When Good Earls Go Bad by Megan Frampton

Author:Megan Frampton
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins

A Belle’s Guide to Household Management

When a gentleman tells you he is “your servant,” that does not mean you are allowed to tell him to go mop the floors.

CHAPTER TEN

She didn’t have to wonder anymore just how handsome he was. She knew; he was entirely and thoroughly handsome, from his desire-darkened eyes to his full mouth to his broad chest and then . . . well, she had to admit, even his manly appendage was handsome.

It tasted musky and throbbed in her mouth, and he was alternately moaning and uttering incoherent noises, so she knew he must have been enjoying it. Because she couldn’t see him allowing himself not to speak properly otherwise.

After a few minutes of licking and sucking, she withdrew her mouth but kept her hand on him, drawing her palm up and down the shaft. He was large; to be expected, since he was large everywhere else, too, and he was iron-hard in her hand, but the skin was soft.

She wished she could comment on the discrepancy of soft and hard, but she didn’t think this was the time. For once, it appeared, she knew when to keep silent.

And then she wanted to let him know that she, Annabelle, had actually refrained from saying something on her mind because it wouldn’t be appropriate. At that time, at least. Perhaps later she could tell him of her observations.

She glanced up at him and he was watching her, watching her move her hand with a sensual look on his face, his chest heaving as his breaths broke loud and gasping in the room.

Good. He was coming undone, and that was just how she wanted him.

She spotted the feather duster on the floor and stifled the grin that threatened to appear on her face. She also knew that grinning at such a point might make him question if she was amused by all of this, and she did not want to lessen the hardness in any way.

Still keeping a hand on him, she slid off the bed, then snatched the duster with one hand and returned to what she was doing, barely missing a stroke.

His eyes were wider now. “What are you planning to do?”

Annabelle did allow herself to grin then, and she ran the duster from the top of his chest down to his cock, flicking the feathers as she went.

He moaned and thrashed, but didn’t protest.

“A good housekeeper should always keep everything clean,” she said, in as proper a voice she could manage. Given that she had a Scottish earl’s cock in her hand, it wasn’t very proper at all.

“Of course,” he replied, his own tone amused.

She trailed the duster on his strong, muscular thighs, down his legs, and onto his feet. Goodness, even his feet were handsome! Then she drew it back up, making that same feather-flicking motion as her other hand rhythmically stroked his cock.

He groaned, and she glanced at him. Now his eyes were shut, his head was back, and the muscles of his abdomen were standing out as he flexed.

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