Page 18 of Of Lies and Earls (Inglorious Scoundrels #2)

I want you, Jacob.

The sound of his name on her lips almost made him come right there on the spot.

He cursed softly, pausing a moment to collect the shreds of his control.

“Kiss me,” she begged, and he did. He kissed her mouth, her chin, the delicate line of her throat.

Tasting the salt on her skin, his hands roamed her soft curves, hungry to know every inch of her.

With trembling fingers, he began undoing the buttons down the back of her dress, each one revealing more of the thin chemise beneath, more of her skin to the humid air and his ravenous gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, reverence thick in his voice as he pushed the sleeves of her dress down her arms, letting the bodice fall to her waist.

And she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

The chemise was nearly transparent in the light streaming through the glass, revealing the rosy peaks of her nipples, the curve of her waist.

He bent his head to press a kiss to the swell of her breast, just above the edge of her chemise. She gasped and clutched at his shoulders for support, her knees clearly threatening to give out.

Emboldened by her response, he pushed the chemise down, baring her breasts to his gaze. “Perfect,” he breathed, before taking one nipple into his mouth. Guided by instinct, dying to taste her—all of her—his tongue circled her sensitive peak as his hand caressed the other breast.

Honoria arched, her head falling back as she cried out, her body trembling.

His hands moved lower, gathering her skirts, lifting them inch by inch until his fingers found the bare skin of her thigh above her stocking. A gasp. A caress.

His fingers moved higher still…

Cupping her bottom, he lifted her, and she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist. The position pressed her hot center against the hard ridge of his arousal through his trousers, making them both gasp.

“Are you certain?” he asked, breathless, his eyes searching hers.

In answer, she reached between them, her hand finding the fastening of his trousers. “Yes.”

He kissed her again as she freed him. His cock sprung forward, pressing against the soft heat of her inner thigh. He shifted, positioning his tip against her slick entrance. And gasped.

He was overwhelmed by her heat, her readiness for him.

“You are so hot,” he rasped. “So wet for me.”

So-so wet. And he wanted to drown in her juices.

She moaned, the sound low and needy.

Her reactions to his reassurances only spurred him on.

Unable to wait any longer, he thrust inside her in a single, smooth thrust.

They cried out together, her body arching into him, his eyes falling shut as he filled her completely.

They stayed like that for a moment, breathless. With each exhale, her inner muscles fluttered around his shaft, tightening and releasing.

Fuck . She felt like heaven. Her body, her scent, the sounds she made…

It nearly broke him.

He could not last much longer.

He began to move his hips in an instinctive rhythm, withdrawing slightly before pushing back in.

“You feel incredible,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers, feeling her hot breath on his face. “So perfect around me. So tight. So warm.”

“Jacob,” she breathed, her back arching, her head falling back against the pillar, her hips thrusting forward and taking more of him. “I want more. Harder.”

Her words worked like an incantation, a command. He gripped her tighter and moved faster, each thrust deeper, harder, driving into her in full force, marveling at the little sounds she made with his every thrust, feeding on those helpless breathless gasps and whispered pleas.

He lost himself in the rhythm, in her body, in the way she responded to every stroke.

His fingers dug into her buttocks as the pleasure surged, overwhelming him, his hips still moving on their own accord. He held onto her with everything he had as he spilled inside her, a groan torn from his throat.

* * *

Honoria held on to him tightly as he came apart in her arms. She was trembling, her breath ragged, her skin slick with sweat.

She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Not only had he kissed her—he had taken her, right there in his glasshouse.

He was still inside her, his fingers twitching where they gripped her bottom.

Then he looked at her, and for a moment, time stopped. He leaned in, and she met him halfway—their lips touching, their tongues tangling in a slow, sensual kiss.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor that led from the house to the glasshouse. Honoria’s eyes widened in panic. Someone was about to walk in.

Jacob withdrew from her quickly, leaving her empty and aching. He lowered her carefully to the ground, her legs unsteady beneath her. With a swift kiss to her forehead, he nudged her behind a pillar and began fastening his trousers just as the door opened.

Pressed against the stone, facing away from the entrance, Honoria fumbled with her shift and dress, her fingers trembling.

“You have a visitor, my lord,” Mr. Clarke said.

Thank God, it was just the butler. Hopefully, he hadn’t seen anything untoward during his approach. Honoria’s face burned, her entire body still trembling from aftershocks of pleasure and fear.

“Thank you, Mr. Clarke. I’ll meet them in my study.”

The door opened and shut again, signaling Mr. Clarke’s departure. Jacob slipped back behind the pillar, his eyes sweeping over her disheveled form.

“Do you need help?” he asked softly.

She let out a nervous laugh. “No. Thank you.”

He nodded. “I need to go.”

“Yes.” She nodded, too. “Go.”

He hesitated, then leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips.

* * *

The rest of the day passed as usual. Honoria busied herself with her daily chores. Rosie spent most of the afternoon painting, frequently running up to Honoria to display her masterpieces with pride. Robbie was buried in his studies—until he realized one of his prized beetles from his pinned collection had gone missing. His indignant cries about the “vanished beetle” echoed loud enough for the entire block to hear.

Everyone heard him, except, as it turned out, for Rosie, who had the beetle all along, using it as a model for her latest artistic endeavor. The ensuing drama sent the entire household into a minor uproar, with shouting, sulking, and the beetle being triumphantly reclaimed. Eventually, peace was restored when Elise spirited Rosie away to the pianoforte to soothe her with a cheerful tune.

Aside from that little snafu, the day was peaceful. Calm. Happy.

