Page 92 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
He tried and failed to keep his features stern. “Quit making me laugh.” He peeled Anne’s shift up over her head, groaning as the beautiful sight of her naked body came into view. “I’m still cross with you for having put yourself in danger.”
She mewled as she began to caress his chest. “You don’t seem cross. If I didn’t know better, I would say you were in an excellent mood.”
“It is constitutionally impossible for a man not to be in an excellent mood after such an explosive orgasm.”
She laughed. “I’ll remember that.”
“I hope you will have many occasions to put this information to good use in the future. But don’t let my supremely well-pleasured grin fool you. I am vexed, extremely vexed. I could have killed that man I was so furious when he grabbed you.”
“Mmmmm,” Anne purred. “I’ve never seen you quite so close to the edge before.”
Michael grinned. “You liked that, didn’t you? Seeing me punch him.”
She squirmed uncomfortably. Or maybe her squirming was because he had turned to caressing her breasts. “Michael!”
He brought his fingers to her nipples, which made her squirm even more. “There is absolutely no point in lying to me, Anne Astley. I can read your face. And even if I couldn’t, it would be fairly obvious from the way you just climbed me like a tree.”
Now she was definitely blushing. “Perhaps,” she allowed. Michael arched an eyebrow. She sighed. “You were just like the gallant knight in a fairy tale defending my honor. I didn’t expect it, but I suppose it was a bit, er, stimulating.”
Michael’s hand drifted lower. “A bit stimulating? You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.” Anne sat up suddenly, pushing him down on the bed, and climbed up to straddle him. “And might I point out that I wasn’t the only one growing excited there in the carriage. Explain that, Michael Cranfield!”
Michael grinned, stroking his hands over her hips. “Oh, I was as randy as a stag in October. Everyone knows men get all charged up by fighting.”
“I didn’t know that,” Anne muttered.
“I don’t suppose it’s the sort of thing your governess would tell you. But it’s true. At least now you know how to get back in my good graces the next time I have to punch someone in the face for you.”
“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”
“Indeed, although what followed was most enjoyable, even if someone was barking orders at me like a fishwife. ‘Right here, Michael. Right now, Michael. Against the wall, Michael.’”
Anne huffed. “I don’t seem to recall you complaining.”
“Not at all. I’ve always liked your commanding side.” He brought his hand to the juncture of Anne’s legs, where he gave an experimental caress. Surely enough, she was warm and wet and ready for him again. “In fact,” he said, lifting her up to position her right over his cock, which had once again risen to the occasion, “why don’t you boss me around some more? Your wish is my command.”
Unsurprisingly, Anne was able to come up with some additional tasks for him. And even less surprisingly, Michael was happy to perform each and every one.
Chapter 34
The following morning, Anne and Michael headed back to the Bow Street Offices. Samuel was due in court, but he’d sent Anne a note confirming he didn’t find anything of interest on Pottery Lane last night.
The good news, Anne mused, was that the condescending clerk, Mr. Hewitt, now saw fit to receive them immediately.
The bad news was that neither the Bow Street Foot Patrol nor Anne’s footmen had discovered anything of value while out canvassing last night.
“And so we see,” Mr. Hewitt said, “that the exercise was a complete waste of time.”
Michael moved into looming range. “I beg your pardon?”
“That is…” Mr. Hewitt stepped back and busied himself straightening his jacket.
Anne stepped up to the counter. “What are your plans to continue the investigation?”
Mr. Hewitt shook his head. “We can make no progress with our investigation while Lord Gladstone remains in hiding.”
“I agree,” Michael said.
