Ethan: Lord of Scandals

“I want you in my mouth.”

“I beg your pardon?” She was already shifting up and across him, intent on her goal. She curled up at his side, her cheek resting low on his belly.

“No sass from you, Ethan Grey. We have talked about this, and I have kissed you here.” She took his erect cock in her hand. “Fair is fair. There’s such a lot of room in this bed, too, we shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

Ethan didn’t even have time to be thankful he’d bathed earlier, before Alice’s lips were closing over him.

His hand tangled in her hair. “You don’t have to do this. It isn’t a ledger account, to keep balance or score.”

“Hush,” she admonished, gently cupping his testicles.

They had discussed this on one of Alice’s scholarly tours of his body; they’d discussed it as something beyond naughty, and moved on to less fraught topics.

“Naughty” and “don’t stop” collided again in Ethan’s mind as Alice gained confidence in her welcome. She explored him carefully and thoroughly, and tried different touches and approaches, until she found the combination that had Ethan’s hips slowly undulating.

“Sweetheart”—Ethan’s voice was urgent—“I’m close… Too close.”

She sealed her mouth around him and sent him past too close to that realm where reason and restraint were dim memories. His body bowed up, and she plied him with ruthless devotion until he was panting and spent, his only movement the caress of his hand in her hair.

“Everlasting… powers.” Ethan wanted to gather her up, to tug her back over him, like a blanket, like a comforting lemony blessing, but he was simply incapable. Alice remained where she was, nuzzling his parts as she cradled him in her hand.

“Easy,” Ethan cautioned. “I’m… sensitive. No sudden moves, please.”

Alice shifted, sitting up and reaching for the glass of water on the night table. “I was sensitive too. I wanted to cry.”

He smiled at her admission, misdirected though it was. She offered him the glass when she’d had her fill, and he took it, pleased at the small sharing. When she set the glass aside, she tucked herself against him without him having to ask, and his gratitude for that assumption—that they would want to hold each other—nearly did make him cry.

“So this was my warning shot?” Alice asked, her hand once again finding his flaccid penis. She held him gently, though not in a casual way either.

“In what sense?” Ethan liked that she touched him this way, loved it, in fact. There was reassurance in the gesture of insecurities he hadn’t known he still had.

“Tomorrow night, you’ll come to me again, and it will happen all over, but we’ll be… joined.”

“I pray to God that’s so. Having second thoughts?”

Alice gave his cock an admonitory little tug. “Hush with that question, or I’ll make you stand in the corner.”

“But you’ll spank me first, won’t you? I’ve been very naughty.”

“You are the furthest thing from naughty, but I think you’d like this spanking, wouldn’t you?”

“Any touch from you would be to my liking.”

She climbed over him, and while he missed the feel of her fingers around his cock, Ethan enjoyed the press of her breasts against his chest.

“Don’t be shy.” He caressed her bottom, shaped the smooth, warm female wonder of her. “Cuddle up.”

“I’m not…” Alice frowned against his chest. “I’m untidy.”

“You want a handkerchief? Or would you instead let me feel this luscious untidiness that follows when a woman is well pleased in bed?” He patted her bottom again, a more businesslike affection that urged her down against him.

“Naughty, naughty, naughty.” Alice sighed, easing her hips down. Ethan bumped up, letting her feel the softening mass of his penis against her damp sex. A body kiss, a cozy, intimate kiss of parts that made Ethan ridiculously happy.

“With you, I’m the friendly sort,” he said, sweeping her braid down her back. “And I like to feel you near me.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Alice said, stifling a yawn. “I don’t mean to be rude, but my eyes are heavy.”

“Go to sleep, love.” Ethan kissed her temple. “I’ll be gone by morning, but back tomorrow night.”

“I shouldn’t,” Alice protested as Ethan felt her lashes sweep a butterfly kiss to his chest.

“You should. Sleep in my arms, Alexandra, and dream of me, for I will certainly dream of you.”

While she drifted into the arms of Morpheus, he was a long time holding her and considering what it meant to love a woman for the first time in more than thirty years on earth. He’d wanted to love his wife, tried to talk himself into believing lust and initial infatuation could mature to something more. He’d wanted to fall in love, to find someone to whom he could entrust his heart, his future, his children.

Well, he had the children, and now he had a woman to treasure and cherish and intimately appreciate. It was enough; it was more than he’d hoped to have when he’d consigned himself to marrying Barbara—so much more— and it was enough.

* * *

Alice awoke the next morning to see her curtains whipping in a damp breeze. The overcast that had rolled in during the night had let her sleep later than usual, so she hurried through her morning toilette, until a slight sensitivity in her private parts had her blushing and recalling the events of the previous evening.

Ye gods, ye gods… so that was sexual pleasure? That was the great prize given to the married and the naughty unmarried?

She couldn’t imagine sharing so intimately with any other man, and with that insight, she gained some understanding of Ethan’s claim that he could not make love with her unless desire was mutual. She did not want just the glorious sensations, she wanted Ethan. She wanted his arms around her, his voice in her ear, his scent on her skin, his hands stroking her flesh.

She wanted his confidences, his dreams, his hopes, and his rare playful gambits. She wanted his headaches, his extended family in Kent, and his stubborn determination to get her back up on a horse. She wanted not just his lovely body, but his entire heart.

Oh, dear.

Alice collapsed onto the bed and considered what it meant, when she longed for a man to trust her with his heart. This could not be a good thing, not when the man was a confirmed widower who’d endured one miserable marriage for the sake of his children. Not when he was so wealthy the Regent turned to him for financial advice.

Not when he’d been so carefully honest with her, assuring her he was beyond ever remarrying.

Oh, dear. Oh, God. She’d fallen in love with Ethan Grey, and where did that leave her—besides looking forward to the coming night?

Alice had always thought love could only come to her slowly, a gradual shift in emotions from respect to affection to the kind of abiding regard her parents had had. She had never expected this tumult, this drama of the emotions, would befall her.

There was no fighting it. Her feelings were subject to neither reason nor logic, and all she could hope for was to keep her sentiments behind her teeth, where she would not embarrass Ethan with them.

Or herself.

So they would make love tonight, and in the privacy of her heart, Alice would love Ethan too. When he tired of her, her heart would break, but she’d be prepared for that. Her idea of heartbreak had shifted, though.

Heartbreak was no longer a vague, bothersome sense that she’d be unhappy for a while. Heartbreak was worse and better, she decided as she pinned up her hair. When Ethan set her aside, she’d be devastated at the loss of him, but she’d also be richer for having shared with him what lovers shared, even temporarily. It would be enough. It was more than she’d thought life would offer her, and it would be enough.

Sixteen