Page 21 of An Earl, His Valet, & Their Wife

Katherine hesitated. Sweet compliment aside, she needed to coax her husband past this anxiety. “Did Mr. Hunter share our conversation with you?”

“Yes. He was cross with me for not making you come. The truth is, I’m not overly experienced with women.”

She blinked in surprise. Countless ladies had made cakes of themselves over the Earl of Whitmore! Unless he’d been too shy to accept? “What would you like to do?”

Michael stared at her, his gaze turning flatteringly hungry. “What you asked for. To touch and kiss your pussy. But I’m afraid I’ll do it wrong. Be clumsy.”

“Perhaps Mr. Hunter could guide you in your efforts,” Katherine blurted. “I know the two of you are close…I…I wouldn’t mind if he was here.”

The words dropped between them like a boulder in a puddle.

What in God’s name had she just said?

What kind of harlot suggested inviting a man’s valet into the marital bedchamber? Michael would send her straight to Bedlam and have the marriage annulled. He would have every right to be hurt or furious.

Katherine gulped and stared at the ground, awaiting a wrathful response. Yet Michael didn’t rant or storm away or banish her. He gently tipped up her chin so she had to meet his gaze.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” said Michael slowly, “but you would accept Gerry seeing you naked? Him helping me make you come?”

God yes.

“If it pleases you,” she replied, her clitoris pulsing. “But the wetter I am, the more easily I’ll take your cock and receive your seed. That is how I’ll conceive an heir. Besides, no one else need know if Mr. Hunter assists. I’m sure he would be discreet.”

Michael nodded, his whole face lighting up. “Katherine, you’re an angel. A thoroughly modern woman. Wait one moment, I’ll fetch him.”

When he darted away, her fists clenched.

LIAR. You want both men touching. Tasting.

Taking.

How could she be so wicked? No book or marital talk could prepare a woman for such forbidden thoughts. And yet moments later, her husband and his valet stood in her bedchamber.

“Mr. Hunter,” she said, clasping her hands lest she touch him.

“Lady Whitmore,” he replied, bowing. “His lordship says ye wish for my assistance in your marital duties, but I’ll hear it directly from your lips. Ye freely consent tae my presence?”

“Yes,” Katherine replied. “I want Michael to be comfortable. Him learning from an experienced and discreet tutor is far better than a book and helps us both. If you are agreeable…”

“Aye,” the valet replied, his gaze glittering in a way that made her breath catch. He looked even hungrier than Michael had earlier.

“V-very well. Shall I…uh…how should we proceed?”

“Into bed, my lady. His lordship will undress ye.”

Perhaps it was Michael’s natural caution, but it seemed to take him forever to remove her clothing. When at last her dressing gown, nightgown, and chemise were draped over a nearby chair, Katherine moved restlessly on the bed, the night air pleasantly cool on her overheated skin. In other circumstances her nudity might have been embarrassing, but both men were gazing at her like she was Venus herself. Like her small breasts and coltish limbs were alluring.

“Hurry,” she pleaded, as her nipples grew tauter, her pussy even damper.

“Nae,” said Mr. Hunter, his smile both sympathetic and uncompromising. “We have all night. Now, my lord. Kiss your wife, and while ye do that, pinch her adorable pink nipples.”

Michael’s kiss was again delicious, making her lips tingle. But his stroking of her breasts was far too tentative, and she arched her back, trying to encourage a firmer touch.

“Harder, my lord,” growled the valet from where he stood beside the bed. “Like a clamp. Ye know how that feels.”

He does?

Yet seconds later Michael had her moaning as he trapped one nipple between two fingers and plucked it. “Yes! Again! Do that and suck the other.”