Page 11 of The Earl’s Gamble (The Lovers’ Arch: Later in Life)

11

Rose

W ith the sound of the toilet flushing in her ears, Rose dutifully washed her hands. She didn’t bother to wipe away her tears anymore. The skin beneath her eyes was raw at the onslaught of salty tears. She wished she’d never met the woman Griff would marry. Because now she knew who to picture with the man she loved. She could picture what their children would look like.

And that look on Griff’s face when he realised she couldn’t be the one to give him those children. That look would haunt her till the end of her days—and beyond.

A colossal bang exploded behind her, amplifying across the tiled surfaces until she felt its shudder in her very bones. She turned on instinct, equal parts confused and terrified a German U-boat had come up through the plughole.

Shoulders heaving with exertion, Griff stood in the doorway, his blue eyes full of devastation and… was that relief? “Rose,” he croaked, looking as though his heart had just been torn out.

“Um.” She froze, her hands buried in a soft towel. “Is…is everything okay?”

He said nothing, crossing the room to scoop her into his arms as if she was as light as a feather. Her feet left the floor, and she abandoned her cane in favour of hanging onto his neck. It clattered to the ground around her. “I thought you’d disappeared,” he bit out, squeezing her within an inch of her life. “After how we left things.”

Had Walker said something to him? “I’d never leave without saying goodbye, no matter how we left things.” Feeling herself being carried back into the bedroom, she lay a hand against his cheek—before quickly pulling it away, the memory of meeting his fiancée fresh in her mind “Although…” Rose swallowed, knowing they’d need to discuss her situation sooner rather than later. “I can’t imagine your new wife will appreciate my presence in the house.”

Griff fetched her discarded cane, placing it back in her hand with an anticipatory huff. “I don’t think my new wife will mind you being here one bit.”

Her lips thinned. “Then I doubt your union will be a happy one.”

“Oh, I disagree,” he argued, delving his hand into his pocket. He was far more animated than usual, as though the evening’s excitement had driven him to the end of his tether. “Want to know why?”

“Why?” she asked, slightly worried at what his answer might be.

He bent down on one knee, opening a little box in his hand to reveal a ring with an orange-reddish stone at its centre. “Because I want you and my wife to be one and the same. Marry me, Rose.”

The night had taken its toll on her too. It had left her raw and bleeding and weak, doubting every decision she had ever made…but this ?

This left her speechless.

“I…” Rose managed eventually, the intoxicating sight of him kneeling before her adding to her jumble of thoughts. “I don’t understand. I thought you were already engaged.”

Griff shook his head. “I never asked her. I told you I wasn’t going to. I merely apologised to her and her family for the inconvenience, but said I’d fallen in love with another. You, to be specific. ”

She swallowed, trying to dislodge the shock binding her vocal cords. “Me?”

He nodded. “You.”

“But children, Griff. You need an he—”

“I have an heir,” he interrupted her. “Several, in fact. My cousin and his son were at the party tonight. You could have met them in the drawing room, but it’s no matter. They’ll be invited to our wedding. You can meet them then.”

“I was in the workhouse not too long ago. I can’t…I can’t be lady of anything.”

His eyebrow raised, giving her a heated look. “We both know that isn’t true, my lady.”

The potential in that endearment shivered through her. “Thin—think of what your mother would say, Griff.”

“I’ve already told her. She said she just wants me to be happy. And I will be—with you.” Griff cleared his throat, shifting where he knelt. “Do you have an answer for me?”

Rose could only offer him a question in return. “Are you…are you sure ?”

His nod was vehement. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

A tentative, trembling smile curved her lips. Surely she had to be dreaming. At any moment, she would wake and her heart would break all over again—but as the seconds wore on, she knew it was real. And there was only one answer she could give. “Then…yes.”

Griff flashed her a dazzling smile, climbing to his feet, sliding the ring onto her finger, and closing the distance between them. His lips met hers in a charge of hunger. Rose lost herself in his kiss, feeling his hands rush into her hair, angling her to allow him to deepen their embrace.

