Page 47 of The Heart of an Earl

She nodded.

“You don’t know yourself, Jules.”

She bristled. “I know myself.”

“Do you?” The towel draped over his arm, he grabbed her shoulders, turning her body to the side. “Sit.”

The command said so simply, but with such force, her knees buckled and she sat on the wingback chair behind her. Her naked backside sank into the cushions.

Des dropped to his knees in front of her. “And you need to find yourself again. Admit what you are.”

She stiffened. “I have nothing to admit.”

His right eyebrow lifted at her for a long, silent moment and then he grabbed her right calf, lifting it, dragging the towel achingly slow across her wet skin. The towel moved up her leg. Higher, dipping into her inner thigh.

His mouth followed suit, kissing her damp skin, trailing upward. Her calf. Her knee. Her inner thigh. The heat of his mouth setting her cold skin to fire, inch after inch.

He draped her right leg over his shoulder and his mouth sank inward, parting her folds. She sank backward at the touch, grabbing the arms of the chair, searching for support. Searching for anything to help her not collapse.

His tongue flickered over her nubbin, forcing her to draw an intake of breath her lungs couldn’t hold. A gasp, and his tongue dipped, sliding into her core.

Blast—he was the devil in an inferno. His tongue moved back up, plying her nubbin, sending agony through her core. Her hips started to writhe and he rode the movement, meeting every thrust of her hips with the wicked punishment of his mouth.

Lash after lash of his tongue and she came unhinged, black spots in her vision, the scream in her throat tearing free as her body exploded under his ministrations.

Her body twisted unnaturally under him, and he lapped at her core, waiting for her to come back to earth, to no longer exist in the black of the stars above.

And then suddenly he was gone.

Her eyes cracked open. Des stood in front of her, stripping off his trousers and boots. Naked, just the same as her.

His stare sliced deep into her, like he wanted to both devour her and deliver her. From what, she wasn’t sure.

He stepped forward, his stare not wavering, and he leaned over her. “Now admit to me you’re terrified everyone will see you like that.”

“Like what?” The halting words slipped out between staggered breaths as her core still clenched, fighting through wave after wave of her orgasm.

“A degenerate pirate.” He grabbed her arms and pulled her to stand straight, tugging her to move to the side of the chair. “Part of a pirate crew. You’re afraid that everyone will know that you became like them. Rotten to the bone. Ruined beyond repair. Never to be trusted.”

Her lips flew inward, her teeth clamping down on the skin. Damn him. Far too close to the truth. And in a moment she couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t lie to herself.

She nodded.

He spun her around, his hand on the dip of skin just inside her right hip bone. His cock jutted onto her lower back, hard and insistent as his cheek brushed down along her wet hair, his mouth stopping by her ear.

“You aren’t the innocent girl you once were, Jules. I’ll not try and convince you of that lie. But you are a woman that has gone through hell and survived. Strong and beautiful and kind and wicked canny. You’re too smart to not know how I see you.”

His hand at her waist moved inward, his fingers slipping into her raw folds. Heaven help her, her body hadn’t had enough, her core already straining for more from him.

His words went harsh next to her ear. “You’re not a pirate. Not a wretch. You’re a woman that needs honesty and trust and fire in the man touching her—needs me touching her. No one else—for you could have moved onto anyone else on that ship.”

Her head rolled back onto his chest, her arm lifting high, her fingers wrapping around the back of his neck. “I didn’t want anyone else, Des.”

“I know.”

He lifted her up and set her knees on the cushioned side arm of the chair. His body not leaving her, the heat of him blanketed her back as he set the tip of his cock at her entrance.

“The fearless spirit that made you drop on top of me on theRed Dragonis the same spirit that made you mine. That made you a survivor. No matter how bruised and battered your soul is from the past—those bruises are mine now. Those scars are mine. The good—the deep, unfaltering good in your soul—shines beyond any of the horror you had to endure during the past six years. I see that. I know that.”

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