She followed his gaze and glimpsed a four post bed dressed in samite with a tassled canopy. The bed invited with its luxury and sumptuous drapery. At first, she had thought the bed part of the art collection.
Alastair looked at her from head to feet. Having dried, her gown no longer clung to her curves as intimately.
“It was quite wanton of you to have dampened your gown,” Alastair said, “but the effect will be much more promising if you did away with the garment.”
“Here? Now?” she quizzed.
“Here,” he answered nonchalantly. “And now.”
“But…” Nerves came upon her as she anticipated what was to happen, that her desires were to come to fruition. “I shall lock the doors.”
He stopped her. “There is no need.”
“No need? But what if someone were to enter?”
“That concerns me not.”
Her eyes widened.
“This is the Chateau Debauchery,” he explained. “Were you not clear that all forms of debauchery occur here?”
“Yes, but…this is my first visit.”
“You agreed to do as I bid. If you prefer to do otherwise, we may call an end to the evening. Is that what you wish?”
“No,” she replied resolutely but still hesitated. Was she truly to undress before her cousin? Did he expect to call a dressing maid?
As if in answer to her question, he said, “Turn around. I shall unpin you.”
Letting out a tense breath, she turned her back to him. “What—what if someone were to enter?”
He removed the first pin. “Then they may watch.”
She whipped around. “Watch?”
He turned her back around. “You invited others to ogle you when you dampened your gown.”
She regretted having done so. She glanced at the doors.
“Many find the witness of others titillating.”
His voice had lowered, its allure beckoning the warmth in her to grow.
“I find it disconcerting,” she voiced.
The bodice of her gown relaxed about her when he had removed the final pin. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers grazed her shoulders and he slid the sleeves off her. She closed her eyes, half wondering if she were in a dream. She would have bet a thousand pounds that such a thing—being undressed by Alastair—could come to pass.
The dress pooled at her feet. She gulped. Perhaps she ought not proceed. She was no beauty and far below the standards the marquess was undoubtedly accustomed to. He was granting a favor, his reluctance obvious. But if he had not interfered and left her to her own devices, it would be Lord Devon removing her gown. Perhaps. Perhaps she should be grateful that she was not alone. Perhaps she should take full advantage of the moment.
“Oh!” she gasped when she realized he had untied her lone petticoat.
“Do you wish to reconsider?” he asked.
“I had not thought you intended…”
“I intend you should be undressed, your body bared to me.”
Once more her breath caught. Her courage faltered. Perhaps she ought not. Perhaps it were safer, wiser to call an end to the evening.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE COULD HAVE PAVED the path for her with soft kisses, rousing her desire so that she should wish to shed her garments. As she might yet reconsider, he would not go easily upon her. Her unease was palpable.
But the act of undressing a woman had an effect Alastair could not be impervious to. Her body was not unlike the full and supple nudes in the I Modi. The tightening at his crotch grew as he observed the swell of her rump through her shift and petticoat. There was, too, her boldness. It both vexed and impressed him. As he was not one who favored coquetry, he appreciated her directness. Her curiosity amused him. What manner of experience could he provide her? His arrogance made him doubt the stableboy could have been greatly inspiring.
Damnation.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
She turned to face him, crossed her arms as if her limbs could replace her lost clothing, and pleaded once more, “Will you not consider locking the doors, my lord?”
“Ask again, and I shall open the doors.”
She pursed her lips in dissatisfaction. “Are you to undress as well?”
“At present, no.”
As if deciding to cover her lower body, she dropped her arms but knew not how to place her hands. She bent one arm and gripped the other. Not satisfied, she crossed her arms once more over her bosom and held herself near the shoulders. Her nervous movements unsettled him.
“Come.”
He took her wrist and drew her to the bed. After having her stand before one of the bedposts, he untied his cravat, which he used to bind her wrists above her head to the bedpost behind her.
She tried to struggle from him. “Wait! What do you do?”
But his strength easily overcame her resistance. He secured the linen above her.
“This is most…uncommon,” she remarked with some alarm.
He smirked. “Not at the Chateau Debauchery.”
She flushed. “For what purpose do you tie me here? What if someone should enter and find me like this?”
He contemplated leaving her tied to the bedpost for an hour or so. It would serve the little ingrate right.
“Alastair! This is mortifying!” she continued, yanking against her restraints, but his cravat held strong. “If someone should come upon me like this—”
“They could have their way with you,” he could not resist.
Her mouth dropped open. “I wish you had let me alone with Lord Devon! Surely I would have been better off in his hands.”
The name disconcerted him, and Alastair closed the distance between them. “You would trust Devon over me?”
“I know for certain what you are like. Do you fault me for putting the odds in his favor?”
He considered the sense in what she said. Indeed, knowing little of Devon and knowing too much of him, she had made a reasonable deduction.
“Your hands were a distraction,” he explained. “By removing them from your concern, you are better able to mind the pleasure.”
