Page 20 of An Earl, His Valet, & Their Wife

Katherine moaned softly, before clamping her hand over her mouth. “I love syllabub,” she mumbled.

Why did she always do that? Silence herself? Not for the first time, Gerard inwardly cursed her foolish parents. If the countess belonged to him, he would encourage her to express herself freely. No, he would demand it. Especially in the bedchamber. But it appeared Michael was equally affected, for he moved restlessly in his chair. Gerard met his gaze, then tilted his head meaningfully in Katherine’s direction.

The earl drummed his fingers on the table.

Clenching his jaw, Gerard moved around the table and stood behind him, before oh-so-discreetly stroking his back.

“Katherine,” said Michael abruptly, as he adjusted his spectacles then leaned closer to her. “I would like…that is, if you are amenable…for us to…uh…I should like to visit your bedchamber this evening.”

Rather than immediately respond to her husband, the countess instead met Gerard’s gaze and slightly raised one eyebrow.

Did she wish to know if her needs had been passed on?

Gerard inclined his head, then busied himself serving their supper.

“Of course, my lord,” said Katherine. “You are most welcome.”

Michael smiled, but Gerard almost lost his hard-won composure. For his earl’s wife hadn’t just looked at her husband when she’d responded. She’d looked at them both.

Yes, blushing furiously and uncertain as hell, but there was some sort of invitation there.

It was just a matter of discovering what precisely that invitation entailed.

* * *

Becoming a countess had caused her to lose her wits entirely.

Katherine paced the length of her bedchamber, her cream satin dressing gown fluttering around her ankles as she stalked back and forth waiting for Michael’s arrival.

How could she be wed to a sweet, kind, exceedingly attractive earl…and yet want his raw, brooding valet as well? It made no sense whatsoever. Nor did the scandalous fantasies that constantly plagued her. She wanted to hold Michael down and use his lean body for her own pleasure. Ride his cock and milk it of seed rather than meekly accepting it as a proper wife should.

Yet with Mr. Hunter…

Katherine shivered. Every time he growled at her, she fought the urge to kneel. To offer herself as a sexual sacrifice and submit to any act he wished. Never would she forget those shockingly carnal words he’d murmured in her ear after the modiste had departed.

Now, let’s discuss milady’s hot little cunt. I wager it’s greedy and needs regular pleasuring. A man’s tongue or fingers buried deep again and again.

In all honesty, if Mr. Hunter demanded that, she would spread her thighs anytime, anywhere. Especially if he called her Katie. No one had ever shortened her name before; that just wasn’t considered appropriate in the Kirk household. But the way he said it—no purred it—Katie became an erotic endearment. And she wanted so much more.

“Katherine?”

She yelped, whirling around and pressing a hand to her chest. “Michael.”

Her husband smiled quizzically. “My apologies. I thought you heard my knock.”

“Alas not, I was deep in thought.”

“Happy thoughts, I hope,” he replied, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his quilted robe.

I want to ride you.

Katherine bit her lip, pressing her inner thighs together to ease the ache in her core. Hurling caution to the wind, she marched up to Michael, grasped his robe lapels and kissed him. He made a sound of surprise, but didn’t stop her. Emboldened, she twined her arms around his neck, rubbing her hardening nipples against his chest as she deepened the kiss, even daringly touching her tongue to his lips. When he opened his mouth and their tongues curled together, she almost cheered.

Then he tore his mouth away, panting. “Christ.”

Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “Too much? I apologize.”

“No! It’s not that,” said Michael quickly. “It’s just…very enjoyable. Unexpectedly so. And I keep remembering last time, when I failed you. I don’t want to do so again.”