Page 29 of Joy to the Earl

Rosalind took a deep, hiccupping breath. “How very revolutionary. I guess that is what happens when a young lady who dreams of romance and a man raised well away from the ton join forces. Though you do realize London might come to a grinding halt if the aristocracy starts marrying for love?”

He moved away from the wall, slowly crossing the small room until he stood directly in front of Rosalind. Then he reached out and blotted the tears from under her eyes with his thumbs. “A few hardy souls might overcome the power of tradition and ton disapproval and ridicule. But what I really want to know is if I have a chance at marrying for love.”

“Do you want one?”

“More than anything in the world,” Jack said hoarsely.

Her face lifted to his. Then she smiled.

Pulling Rosalind into his arms, Jack crushed her lips with his, all steps, all instructions about kissing gone from his mind as he poured his whole self into the embrace. Love, relief, a promise for the future, and for the first time in his life, true joy. But Rosalind wasn’t a passive partner by any means. She wound one arm about his neck, threading her fingers through his shorter hair, her other hand gripping the lapel of his jacket as she ground herself against him, opening her mouth for him and moaning softly.

“It has been…awful…for me and Fliss without you,” she gasped when his lips left hers to trail down the side of her neck and across the tops of her breasts. “I don’t want us to be apart again.”

“We are going to be a family,” he promised. “You and me and Felicity and Sir Donald and Lady Kilburne. She can even bring her damned powder chest.”

“In that case, I certainly hope the nursery at Wakefield House is able to be refurbished,” said Rosalind with a husky, seductive laugh that hardened his cock to stone.

Jack sucked in a huge breath as she rubbed against him, mentally cursing the thin fabric of her gown and his trousers. Not to mention being in the Vales’ powder room, which rather prevented him burying himself to the hilt inside her. “Oh? Are you planning on giving me a child, my lady?”

“Not just one. Many,” she purred, cupping his cock and giving it a firm squeeze. “Brothers and sisters for Fliss, who will all be cherished and cared for no matter what. Wakefield House needs a new story. It needs light and laughter and love. Together we can do it.”

“Have I told you, fair Rosalind, that you are an extraordinary woman of great compassion, wit, and heart?”

“And have I told you, my lord, that you are the finest man I’ve ever known?”

Jack laughed. “It might take a while to sink fully into this cast iron skull of mine…but I think I could start to believe.”

“Well then, John Henry Francis Wakefield. My Jack. Let us make our apologies to Phillip and Claire and Lord Chisholm and Lady Marianne, and escape.”

“Somehow I don’t think either couple will mind.”

“No, she said with a sparkling smile as he curled his arm about her waist and escorted her from the powder room. “I really don’t think they will.”

* * *

“I’m not quite sure you are ready, sweet. Just give me a little more time.”

Rosalind stared down in utter disbelief at Jack, where he lay propped on his elbows between her spread thighs. He’d been tormenting her for hours now, to the point where her sheets were drenched with perspiration and her own juices, as he’d made her come again and again with his fingers and tongue. Her nipples were raw from his frenzied sucking, her soaked quim throbbing with the desperate need to be filled with the engorged cock that he would only tease her clitoris with, not bury inside her.

“Jack, if you don’t fuck me right now…”

His eyes widened innocently as he withdrew two slick fingers from her quim and began teasing the rim of her back entrance. “You’ll what?”

“Oh God…I don’t know,” she replied, whimpering as his tongue flicked her clitoris, an intoxicating contrast to his marauding fingers. “Possibly kill y-you…ohhh.”

“Can’t have that,” he said cheerfully, rolling onto his back and fisting his cock so it stood upright, tall and gloriously thick. “Very well, madam, you may take me. But please remember I am an innocent lad from the north, inexperienced in the ways of…ow, now Rosalind, pinching is not at all sporting. Neither is biting. Ah, very well, if you wish to bite me there, I guess I will manfully accept it…oh Christ, yes, more…”

Straddling his huge body, Rosalind went up on her knees, fitted his cock to her quim, then slid down.

They both groaned.

Slowly she began to move, bracing her hands on his chest and circling her hips as she rose and fell. He filled her so completely it was almost too much, and yet at the same time, when he withdrew from her, she felt empty. Soon Jack gripped her hips with his strong hands, guiding her movements and forcing her to take him deeper. She sobbed in pleasure as one thumb stroked her swollen clitoris, the inner and outer stimulation shoving her closer and closer to climax.

Without warning he sat up, the slight change in angle hurling her over the edge, and Rosalind screamed as waves and waves of pulsing ecstasy surged through her entire body.

“Yes, oh God, yes,” she moaned, her back arching violently when Jack shifted his hand and pushed a fingertip inside her back entrance while his cock drove brutally deep inside her.

“That’s it, sweet,” he gritted out. “Tell me what you need. You feel so good. So tight and hot. I’m so close.”