Page 21 of Prince of Scandal

Ashton nodded slowly. “For such forbearance, you do deserve a reward. Therefore, I suggest you present yourself at the riverside dwelling tomorrow at precisely two o’clock. Walk, so we do not have to worry about horses. Wear a properly fitting gown. Definitely not white.”

She stared up at him, burgeoning excitement and lust plain in her gaze. “May I know what my reward is…sir?”

He didn’t smile. “I’m going to make you come. Repeatedly.”

CHAPTER 5

I’m going to make you come. Repeatedly.

Georgiana almost stumbled on the hem of her gown as she attempted to climb over the narrow wooden stile attached to the fence between Rose Cottage and Mr. Latimer’s estate. Rose-pink twill with lace edging was entirely impractical for such a task, but the color made her lips appear poutier and added a becoming blush to her cheeks, which was worth the clumsiness. She certainly needed such assistance after a sleepless night spent pondering what he might do to make her come. Lilian and Pippa were infuriatingly vague when it came to juicy bedchamber details, but apparently Gabriel and Finlay were both exceedingly competent with their hands. And mouths.

She snorted as she hurried across the vast meadow toward the small stone dwelling beside the river, one hand on her bonnet as gusts of wind kept trying to snatch it away. Everyone always blathered on about kissing, but it was a lot of fuss about nothing. Lips mashing together was hardly attractive, although preferable to a tongue in the ear. Rupert had done that, and by the faces he’d made, she was supposed to swoon and pant with lust. But she never had. Not for that, or his cock inside her for that matter, which always left her delicate areas feeling scraped raw rather than pleasantly well-used.

You’re so cold, Gigi. Other women love this. You must try harder. Be more willing. Be more obedient. A good wife is always obedient. And you want to be my wife, to leave Kingsford House, do you not?

Georgiana grimaced. No. She would not think about that scoundrel today, even if her wretchedly disobedient body still refused to cramp and bleed. Today, God willing, she would learn something that her sisters already knew: what an orgasm felt like. Maybe even more than once, for Mr. Latimer had said the word repeatedly.

Everything else she would think about tomorrow.

Finally reaching the dwelling, she tentatively knocked on the ajar front door.

“Enter.”

The gruffness of the word danced along her skin like a caress. Trembling with anticipation, Georgiana pushed open the door and stepped into the tiny room. “Good afternoon,” she said brightly. “I hope I’m not terribly late; the meadow took longer to cross on foot than I thought, especially in a gown.”

Mr. Latimer didn’t smile in return. Instead, he appeared very, very stern. He currently wore a linen shirt, brown waistcoat, and gray breeches; all he needed was a flowing black cloak and a cane and he’d be the portrait of an Etonian schoolmaster…the ones her brother had loathed but she’d been fascinated by on visits.

“Fifteen minutes, Georgiana,” he replied curtly as he clicked shut a surprisingly costly-looking gold fob watch. “Unacceptable.”

Her nipples tightened at his harsh tone. Oddly, a part of her wished to kneel, to beg forgiveness and atone for the lapse. But today was about her pleasure. Mr. Latimer had promised that. Was he a man of his word or an empty liar like Rupert?

Georgiana strolled toward him, swaying her hips as she unfastened her bonnet ribbon and placed the hat on a sturdy embroidered chaise that took up most of one wall. “Surely you aren’t going to lecture me for fifteen teeny tiny minutes. Isn’t this my reward for India Dunmore remaining unmuddied?”

Mr. Latimer’s eyes glittered dangerously at her saucy reply and a frisson of pure excitement coursed through her veins. Then he exhaled slowly. “Yes. It is. But in future I’ll not be lenient with tardiness. You would do well to remember that, madam.”

“Or what?” she challenged recklessly. “You’ll punish me?”

He slapped the side of his thigh, the sound echoing in the dwelling and making her clitoris throb unmercifully.

Oh God.

Did Mr. Latimer know about disciplining a lover? Sometimes it seemed he might…but he was gazing at his hand with horrified shock. Bloody hell. He didn’t like it. The fantasy of being firmly, lovingly spanked by a man for her mischief was destined to remain unfulfilled.

Georgiana sighed, then straightened her shoulders. Mr. Latimer might not meet all her needs; he’d already stated he wasn’t inclined toward marriage and obviously preferred verbal correction over sexual discipline. But he could still introduce her to pleasure. She deserved pleasure.

“Well,” she said breezily. “Here we are, all alone in this adorable dwelling, and now you are being tardy. I was promised orgasms. Cease dilly-dallying, sir.”

Thankfully, that horrified shock disappeared to be replaced by something far better: reluctant amusement.

“Such impatience, Georgiana,” he said, moving around the chaise until he stood directly in front of her. “But you are correct, I did promise. What do you particularly enjoy? I’ll start with that.”

Flustered at the direct question, Georgiana faltered. Rupert had never asked. He’d just proceeded with a short routine that apparently every woman liked, then put his cock inside her. “Uh…well…”

Mr. Latimer’s brow furrowed. “You’ve come before, surely.”

A hot blush spread across her cheekbones and she looked away. “Of course. What a ridiculous thing to say.”

He took her chin in hand, a light but unbreakable touch, and forced her gaze to meet his. “Don’t lie to me, Georgiana. Have you orgasmed before?”