Tell? Sure, they looked at her bosom. All the men did. That didn’t prove they had any interest. All that proved is they wouldn’t mind getting into her drawers. And speaking of…
“And what will we do, dear stepbrother, if I end up with child? With your child?”
Evan’s whole body tensed, his arms strengthening their hold. His cheeks reddened. “I have not forgotten about that. We will know soon enough if you are with child, and if you are, I will ask for your hand.”
“I’ve already told you that I’m not marrying you.”
“If you’re carrying my child, you will damned well marry me.”
“If that is your decision, why on earth are you sending every eligible gentlemen and peer this side of Britain after me? If they’re as interested as you think they all are, surely one of them will decide to ask for my hand in the next week. Then what will happen if I do end up expecting your child?”
“We will call off the betrothal, and you and I will be married.”
Ally shook her head. What a convoluted scheme! And ridiculous, as well. Was he punishing her for accusing him of rape? She certainly did deserve reprisal for that slip of the tongue, but for goodness’ sake, he wouldn’t even let her apologize. Every time she brought it up, he cut her off. And as far as a child was concerned, Ally truly was not worried about it. As she had told him, she had just finished her courses a few days before they were intimate, and she knew her body well enough to know that pregnancy was unlikely.
The dance ended, and Ally curtsied politely. “Thank you, my lord.” She turned to look at the grandfather clock in the corner. Only a few minutes left. She had to find Brooks and arrange to meet him so he would find her with Mr. Landon. “Now, if you will excuse me please, I’m sure I have myriad more gentlemen to dance with.” She rolled her eyes, turned, and strode away.
* * *
Evan strode out of the ballroom and toward the gentlemen’s smoking area. He poured himself a brandy and took a sip, letting the amber liquid settle over his tongue and down his throat. No matter how many men he sent Alexandra’s way, his guts twisted every time another one took her out onto the dance floor.
He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He hated the warmth and desire that floated over him every time Alexandra and he talked about the possibility of her being with child. Did he want her to be carrying his child? A primal and animalistic part of him did. Was he ready to be a father? More to the point, was she ready to be a mother? She truly did seem to be impulsive and self-centered, but that did not stop the incredible desire and passion he had for her. It was unlike anything he had ever known. He hadn’t felt it for Rose or anyone. And though he’d enjoyed his exploits in the past, the act itself with Alexandra was something else altogether.
He had to get her away from him. She was most likely right about the timing of her courses. She seemed to know a lot about her own body and about the world of pleasure. Odd, since she had clearly been a virgin when they made love for the first time.
He would marry her off quickly. How else could he curb this desire for her?
He poured himself another brandy and sipped it, saying hello to a few men who walked in, making a bit of small talk. Finally, he decided to get some fresh air on the terrace.
He raked his hands through his long hair, inhaling the night air. Lord, London was not Wiltshire. How he longed for a true breath of fresh air. He walked along the terrace, ignoring the whispering couples coveting their privacy. Nervous energy rippled through him. He knew what he needed, and from whom he needed it. But that would not happen tonight or ever again.
The moon was a round white globe in the sky, casting its silver curtain
over the lawn and the couples who thought they were being discreet. Evan turned a blind eye until a cherry-red nipple caught his gaze—a beautiful nipple he knew well. His ire throbbed within him as a mouth—a mouth that was not his own—descended toward it.
Confessions of Lady Prudence
by Madame O
But Lars had something else in mind. My quim still pulsating from my climax, my mouth still coated with the essence of Christophe, Lars lunged forward and grabbed me, taking a chair and arranging me on his lap. My arse was bared to him, and he slowly brushed his hands over my buttocks. I shuddered all over, the aftershock of my climax still surging through my veins, my blood still boiling, my pussy still wet.
“Such a lovely arse, my lady,” Lars said.
I turned and looked up at him, my cheeks warm and my pulse racing. “I am so very glad you find it to your liking, sir.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, still rubbing my arse. “And because you have been so good today, I shall not spank your lovely arse.”
Spank? Amelia, my heart nearly stopped! I’d heard of such things, but never had I expected any gentleman to speak of such prurient behavior. Of course, Lars was a servant from a peasant’s background, not a gentleman. Suddenly I could not contain my excitement! I wanted a spanking more than I wanted anything at that moment.
I turned my head the other way and espied Christophe sitting across from us on a settee, his eyes glazed over, his expression unreadable.
I turned back toward Lars and looked into his flushed face. “Do you wish to spank me, Lars?”
“Such a beautiful arse is made for such pleasures.” He smiled lasciviously, so different from the shy and awkward footman who had entered the room only moments ago.
“Then by all means, please spank me.”
His hand came down on my arse with a loud swat. I jolted, a rush of pain surging through me, out to my limbs and then back inward, until the pain metamorphosed into pleasure, landing between my legs. Amelia, I cannot even describe the bliss. Before I could process the feeling cascading through me, he slapped my arse again, and the sharp pain traveled through me once more, changing into pleasure and culminating in my most secret spot.