his chin.

“God, need to come, need to—”

“Don’t,” Ben ordered, but his voice cracked as he adjusted himself so he could

sink down onto his knees next to Shane. The floor was hard and unyielding. “I want it.

It’s mine.”

Just like you’re mine
. In some ways, it was the most terrifying thought he’d ever

had.

He kissed Shane fervently, licking the inside of Shane’s mouth until he could taste

Shane and not just himself. With eager hands he undid Shane’s jeans and pulled out his

cock. Shane gasped and turned his head, biting down on Ben’s shoulder through his

shirt and hanging on as he came in hot pulses. Ben stroked him through it, loving the

throb of Shane’s dick in his hand so much he wished it could have gone on much longer