Page 19 of Of Lies and Earls (Inglorious Scoundrels #2)

“ S -Show you?” she stammered, her cheeks burning.

“Yes.” His voice was thick with desire. The image of her lying naked in bed, pleasuring herself to thoughts of him, burned in his mind. It had startled him—then thrilled him beyond measure. He wanted to see her, to watch her in the act. He had no words for the hunger it stirred within him.

His cock, not fully softened, still inside her, sprang eagerly back to life. He wanted to know her fantasies—her deepest, darkest desires.

“Show me what you like,” he whispered. “Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself.”

She let out a small sound, her lips parting slightly. He took the opportunity to lean in and kiss her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, tasting her heat.

“Tell me.” He thrust his hips, letting her feel his rising need.

She dropped her gaze. “I think of this. Of you kissing me… touching me.”

“Show me,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent.

Her hand slid into his hair, pulling him closer as her tongue invaded his mouth, claiming him. Then she rolled him onto his back, straddling him, and sat up.

Jacob didn’t know where to rest his eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair loose and tousled around her shoulders. Her small breasts, rising and falling with each ragged breath, seemed to beg for his hands, her rosy nipples tight and peaked. The soft plane of her stomach led down to the place where they were joined, framed by a delicate patch of light-brown curls that only hinted at the pleasure beneath.

She solved his dilemma by running the tip of her ring finger across her belly button, then tracing up to the middle of her chest and back down. Her hands skimmed her thighs, then slid upward until they reached her breasts. She cupped them in both hands, thumbs teasing her nipples.

“I imagine you touching me like this,” she whispered, her voice husky.

As she rolled and pinched her nipples, her hips moved against him, her rhythm slow, deliberate.

Her eyes locked on his. Then she brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked on it.

His hips thrust involuntarily, his cock swelling inside her.

“I imagine this is your tongue,” she whispered, bringing her wet thumb to her breast. “While I touch myself here.” She circled her nipple again, pressing, pinching gently. Her head tipped back, a gasp escaping her lips.

One hand slid lower, fingers moving between their bodies, gathering the slickness there. She brought it to her clit and began to stroke it in tight circles, her motions growing more urgent by the second.

Jacob grabbed her thighs, unable to help himself, his fingers tightening around her hot, silky flesh.

Her hips joined the rhythm of her hand, rocking against him. She was gasping now, body writhing, her inner walls clenching around his cock, then releasing, only to tighten again.

Her head was thrown back, one hand still at her breast, her fingers working feverishly between her legs. She came with a loud cry, her whole body tensing, trembling. He could feel every pulsing contraction inside her, teasing his cock, pushing him closer to the edge.

He couldn’t hold back any longer.

With a groan, he gripped her hips and thrust upward, hard and deep, his need overwhelming him. A moment later, he followed her into oblivion, spilling inside her with a shudder that wracked his entire body.

* * *

She lay sprawled across his chest, still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

All those nights she had imagined him while alone in her bed—those quiet fantasies—were nothing compared to the reality of coming undone in his arms.

Their breaths remained shallow, their skin slick with sweat and other traces of their lovemaking. As much as she wanted to stay nestled against him, wrapped in his warmth, she needed to wash the sticky feeling off her skin.

She sat up, brushing her hair from her face.

“Where are you going?” he asked, propping himself on his elbows.

“I just want to…” She glanced down, suddenly feeling self-conscious. It was different being naked around him when they were not lost in the throes of passion. She wrapped an arm around her chest. “I need to clean up.”

He grunted softly. “The footmen brought the water in not long ago. It should be the perfect temperature now.” He paused, his mischief in his eyes. “Would you like to try out my shower bath?”

Excitement rose within her. “I’d love to. Is it easy to use?”

He sat up, cupped her cheek in his hand, and kissed her gently. “I’ll show you.”

Together, they walked into the bathing chamber, steam still hanging thick in the air. Jacob moved to fasten the buckets to the chains, then turned back and led her to the basin mounted to the floor.

“Stand here,” he murmured, stepping behind her.

He pulled the lever, and a stream of warm water flowed down over her head. Honoria laughed, startled.

“It’s like a waterfall,” she said, lifting her face to the stream.

“Yes.” His arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her steady beneath the cascading warmth. “A tiny, little waterfall.”

They stood together in silence for a moment, the water washing over them, softening the tension in their muscles. Then, with a smile, Honoria reached up and splashed water onto his face.

He chuckled and retaliated, droplets flying as they played like children in the rain, laughter echoing in the tiled room.

“How long until the water runs out?” Honoria asked with another splash.

“Not long.” Jacob reached for the soap. “But luckily, we have two buckets of water.”

He began to slowly lather her skin. His hands were gentle and reverent, gliding over her shoulders, down her arms, and across the slope of her back. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the soothing rhythm of his touch.

He moved his hands to her front, caressing her under her breasts, circling her nipples with soapy fingers. The feeling was so pleasant, Honoria couldn’t help but moan.

He chuckled in her ear, then moved his hands lower, massaging her skin.

She turned to him, taking the soap from his hand and reciprocating his ministrations—running her hands across his chest, his arms, the planes of his back. Their movements slowed, turned purposeful, each stroke more intimate than the last.

When the water began to fade to a trickle, Jacob pulled a second lever, and the stream renewed, stronger and warmer than before.

He kissed her again—slow, searching—then turned her around so her back pressed to his chest. One hand slid to her breast, cupping it gently, while the other traced a path down her stomach.

His arousal pressed against the small of her back, hard and insistent, and she arched slightly, pressing closer.

His hand slipped between her legs, fingers teasing at first, then parting her folds with slow, deliberate care.

“Like this?” he asked in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“Yes,” she gasped, leaning into him as he stroked her, “just like this.”

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against her ear. Then his mouth moved to her neck, kissing and tasting.

“I want you,” she breathed. “Now.”

He bent her forward slightly, one hand braced against the tiled wall, the other on her hip. She felt him position himself behind her, and then, with a slow, sure thrust, he slid inside her again.

Her moan echoed off the walls, mingling with the rhythm of the falling water.

He moved deliberately, gripping her hips as he thrust into her—deeper, harder—each movement measured and controlled.

She braced herself, pushing back to meet each stroke, her breath coming in broken gasps.

“Jacob,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

He groaned in response, driving into her with more force, his control fraying.

She reached between her legs, finding that sensitive spot he had touched before, circling it as he moved inside her. The dual sensations sent her spiraling.

Her cry of release filled the chamber, her body clenching around him, pulling him deeper still.

With one final thrust, he followed her over the edge, with a groan that vibrated against her damp skin.