Her breath stalled as she accepted his reasoning. Her expression softened, and once more he found he was not impervious to her. He took a step back lest his lust took the reigns.
“Do you speak truthfully?” she inquired. “This is no trickery?”
“You are not the first to be bound to a bed,” he replied, “and they have all enjoyed being restrained.”
She ceased pulling against the linen but asked, “But how are we to attempt—?”
He could not resist brushing back a curl of hair that had fallen before her face. She looked quite delicious tied to the bedpost. “Call upon your imagination, my dear.”
She stared up at him in almost childlike wonder. The brightness of her eyes called to him and he found his resolve to make her reconsider her desires wane.
“I am ready for what you would do,” she said quietly.
The huskiness of her voice made the heat flare in his veins. Perhaps it was knowing that his own satisfaction, that which he had eagerly anticipated for a sennight, was to be denied. Perhaps he was simply easily titillated, and it did not matter that the woman tied to the bedpost was Millie. Bereft of other company, perhaps any woman would have caused his desire to swell.
Her stays laced conveniently in the front. Above them, her breasts swelled enticingly. He ran his knuckles along the top of one mound and heard her breath catch. Lightly, he slid his fingers to the cleavage and then down to the ribbon. After loosening the laces, he pried the stays apart enough for the breasts to spill forward. He cupped an orb. She inhaled sharply.
It was a delicious sound, a delicious moment, knowing that such a simple touch could elicit such a reaction. He groped the supple flesh. Her lashes fluttered.
It was wrong. Wrong to manhandle his cousin in this manner, to strip her and fondle her. However, the impropriety of it was beginning to have a titi
llating effect. He never would've allowed himself to go this far if she had not acquiesced—even prompted him into action.
She had lovely full breasts. He passed his thumb over the nipple, making her shudder. The bud hardened further. He played with it, tugged it, rolled it between thumb and finger. She emitted a soft groan, a rumble at the back of her throat. He palmed both breasts and gazed upon their likeness. Wicked thoughts went through his mind with what he could do to such beauties. He tried to ignore the heat churning in his groin.
Releasing her, he went to fetch a glass of water for her. The port still presided in her body, and as she had not partaken of the tea that had been brought to her room, she would require hydration. He held the glass to her lips, and she drank without protest.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said after she had consumed half the glass. “I require no more.”
“You will finish it.”
He put the glass to her mouth. She dutifully complied, then looked to him much like a child might wait for praise or acknowledgment. Had her eyes always held so much sparkle? He found himself pulled into their depths. An odd desire to kiss her again tickled his fancy.
Resisting, he stepped away and retrieved another glass of water.
“I have had enough—”
He noted that her shift had mostly dried and did not cling to her body as tightly as it had during the dinner. He had to admit the effect of the wet garments had been provocative.
“It was quite naughty of you to have dampened your gown,” he remarked in a low voice.
She flushed. “Yes. I had never done so before. I promise I shall not do so again.”
He leaned in toward her. “Why not? It was quite appealing.”
Her breath caught.
He tipped the glass over her bosom. She gasped when the liquid spilled over her, slowly seeping through the shift. There was not enough water to dampen the entire garment, but the fabric clung to her hips and parts of her thighs nicely.
He stepped back to admire how the water glistened upon her skin. “Now, let us proceed to the main repast.”
* * * * *
Mildred held her breath. She trembled, but not merely from the dampness of her garments. His caresses had roused every nerve in her body. She would not have thought she could yearn for Alastair’s touch as much as she did. She wanted him to kiss her again.
He did.
How delicious his lips felt against hers! Nothing tasted finer. They pressed against her with such sweetness but with enough ardor to make her desire swell. He parted her lips with his, and his tongue grazed the insides of her mouth, making her shiver.
She kissed him back, seeking more pressure from his lips. He obliged, taking mouthfuls of her and making her head swim with a euphoria she had never known. His hand went to the back of her head to hold her still as he consumed her. Her body burning, she arched toward him. Her belly grazed what was a definite bulge at his crotch. A victorious thrill shot through her, and she pressed herself harder against that thickness.
His fingers went through her hair, tugging slightly. She would have welcomed any manner of touch, no matter how harsh from him. A craving had engulfed her now. A craving that only he could satisfy. To signal this, she continued to kiss him despite the awkwardness of her inexperience. He tightened his hold of her hair till she gasped. He wanted her to stop. She wondered if it was because she did not kiss well.
He pulled her head back and seared his mouth to her exposed neck. She nearly wept at the waves of desire rolling through her body. There were no words to describe how marvelous his lips felt against her neck. The grazing of his tongue tickled and thrilled. He suckled her neck, causing the tension between her legs to double—nay, triple.
Take me. Please take me.