Honoria felt as though she were floating, walking on air, unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

Mrs. Clarke commented on her unusually bright spirits more than once, teasing her and even hinting that the earl might have something to do with it.

Did she know? How could she?

Then again, Mrs. Clarke had always been perceptive. Perhaps she’d noticed the quiet tension that had built between Honoria and their employer over time. Or worse—perhaps her husband, the butler, had seen something in the glasshouse and passed it along in the great underground network of household gossip.

What a terrifying, mortifying thought.

But not even that could dampen Honoria’s mood.

Jacob had been out on business for most of the day, returning just in time for supper with the children. He spent the rest of the evening with them in the parlor, as he often did.

Later, Honoria helped Mrs. Sharp get Rosie ready for bed, then returned to her room and paced its length, waiting.

Waiting for Jacob to finish reading Rosie her bedtime story.

Waiting for the servants to deliver steaming buckets of water to his chamber.

Waiting for his valet to finally retire to his quarters.

As soon as the house had quieted down, she slipped out of her room, made her way to Jacob’s door, and knocked.

He opened it, his shirt half-undone, no waistcoat in sight, his hair disheveled. Before he could say a word, Honoria stepped forward, rose on tiptoes, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist instantly, pulling her against him, dragging her farther into his room as he shut the door behind them.

He met her kiss with equal fervor, his tongue plunging inside her mouth, devouring her. His beard prickled pleasantly around her mouth, adding a delicious edge to the sensation.

His hands slid down her sides, sending shivers along her spine, then swept her off her feet and carried her to his bed.

Without taking his mouth off her, he laid her on his mattress, then climbed on top of her, his weight warm and welcome.

They continued kissing feverishly, tugging at each other’s clothes, fingers tangled in hair, limbs intertwined until they didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

He broke the kiss to pull off his shirt, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

Honoria propped herself up on one elbow, drinking him in. Firelight danced over his bare torso, reminding her of that fateful evening when she’d seen him bathing in the stream.

How beautiful he’d looked then, sending her promptly down the spiral of her physical infatuation toward him.

But now, knowing the man under this perfect facade, he was even more breathtaking.

She sat up and reached out her hand, needing to feel him. The moment her fingers touched his skin, his eyes fell closed, and he let out a deep sigh.

“God, your touch,” he whispered.

Honoria smiled, emboldened. She pressed both palms to his chest, fingers splaying wide. Gooseflesh rose beneath her touch, a low sound rumbling in his throat.

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

She rose to her knees, exploring him—his shoulders, his arms—tracing every line of his body until she could not take it anymore. Her lips replaced her hands, trailing kisses across his neck and down his chest.

Her fingers worked at the fastenings of his breeches, pulling them down and freeing his cock.

She paused, leaning back just to see the uncovered treasure. His cock stood proudly, thick and tall, the skin veined and taut.

She wanted to taste him, wanted to feel him in her mouth. The thought sent heat racing through her.

He stepped off the bed only to discard his breeches, then stood at the edge of the bed, watching her under his hooded eyes. He took himself in his hand and stroked slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“I want to see you,” he said hoarsely. “All of you.”

Honoria licked her lips. She could watch him standing there naked in the glowing firelight forever, but she wanted more. She needed him near her, over her, inside her.

She stood and turned her back to him, giving herself over. He quickly began undoing the buttons at the back of her dress, kissing the nape of her neck as he did so, his lips brushing her skin, his teeth grazing lightly.

He slid the dress down, grabbed her by the shoulders, and turned her to face him.

His hungry gaze took in her form visible now through the thin layer of her chemise.

“Take it off,” he demanded roughly, one hand caressing his cock again.

She obeyed, in one swift motion pulling it over her head and letting it fall to the floor.

He was on her at once, his hungry kisses devouring her throat, her collarbone, lower… He took her breast into his mouth, sucking, while his hands roamed her body, touching, caressing, squeezing.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her knee rising to wrap her leg around his hips, her hip thrusting forward to feel him close. To feel his cock pressed against her wet center.

They fell back onto the bed, all tangled limbs and breathless kisses.

“I want you,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

She smiled, arching her back, bringing their bodies closer.

And then he was inside her. Swift, deep, filling her entirely.

“Oh, Jacob,” she breathed.

His movements became more frantic as he slid in and out of her, his mouth on her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin, his tongue soothing the sting.

The sounds of their joining, his gasps and her moans, filled the room. Her nails dug into his shoulders, needing him closer and closer…

He froze on top of her, his face contorted in pleasure, as he came, collapsing against her with a sigh, the weight of his body bringing her comfort. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, wanting to still feel him inside her.

She kissed his cheek, his beard tickling her sensitive lips. Then she dipped her head to his neck and tasted his salty skin.

He chuckled, rolling onto his side, taking her with him, his softening cock still inside her.

“I have never felt anything like this before,” he whispered, brushing hair from her face. “You feel incredible.”

She stared deep into his dark eyes. “So do you.”

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmured, “so many times. While lying in this bed, touching myself.”

Her eyes widened. “You did?”

He smiled. “It didn’t feel anything close to what it feels like to be with you.”

“I know,” she murmured back, her cheeks burning.

“You do?” He seemed surprised by her admission.

“I’ve dreamed of you, too,” she said, lowering her eyes. Somehow saying that felt too intimate, even after what they had just shared. Admitting that she was thinking of him during cold, lonely nights, touching herself, bringing herself to pleasure, which didn’t even compare to the pleasure she felt just being in his arms, felt… strange. Embarrassing even.

But his gaze gained a devilish spark when he said, “Show me.”