Page 41 of Rogue Lyon

Jules shoved his free hand into his pants and adjusted his erection. It wasn’t the first time recalling that moment with Meredith had made him hard as steel.

And there was no denying the fact that he wanted it again…and more.

Oh, he could go find a brothel. There were plenty in the city, all with women ready to pay attention to a stiff cock for a few shillings. But Jules knew that wouldn’t cut it.

It was Meredith he wanted. The lust in his veins practically screamed for her and her alone.

As an intellectual, literary woman, with fierce wit and layered humor, having Meredith give her body to him was beyond erotic. She wasn’t the sort to lie back and spread her thighs. Oh, no, she was engaged, reactive, and able to make her own decisions. Her ability to see him, really see and understand him, was unique and incredibly sensual. It called to every part of his body and mind in a way no one else ever had.

The sound of splashing filtered toward him and for the first time in his life, he wished he were a bar of soap so he could trail over her body, around her breasts and between her legs.

He chuckled at the ridiculous thought of being a bar of soap and puffed on his pipe. Perhaps later, after they’d eaten, if she let him kiss her again, she’d also let him touch her until she made those sweet, little gasping sounds and arched her back from the bed.

“In the name of…” He tapped out the pipe and set one hand on the wall. His erection was becoming painful. He’d have to do something about it.

After dragging the curtain half-closed, he hid behind it, kerchief in one hand and heat spiking over his scalp.

He dropped the flap of his pants and pulled out his cock. He felt seedy, ridiculous, like a damn whippersnapper, but it couldn’t be helped. If he was to be able to attend dinner with Meredith, this had to be done.

He worked his cock the way he used to as a youth when first discovering his body. With gritted teeth, the arousal in his body grew and the pressure in his balls built.

Meredith was singing now, a gentle lullaby that filtered from the water closet, and it competed with the sound of the pulse in his ears.

His fist moved fast, almost a blur, and he closed his eyes.

Instantly, her face hovered in his mind’s eye. But not her expression as she concentrated on chess strategy, but her wide-eyed countenance as she’d given into womanly release.

“Ah, damn and blast.” He was getting close, thank goodness. He had to be quick.

Within another minute, it was there. Bliss exploded into the kerchief and he locked his knees to stay upright. “Ah… Ah…” He sucked in a breath and eked out every second of pleasure. Sweat popped on his brow and his belly tightened.

“Oh, dear Lord.” He squeezed his eyes closed and reveled in the moment of satisfaction.

But how long would it last? His own hand was all fair and good, but it wasn’t Meredith’s hand. It wasn’t her flesh against his, her breath mixing with his.

One thing was for sure, Jules observed as he tucked himself away and folded up the kerchief ready for washing, not only did Meredith have him behaving like a lust-addled youth, he was also willing to do just about anything to see her smile.

Meredith stepped from the rosewater bath and dried with a soft, white towel. Her body tingled but not just from the warm water, from the release she had just enjoyed.

Being naked just feet from Jules had done strange things to her body and the hot lust in her veins had sent her fingers between her legs. Within minutes of rubbing herself, the way Jules had previously, she was curling her toes and pulsing through an orgasm that had sent water splashing over the side of the tub.

She’d hoped Jules hadn’t heard her, so she’d quickly started singing a little song to ease her embarrassment.

What would he think had he known?

After powdering and drying, she slipped into a chemise and then her yellow gown. Her cheeks were flushed and she added pomade to her lips and kohl to her eyebrows the way Nancy had shown her.

With hair a little damp and brush in hand, she emerged into the bedchamber. It smelled faintly of pipe smoke and one curtain was pulled. Jules was at his trunk pulling out a fresh shirt.

“Ah, you are finished.” He stood and turned, his gaze sliding down her body. “And you look ravishing.”

“‘Ravishing’?” She giggled. “Why, thank you.”

He swallowed and gripped his shirt until she was sure it had creased. “I will not be long.”

She pulled in a deep breath as the water closet door closed and then went to the window. A row of eight pigeons on the roof opposite stared at her and she swirled the fake wedding ring around her finger.

Perhaps, for a few days only, she could pretend it was real. When she had been a child, make-believe had been her favorite pastime. She’d kept that a secret, of course. But fairies, giants, trolls, and little elves who worked hard in the woods creating furniture from twigs had been her friends. Yes, she’d had a great imagination. Convinced herself entirely these tiny creatures were real.