Arthur ducked his head and whispered near her shoulder, his warm breath brushing her collarbone, “Sackville is virulently anti-monarchist and anti-nobility. He works with an association that seeks to abolish the monarchy and strip nobles of their inherited lands and estates.”
“That hardly seems fair.” Gen tried to sound convincing on that one.
“He will be particularly amenable to Christopher’s argument that Christopher is a middle-class Englishman, salt of the earth, who deserves the earldom instead of an upper-class, Swiss-educated, Eurotrash twat such as myself.”
“Arthur!”
“Sackville will be more than happy to set precedent.”
“Yeah, okay. That’s bad.”
“Yes, that’s bad. That’s very bad.” Arthur sounded like he was on the verge of sarcasm or despair. Gen couldn’t tell which. “Christopher doesn’t know what he is playing with, here. He doesn’t know how much he could lose.”
“How much he could lose? Do you mean if the judge assigns costs because it’s a frivolous lawsuit?” Except that it sounded like Sackville wouldn’t do that.
“Gen, this lawsuit can’t see court. We should settle. We should settle this in any way possible, no matter how much it costs.”
She ducked her head to talk to him. “We tried. Horace tried settling for up to a third of the estate. Any more than that and, like you said, the estate won’t have enough income to support itself.”
“The estate doesn’t support itself now, and it’s too dangerous to let this go to trial.”
“For the other nobility? For the monarchy?”
“No, not exactly.”
Gen tilted her head to look at him. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Arthur accepted his drink from the bartender. Gen presumed that the clear liquid was vodka and tonic again. He drank, rattled the ice, and sipped some more.
Arthur was delaying a long time.
A long, long time.
Way more than the five-second rule that indicated deception. Was her client preparing to lie to her?
Arthur finally said, “You’re the one who has files and files on this case. How would I know something that you don’t?”
Oh, she could see this one a mile away. “You just answered a question with a question and didn’t really answer, and you took far over five seconds to do it. That’s evasive. You taught me that such an answer is a sign of deception.”
His dark mutter shocked her. “So I did.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“If this goes to trial, no matter who wins, we will all lose.”
“You know something. What is it?”
“I don’t.”
“I call bullshit.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You aren’t telling me something. Tell me, now.”
“Gen, I can’t.”
“I’m your lawyer. Privilege. Unless you’ve committed a crime, you can tell me absolutely anything, and I can’t tell another living soul about it. Now, what is it?”
Arthur shook his head. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
Gen looked around the living room. Hallways led to doorways off the large living room. “Come on.”
“What are you—Gen? Gen, come back here.”
She strode off through the crowd.
“Gen!”
She busted her way through the be-sparkled and be-dazzled gowns and matte black tuxedoes to the back hallway.
Arthur’s fingers plucked at her sleeve near her shoulder, but she kept going, right out of the crowd, through the kitchen, and back to an unlocked door.
The door opened to a bedroom with a big, stupid bed squatting in the center of the room.
Dang it. She had been hoping for a nice, clean bathroom. No matter.
Behind her, she heard, “Gen, where are you—”
Gen was a big girl who’d had a lot of martial arts training the last few years.
As Arthur stepped into the room, she grabbed him by his coat lapels, whirled him around, put his back to the wall, and kicked the door shut. A quick flick locked the knob.
“All right,” she whispered, her arm across his chest and holding him against the wall. “You and Lord Gage were talking about the judge, and then you totally freaked. You were freaked out of your lordly mind before we left your apartment an hour ago, too. Tell me what is up with you.”
“It’s just the court case,” he said, looking at the gauze curtains across the window. “It has caused some stress.”
“Bullshit.” She dropped to her knees in front of him, hoping to shock him. “I don’t buy that for a minute, my lord.”
Arthur lifted one eyebrow, and he smiled.
Gen grabbed his belt and yanked the leather strap through the buckle.
ROSE PETALS
A charge zinged through Arthur’s chest to his groin at the sight of the lovely Genevieve on her knees in front of him.
He’d been planning on seeing this, eventually, but he’d been planning it for a moment when she was vulnerable. In such a case, fucking her mouth would cement his dominance.
Gen pried his waistband button open and unzipped his fly.
Arthur’s dick grew hard, and his balls hung in his shorts.
He could still do the other thing later.
She reached in with her sure fingers and pulled his cock out, letting the massive thing hang in the air between them.
Arthur was aware of what he had. There was no use denying it.
Gen looked up at him, her pretty eyes wide. “Is that thing real?”
His dick bobbed in response.
“Are you serious?” She wrapped her hand around him near the base. Gen is a tall girl, a strapping Amazon of a woman, which attracted and fascinated Arthur no end. After all, dominating a woman is only an accomplishment if it’s a fair fight. Her long fingers wrapped only part of the way around his shaft, and her wide palm didn’t cover the length halfway. Not even close.
Gen said, “Oh, my Lord. I need to rethink some things.”
“I like it when you call me ‘my lord,’” Arthur said, pitching his voice low, commanding. “It is my title. Use that.”
Gen looked away, nervous. “I don’t know whether I can—”
“Open your mouth.”
He stared down at her from his great height and didn’t blink.
