Page 30 of Of Lies and Earls (Inglorious Scoundrels #2)
Two Years Later…
T he music was loud, covering the sound of people laughing, talking, and singing. Candlelight flickered, shadows dancing across the wall. Luckily, Jacob wasn’t in the ballroom itself—he was hidden in a tiny alcove, with only a single line of light illuminating Honoria’s features as she licked his cock from base to tip with fervor.
“Mmm…” she moaned, then gripped him tightly at the base and circled the head with her mouth.
Jacob’s head fell back, thudding against the wall, his fingers tightening in her hair, wrapping her locks around his fist so he could guide her just the way he liked it.
She moved her mouth up and down his length, driving him wild.
“Yes, darling, just like that,” he murmured as she flicked her tongue over the slit at the top.
Then she swirled her tongue in that way that never failed to bring him over the edge. He resisted, pulling her up quickly.
“No, no, no,” he whispered, kissing her lips, her neck, her shoulder. “Not yet.”
“But I want—”
“I said, not yet.”
He turned them so she stood with her back against the wall and raised her skirts. She wrapped one leg around his hips, and he plunged his fingers inside her wet, waiting, trembling core. His fingers thrust in and out while his thumb worked her clit until she came in violent trembles.
“How come you’re allowed to bring me to the edge, but I’m not?” she pouted.
He withdrew his hand, brought it to his lips, and sucked, tasting her salty nectar. “Because that’s my present,” he rasped, licking his lips.
He turned her around to face the wall, her arms above her head, her skirts bunched around her waist, and drove into her. With slow, controlled strokes, he filled her over and over until he felt her muscles contract around him.
Their moans and whimpers filled the tiny alcove, no doubt spilling into the ballroom as well. Jacob didn’t care.
He quickened his pace, driving into her as his entire body tightened, her screams got louder… and then… silence.
He finished inside her, holding her tightly in his arms, her body pulsating around him.
He collapsed against her, his breath hot on the nape of her neck, and kissed her.
“You are extraordinary. As always.”
She turned her head just enough to kiss him on the mouth.
“You too,” she murmured against his lips. “But if this is all we’re going to do tonight, we shouldn’t have left our bedroom.”
Jacob chuckled. He traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb, savoring the softness of her skin. “This is the two-year anniversary of the night you deemed me attractive enough to kiss. I thought it fitting to return to the scene.”
He withdrew, pulled out a handkerchief, and cleaned them both as best he could—which wasn’t much. Then he lowered her skirts and fastened his breeches.
She turned toward him, leaning back against the wall, an eyebrow arched. “That’s not true. You know I’ve had feelings for you for a long time. I’ve told you that before.”
“Yes,” he conceded, his hands sliding to her waist, drawing her close again. “You liked me, perhaps even loved me—but you didn’t feel physical desire until that night.” His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. “Why else would that night have changed your mind about staying?”
Honoria shook her head. “You’re wrong. Those feelings came even before I even knew you properly.” Her fingers toyed with the buttons on his waistcoat. “In fact, it was only a week after we met. I remember that night perfectly.”
Jacob pulled back slightly, surprised. “Why? What happened then?”
A slow, sultry smile spread across her lips. “I saw you swimming in the stream. You were coming out of the water completely naked, your…” she paused, gaze dropping to his cock, “…body glistening in the setting sun. I’ve wanted you ever since.”
Jacob’s eyes widened in genuine shock. “You saw that? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Her cheeks flushed. “When? Right then? I was embarrassed out of my wits. And later… I suppose I didn’t think it mattered.”
He laughed softly. “All this time, I thought you saw me as a stuffy old lord.”
“Stuffy—maybe,” she said, a playful gleam in her eyes. “Old? Never. I fell in love with you,” she continued more softly, “when I saw you rocking Rosie during that thunderstorm.” Her fingers brushed his cheek. “What about you?”
He kissed her lightly, a gentle brush of lips. “The first day you came for the interview.”
Honoria pulled back, eyeing him with disbelief. “You’re jesting.”
“I’m not,” he said honestly. “The moment you entered, my cock instantly sprang to attention. I couldn’t look you in the eye without blushing—so I avoided your gaze altogether.”
Her brows lifted. “You’re jesting!”
He shook his head, smiling. “Then you sang to Rosie, calmed the children, protected them… and I’ve loved you ever since.”
Honoria’s eyes glistened. “All that time? Even when you were being impossible and stern and refusing to meet my eyes?”
“Especially then.” He brushed his thumb across her lower lip. “It was self-preservation. I was terrified of the feelings I had.”
“And here I thought you didn’t care for me at all.”
“I tried to deny it, to bury it. I was afraid I’d frighten you off—and lose the most important person in my life. In the children’s lives.”
Her voice was small. “When you could’ve just kissed me.”
He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “I don’t regret a minute of it. Who knows how different things might’ve gone had I acted before I was ready—or before you were ready to reveal your identity.”
The music in the ballroom shifted to a waltz. Jacob cocked his head toward the sound, then extended his hand with a slight bow.
“Care to dance, Lady Caldwell? Or shall we continue scandalizing the ton by hiding in an alcove like lovesick youths?”
Honoria placed her hand in his—but instead of stepping toward the ballroom, she pulled him closer.
“The dance can wait. I’m not finished scandalizing you just yet.”
His laugh was swallowed by her kiss as she drew him back into the shadows, the rest of the world forgotten once more.
If you’re interested in reading the next installment of the “Inglorious Scoundrels” series, next up is A Marquess of No Importance
The Marquess of Rivendale and Milessande Monroe’s story.