Page 18 of An Earl, His Valet, & Their Wife

“Then you’ll watch,” said Gerry as he fisted his cock, squeezing and smearing droplets of seed along the satin-smooth length.

Michael stared avidly, miserably, as Gerry pleasured himself. His mouth watered to taste that seed, his jaw ached for the familiar stretch of swollen shaft, but in retribution for his foolishness he was being denied. And with his hands tightly bound as he knelt on the footstool, he couldn’t even bring himself off.

A truly diabolical punishment. Far worse than the harshest spanking.

His master ambled closer, so close that Michael could inhale the hot, primal scent of sweat and seed. Yet he couldn’t touch. Couldn’t suck. Couldn’t brace himself on a bed or against a wall while his backside was plundered.

“Gerry,” said Michael helplessly, near-swaying with need on his footstool.

“Mo cridhe,” said Gerry, his smile cruel in its gentleness as he roughly handled his own cock, grunting as more seed trickled between his fingers.

“No. Please. Please. I’ll do anything…”

“Anything, my lord?”

“Anything,” Michael repeated fervently.

Gerry reached out, closing one strong hand around the back of Michael’s neck. His fingers threaded through Michael’s hair to rub his lower scalp, the firm massage both relaxing and intensely arousing.

“Then listen carefully, my lord. After supper this night, you’ll go tae the countess’s chamber. Remove her nightgown and chemise. Kiss her neck. Pinch and suck her nipples until she cannae bear it. And when she’s writhing on the sheets, her thighs spread wide…”

“I take her?” asked Michael unsteadily. Christ, the picture that Gerry was painting, the rough massage, the heady scents around him…could a man come from that alone? Perhaps he was about to make a new discovery.

“Nae. You’ll use that agile tongue on her clitoris. Circle it. Lap it. While ye do that, push two fingers deep in her cunt. In and out like a cock. Until she comes so loudly the whole damned city hears her. Then you’ll do it again,” said Gerry, now holding his cock less than an inch from Michael’s mouth.

Michael moaned, his head thrashing a little as he tried to close his lips around the seed-slick head. “I swear. Please. Please.”

At last his valet took pity on him, thrusting his cock deep into Michael’s mouth, transporting him to that glorious world where nothing mattered but pleasure. His eyes watered and he could scarcely breathe as his throat was ruthlessly used, but he hollowed his cheeks to suck harder, to take more, to earn the reward of his master’s seed.

“Fuck,” Gerry snarled. “I’m going tae come. Drink.”

Joy rushed through Michael as seed spurted into his mouth and he swallowed greedily and gratefully. Then, after Gerry gently withdrew, he delicately licked his valet’s spent cock to ensure he hadn’t missed a drop.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Gerry leaned down and brushed a kiss against his forehead, each cheek, then his lips. “Aye. Forever and always.”

* * *

No one looking at the Earl of Whitmore right now would know he’d recently been bound, clamped, and face-fucked by his valet.

Gerard smiled to himself as he followed Michael and Katherine downstairs to the dining room for supper. His earl looked immaculate in a dark blue jacket with brass buttons, gold waistcoat, elaborate cravat, formal gray breeches, and gold buckled shoes. Fortunately, the jacket—and his linen supper napkin—would disguise the fact that he’d not been permitted to come. Michael had asked, no, begged for release, as he’d rested his head against Gerard’s chest and rubbed his cheek against the soft linen of his valet’s shirt. But Gerard had merely stroked his hair as he gently refused. That precious seed was for Katherine. After she’d had her clothing torn away and been so thoroughly pleasured that she eagerly spread her thighs for her husband’s cock.

Definitely tear the clothing.

Gerard’s gaze narrowed and he grimaced as he studied the countess’s supper gown of girlish pale pink satin with a white sash. The too-modest neckline and capped sleeves completely disguised Katherine’s graceful shoulders, and the fabric was not at all cut to flatter smaller breasts. As for that revolting color…it leeched the pearly glow of her skin and left her looking positively wan. All in all, an abomination. Madame Odette’s creations could not arrive fast enough, but that was a matter to ponder later. He had duties to perform.

In the spacious dining room, he pulled out a chair for Katherine, then seated his earl at the head of the table and smoothed a napkin over his lap. Michael shuddered, his hips lifting ever so slightly at the subtle caresses of his clamp-sensitive nipples and unsated cock.

“Wine or brandy, my lord?” asked Gerard, walking over to a rectangular silver tray resting near the sideboard.

Michael cleared his throat. “Wine, please. What will you have, Katherine? We have quite a selection. My mother enjoys a ratafia, my stepfather a full-blooded port. Gerry drinks his water of life—whisky to us Sassenachs. But I can order whatever you prefer. Champagne, punch, lemonade…”

“You’re a very generous employer, keeping your valet’s favorite on hand,” said Katherine slowly, her brow furrowing.

Damn it. She was right—households didn’t normally keep a supply of a valet’s beverage of choice. And he could tell, from Michael’s panicked glance, that the earl knew he’d said far too much. “What Lord Whitmore meant, my lady, is that a great many visitors enjoy a wee dram. As a Scot with a taste for fine whisky, I can advise on it.”

“Mr. Hunter is the best gentleman’s gentleman in London,” added Michael quickly. “You may know that other aristocrats are forever attempting to steal him from me, and his exemplary guidance in a range of matters is only one of the reasons. His taste in fashion is something I greatly benefit from…I understand he assisted you today when Madame Odette stopped by?”