God, he loved this woman.
“It is called riding St. George,” she added for good measure.
His cock throbbed. To the devil with the past. He had everything he needed right here. Why had he ever imagined, even for a moment, that he could settle for a frigid, proper bride? How wrong he had been.
How right for him Helena was.
“Yes,” he managed, taking her hand in his and wrapping it around his cock. “Put me inside you and take your pleasure as you like, darling. This way, you are in control.”
She stroked him, then rubbed her thumb over the tip of him where a pearly drop of his mettle was already leaking from the slit. “Oh, I like the notion of being the one in control. Very much so.”
He had known she would.
Helena punctuated her pronouncement by sinking down on his cock, taking his full length.Pure bliss.She was still soaked, her grip on him tighter than ever. He anchored her with a hand on her waist and used the other to toy with her nipples as she moved, riding him. She made a throaty sound of satisfaction.
With great effort, he restrained himself, allowing her to maintain power. He tweaked her nipple and she tightened on him. Emboldened, he lifted his head and caught a nipple in his mouth, dragging on it while she rode him. For good measure, he reached to the place where their bodies joined and found her clitoris. He rubbed his thumb over her in firm circles as he licked and sucked her breasts.
It did not take long for the stimulations to have their intended effect upon her. She sank down on him hard and came with a cry, her cunny tightening on his cock with almost painful pleasure. And then, he was coming too, his hips thrusting toward hers as he emptied himself inside her. The bliss was so intense that little black stars peppered his vision as he spent.
They rolled as one, landing on their sides, their bodies still joined, arms and limbs entwined, hearts beating furiously. He studied her for a long moment, taking in her lovely face, from the bewitching trail of freckles on her nose to her kiss-swollen mouth. A fresh rush of love washed over him as he gazed at her.
“I love you, Helena.” Having embraced the truth of his feelings, he could not seem to say the words enough.
“And I love you.”
Grandfather’s favorite maxim returned to him suddenly.
A man without honor is a man who has nothing.
In truth, he had been wrong about that. There was one necessary change.
A man withoutloveis a man who has nothing.
Gabe had never been more certain of the veracity of that statement than he was now. He pulled his wife to him for a lingering kiss that turned into another. And another. And then another.
Because this Earl of Huntingdon hadeverything.
Epilogue
Together, we can accomplish anything we wish.
—FromLady’s Suffrage Society Times
“Iofficially declaremyself the most besotted man in London.”
“And why is that, my love?” Helena attempted to get up from the chaise longue as her husband approached: tall, handsome, long-legged, and dressed to perfection. No earl had a right to look so sinfully good.
“Do not rise on my account,” he said swiftly, hastening his pace so that his strides ate up the Axminster separating them. “I know how much your feet and back have been aching recently.”
On a sigh, Helena settled once more into the stack of pillows her lady’s maid had helpfully arranged behind her. “If you insist, I shall remain right here. Now, do tell me why you are the most besotted man. That does seem a rather extensive claim to make. How can you be certain, and with whom are you besotted?”
He grinned, lowering himself to the cushion at her side, and held up a box that had been wrapped with a neatly tied satin ribbon of emerald green. “I am besotted with you, of course. And as for the boldness of my claim, I can assure you of its veracity. No other man could possibly love his wife as much as I love you.”
He was adorable.
She scrunched up her nose. “What about a man and his mistress? Mayhap another man, somewhere in this vast city, loves his mistress just a speck more.”
“Impossible.” He kissed her nose. “I have proof.”
