Her mother’s younger brother had run off with a married woman, but this offered little consolation to Mildred.
“I doubt Lady Katherine was much troubled by it.”
“Even if she were, she is too kind to speak of it.”
“Are you certain? She strikes me as a woman who is most comfortable with speaking her mind.”
Mildred had to agree that she saw and heard little from her ladyship that indicated she thought less of Mildred for what had happened. Nevertheless, she would not permit herself any leeway. “But I criticized her nephew before her family!”
“As for the Marquess, I doubt he heeds what anyone says of or to him. You could call him a blackguard or worse, and I doubt he would be disturbed in the least.”
“I think I would like a cordial,” Mildred started before her father could complete his sentence, for Alastair stood behind him
Mr. Abbott, seeing her widened eyes, turned about, colored, and stuttered, “Cordial, yes—yes, you, er, wished for a glass of—of cordial?”
With a curt bow to Alastair, Mr. Abbott hurried away. Mildred felt her heart sink. How many more times would her family offend Alastair? She found solace in the fact that the Marquess was to depart on the morrow.
“You may find page ninety-one instructional for your situation,” Alastair said, handing her a book before walking away.
She turned to the page he’d named and saw a note:
Midnight.
Your redemption awaits.
Her redemption. She both welcomed and dreaded it. But she would suffer whatever he intended. Closing the book, she looked at the clock. It was just past nine o’clock. She would pass the next few hours in anxious anticipation.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A VIBRANT FIRE greeted her as she entered the chambers at the appointed hour. Alastair, in his nightshirt and banyan, stood with his arms crossed before him. Without forethought, she knelt at his feet.
“Forgive me, my lord.”
“I accepted your apology already, Millie,” he said.
“That was for speaking before your family. I now ask your pardon for having defied your wishes.”
“You will atone for that tonight. And I had thought you intended to earn a reward.”
“I did have such intentions. But…I should have waited to voice my opinions to you in private.”
“Then you do not regret what you said? Only that it was said in company?”
She kept her gaze lowered. “My thoughts on the topic have not changed, my lord, and needed to be voiced.”
“Then why ask my pardon now?” He sounded slightly baffled.
“Because I had not wanted to disappoint you. In hindsight, I should not have agreed to a command I could not follow. When you were so dismissive of your duties—well, I will accept whatever actions you intend, my lord.”
He threaded his hand in her hair and eased her head back so that she could meet his gaze. “It will be a long night if you do not.”
Despite the threat, warmth pooled between her thighs.
“On your feet.”
She rose from the floor and stood, waiting for his instruction.
“Remove the robe,” he said.
She slid out of the garment. With a masterful stride, he stood behind her, close enough to make her every nerve come to life. Reaching an arm around her, he cupped a breast through her shift. He rolled the orb against her chest as he hardened and released his grip.
“You were very wet between the legs last night.”
She let out a ragged sigh.
“Did you enjoy being in such a state?”
She gasped when he pinched her nipple through her shift. “Yes, my lord.”
He pulled her shift down one shoulder and kneaded the exposed breast. He pulled her into him. “Your body will want to spend desperately tonight.”
She moaned at the thought, relishing the hardness of his body at her back.
“Do you deserve to spend?” he asked, his other arm snaking around her hip to clasp her mound.
“Perhaps not.”
He rubbed her between the thighs. It did not take long for the wetness to flow. Feeling him harden behind her, she wanted her body to meld with his, for the hand at her breast to become a permanent part of her. The fabric he rubbed into her folds, though damp now, created a pleasurable friction. He lightly pinched her nipple before moving his hand to her throat. Her head fell back to his chest as the rest of her writhed against him. She panted and slipped further into the pool of desire.
Her backside brushed against him as he pulled her closer, his caresses pushing her arousal higher and higher. She arched into him, ground herself into him, straining for that imminent release. How easily she could spend for him! But he lightened his caress, and when he withdrew his hand, she felt bereft. Her body trembled, dangling over an unseen precipice.
He pulled the sleeves of her shift down her shoulders and allowed the garment to drop to the floor. Once more she stood naked before him, and once more arousal triumphed over modesty. His hands roamed her body, gripping, grasping, caressing. She relished every touch but wished he would return to fondling her between the legs.
Stepping away, he instructed her to lie down upon the bed. Eagerly, she obliged. But he puzzled her when, instead of coming to her in bed, he took the newspaper he had left upon a nearby table and sat down in a chair several feet away. She watched him read the paper for several minutes before sitting up and clearing her throat.
“Am I to watch you read all night?” she asked.
“If that is my desire,” he replied blandly.
This, then, was part of her redemption—or punishment, rather. Did he truly intend to read the newspaper? He could not be without lust himself. She had felt the thickness of his desire. She wondered what she could do to entice him. Or did he expect her to patiently wait while her body vibrated with need?
She supposed she had brought this upon herself. Seeking to relieve her agitation, she touched herself, but his voice stopped her.
“I did not allow you could pleasure yourself.”
