Page 45 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
“Understood.” He had his answer, and it surprised him. More and more, Simon’s actions seemed to stress his benevolence in allowing Owen into their bed, so much so that Owen wondered if he’d still be welcome there come summer.
As dusk fell, Owen made his way to the manor, a bag packed with several days’ clothes. Business at the smithy was slow, so he could spend extra time with Zee.
She met him in the foyer as if she’d heard his horse arriving, her eyes sparkling with a vivacity that cut straight to his core. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
He drank in the sight of her, clad in a gown that plunged low, revealing much of her plump breasts. She must not have worn her chemise, for he could see her nipples and curls through the fabric, distinct against her pale skin. Her hair cascaded in loose waves, a sharp contrast to the usual prim bun atop her head. Owen’s breath hitched. She was ethereal, a vision of desire and domesticity intertwined.
“Did Simon tell you he’s gone away?” she asked, her lips curving into a flirtatious smile that sent Owen’s pulse racing.
“He did. He insisted your needs are taken care of, and I am here to oblige.”
“Then let us not waste time.” Xenia licked her lips, and he felt it on his cock. She turned to the staircase.
“Don’t you wish to have supper first?”
Her grin was wicked as she said, “I requested a cold repast that we can eat whenever we wish. I claimed I didn’t know what time to expect you, so there was no need for a formal meal.”
“You think of everything, my love.” Owen’s heart thundered, and he said a silent prayer of gratitude to his absent friend for this unimaginable gift—a chance to sate his longing, if only for a brief spell. Tonight, he vowed, he would worship at the altar of Zee’s pleasure, fulfilling not just the duties of a surrogate husband, but the desires of a man enraptured by love.
As they ascended the staircase, he could feel the warmth of Zee’s presence just ahead of him, her every movement fueling the fire that blazed within his chest.
Zee opened the door to her bedchamber and entered. “Simon told the servants you would stay at the house in his absence, and that they’re to answer to you as if you were Simon.”
Owen nodded, closing the door behind them, shutting out the world and its judgments.
“And of course, I intend to see you have everything you need,” she said. She reached for the back of her gown, but he stopped her.
“Don’t take it off yet. It would be a shame to not enjoy what that gown offers.” His hand covered her breast, squeezing gently. “I can see everything through the fabric. You must wear this more often.”
She shivered as he drew the neckline down and revealed her nipple to his gaze. “Simon has only seen me wear it with the chemise. It’s much less scandalous that way.”
“I prefer scandalous.” He sucked her breast into his mouth, his tongue pressing hard before he pulled back and let her pop out again. While he nuzzled that one, he played with the other nipple through the fabric, feeling it harden.
Zee leaned into his touch, her breaths coming faster, her eyes darkening with desire.
He brought her closer to the fire, where the light was better. Circling around her, he let his fingers explore her delightful curves. His hands found the roundness of her bottom, squeezing gently. “I think these might just be my favorite part of you.”
A soft laugh escaped her lips, tinged with the flirty edge that was quintessentially Zee. “Is that so?” she teased, casting a glance over her shoulder.
“If you could see how you look through this fabric, you’d understand.” He kneeled behind her. His lips pressed against her buttocks, kissing tenderly at first, then growing bolder with little nips and playful licks that elicited a symphony of breathy sounds from her. She squirmed delightfully, each little sound stoking the fire within him.
“Owen,” she gasped as he spread her open, admiring the hidden beauty there. “You make me feel... beautiful everywhere.”
“Because you are,” he whispered reverently. Now he lifted the gown, again kissing her flesh, kneading, enjoying the sight of her. “Every inch of you is to be worshipped.”
“I didn’t think I’d enjoy being touched there,” she admitted between ragged breaths. “But with you, Owen, I do. Very much.”
Hearing her confession, feeling her body respond to his touch, sent a wave of pride through him. And a deeper desire. He stood and removed the gown, letting it fall to one side. She watched him disrobe, her eyes touching him in all the places he ached.
Zee stepped toward the bed, but he stopped her. “No, here, in front of the fire.” He patted the rug as he kneeled again, so she lay down.
“Roll over on your tummy.” When she did, Owen kissed the soft skin behind her knee, moving upward along the inside of her thigh. A shiver rippled through her, and her breath hitched when his tongue found the delicate folds between her legs. He savored the taste of her, the sweetness mingling with the musk of her desire, his mouth worshiping her with every flick and lap.
“Your tongue is delightful,” she said with a sighed, her voice threaded with yearning as his tongue traced a path higher, teasing over her wicked opening, eliciting a gasp that reverberated straight to his core. It was in that sharp intake of breath that he felt his control slipping.
He remembered the oil he’d brought and fetched the small vial from his pocket. “Lift your hips for me, love,” he instructed gently, helping her rise to her knees.
Uncapping the bottle, he poured the slick substance onto his fingers, warming it before returning his attention to the place he’d just worshipped with his mouth. With deliberate care, he massaged the oil into her, while his other hand ventured to where her desire pooled. His lips met her clitoris, his tongue thrusting in her wet sheath in mimicry of what was to come, building her pleasure even as he prepared her for their union.