At that moment, she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything else. Her body bowed off the post, pulling at the binding. It was madness how much she needed him, madness how the heat engulfing her could elicit such divine agitation, a pleasure that drove her to distraction. He clasped a buttock, and another wave of heat bowled through her. She rubbed herself harder against him, the pressure inside her body needing to meet with an equal pressure outside.
With a groan, he shoved his hips at her. She had not thought it possible for the bulge between his legs to harden further. With a vigor that surprised her, she ground herself wantonly against him. A small part of her mind cautioned what he must think of her behavior, but she paid it no heed. At present, she wanted only to relieve the fire consuming her and feared that at any moment, Alastair might come to his senses and withdraw.
Instead, he pushed back against her as he continued to mouth her neck, her jaw, her mouth. Her hips, however, he tilted toward his pelvis. Desire swam through her. There could not be a more divine place than where she was, trapped between the wooden post and his equally hard body. She wanted to speak his name or a word to indicate she was ready and willing.
He groped a breast, kneading the flesh with his fingers. She winced and gasped as her sensitive nipples grazed against him. But she had never felt more alive. She needed and wanted to merge her body to this man who could inflict such acute sensations and coax such delicious wonders. The combination enthralled her to a height she had never before known.
At long last, his hand was between her legs, stoking where the flame burned hottest. She would have preferred his bare fingers but was too aroused to mind her shift scraping against her. The friction from the garment produced a different but still pleasing sensation. With each and every stroke, the fire grew. The rapturous agitation reverberated through her body, and she doubted that she could contain its explosion. She had no wish to contain it. If the euphoria building within her did not find release, she would go mad.
She pressed herself into his hand. He quickened his motions.
And then it happened. What she had sought, what she had craved for the longest time. What she might never experience ever again.
The pressure inside her exploded, shooting shudders through her entire frame. She bucked against him, against the post. Her body exalted in the rapture, but could it survive its victory? Should it stretch or curl into itself? Should she tense or relax? As she waffled between the various responses, the euphoria continued to ripple through her and ricochet between her thighs till she thought she could endure no more. She sobbed as her body quivered and quivered and quivered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WATCHING HER SPEND and hearing her cries had caused his ardor to swell. Alastair knew when she had spent, the moment she had reached the apex of euphoria, but he had continued to strum his fingers between her thighs that she might never forget the depth of sensations her body was capable of.
She gave another cry and her body jerked against the bedpost. The blood pounded everywhere in his body, and especially at his groin. Damn. His body wanted very much to take her. She looked and sounded far too becoming. The scent of her arousal wafted through his nostrils, and the primal urges soared within him. He doubted she would protest. He had seen the plea in her eyes earlier. She had wanted him to ravish her.
Millie. Millie. Millie.
But the woman whose body trembled against his, her breasts spilling from her stays, her quim sopping wet, was not the cousin he had known. This woman who had ground herself at his cock with a desperation no whore could replicate was a surprise, was intoxicating, was provocative.
She let out a haggard moan and, reluctantly, he withdrew his hand. He took a step away from her, putting space between their bodies and hoping that, in doing so, he could calm the heat raging inside him.
Her body slumped against the post as she found her breath.
His hand itched to rub himself. She was an amazing sight upon the bed. He cleared his throat. “You are quite lovely when you spend, Millie. ”
She looked up at him, her eyes shining uncommonly bright. His praise had pleased her.
“What may I do for you, Alastair?”
He growled, for he did not like t
he sound of his name. It reminded him of their relation and of his responsibility. Katherine had asked him to care for someone. Circumstances made Millie his selection, and though he had had honorable intentions at the beginning, what had he ended up doing instead? Disrobed and fondled her. He truly was an unredeemable cad.
“How do you, er, take your satisfaction?” she inquired.
“You need not worry yourself of that.”
“But…” She lowered her gaze to his crotch.
He adjusted himself in front of her so that his erection was less apparent.
“It seems only fair,” she added.
Her words were like the call of sirens, but he grumbled, “I can take care of myself.”
“I should be happy to perform a similar service, as you had provided me with…with completion.”
“You have not earned such a privilege,” he replied, needing to put an end to their dialogue.
“Do you not wish to spend?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “We are done with this discussion.”
He stepped to her to undo the bonds from her wrists.
She looked up at him. “Would you like for me to suck your cock?”
He froze. What the hell had she said?
“I am told that all men enjoy it greatly.”
He stared down at her, hardly able to believe his ears. Had she truly said the word “cock?” If so, his wanton little cousin was far bawdier than he could ever have imagined.
He put his hands to his hips. “Did that stableboy tell you this? I will have his name,” he demanded, thinking that he would have to beat the pup to a bloody pulp.
“What does it matter?” she returned. “It is true, is it not?”
“Did he force you to take his member?”
“By ‘member,’ you mean to say ‘cock?’”
A vein in his neck throbbed. “Such a vulgar word should not pass the lips of a refined young lady.”
She had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Have you not determined that I am far from a proper miss?”
“Did the bastard force you?”
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