Just as well she did not answer him directly, Sebastian decided. He was confident he could surpass any experience she might have had and had no desire to know the particulars.
“Then you understand the yearnings of the flesh,” he said, sliding his hands down her ribs back to her hips. His fingers slowly gathered her skirts upward. The blood pounded in his head as th
e image of their naked bodies rutting against the post flashed in his eye. “I may be devoid of morals, but I am no hypocrite.”
She stiffened, but he dared hazard her indignation would be short-lived. His fingers continued to lift her skirts.
“Tell me, Miss Merrill, why you find it so depraved to indulge our prurient desires?”
“I don’t,” she protested. “My censure lies in your seduction of innocent young women.”
He did not bother correcting her that it was Josephine who had seduced him, but instead replied, “I willingly engage and seek the companionship of women with similar appetites.”
That gave her pause. Apparently it had not occurred to her that he was not the only one guilty of lust. His fingers grazed her thigh as he continued, “I think it immoral of you to impose your sense of morality on others and to deny women the pleasures of the flesh.”
“I am immoral?” she responded in disbelief. “Because I am not a libertine?”
“Because you would bar fulfillment from others for no purpose.”
He slipped his hand between her thighs.
“No purpose, my lord? Protecting a loved one from shame, from risking her future is not reason enough for you?”
He found her clitoris and began a gentle caress. “In whose eyes would she be shamed?”
“Need—need you ask? In the eyes of…polite society.”
Her breaths became shallow as he stroked the sensitive nub.
“Setting aside the premise that there is a single pervading norm—which I would dispute—are the darlings of the beau monde always right?”
“It matters not if society is right or wrong.”
“How convenient,” he said ironically, deepening his touch. “What if it were wrong? Ours is a society that once burned people they thought were witches, sanctioned the trading of fellow humans as slaves, governed without representation of the people. By abiding by its norms and following its standards, are you not guilty of supporting its immorality?”
He sensed her thoughts swirling, the wheels of her mind turning, and felt a strange thrill, more exciting than any seduction he had undertaken before. Slipping a finger toward her quim, he discovered her wet with desire. Arousal raged in his cock. He was almost there.
“You would believe,” she said, still trying to persevere with her own judgment, “that not allowing a woman to become wanton is somehow immoral?”
“Precisely. The suppression of freedom is rarely a good thing. Make no mistake, I do not encourage recklessness or condone any impulse that is criminal. But why should we condemn what are but natural urges of every man and every woman?”
She was gasping as his fingers plied their trade, striking her sensitive spot over and over.
“It may be natural for you, my lord.”
He fitted his body against hers. Marvelous. The contrast of her soft body against his hardness. With his length, he pushed her into the pole.
“Do you suggest you have no such urges, Miss Merrill?”
He ground his desire into her. Her arms tightened against the pole.
“I do not let such urges overwhelm me.”
She clearly knew not what she said for her body indicated otherwise.
“Why not?”
No answer. But her thighs parted for his fingers to conduct their ministrations. He plunged a finger into her quim. She instantly clenched about his digit. He plunged another finger into her as he continued to circle her clitoris with his thumb. She trembled between him and the pole, gasping and groaning, groaning and gasping. Her climax loomed near.