"And you don't want my mouth between your legs, my tongue teasing you into such peaks of pleasure that you cry out?"
She was wet now. He probably knew it, but it didn't matter. "I'm not fond of perversion. "
"I suppose that means I can't talk you into taking my cock into your mouth then. "
She was so shocked she couldn't find the words to refute it. Finally she said, "You sick bastard. "
"Oh, my love, not sick at all. It's quite lovely, and some women, the very best of women, enjoy it as well. So I gather this means you don't want me inside you, riding you, pumping you, making you cry and scream with pleasure?"
"You're a pig," she snapped.
"It's a pig's world. So the answer is no, my precious?"
The smug, cruel bastard. The beautiful, wicked, hurtful man with the hands of a devil and the mouth of an angel. He would take her back to Grosvenor Square, and she would slink into the house, go up to her room and curl up into the ball he talked about.
"The answer is yes," she said. And had the pleasure to see his face freeze in shock.
17
Never would Adrian Rohan have thought that a woman's acquiescence would send a cold chill down his back. It had no effect on his cock, which had been painfully hard since he'd put his hands on her, which had been at least at half-mast since he'd spotted her on the dance floor and moved heaven and hell to join her set. This was supposed to be a salutary lesson, a way to get over her. Instead he was seducing himself as he was seducing her.
She was supposed to slap his face, demand that the carriage take her to Grosvenor Square, and he would cheerfully accept her dismissal, proving to her, and to him, how little she mattered.
Instead it was all he could do to keep from throwing her down on the seat, yanking up her skirts and taking her.
And she'd said yes. He didn't bother to hide his astonishment. Though he could. . . ahem. . . rise to the occasion. "I beg your pardon? Was that agreement I hear? How delightfully refreshing. I thought you decided to
regrow your hymen and be the same prissy, starched-up female you were before I put my wicked hands on you. "
Now he was sorry he hadn't lit the carriage lights. He couldn't see her expression very well, and she seemed to have turned the tables on him.
In fact, that was probably why she'd done it. She was calling his bluff. Or was it the other way around? He was the card player—he was usually much better at sizing up his opponents.
He could imagine that she had her hands in her lap clasped tightly, but her voice was calm and smooth. "Like you, my lord, I had no other plans for this evening short of returning home with my cousin. If you're that desperate to have me I could hardly argue. It's quite flattering. "
"Well played," he said softly. "And now it's my turn to tell you that I'm not the slightest bit desperate. That I chose you simply to torment you—that picking on lovelorn virgins. . . I beg your pardon, I forgot that you are no longer a virgin. Picking on lovelorn spinsters is better entertainment than sampling the pussy at Madame Kate's. " He wondered if she knew that word. From the slight flinch he decided that she probably did.
"Are you trying to hurt my feelings. Lord Rohan? If you receive such pleasure from inflicting pain I’m
surprised you didn't suggest you whip me. ”
"What do you know of whips, child?" he said with a laugh.
“I live with Lina, in case you've forgotten. She's quite. . . broad-minded when it comes to her search for pleasure. Though from my experience men usually prefer to be the ones who are whipped, not the ones delivering the pain. "
"I'm not like other men—haven't you realized that yet? And I doubt I'd trust you enough to give you the upper hand. I could end up with the very skin flayed from my body. "
"We could see," she said sweetly.
Damn, he was enjoying himself, he realized. After his initial shock at her seeming agreement, he was finding this sparring the best thing in weeks. ''You're quite surprisingly resilient. Miss Spenser. I would have expected you to go into a languishing decline after my rough treatment of you. "
Author: Anne Stuart
"Was that rough?" she asked innocently. "It perhaps lacked a bit of finesse, but you managed well enough. "
He wanted to laugh, he wanted to kiss her. "I didn't really consider you deserved my best effort, since you had absolutely no idea what you were doing. "
"Indeed. I would hope that wasn't your best effort. I would be sadly disappointed if society considered