“With pleasure.” He withdrew almost completely from her and then slid inside once more, his rhythm painstakingly slow.
The leisurely pace had her on edge as he glided in and out. When he reached between them to stroke her, she lost control. Another wave of relief swept over her. She arched her back and cried out, clenching on him.
Jasper moved faster, his big body pinning hers to the bed. Finally, on a groan of his own, he lost control, pouring himself into her. She held him tightly as he slumped against her, his cock still pulsing inside her.
“I’ll crush you,” he said, raising himself on one elbow.
“No.” She kissed his brow, his nose, the slashing blade of his cheekbone. “Stay where you are. I like feeling you this way.”
“I like it too, minx.”
He took her lips in a languorous kiss, and her heart had never been fuller.
Jasper had a problem.
Several problems, in fact.
The first was sitting opposite him at the moment. And Tim Bradley was not the sort of problem one wanted to be confronted with, on account of his distinctive smell.
“Next time you pay a call to The Sinner’s Palace, take a goddamn bath, will you?” he growled at the older man.
The scent of sweat, hair grease, and unwashed body was enough to make even the most stalwart of men gag. Hugh had discreetly coughed while checking the man for weapons.
Bradley grinned, showing a mouth full of missing and rotten teeth. “Careful with your insults, Sutton. I’ll knock you on the idea pot next time.”
Jasper drummed his fingers on his desk. “Why are you intruding on my day?”
Whilst his day had begun in excellent fashion—making love to his wife twice before breakfast—it had quickly descended to a day from hell. And that reminded him of his other problems. He needed to find a home for his wife and daughters, and he needed to find a tutor for Anne and Elizabeth. It was deuced unfair of him to expect Octavia to bear the burden for their education. While she excelled at teaching them, he would not have her playing nursemaid.
“You and your brothers ‘ave been telling anyone with ears that I set fire to your building,” Bradley said. “It ain’t true.”
This, Jasper did not believe.
“Witnesses saw Bradleys there before the fire,” he said calmly.
“Witnesses is trying to cause trouble,” Bradley countered. “And they bloody well ‘ave. Can’t get any belch or bingo.”
Jasper remained unperturbed, other than the putrid scent of Tim Bradley filling his office. “If you can’t procure ale or spirits, it is hardly my problem.”
“Your brothers paid the merchants not to sell to me,” Bradley bit out. “That is my damned problem.”
It was possible Rafe or Hart had taken action without Jasper’s knowledge. Squeezing off the liquor supply to the scurrilous Bradleys was one way to retaliate that was sure to have lasting consequences. As a rule, men did not prefer to gamble dry.
He shrugged. “You started the war, Bradley. Consider yourself fortunate a few bumps and bruises and a lack of ale is all you’ve suffered. I could’ve seen you tossed into the river.”
“Same could ‘appen to your lady wife,” Bradley said with a sneer.
The rage was instant and boiling. He slammed his fists on his desk and rose, towering over Bradley. “Did you dare to threaten my wife?”
“No need to threaten.” Bradley’s lip curled as he rose to his feet as well. “Just statin’ truth is all. You ain’t the king of the East End.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Bradley,” he snarled. “I am the king of the East End. And if you go after my wife, I’ll kill you myself.”
He meant those words.
The very notion of anyone doing harm to Octavia…
Never. She was his family. His. And he…he loved her.