Page 58 of Their Master

He cut the other man’s tented trousers a triumphant smirk and mentally collected the thousand pounds he’d wagered with himself, and then turned away, plowing Moira’s tight cunt with renewed vigor.

Life, he thought as he hilted himself balls deep and emptied his load in Moira’s hot, eager body, could not get much better than this.

Smith would remember that thought later.

Chapter 14

Smith came back from the weekly meeting with his three syndicate partners earlier than usual.

Although he generally stayed afterward and played cards with his partners, tonight he was eager to get home.

He hadn’t seen Moira for over a week thanks to a sudden—and unavoidable—journey to Liverpool. Although he had expected to stay away only three days, the trip had extended to seven.

He’d spent almost every minute immersed in a series of labor discussions with the employees at the ship works the syndicate had purchased eighteen months earlier. As of right now there were no problems at the facility and Smith wanted to keep it that way by listening to worker grievances.

Amazingly, Smith was the only one in his four-man syndicate who possessed the social skills necessary to interact with their employees and not make matters worse.

Gideon Banks was so teeth-grindingly arrogant that he had touched off an armed conflict with workers the only time he’d gone to a negotiation.

Edward Fanshawe was so rigid that he had once sacked every employee at a glassworks when they’d refused one of the terms on a contract.

As for Stephen Chatham? Well, he rarely managed to utter more than three words in a row, but his unsettling gray stare had a habit of causing workers to become so flustered that the number of clumsy accidents always soared when he stepped onto a property.

All that was to say that Smith was the one who had to trot around Britain putting out fires.

He’d spent day after day in the manager’s office, meeting with various workers. Although the manager kept the premises clean and tidy—no doubt somebody had warned the man about Smith’s cleanliness issues—Smith had still felt as if he had grit in every pore by the time he left.

He’d gone directly from the ship works to his private railcar, so bloody exhausted that he’d only had time for a rushed bath before he’d fallen into his comfortable, but lonely, bed on the train. He’d slept for an unprecedented six hours, waking too late to have another bath before the train reached London.

As a result, he’d felt like clawing off his own skin by the time he got to the weekly syndicate meeting.

As a result of his rushed schedule, he was both exhaustedandwound up tighter than a watch spring; he needed to expend some energy or he’d not be able to sleep tonight.

“I’m going to take an hour of exercise before bed, Knox,” he said as his valet stripped him. “I’ll bathe afterward. Have Cook send up a tray for me—something light.”

“Very good, sir.”

In Liverpool his only exercise had been calisthenics in his hotel room, so he was grateful to be in his own gymnasium, where he had bags for boxing, barbells, and various weight strengthening equipment, like the sand-filled canvas bags sized to fit either ankles or wrists.

Floor-to-ceiling mirrors were positioned along the walls to allow him to observe himself from all angles while he exercised. Was that an act of shameless vanity? Undoubtedly, but that did not bother him. He liked to see whatever part of his body he was currently working.

Gideon Banks—the Earl of Taunton and one of Smith’s three business partners—had barged his way into Smith’s private area a few months ago and his eyes had gone wide as they’d taken in the room.

When he’d learned that Smith exercised naked in front of the mirrors, he had immediately said, “I’m going to set up a roomexactlylike this—Alys will adore watching me: her very own naked and sweaty object of masculine perfection.”

Smith had laughed: that was Gideon in a nutshell. The man managed to make towering conceit not only attractive, but strangely adorable.

Still, as arrogant as the statement had been, Smith knew Gideon was correct: his new wife adored her husband as much as he adored himself. To be fair, Gideon was also madly in love with Alys. After a somewhat rocky start the couple were deliriously happy now and greatly enjoying their first child.

Smith shrugged aside thoughts of Gideon and his happy family and warmed up his body with a series of stretches.

He had discovered that exercising was as addictive as fucking, drinking, or gambling—maybe even more so. After all, he had never gone a day without exercise, but he’d gone weeks without the other activities, even sex.

Smith hefted two barbells and began to work his arms, curling the weights slowly to keep his form correct, his gaze fixed on his shoulders and biceps in the mirror.

His exercise regimen was brutal, yet—perhaps because of the pain—the exertion invariably left him aroused. He supposed that wasn’t surprising since he loved pain and got hard both giving and receiving it.

Tonight, was no exception, and by the time he’d been at it half an hour his shaft was rigid and pulsing. Smith ignored his nagging erection—he never pleasured himself during exercise—and allowed his mind to dwell on Moira, something he’d had little time to do in the past week.

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