Page 8 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
Pushing aside the memory, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. The warmth from the brandy slid down his throat, but it did little to quell the turmoil of emotions that churned inside him. The innocence of those days felt like a distant dream, one that the complexities of desire and duty had overtaken.
He set his glass down sharply, his eyes fixed on the flames that fluttered within the grate. The study, normally a sanctuary of solitude, felt oppressive, its walls closing in around him. He rose and paced before the hearth, the carpet beneath his boots muffling the sound of his restless steps.
“Damnable folly,” he muttered to himself, a hand coming up to rake through his hair.
As the night deepened, the stillness of the house seemed to mock him, and Simon knew sleep would elude him this evening. With a last glance at the portrait of his grandfather—his stern glare a reminder of the earldom’s expectations—he acknowledged the truth that clawed at his soul, that there was no easy way forward.
With a heavy heart, Simon turned away from the fireplace and left the study, and headed to his bedchamber.
CHAPTER FIVE
One day a month, servants and a few friends of Simon’s late mother bustled about the kitchen of Kinnerton Manor, the sweet aroma of baked goods wafting from the kitchen as they put together baskets for the poor. When he came into the room, he found Xenia amidst a sea of activity. With a subtle glance to ensure their privacy, he reached for her, his touch discreet beneath the din of preparations. “Xenia,” Simon said.
She turned, her eyes meeting his gaze.
Without a word, he led her away from the prying eyes, up the servants’ stairs and down the hallway to his study. Once inside, he turned with a fluid motion, his hand leaving hers only to press firmly against the door, sealing it closed.
He took her hand again, lifting it to his lips and placing a kiss there. “I’ve missed you.”
“Only three days have passed since the river.” Her smile flirted with him.
“Three days is too long to wait to feed the hunger you woke in me.” He pulled her to him, grasping her shoulders and pressing his lips to hers. His mouth moved over hers with a fervor that spoke of nights filled with yearning.
She kissed him back with equal measure, opening to his teasing tongue and sighing. She tasted of mint.
Simon’s hands encircled her waist, lifting her with an ease that belied his quiet demeanor. With deliberate care, he placed her upon the polished mahogany desk, and continued to kiss her, trailing little pecks across her cheek to nibble on her earlobe.
“May I please you without having Owen present?” he asked.
She gasped and pulled back slightly.
“That was poorly said. I want you, Xenia. No games.”
Her eyelids lowered and her lips parted. “I want you, too, Simon.” She clutched his face and kissed him with a heat that took him by surprise. He pressed back, his tongue hard and demanding in her mouth.
Lifting her skirts, he stroked her stockings, enjoying feel of the smooth silk almost as much as her smooth skin. His fingertips traced circles upon her inner knee before moving ever higher. “Your pleasure is my utmost concern. Tell me what your heart desires, and it shall be yours.”
A sigh was Xenia’s answer as Simon’s hand found the wet heat between her thighs, his fingers deft and knowing. Her body arched toward him, seeking more of his touch, her hands clutching at the edge of the desk.
“You’re so wet for me already.” He chuckled. “Just the snack I wanted.”
Sinking to his knees, he pushed her skirts higher, parting her legs, opening her to his gaze. She leaned back, holding her gown up with one hand, bracing herself with the other. His hands stroked her thighs above the stockings, his thumbs circling the closer he got to her curls. He brushed over her slit, then opened her, inhaling the scent of her arousal.
She shifted as if offering herself to him, and he slid a finger through the moisture, spreading it around her clitoris. He toyed with it, loving the little sounds it brought out of her throat, the gasps and squeaks. He could play with her for hours just to hear her.
His cock jerked. Well, not for hours.
He slipped a finger inside her and stroked, then added a second. She clenched around him. His tongue pressed against the swollen nub, flicking and swirling, before he pulled his fingers out and laved her entire length. He moaned. “That’s the sweetest nectar a man could find.”
As he continued to lick and stroke, she began to move with him. He thrust his tongue deep inside her, his strokes matching her pace. He wanted desperately to hear her cries of release, to know he was the one who gave it to her.
Her whimpers rose in pitch and he knew she was almost there. Almost in heaven. Just a little more. He pinched her clitoris while his tongue pushed deep in her wetness and it was exactly what she needed.
She bit her lip to swallow the cry as her hips jerked against his face. Her thighs tightened on him, her juices filled his mouth. He licked it all up until she pressed a hand to his cheek. “It’s too much. I’m too sensitive.”
Pressing a kiss to her thigh, he took one last look at the swollen, wet, red flesh, satisfied he’d pleased her well. He stood, letting her gown fall back over her legs, and he noticed her nipples were ripe buds. Next time he’d spend some time on them, but for now, they needed to return to the others before someone noted their absence.
Xenia pulled him into her arms and kissed him like she was starving for him. Her hand slipped down to press against his cock, where it strained against his breeches.