Page 118 of His Grace, the Duke
“And what did this little endeavor earn you, Tom?” he teased, leaning over them both to kiss Tom’s cheek.
It was Tom’s turn to smile. “Horatio,” he murmured, still resting his face on Rosalie’s chest. “I get to call you Horatio.”
55
Rosalie
The morning afterthe boxing match, Rosalie woke in the most glorious way. It was still early, the house was dark and quiet, and her men were teasing her nipples with their tongues, their naked bodies pressed against her. She squirmed beneath them, looping an arm around each of their necks as she stretched, feeling the wonderful ache between her thighs that told her she was claimed. Loved. Cherished.
Before long, lounging between them wasn’t enough. In a stroke of genius, Burke flipped her around atop him so she could ride his face. Meanwhile, it put her in the perfect position to take his cock with her mouth. It was sure to be her new favorite position.
Never one for being left out, Tom joined her in pleasuring Burke with his mouth. The added gift of getting to tease him with her tongue just made it that much easier to chase her release. Curled as he was with his feet towards Burke’s head, Rosalie and Burke used their hands together to stroke his thick cock.
No one rushed. Tongues worked slowly, and handscherished rather than possessed. The release that built inside her rolled in like a thunderstorm. A feeling of heavy clouds resting deep inside, building in intensity until, with a crack of lightning, the storm broke and she was coming on Burke’s tongue.
Burke groaned, following her with his own release, which she shared with Tom. Desperate to have them both, she flicked Burke’s hand away and sank her mouth down onto Tom, claiming his release too.
“Greedy thing,” Burke teased, his mouth still warm between her quivering thighs.
She hummed her agreement, her lips around Tom’s cock as she drank his release. Sated, she flopped off Burke, wedged between his side and Tom’s legs.
“We should wake up like that every day,” Tom panted.
Rosalie couldn’t agree more. But she couldn’t risk staying abed. She sat up, climbing over Tom’s legs.
“Where are you going?” Burke muttered, his face pressed in the pillow.
“It’s still early,” Tom echoed.
“Not so early that I cannot start my day,” she replied.
“Come back to bed so we can do that again,” said Burke, blindly holding out his hand.
“You both have work to do too,” she chastised. “We still have a wedding to plan for the duke, a wedding to make surenevergets planned for you, sir... and don’t forget we all agreed we need a better plan for saving James from himself.”
Burke dropped his hand. “Give a man a minute to recover from having his cock sucked to oblivion.”
“If you two cannot keep up with me, I shall have to ration you,” she warned, smiling to herself as they both scowled. “Ipropose that, at least for today, we play the opposite game. Tom, you work on getting Burke unengaged, and Burke, you work on getting James... unJames’d.”
“And what will you do?” Tom muttered.
Rosalie sighed, picking up her discarded clothing. “I have to go see a duchess about a tiara.”
***
“OH, Piety, you must choose this one,” Mariah cried. “Look at the sapphires, how they sparkle!”
The other young ladies rushed to Mariah’s side to gaze at the delicate tiara glittering with diamonds that sat clustered around three square-cut sapphires, each as large as a quail’s egg.
Rosalie stood in the corner of the morning room, watching the chaos unfold. It was time for Piety to pick the tiara she would wear for her wedding. The duchess had all the family pieces brought out and displayed. Just before breakfast, Rosalie had helped Mrs. Robbins set each piece in a semicircle around the room.
There were eight in total, each one beautiful in its own way, and three came with a matching set of earrings. Rosalie enjoyed helping Mrs. Robbins get them ready for viewing. The woman was highly knowledgeable about Corbin family affairs, and she told Rosalie stories about the different pieces as they set them up—who commissioned them, who wore them to what event, which paintings in the house feature a past duchess wearing it.
For these tiaras were so much more than jewelry. They were history. The history of this family, this house, the titleand its legacy. The weight of it made plain Rosalie Harrow feel small and insignificant... wholly unworthy.
“I like the one with the teardrop pearls,” said Elizabeth, ghosting her fingers over the matching earrings on the velvet cushion.
But Piety had eyes for only one tiara. It was the largest piece in the collection. A spray of diamonds was arranged in little sunburst patterns, the stones polished to shine like glittering starlight. “This one,” she whispered, eyes hungry.