Gen blinked. She blinked her long eyelashes over her eyes twice.
Arthur said, “You say, ‘Yes, my lord,’ or you just open your mouth.”
A hint of a smile curved her mouth. “Yes, my lord.”
Lust and power rushed through him. “Oh, I like that a lot. Safewords won’t work here, so you raise both hands and touch your ears if it’s too intense for you. Understand?”
She nodded again.
“Now open your mouth.”
Gen parted her lush lips and opened that pretty little mouth of hers.
Arthur reached around behind her and grabbed a handful of her hair, holding her head steady while he set his cock first on her lips, letting her taste him.
She sucked on the head of his cock, flicking her tongue around it.
It had been months since he’d had release, months, and he had been thinking about Gen that whole time.
He held her by the back of her head and pushed his cock in farther, cramming the head in and popping it free.
Her soft lips and wet little tongue on his hard cock were like fucking rose petals.
And you know how fragile rose petals are.
He pushed harder, angling his dick with his other hand, shoving it in and backing off so she could breathe before he shoved her head down on him again. Arthur didn’t cram it all the way in. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he knew how to hold back.
Her hands rested on her knees, braced for balance. She didn’t raise them to touch her ears, so he got rougher.
Using her hair clenched in his fist, he crammed his cock down her throat and pumped, fucking her mouth hard. Her lipstick
smeared on his cock, bronze-red stripes that looked like a tattered banner on his darkening skin.
Oh, Lord. Her hot mouth was tight on him, and her tongue curled around his cock.
He wanted to fuck every part of this woman, to mark her with his mouth and his teeth and his hands and his come.
Greed for her skin and her body overtook him.
Her lips plumped around his cock, swollen.
He thrust harder into her.
Her hands stayed on her thighs.
So he kept going.
Going harder and stronger, shoving himself into her mouth and her throat.
His balls tightened, and the string of firecracker pops shot up his spine.
His mind shattered, and he floated in blankness and light.
He held her tightly over him, pumping his come into her wet mouth and down her throat.
Oh, Lord.
HONEYPOT
Gen sat back on her heels as Arthur slid down the wall, his knees collapsing. He was staring at the ceiling, stunned.
Damn straight, he was stunned.
He may have thought that he was fucking her face, but Gen knew that her oral skills were pretty good. It wasn’t difficult, really, just an attention to detail and a nimble tongue. And pretty good control of her gag reflex. And strong throat muscles that could apply some pretty impressive suction.
Arthur still couldn’t talk. He swallowed a few times, licking his lips and staring at the ceiling.
A terrible thought arose, that she might have sucked him into an aneurysm. “You okay?”
He cleared his throat and blinked. Intelligence returned to his blue-gray eyes, gradually. He whispered, his voice hoarse, “That was spectacular.”
“Yes, I know.” Gen put her fiendish plan into motion. “Now, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”
Arthur chuckled, still staring at the light fixture in the ceiling, and then laughed. He was still panting. “Oh, a honeypot. Smashing.”
“What’s a honeypot?”
He laid his head back against the wall. “It’s when spies use a beautiful woman as bait to either lure a person to a place where they can be kidnapped, or to elicit information, or influence him. Sort of like what you and Oct were doing with the Myla underwear and Louboutin shoes with Judge Letcher.”
“Roberts,” Gen corrected. “Judge Roberts.”
“Whatever.”
“And it’s not a honeypot.”
“You tried to use sexual favors to get information,” Arthur said.
“Well, yes. But I need to know.”
“That’s a honeypot.” He staggered to his feet, buttoning his fly and reaching for his flapping belt. “You are a honeypot, pet, and I am thoroughly trapped.”
“Then tell me what’s going on!”
He laughed, even though his laugh was a little ragged. “Oh, Lord. I needed a good laugh, too.” He held his hand out for her. “Come, pet. We need to get back to the party.”
Gen pushed herself back up to her feet. “Well, that was a wasted effort.”
“But a fantastic one. Truly, a fantastic effort,” he assured her.
“‘Kay.” Gen was less than thrilled with the outcome.
Arthur said, “I need to speak to Raleigh a bit more—”
Gen recited, “Lord Raleigh Gage, Baron Sandys, of Ombersley in the County of Worcester. That’s a mighty mouthful.”
“And you remembered it all. Yes, I need to speak to Lord Gage.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Gen followed Arthur back to the party.
As soon as they opened the bedroom door, the chattering conversation whirled around them, getting louder as he led her into the main room.
Arthur looked over the crowd.
That was easy for Arthur because he was so tall, and Gen was right there with him in her high heels. They both stuck up like wildebeests looking over the tall grass of the savannah.
Arthur pointed over at a corner and waved. “Lord Gage, may I have a word—”
“Lord this, Lord that,” Gen muttered, just so Arthur could hear her. “Lords everywhere at these things. These parties are pretty much the House of Lords.”
He dropped his arm and stared. “The House of Lords.”
Gen craned her neck to see him. Had that post-blow-job aneurysm finally exploded? “You okay?”
“The House of Lords!” He grabbed her shoulders. “Gen, you’re brilliant!”
