Page 36 of Prince of Scandal

“Very well,” he replied, his gaze returning to the obviously perplexed footmen. “That will be all, thank you. Oh, and you may add Mrs. King to the list of approved guests.”

In another household such an announcement might have caused mayhem, but Franz ruled the roost with an iron fist and the footmen merely bowed and departed the library.

“An approved guest?” said Georgiana coyly, her tongue-tip darting out to lick her lips. “You honor me, sir.”

Ashton folded his arms and tilted his head. “Do not attempt to flatter me, madam. What the hell are you wearing?”

She batted her lashes. “My very favorite shirt and breeches, of course. I know you like this outfit. You keep staring at my breasts. And my bottom.”

“Everyone stares at your breasts and bottom.”

Georgiana giggled and twirled a loose blond curl around her finger. “Not everyone.”

How did she do that? Behave like a wide-eyed ingenue and a mischievous brat at the same time? It made him so damned hard and his palm actually tingled with the need to spank her. She certainly required correction for wearing such improper clothing and barging into his home like she owned the place.

She could be lady of the manor. Princess von Hagan.

The thought was so startling, Ashton shook his head to clear it. Yet even now he could see Georgiana kneeling on a cushioned stool in front of her dressing table, brushing her hair, her well-pleasured body draped in a quilted silk robe to disguise her reddened backside, swollen nipples, and seed-slick inner thighs. Hear her wheedle Franz into making more strudel or bribing a maid to sew another pair of breeches. Feel her nestled in his lap as they sat in front of the fireplace, discussing the events of the day or plans for the next…

Christ, man. It’s not even been two weeks. Calm down.

Ashton cleared his throat, annoyed at himself for that particular distraction. This was an affair, damn it. Not a prelude to marriage. Besides, he might not even have the luxury of choosing his own wife. Not if his cousin made a royal decree.

“Ashton?” Georgiana’s smile had faded slightly and she looked at him in concern. At the moment he wasn’t even being a good master. A submissive should never be unsure of her place in the world.

“Forgive me,” he said gruffly. “Something rather astonishing happened. There I was, diligently attending to correspondence, when an exceedingly naughty blond wearing shirt and breeches invaded my library.”

“My goodness,” she replied, peeping up at him through her lashes. “That sounds rather serious. What are you going to do to her?”

“Administer a spanking, obviously. But such an offence warrants further action. Perhaps I’ll kiss her sweet cunt but deny her an orgasm. Repeatedly. Until she begs to be allowed to come.”

Georgiana whimpered, her eyes glittering. Then she unfastened her shirt button, exposing the bountiful perfection of her breasts. “Me, beg? I think not, sir. Once you have my taste in your mouth, it is you who will be begging.”

Lust scorched through him, even more so when she tugged down her stays then licked her thumb and grazed it against one jewel-hard, pale pink nipple. Teasing. Daring him to punish her for such outrageous behavior.

“Do not move,” Ashton rasped, before marching to the library door and locking it. Then he returned and led her over to his desk. Moving aside the correspondence, quill, and inkpot to clear a space for Georgiana, he then lifted her up onto the desk to be undressed.

In no time at all, her shirt, stays, and breeches were neatly draped over his chair. Almost immediately, she leaned back and spread her thighs, revealing an already-damp bush and glistening pink folds.

His mouth watered for a taste. To plunge his tongue inside that tight channel, drown all his senses until there was nothing else in the world but her honey. However, Georgiana’s brazen misbehavior required discipline first.

“Turn onto your hands and knees,” Ashton commanded. “Thighs apart so I can see that pretty cunt.”

Georgiana quivered as she presented herself, back nicely straight but her thighs pressing and rubbing together, not at all subtle in her efforts to provoke him.

Naughty girl.

As a start, he curved his hand around the creamy flesh of her backside and spanked her twice. Hard. She moaned, her thighs parting and hips tilting as her skin pinkened, and a powerful sense of joy rushed through him. Everything was so much clearer within the boundaries of pain play. His dominance. Her submission. The warm tingle of his palm and that sensual thwack as flesh met flesh. Never would he grow tired of this. It was who he was. Who he should be.

Ashton smiled, moving away from Georgiana’s rear to run his hands over her back and sides, before pinching her taut nipples until she cried out.

“Ashton,” Georgiana wailed. “Don’t make me wait. I’m naked.”

Laughter rumbled in his chest as he removed the pins from her hair and massaged her scalp. She made guttural sounds, butting her head against his hands like a cat.

“Like that, do you?”

She nodded. “I want to be petted. But I want to be spanked. And I want to come. Right this minute.”