He feathered his hand between her legs and cursed. “So you did enjoy that after all, hmm, my sweet girl?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“Have you been good?”
“Yes, sir. Please…”
“I suppose I can be generous.” He slid a finger inside her, and she gasped. Then he shifted her so he was sitting in the bedbeside her, her face beside his groin. As she watched, he brought his length out from the falls of his breeches and offered it to her. Understanding what she was being given, she brought her mouth down on him, and he sucked in a breath.
Their intimacy became a competition of sorts; who could bring the other to completion first. He worked her with his fingers, and she used her mouth and tongue. And all too soon, she felt the overwhelming rush of impending climax.
Oh yes, he was a generous man.
“Sebastian,” she gasped.
He thickened in her mouth, but before she could say a thing, she tipped over the edge. As he worked her through the waves of pleasure, he found his own release, pumping in her mouth. She choked, but dutifully swallowed once she came back to herself.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, catching her chin and wiping the corner of her mouth. His cheeks were flushed, eyes dark and heavy, his hair a little wild as though he had run one hand through it. “I should have checked if you were ready.”
She licked her lips. In truth, she hadn’t minded, but she adored this softer side to him. It always felt as though after their intimate moments, he lowered a wall around himself and allowed her to see a different side to him.
“Stay with me,” she said instead, taking hold of his arm. “Please? Just for a little.”
She thought he might protest, but perhaps he was tired for he adjusted his position on the pillows and gave her space to crawl into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, feeling the strong pounding of his heart and the strength of his arms as they settled around her.
“Are you warm enough?” he murmured, and she remembered belatedly that she wore no clothes. He had brought her dresses, then removed everything she had been wearing.
“No, I’m perfectly warm.” She trailed a finger across his chest, wondering if she was going to stray too far and force him to close up again. “But I do have a question.”
He sighed, but the sound was one of resignation rather than true irritation. “Of course you do.”
“Be honest with me.” She hesitated, thinking she knew the answer but uncertain if he would admit the true cause. “Why do you change the servants so often?”
“Mm.” He placed his hand on hers, right above the heavy thud of his heart. “I was wondering when you would build the courage to ask again.”
“I waited until I thought you might answer.”
“A wise move.” He hesitated, and she saw him frown. “In my experience, servants are not so much loyal to a position as they are to convenience and their own whims. I would prefer the disruption of replacing my servants than risk becoming accustomed to ones who might leave.”
Eleanor’s heart pinched. “Has something like that happened to you before?”
“When my parents died…” He cleared his throat. “I am certain you must have heard rumors about it. My parents died under circumstances that were never truly brought to light. I believe a servant was trying to steal from them and made an error when putting them to sleep. Still, the fact is, they died, and my father’s butler, a man who practically raised me as a boy, decided the scandal could not be borne, and he chose to resign and choose a different position.”
She twisted her hand around and clutched his more tightly. “I’m sorry. That must have been so difficult.”
“It was a valuable lesson. I had thought him loyal, but he was not, or at least not so loyal that self-interest did not come first.”
“Not everyone is like that,” she murmured. “He might have left because he found his personal situation to be untenable, but that does not mean everyone is the same.”
“They are the same enough.” He looked down at her. “You believe yourself obliged to be with me out of duty, but that does not mean you cannot leave. I know of plenty of wives who do.”
“You do?” The thought sent a burst of terror through her. “I know of none.”
“It is better to remain unattached.”
“I don’t believe it is. My father died too, Sebastian. My mother and my father passed away and Margaret detested me. I know what it is to be alone. For a long time, my only friend was Scrunch. But I refused to believe the worst of everyone, and now I have friends. I have a life. I have ahusband.”
He sat up abruptly. “You would have done better in learning how fickle people can be.”
