Page 76 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

“You’ll forgive me later,” he said smugly.

He set her down on the edge of the bed, positioning her so that her lower half hung just off the mattress, thighs parted, vulnerable and inviting. His gaze never left hers as he took her hand, pressing a lingering kiss to her palm, then the inside of her wrist, before lowering himself slowly to his knees.

Arabella’s breath trembled. “You don’t have to...”

“Oh, but I want to,” Lucien interrupted, grinning like a man starved. “This is my favourite part.”

With one hand gently urging her knees further apart, Lucien leaned in. When his tongue finally met her folds, slow, deliberate, and unbearably thorough, Arabella gasped, her back arching off the bed as sensation ripped through her like a lightning bolt.

This was what he meant.

Lucien didn’t rush. He tasted her like a man relishing every note of a decadent feast. His hands slid beneath her thighs to anchor her, holding her steady as his tongue danced over her most sensitive places.

Her hands flew to his hair, fingers tightening instinctively in the dark strands. “Lucien,” she moaned, half in plea, half in disbelief.

He only chuckled against her, sending another tremor through her body. He loved this, she realized dimly. He was lost in it, groaning softly as he devoured her, eyes occasionally flicking up to watch her come undone.

Her entire body convulsed, hips bucking, thighs trembling. Pleasure radiated outward from her core in sharp, hot waves, her vision going hazy as she cried out his name again and again.

Lucien didn’t stop until she was completely spent, until her legs went limp and her hands slipped from his hair, too exhausted to hold on. Only then did he rise, his lips glistening, a satisfied glint in his eye as he gathered her into his arms and laid her back against the pillows with a tenderness that belied the raw hunger of moments before.

Arabella blinked up at him, still breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He brushed a damp strand of hair from her temple and smiled; smug and sweet all at once. “You can return the favour later,” he said, voice low and teasing, “but only if you’re not too wobbly on your legs.”

She let out a breathless laugh. “You’re insufferable.”

Lucien kissed her forehead. “I’m insatiable. There’s a difference.”

Later, much later, as they lay tangled together with Thistle snoring at their feet and moonlight streaming through the windows, Arabella thought about how much had changed in such a short time.

"What are you thinking?" Lucien murmured against her hair.

"About fairy tales."

"What about them?"

"They usually end with 'happily ever after.'"

"And?"

"I think ours is just beginning."

"That's not how fairy tales work."

"Then we'll write a better one."

"With a criminal dog?"

"Especially with a criminal dog."

He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I love you, Arabella Harrow."

"And I love you, Lucien Harrow. Beast, man, and everything in between."

"Everything?"

"Everything."