Page 17 of The Devil’s Submission

“Lizzie,” he groaned, reaching down to tease her clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet and hot. Fucking heaven. So smart and fiery and beautiful…”

The orgasm exploded and she screamed his name, her fingernails shredding his linen shirt as she bucked and writhed. Seconds later Grayson rammed deep inside her and came with a guttural cry, every long, hot spurt of his seed like a sensual lash inside her.

“Oh dear,” she said dreamily, as he stepped back from the wall and walked unsteadily across the room toward the huge, padded desk chair, every step pushing and pulling his cock against her tender channel until she quivered.

“What’s wrong?” he said as he carefully sat down in the chair and held her close.

“I’ve already sent four chemises to the rag bag this week, you rogue, and I do believe I’ll be sending a fifth after today.”

He grinned. “Hardly my fault they don’t make chemises like they used to. But when you decide to let me up, we’ll make our way to Mayfair. Actually, you’re not the only one who’ll be sending something to the rag bag today. My shirt has gone to that great dressing room in the sky, but it would like you to know it accepted its demise with a merry heart…ow. Eliza Jean Brimley Deveraux, did you just pinch your poor, innocent husband…ow. Seriously, my dear, if you keep that up I’m going to get hard again.”

Eliza’s tongue darted out and licked his lips. “Exactly how is that a problem?”

“I don’t know. What were we talking about again?”

“An urgent need for Mayfair.”

“The shops can wait,” said Grayson, rocking her on his lap and making her whimper.

“Yes,” she agreed, cupping his face in her hands for a long, carnal kiss, “they can.”

…

“Grayson, you are staring at me.”

“Not exactly,” Devil murmured several hours later, as his luxurious carriage glided around a corner and sped toward Mayfair. “I’m imagining you as Queen of the Fairies. Gold and diamond tiara, watered green silk tunic, and some roses. Definitely no chemise or stays.”

“So the three of you have decided on the Midsummer Night ball theme, then?”

“I believe so. Madame Alice will visit to measure you for your costume and show you a range of fabrics, but with that glorious hair, I would humbly beg you to choose a shade of green.”

“Humbly?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

He widened his eyes, innocent as a choirboy. “I am more than willing to get on my knees.”

“Hmmm. Agreeable things do occur when you are there. I’ll consider your request, although I’m not sure about the ‘no stays’ idea. My breasts are too big to run amok.”

Devil sighed in delicious remembrance. “Indeed.”

“Oh good grief. You’re thinking of them running amok, aren’t you?”

“Not at all, my dear. Ledgers. I am definitely thinking about ledgers right now.”

“What you should be thinking of is your own costume,” said Eliza, sitting forward on the leather carriage squab. “If I am to be queen, will you be king?”

“Vice would shoot me on the spot if I attempted to usurp his throne. I’ll wear whatever costume you think best. Although please don’t make me be a bloody tree. Or part of a Stonehenge display. It’s not my fault my genius manifests itself in ways other than waltzing. Or penmanship. Or carrying drinks.”

“Oh, I think you have the odd talent to make up for it. And you really do make ink spots look dashing.”

Devil laughed, his head falling back on the squab in a movement of utter relaxation. It was an odd feeling. His body probably didn’t know which way was up, as he slept and ate and worked and made love to his spouse like a normal person. But this morning had been another significant step forward, when he’d spoken for the first time of his Cambridge days and Charlotte’s parties.

The confession had been easier than expected, and that was entirely because of the way Eliza had coaxed and praised and gently ordered him. But hell, it already felt like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. She hadn’t run or gotten angry or frightened, just led him into several exquisitely powerful climaxes. Again, but far stronger than before, hope rose. Hope that in time he could tell her everything, even his darkest secrets.

When the carriage eventually came to a halt in Cavendish Square, he and Eliza stepped out onto the footpath. It was a beautiful day to be outdoors, clear and warm, as they began to stroll arm in arm through the heart of Mayfair.

Eliza tilted her head back so the sun could reach under her bonnet brim. “This is lovely.”

“Where do you want to go? Do you have shops you prefer? I’m afraid I have no bloody idea when it comes to ladies’ attire.”