Page 17 of An Earl, His Valet, & Their Wife

“Always. Send them upstairs. Oh, and inform the kitchens that I’ll dine with her ladyship at eight sharp.”

The butler bowed before bustling away to pass on the instructions.

Michael hauled himself upstairs, cursing the fact there wasn’t some sort of pulley system to assist when he needed to tell Gerry immediately about the incident with Nero. Only his soulless cousin would dare raise the shocking specter of a marriage annulment by reason of incompetence, even indirectly.

Eventually, he stumbled into his bedchamber. The familiar scent of herbs and starched linen greeted him, although oddly, Gerry stood in front of the fireplace staring at the flames rather than attending to a task.

“Gerry?” he said, both startled and concerned. “Is something amiss?”

His valet slowly turned, revealing the bulge straining against the confines of his perfectly tailored trousers.

Oh God.

Lust hit Michael with the power of a spring tide, the stark need to sink to his knees and suck that thick cock dry utterly overwhelming. And yet Gerry hadn’t unfastened his trouser fall or issued an order.

Instead, Gerry approached and placed a soft kiss on Michael’s forehead. “Good afternoon, my lord…nae, we are approaching dusk, so good evening. Ye were away a long time.”

Michael swallowed hard, unable to wrench his gaze away from the engorged length that so often owned his mouth and backside. How was he supposed to think or hold a sensible conversation when his valet required pleasuring? “I…uh…yes.”

“Tell me all ye did,” said Gerry, caressing his cheek before walking his fingers down to unbutton Michael’s jacket and waistcoat and removing both garments.

He closed his eyes as Gerry continued to undress him, unwinding his cravat and discarding it before crouching down to tug off his shoes and stockings. “There were…so many wretched documents to sign for the marriage settlements. Then I went to Hatchards to open an account for Katherine. I nearly made it out alive, but blasted Nero accosted me. He and Horatia are most displeased they weren’t invited to the wedding. And that Katherine’s account has no restrictions on it. The scapegrace actually implied my faculties might be impaired—”

Michael almost cursed as a brief knock sounded at the door, but held his tongue as a smiling maid walked in and set a tray of tea and cakes down on his desk, bobbed a curtsy, then departed the room.

“Sounds like sweets are required, my lord,” said Gerry. “Sit by the fire and let me serve ye.”

“What I actually require is your cock in my mouth,” Michael replied boldly. Defiantly.

Gerry went still. “Disobedience, mo chridhe?”

At the soft, even tone, excitement surged through Michael. The only thing better than pleasuring his valet was being punished first.

He quirked an insolent eyebrow. “I am the earl. I’ll do as I please.”

A low, feral growl rumbled in Gerry’s chest. The sound sizzled Michael’s every nerve ending, making his remaining clothing feel far too constricting. He needed to be naked.

Once his linen shirt and trousers were gone and his spectacles rested on the side table, Michael knelt on the large padded leather footstool in front of the fire. But Gerry had a plan; soon Michael’s wrists were secured behind his back with the discarded cravat, his nipples ached from the biting kiss of small silver clamps, and his erect cock bobbed against his abdomen. This. This was what he lived for. To be bound and aroused and entirely at his valet’s mercy.

Very slowly, Gerry unfastened the buttons of his own trouser fall and withdrew his cock. “Is this what ye want, my lord?”

Michael panted. “Let me suck you.”

But Gerry shook his head, lightly sliding his hand up and down the heavy shaft until pearly drops appeared at the fat tip. “I was going tae fuck ye so hard. But I made a discovery today: ye lied about an important matter.”

Michael’s brow furrowed. “No. I always tell you the truth.”

“It was a partial truth, mo chridhe. Aye, her ladyship said having her cunt prepared with oil was lovely. But did she come?”

He froze. Christ. Gerry knew. How did he know?

Had Katherine told him?

Utter dismay turned his throat desert dry. “No,” Michael whispered.

“Beg pardon?”

“No,” he confessed clearly, both ashamed and relieved to unburden himself. “My wife didn’t orgasm. I failed the task you set for me.”