He could feel the moisture that already clung to the inside of his smalls—his seed already spilling, trying to reach her.
Trem took her hand, knowing it was madness, but just needing to experience it for a moment, and placed it on his engorged cock.
“Do you feel that?” he said. “Do you feel what you do to me?”
Her eyes were wide, but she was also smiling. She began stroking him and the sensation was beyond anything he’d ever experienced—he had had many illicit rubs over the years, but her hand, tentative and searching, nearly brought tears to his eyes. Feeling mad, he undid the front of his smalls and placed her hands over where his cock was already wet for her.
He gasped as her fingers found the seed and, intuitively, she began to stroke him with his own moisture. If she didn’t stop, he would spend.
“Enough,” he growled, capturing her hand again. “I need to make good on my promise.”
“But I was enjoying that,” she said, with a wicked grin. “I want to make you spend.”
He suppressed a groan.
“Soon,” he said, and lifted her from his lap, pushing her onto the sofa. He slid down to the floor so he was kneeling before her. “Now, tell me, Lady Henrietta, did young Hartley put his mouth on your cunt?”
“WHAT?”
He felt a grin spread across his face once more—he couldn’t help it. He was delighted at her surprise.
“I didn’t think so.”
“That can’t possibly be—” But her words were lost in his movement. He laced his arms through her legs and sank his face between her legs, acquainting himself with the lovely mess of curls at her core.
“Trem!” she said, with alarm, but his mouth was already on her. Already, he was tasting her sweetness for the first time. At the first taste, he was amazed. It didn’t seem possible, but it was true. She tasted like the tart country apples that grew at Edington, the estate where she had grown up, and which he had visited so many times that it felt like his own home. He had always loved the taste of that red-skinned fruit, telling John and Henrietta and even John’s father that they were unique, that they should sell the cider as a special varietal, but they had all laughed at him, insisting that they were nothing remarkable. Drinking Henrietta in now, though, her taste so like those apples, so reminiscent of that place he loved, Trem knew they had all been wrong.
She was beyond special.
He could feel her climax building. Her fingers were twined in his hair and she was moaning, saying his name. He raised his fingers and entered her that way once more, knowing that the dual pressure of his hand and tongue would make her split apart. If he hadn’t been so intent on his object, he would have grinned, knowing that she had doubted whether the pleasure of yesterday could be surpassed.
When she broke again, he steadied her, wanting her to feel secure to let go, anchoring her to the sofa even as he drew the last of her climax from her. As he heard the beautiful sounds of her orgasm and tasted it on his tongue, he knew.
With her, he wasn’t going to be able to control what he had started.
Chapter Eleven
He had addled her mind.
As Trem rejoined her on the sofa and she tried to catch her breath, that was her only thought.
Her first orgasm with him, yesterday, had been the most intense of her life.
And the second one had turned the previous into a faint memory, his mouth doing wicked things to her core, making her feel a depth of sensation that she wouldn’t have even been able to imagine before tonight.
Now, she knew that she wanted all of him. Lying against him, she could feel his cock through his breeches—she had felt how hard he had been when she touched him, how he had wanted to spend. If you had asked her forty-eight hours ago if she could ever have that effect on the Viscount of Tremberley, she would have laughed. Knowing now that he had been ready to spend in her hand…well, it would be too much to expect of any woman, but especially her, who had lusted after him for years, to not pursue her advantage to the utmost.
Her head was on his chest now and she could feel that, at a different moment, it would be easy to float away to sleep under the heavy contentment he had given her.
But she wanted all of him. She was greedy for it.
Underneath her, he was warm and hard—she could feel the need coming off of his body.
She turned her face up towards his own. His hazel eyes locked on hers. She could see all that he wanted in his gaze. But she also knew, although she didn’t know how, that he was reluctant to claim her fully. And then a wicked thought passed through her mind.
“That was very impressive, my lord. But there is still one thing that I did with Lord Hartley that you have yet to show me. Perhaps it is not in your repertoire…” She cut her eyes away from his own, knowing somehow that this little feint of naivety would torment him.
He growled underneath her. She could feel his hard length jutting into her stomach. The mere feel of it made her pelvic muscles clench and unclench again. When she had touched him there, he had seemed uncommonly large. She had found Hartley to be quite adequate in that department. In fact, she had been glad he hadn’t been any larger, given that it had been her first time. But she sensed that Trem was significantly more well-endowed. It scared her a bit—and thrilled her.
