The Pearl (The Godwicks #3) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,29
lost in her own pleasure, he let himself have his own, ramming her hard. He didn’t want to hurt her. He just wanted to give it all to her, all of him—every inch, every thrust, every drop of come, all into her grasping little hole.
Regan’s eyes opened as they were still moving together, slowing now, riding the wave of orgasm down, down, all the way down until they were still. Still, and still joined.
She winced as Arthur pulled out of her. “My gown.”
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, pressed it to her vulva to catch his come before it left a stain on her dress. Gently he cleaned his sperm off and out of her and wished the smoking lounge wasn’t so dark. He would have liked to have seen her in better light, open like this, dripping with his semen.
“That’s enough,” she said. “I think we’ve gotten most of it.”
“My father taught me to never leave home without a handkerchief. I have to wonder now,” Arthur said as he wadded up the linen square, “if this is why.”
“From what I’ve heard about your father, yes.”
Arthur half-laughed, half-groaned as he tidied his uniform as best he could. “Please don’t remind me what whores my parents are.”
“Happy whores from what I hear.” Regan stood. She smoothed her gown back into place. “Madly in lust with each other, even now.” She went to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a finger of whisky, neat.
“I walked in on them in the kitchen once,” Arthur said. “Scarred for life.”
“What were they doing?”
“Something less than seventy and more than sixty-eight.”
“Ah. Poor Brat.” She drank her whisky, then poured another. “You really aren’t a typical Godwick, are you?”
“Why do you say that?” he asked as he walked around the lounge, contemplating how many uniform codes he’d just violated. The smoking lounge was every inch the Victorian gentleman’s paradise. Dark wood paneling ornately carved with stags and boars and foxes and other noble beasts old men liked to murder.
“Oh, let’s see. Your parents are rather notorious for being in a lust-filled yet open marriage. Your sister, if the rumors are true—”
“Whatever you’ve heard…it’s probably true.”
“She ran a little escort service of her own while at King’s, didn’t she?” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “We’ve got Lord Malcolm, of course—as notorious as it gets. Even your grandmother was a bit of a lush, wasn’t she? And Charlie’s certainly following in the Godwick footsteps.”
“My grandfather, the fourteenth Earl of Godwick, was notorious for not being notorious,” he said, thinking of his namesake, Lord Arthur. “Dad says he was as stodgy, humorless, and pompous as they come. Until me.”
“You aren’t any of those things. You’re…” She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You’re self-disciplined, strict with yourself. Unusual in someone your age. You’re only twenty-one. Why aren’t you out drinking all night in pubs and going to parties and clubs and all that?”
He turned his back to the bookshelves and leaned against them, arms crossed over his chest. “Because of Charlie.”
She eyed him skeptically.
He continued, “When we were kids, ten and eight…there was a little winding river in the woods behind Wingthorn. I was mature enough, Mum and Dad trusted me to keep an eye on Charlie when we went out adventuring. One day in June, we were by the river and a tree had fallen across the water. Genius me decided to cross the tree trunk to the other side. It was mossy, slick. I fell in. Got my foot trapped under a branch. Nearly drowned.”
“Good God.”
He could still remember the panic, the immediate terror, thrashing in the ice-cold water, choking on it.
“Charlie was only eight,” he said. “Just eight and he didn’t hesitate one second. Went right in the river and worked my foot free. Did I mention he was only eight?”
“You mentioned it.”
“Someone had heard us shouting and came running. When Mum got there, Charlie immediately lied and said he was the one who fell in and I’d saved him. I was too shocked to say anything, so I went along with it. Later that night I asked him why he’d lied. He said he didn’t want me to get into trouble because if I did, Mum and Dad wouldn’t trust me to watch him anymore. He’d rather get into trouble than lose me. Our parents still don’t know the true story. Nobody does but Charlie and me. And now you.”
“And you never did anything foolish or childish again in your life, did you? Until