small groups. Some were pressed up against walls, while others occupied chairs and low sofas. Some of the men were entirely naked, others fully or partially dressed. Most were participating in mutual pleasuring, but a few simply observed from the sidelines. Kit tipped back his champagne glass, watching as an older man rose from knees, kissed the hand of the man he had been servicing, and moved to a second man in the group to offer his mouth.
Kit glanced at Henry. His face was flushed, and he wore an expression of mingled discomfort and arousal that made Kit’s cock harden in his breeches far more effectively than anything else in the room.
Henry cleared his throat. “Are any of these men prostitutes?” he muttered.
Kit shook his head. “This is where my patrons gather to seek companionship from their fellow members”—he winked at Henry to underline the pun—“so to speak.”
Henry gave a dry laugh of his own, but his smile was strained.
“Some of them like to perform publicly,” Kit went on. “Others will find a partner and use one of the private rooms—I’ll show you those in a moment. Others still prefer to pay someone for their services. They’ll meet them in the clubroom or one of the gaming rooms in number fifteen, then come through here for their assignation. Why? Were you hoping to engage someone?” He raised his brows at Henry, as though in invitation, even as his stomach twisted sickly.
Henry looked shocked—hurt, even. “I’m not interested in meeting anyone else,” he said. “I came here to see you.”
It was stupid to feel gratified by that, and Kit felt irritated at himself. He turned away to hide his reaction, saying, “Come on then.”
He led Henry out of the back room and down the corridor.
“These are the private chambers I mentioned,” he said, waving his hand at four identical wooden doors. “These ones are all occupied. I’ll take you up to the next floor and show you one of the ones up there. Those are nicer in any event.” He strode towards the stairs.
“You don’t need to—” Henry began behind him.
“Oh, but I want to,” Kit said, and began climbing the narrow winding steps.
All the chambers on the next floor were empty, so Kit took Henry into one of the larger and better equipped ones, lighting the candles in the sconce on the wall before closing and locking the door behind them.
It was an airy room with a big, comfortable bed and sumptuous drapes. A padded bench at the end of the bed could serve in a number of ways, and the drawers in the armoire were full of items that the patrons could make use of.
“Come and see this,” Kit invited, opening the top drawer.
Henry joined him, staring down in silence at the leather straps and crops laid out carefully inside.
“We cater to all of our patrons’ needs,” Kit said, smiling. He could not help but enjoy the shocked expression on Henry’s face. He closed the drawer and opened the second one, revealing three dildos in varying sizes, and some wrist and ankle cuffs.
Kit pointed at the rings on the cuffs. “These can be fastened to the bedframe.”
He glanced at Henry, whose gaze was fixed on the contents of the drawer. Henry swallowed hard, his throat bobbing.
Kit’s heart was racing. Without thinking it through he said, “Do you want to make use of any of them, Henry?”
Henry was quiet for a moment, then he turned to look at Kit, his grey eyes glittering faintly. “I just want to serve you. It’s up to you whether to use any of them.”
Kit stared at him, unsure what to say. He hadn’t really let himself think about this, since the week before. Henry’s willingness—no, eagerness—to serve Kit had astonished him but he had not imagined that it would continue.
Kit looked Henry up and down, remembering how he had looked unclothed. Broad-shouldered and rough with hair, his limbs strong and well-formed. A big, beautiful male body, the kind that Kit liked best. It always surprised him, how many men seemed to like his shorter, slender body when his own preferences ran in such a different direction.
Kit thought of Henry’s large and powerful body brought to perfect obedience under his hand, and his mouth went suddenly dry.
It was strangest thing. He had never craved such play before, though perhaps that was because, in his days as a whore, he’d generally been assigned the more submissive role, on account of his physical appearance. But it wasn’t