She moaned as he teased her bottom lip between his teeth, a sound borne of relief and happiness—but, most of all, from desire. He locked a hand around her waist as he walked her backwards until her calves brushed the bedframe. A gasp left her as his lips carried the kiss down to her neck. “I’d forgotten how good that feels.”

He stopped, and she nearly whimpered. “Since your husband, you mean?” Griff glanced to the side, his eyebrow hitching. “Your first husband.”

“I guess he would be, but yes. Other than what happened…” Rose shrugged, waving at the bed behind her. “ Yesterday. I’ve never been with anyone else. Only Cecil.”

“You must have loved him a great deal to remain celibate after his death.”

“I did love him. Very much.” The edge of her lips pursed together. “But my celibacy was more because of Archie than anything.” That and the war, pulling any available men away to serve at the front.

“ Ahhh .” Griff gave her a knowing grin. “And Finch guarded his younger sister like a hellhound guarding the entrance to the underworld, never knowing how much you like to bring men to their knees.”

Her blood heated at the idea of bringing Griff to his knees. “Not the most complimentary comparison I’ve ever heard, but yes.” Their gazes locked together, and she could feel herself being pulled under his spell. “Do you think he would be happy for us? Archie?”

Griff’s grin had a hint of boyish charm about it. “I think he would have shot me,” he answered decisively. “Out of principle, you understand. There are lines you’re not supposed to cross, and falling in love with a chap’s younger sister just isn’t cricket.” At her blank look, he continued. “It’s bad sportsmanship.”

“We aren’t playing a sport.” Her response was curt, but inside she squealed with girlish glee. He loved her .

He let out a hum of agreement, leaning in to brush his lips over hers. “But I know what else we could do instead.”

“Oh?” she asked, barely restraining her need.

“I need you,” he growled into her neck, wrenching off his waistcoat to reveal the hard lines of his chest through his dress shirt. An exhale of relief left her as his lips found her neck for the second time, but now his touch was rough and decisive. He unfastened her dress as she unbuttoned his shirt, both of them feverish in their hunger.

“You need me?” Rose bit her lip. “Or you need to serve me?”

There was a desperate rasp from his throat. “I need you, and I need to serve you, my lady.”

Her eyelids fluttered, a tide of arousal threatening to carry her away. “Then kneel for me.”

Griff’s knees thudded to the floor. His attention was bound to her, patiently waiting for her next order.

Slowly, Rose sat on the bed, her leg tiring quickly after yesterday’s doomed attempt to scale the stairs. She let her hand cup his jaw, realising that this man—this earl— was giving himself over to her entirely. She thought of all the power and influence he had, all the people depending on his estate for their wellbeing. All that sat on his shoulders.

And yet he was kneeling before her. A woman with nothing to her name.

It was a strange feeling, but it made his submission all the more delicious to behold.

“How would you best like to serve me tonight?” she whispered, her palm scraping against the shadow of his stubble. It felt so natural to step into the role, like supple leather moulding itself to her body.

“With my tongue, my lady.” There was a pleading note in his voice, and she wanted more of it .

She sucked in a breath, but there was something in her that wanted to push him further. Some instinct that needed to command the man she loved. “You’re wearing far too many clothes to please me. Remove them.”

Had a man ever taken a shirt off as quickly as him? His physique parted her lips, his muscular shoulders flexing as he threw his dress shirt and his undershirt to the floor in quick succession. She wanted to run her hands along his broad chest, to follow the trail of hair leading down below the button of his trousers and see what lay beneath.

She soon found out.

Griff shoved his trousers down to his knees, his shockingly hard length springing free of its cotton confines.

“Stay there,” she said softly. “Touch yourself. Like you usually do when you’re alone.”

He grasped his cock, his thighs spread. “I don’t usually do it on my knees.”

Rose smirked. “You should get used to it. You’ll be spending a lot of time on your knees from now on.”