Reluctantly, she stilled her hand. He set down the newspaper and approached the bed. Her pulse quickened in an instant. Instinctively, she licked her lips.
He began to untie his cravat and undress at a leisurely pace.
“May I assist you?” she asked when she thought she might go mad from his slowness. Her body remained on edge, yearning to be taken. But he had only removed his neckcloth and collar.
“No,” he replied, undoing the buttons of his waistcoat one by one.
She ground her teeth in impatience as he removed his waistcoat, his braces, and finally his shirt. The sight of his fine form caused the heat within to surge. She urged him on with silent words and practically cried out in joy when he stood as naked as she, his hardened arousal bared to her.
“Are you still wet?” he asked.
“Need you ask?” she returned.
A faint grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Lay back.”
She did as he bid. He widened the distance between her bent legs and studied the intimacy between her thighs.
Touch me, she willed him.
When he did, her body could have leaped off the bed. He resumed where he had left off, his strokes increasing the agitation so that she could scale the mountain of pleasure. He curled two fingers inside her, sending waves of delight reverberating throughout her. She moaned her appreciation and grasped the bedclothes as tension mounted.
And waned.
Her breath caught in her throat as he withdrew. He attended his own center of arousal, rubbing her moisture onto his shaft. She hoped he intended to sink himself into her waiting heat. Instead, he leaned against the bedpost and continued to fondle himself. With anticipation and envy, she watched him stroke his member. She wanted to touch him but dared not without his command. His body tensed, the veins in his neck visible, as he thrust himself into his hand. A flush spread across his chest, and he gave a fierce grun
t as he attained the pinnacle she craved.
Heat swirled angrily in her loins as she watched him spend, and she looked longingly upon the evidence of his rapture upon the bed. Having achieved his end, he would not now take her as she had hoped. She began to fear that the night would prove long indeed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ALASTAIR SHOOK OFF the shivers of his climax. He found his handkerchief and wiped himself. Millie stared at his crotch, lust still sparkling in her eyes, but a frown graced her lips. He felt some guilt for having tormented her so, but she needed to learn that he was not to be trifled with.
“Your patience may yet be rewarded,” he told her.
“I hope so,” she quietly replied. “May I pleasure myself to completion?”
“Is that what you prefer?”
“You have dispensed with what I prefer.”
She gave him a wry smile that was uncharacteristic of her. He found himself captivated.
His gaze fell to her breasts. They were a lovely pair. They protruded nicely from her chest and were large enough to spill from his hands when he cupped them. He envisioned sliding his member between them, hardening between those supple spheres He shook his head and reminded himself that this was to be their last time together.
He cupped a swollen mound. Her brows shot up, indicating how sensitive her breasts had become. Lowering his head, he licked a nipple. She whimpered.
“You may pleasure yourself now.”
She reached an eager hand between her thighs and stroked herself. He watched for several minutes, feeling the blood course hot and strong through his veins. Her body begged to be taken, made his. He passed his hand over her belly, then threaded his fingers through the hairs at her mound.
With his forefinger, he teased the swollen bud beneath her curls. Her lashes fluttered, and she moaned when he sank an inch of his digit into her sodden slit. His cock throbbed with renewed need, surprising him with how quickly it had recovered.
He slid his finger along her clitoris, drawing from her moans filled with urgency, swelling with need. Her body quivered. He lifted his hand a little higher, and her pelvis followed, seeking his touch. He played with her clitoris, rubbing it, pinching it.
With both hands, he caressed her belly, her hips, her thighs, spreading the moisture over her soft skin. He bent over and encased a nipple with his mouth. She cried out loudly, her body tensing and twisting with desire He brushed a tendril of hair that had matted to her forehead. When she had calmed sufficiently, she turned to meet his gaze. Her eyes appeared particularly expressive and luminescent. At the moment, they were the loveliest eyes he had ever beheld.
My God, she was beautiful.
He had waited long enough. He straddled her body. He eyed her lush breasts and thought again of positioning his shaft between them. Though there was not a part of Millie he did not relish, he had to take her, feel himself in her warm, wet depths.
“Do you wish to spend?” he tempted.
“I have a greater wish.”
Perplexed, he paused. What could she possibly wish for more at the moment?
She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. “I would rather you not give your ready support to Farnsworth till you have thoroughly examined the arguments against his bill.”
He stared at her, stunned. Was this truly what she preferred? It was unexpected. Outlandish, even.
“Millie, our carnal pursuits do not involve politics.”
“Why not? You forbade me to talk of stocking frames as part of our arrangement. It would seem there is nothing that you cannot involve.”
He had to acknowledge her reasoning, but still he could not completely believe what she was asking. After all that her body had endured, it surely needed release. She deserved to spend.
“Are you certain this is what you want?” he asked.
She nodded.
A strange emotion overwhelmed him. Of awe and even shame. She was unlike any woman he had ever known.
“I will consider it,” he said finally. “I do not owe Farnsworth my support. Nevertheless, I will only promise to delay my decision.”