“Well, of course, I am. International Baccalaureate high school diploma, gained a first at Oxford, and head of my class at the bar course, you know. Plus even being offered a pupillage. But what exactly are we talking about here?”
“The House of Lords! We’ll pull my case out of the courts and throw it to the House of Lords!”
He hugged Gen in public and everything.
Then he wrapped his arms around her whole body and picked her up to spin her around.
“Arthur! Put me down!” He was not acting very British. Her long legs flew out and she nearly back-roundhoused an elderly lady. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she called to the woman as Arthur flung her around.
“That’s it!” Arthur set her on her feet, tugged his cell phone out of his jacket breast pocket, and tapped the screen.
“You can’t throw it to the House of Lords! It’s not done. It hasn’t been done for decades! For almost a century!”
He waggled his phone at her. “Just need to know who to call.”
“No one can do that.”
“One person can.”
“Well, the House of Lords won’t take it. And the court will insist that they have jurisdiction or something.”
He grinned while looking at his phone. “I don’t think they’ll have the authority to argue.”
“They will. The courts always have jurisdiction.”
“Not always.” His grin turned manic.
“The only person in the entire United Kingdom who could throw it to the House of Lords is—”
Arthur turned his insane grin toward her, and his silvery eyes were jumping with devilish sparks.
Comprehension dawned on Gen. “No way. Even if you could get it rerouted, Octavia will dump your butt, and I’m not experienced enough to argue anything before the House of Lords!” she whisper-shrieked.
“It’s our only chance,” he told her, holding his phone to his ear. “And they’ll be able to settle the matter within weeks, probably before summer, before Christopher has a chance to publicize those pictures in October.” He reared back. “Hello! Harry! Yes, it’s Arthur. Yes, I’m sober.”
Arthur trotted away from the party, holding his hand over his other ear and talking on his phone.
Gen was pulling on his elbow, saying, “Arthur, you can’t do this. It’s not going to work.”
Arthur spoke into the phone. “Say, I’ve got a favor to ask of you and your grandmother. It’s really important. Yes, I know what time it is. Sorry about waking the heir to the realm. And his heir, too. Especially sorry about that.”
He swiveled the phone away from his mouth to tell Gen, “Babysitting.”
And back to the phone call. Arthur said, “But seriously, there’s something that I need, old cousin, and I need it right now.”
Gen stood next to him, staring, until she realized that other people were watching him out of the corners of their eyes and eavesdropping.
She hissed to him, “The middle of a party is no place for such a phone call,” and led him to the kitchen, where waitstaff were loading up their gleaming trays with glasses of champagne and little bowls of iced shrimp.
The waitstaff were watching Arthur, too.
Dagnabbit.
Arthur was talking fast. “The monarch has the authority to throw it to the House of Lords. It’s the only way. Yes, under the old rules. They didn’t change the rules on peer privilege because everyone assumed that it would just be for ethics censorship, not for anything of importance. However, we can utilize this oversight.”
Gen tugged his arm, and he stumbled
after her, back to the bedroom where she had blown him.
Arthur looked around, grinned, and said into the phone, “Now, Harry, we Finch-Hattens placed your ancestors on that pretty throne of yours, and we can throw you off any damned time we choose.” He was laughing. “I don’t know who would want the damned thing, but we could.”
Arthur dipped one devilish eyebrow at Gen.
She was just totally aghast. “I can’t believe—”
He asked the person on the phone, “Will you be at Pierre Grimaldi’s wedding next weekend? We could go carousing for old times’ sake. No? Just Wills and Kate, then. Well, I’m sure they’ll be up to something eminently boring. I’ll have to look elsewhere for a bit of fun.”
Arthur listened for a moment.
Gen leaned her butt against the wall, staring at him.
“So you’ll talk to her? Tomorrow? Tomorrow morning?” He winked at Gen. “Smashing. Thanks, Harry. We’ll keep your family on the throne for another generation or so. Give my love to Kate. No, just Kate.”
Gen snapped her jaw shut. The only person in the United Kingdom who could change the venue of Arthur’s trial from the courts to the House of Lords was the monarch, the Queen herself.
But the Queen could do it.
Arthur tapped his phone and hung up. “It should be done by noon. Call Octavia and warn her. I must speak to Lord Gage over there about the House of Lords Committee for Privileges and Conduct.”
“I can’t believe you did that!” Gen exclaimed, flapping her hands. “I can’t believe that you called Prince Harry to have the Queen throw it to the House of Lords and settled it all in two minutes flat!”
Arthur shrugged. “I guess I do have a bit of Great-Grandmother Duchess Margaret in me after all, at least when it comes to saving my own degenerate hide.”
A MOST EXCELLENT PROPOSITION
Gen made sure they escaped the party as early as was feasible, which meant the wee hours of the morning. They staggered in the door to Arthur’s apartment with Gen setting her phone for an early wake-up call.
Upon receiving Gen’s frantic text that Arthur’s case was going to the House of Lords instead of court and would be heard soon, Octavia Hawkes had predictably and immediately scheduled a seven-thirty meeting for the next morning.
Stiff Drink: Runaway Billionaires: Arthur Duet #1 Page 36