Swearing, he obeyed, gripping his cock in his fist and slowly sliding up to the swollen tip. His shoulders shifted as he ran back down it.

“Does that feel good?” she asked softly, shifting her thighs together.

Liquid dripped from the head, the desperate need in Griff’s eyes rising at the movement of her legs. “Yes, my lady.”

She lifted his chin, his hand falling away from his straining erection. “Is there something you’d rather be doing?”

“I…” His gaze dropped to the juncture of her thighs. “I wish to please you, my lady. Please ,” he begged.

Rose leant back on her hands, a challenge in her eyes—one that concealed the nerves inside. Cecil had only done this once, and it had been embarrassing rather than pleasurable. And she didn’t want embarrassment to have any part of tonight. “Then you may attempt to do so.”

He came at her quicker than she expected, rucking up her pleated apricot skirts to slip his arms around her hips and yank her to the edge of the bed. As her back hit the soft sheets, his lips kissed the inside of her knee, working their way higher in a slow, teasing march. The brush of his tongue was what really made her gasp, the slick, unexpected heat adding another layer of blissful sensation.

By the time he inched towards her inner thigh, she could feel how slick she’d become—and so, apparently, could he.

“I love how fucking wet you get,” Griff grunted, laying long, savouring licks on her skin. His breath tickled the hair on her inner thighs. He didn’t stop, constantly moving higher, until she wondered how he was going to get through her teddy when—

A sharp rip cut through the air.

She began to berate him, his slow ascent lulling her into a false sense of security. “Did you just rip my— oh my god .” Rose’s eyes rolled back in her head as his tongue delved between her folds, dipping into her entrance before slowly following the contours of her body. Her breath hitched as he neared her clitoris. How can he take so long to cover such a short distance?

The moan that left her when he finally arrived was a mix of relief and overwhelming pleasure. A second followed when he began the process all over again, building her up only to lay her out flat at the climax. It was a torturous mix of agony and ecstasy, playing with her pleasure like he was born to do so.

“Give me more,” she finally gasped, her voice absent of any commanding qualities.

He took it as one anyway, centring his efforts around her clitoris. His tongue rapidly flicked against her, her entire body jolting with each one .

Rose slapped her hand over her mouth, muffling the cries of pleasure attempting to fill the room. The new addition of her ring dented the fingers on either side. Her hips attempted to work with him, but his large, capable hands pinned her down, spreading her to his view.

It hadn’t been like this last time. Cecil had given her a few exploratory pokes with his tongue while they were drunk one night, and that had been that. Neither of them had ever requested a repeat.

But this …

Griff’s wickedly talented tongue was a revelation.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than he closed his lips around the little hood and sucked.

There was no muffling her moan that time. Her hips came off the bed entirely, her spine arching back in overwhelming rapture. Her climax had been steadily building beforehand, but now Griff catapulted her into bliss amidst a chorus of keening cries. She gripped the bedcovers with all of her strength, her thighs simultaneously snapping shut around his head and trembling beyond her control.

Rose thought it would go on forever, with the rest of her life being spent as a shuddering, throbbing mess. Her breath was the first thing that returned to her control, then, bit by bit, her spine relaxed. She unstuck her legs from Griff’s head, but even then a shadow of the pleasure remained in the form of little aftershocks.

Her breasts heaved as she lay on the bed, her eyes on the ceiling, but her gaze stuck somewhere in the middle, contemplating the majesty of what had just happened. “Was that…was that what you meant when you said you wanted to serve me with your tongue?”

“Yes, my lady.” Griff’s short hair brushed against the inside of her thigh.

“Every time?”

“Every time. ”

God strewth. He was going to kill her.

Rose was in the middle of thinking what a wonderful way to go out, but then it struck her that Griff hadn’t moved. He remained knelt between her legs on the floor.

Because I haven’t told him he can move yet.

Even now, desire pulsed between her legs at that fact. “Get on the bed, Griff.” She wasn’t done with him yet.

“Yes, my lady.”