“That is all I ask.”
His hand was between her legs, an area too much a temptation. He stroked her nub with his middle finger. She moaned softly.
“Pray do not tease me further, my lord.”
“Shhhh.”
He continued to fondle her. She bit her lower lip but eventually released a moan when his fingers found the spot of greatest sensitivity.
“Alastair, you will make me spend. Oh, G—no.” She gripped the bed with both hands. “Please.”
He was accustomed to hearing women begging to spend, but Millie begged not to spend. He intended she should.
“Alas—ah—ah!”
After having her desire caged, her body could not resist the temptation.
“Spend, Millie.”.
Her body fell into convulsions, shaking the bed. Her hips bucked a few times before settling back down when he eased his strokes. She panted for a different purpose now.
“I was sincere in my request for a different reward,” she bemoaned when the trembling had quieted.
“And you will have it.”
Lowering himself, he licked at her pleasure bud. He applied his tongue to her in earnest.
“Oh, God. What is it you wish, my lord? You cannot…”
Encasing her nub of desire, he sucked, liking the taste of her. The scent of her arousal caused his lust to swell.
“You will make me spend again,” she managed through clenched teeth.
He continued to assault her with his mouth. Her body quivered.
He released her long enough to give his encouragement. “Spend, Millie.”
Her response was immediate. Her body bowed off the bed. Her legs kicked out. It was exhilarating to see, hear, and feel her body succumb to euphoria.
He kept her aloft at the apex till she cried for him to cease. She sobbed for breath. His arousal stretched, yearning to mate to her with an intensity he had never expected. It was as if she had cast a spell upon him, and he had no wish to shake it off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE CEILING STILL BLURRED before her eyes. Mildred marveled that her body had survived the second orgasm. Alastair had applied his mouth there and encouraged her to spend, despite her willingness not to. Whatever his motives, it did not matter. This was their last night together. Ever. She closed her eyes and drank in the splendor still waving through her body.
“Thank you, my lord. Thank you.”
His lips crushed down upon hers, and it was as if she had not spent twice already. Her arousal never tired in his presence. Despite her shaky legs, she tried to press herself to him as she wrapped her hands about his neck to help hold herself up. He eased her legs open and enclosed her in his arms .
Laying himself over her, he resumed kissing her, taking her mouth with delicious fervor. She gripped his hair in one hand and his shoulder in the other. Her hips met his body, seeking his erection. She was overcome with impatience and wanted his body to meld into hers. He ground himself against her as his mouth ravaged hers.
“I should search for French letters,” he uttered against her lips.
Not bearing to be parted from him, she wrapped a leg over his and tightened her embrace. “Take me, my lord. Take me.”
It was an invitation he could not refuse. He positioned his cock at her opening and plunged in. His cock felt grand—the angle and shape of his shaft provoked much more pleasure. She pushed herself into him, wanting every inch.
“My God, Millie,” he breathed, groping one of her breasts.
Gradually, they came to a rhythm with their bodies. Holding the bottom of her thigh, he lifted the leg to gain deeper penetration. Lust surged within her, and she shoved herself up at him. He met her fervor and rolled his hips into her, sending waves of delight fanning from between her legs. She grunted and babbled half words, trying to resist the tide of pleasure threatening to drown her.
“Spend. As you please, my lord,” she managed, digging her fingers into his muscular arms.
“Ladies first,” he replied.
At this, her body shattered. He kissed her again, dampening her cries. Her body bucked of its own accord. He quickened his pace, hammering himself into her till his own release became imminent. He pulled from her and his seed shot into the mattress below. To her consternation and slight trepidation, she would rather he had spent inside her. Several shivers went through his frame.
She wished he would remain where he was, the weight of his body resting partially upon her, but he pushed himself up and held out his hand to her. Their evening had come to an end.
“Thank you, Alastair. Thank you for the past three nights.”
“I pray they met your expectations?”
“Mmmmm. Exceeded expectations.”
“Good. The pleasure was mine.”
She hoped he spoke sincerely and not merely from courtesy. She reminded herself that he was not a man compelled by obligations of the latter. In silence they tidied the room and stripped the bedclothes to put in the laundry. “Good night, Millie,” he said when they were done.
She almost wished she could stay in his company longer but replied, “Good night.”
As she shakily strolled down the corridor toward the stairs, a mix of feelings beset her. She felt both a euphoria and guilt, shame at what she had done, what she had asked of her cousin, but gratitude that he had acquiesced in taking her to such sublime carnal heights that all future attempts must surely disappoint.
Thus, she wondered at the wisdom of her actions. However, if she had to do it all again, she would not have asked differently. She was amazed when Alastair had brought her to spend thrice.
And, additionally, he had agreed to reserve his support of the Farnsworth bill. It was entirely possible his delay of support would be of minimal duration, even a day at most, for she had required no particular timing to her request. But while Alastair often held the expectations of polite society with contempt, she had never known him to go back on his word. He did not trifle with tricks, artifice, or even insincerity.
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