Page 40 of Prince of Scandal

“Ashton. Please…” gasped Georgiana as she thrashed on the desk, her head falling back.

“Mine,” he snarled, the sentiment tearing from the very depths of him, a primitive claim that he had no right to make. “Say it. Say it.”

“Yours. Only yours,” she sobbed.

In reward, he plunged deep into her anus, then pressed firmly on her clitoris. Georgiana screamed, her hips jerking, and a spurt of pearly liquid gushed from her cunt to douse his groin. It set off his own release, his seed erupting inside her in an endless, exquisitely pleasurable burst, the staggering force of the orgasm causing him to see stars.

Utterly exhausted, Ashton slumped down onto Georgiana’s heavenly curves and kissed her forehead. Each time they were together he thought it couldn’t be better, and yet each time it was. So lusty and yet so intimate. He couldn’t imagine bedding another woman now. Ever. Suddenly, nothing mattered. Not his mother’s letter or his cousin the king. The only path forward was arranging another river dwelling picnic and confessing all. If Georgiana felt the same way, for the first time in his life, everything would be perfect.

A woman without guile he could trust his heart with. Finally.

CHAPTER 9

Georgiana ambled down the unkempt driveway of Rose Cottage, almost in a dream-like state. She could practically feel Starlight shooting her worried equine glances; when they rode together, it was always at a gallop. Certainly never her walking beside her horse. But after that lusty, perfect, astonishingly pleasurable interlude on the desk in Ashton’s library, her rear was far too sore to be sitting in a saddle. Inside and out, her flesh felt achy and well-used; the first thing she would do on returning home was have a hot bath.

Yet every twinge was worth it.

After witnessing the maid and footman in the Kingsford stables that day, she’d thought that pain and pleasure intertwined would feel good. But good didn’t even come close to describing the searing ecstasy that had conquered her senses. The combination of spanking and fingering had made her see stars, but when Ashton thrust deep inside her anus and stroked her clitoris…good heavens. Something had unleashed inside her, alarming in its intensity. For a moment afterward she’d been mortified, thinking she’d wet herself, but Ashton quickly reassured her the liquid had spurted from her cunt.

Who even knew a woman could do that?

Georgiana shook her head in wonder. The experiences they’d shared were nothing short of incredible. Even better, the way he held her in his arms after wrecking her with orgasms, cleaning her with his handkerchief, stroking her hair, pouring her brandy. Ashton was so caring and affectionate, as though this was far more than an affair. Leaving him had been nigh-on impossible, but he had an important meeting with his steward scheduled, and she really needed to return to Rose Cottage before they sent out search parties. Besides, Ashton had promised a picnic at the dwelling tomorrow. To talk. Something about the way he’d said the word, so gruff and yet tender too, as he’d tucked an errant curl behind her ear, had provoked an army of butterflies in her stomach. Because she wanted to talk as well. To just blurt out everything, all her secrets and fears and dreams, and pray that he might still want to be with her.

No longer did she wish to live trapped in a bleak abyss of her past mistakes and missteps. Now was for the future. A future with Mr. Ashton Latimer, Prussian-born country gentleman.

“Mrs. King!”

At the lad’s hail from the entrance to the small stables, she raised a hand in greeting. “Good afternoon.”

“Are you hurt, ma’am? Did you fall? Or did Starlight lose a shoe?”

Georgiana smiled reassuringly. “All is well, do not worry. I just felt like a bit of a stroll. Would you mind taking her for a trot around the meadow? She’s a trifle restless, but I need a lie-down.”

“Of course, ma’am,” he replied, his expression now quizzical, for she rarely allowed others to ride her precious horse.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully as she handed over the reins, not quite sure how much longer her unsteady legs would hold her up.

Almost staggering indoors, Georgiana found a kitchen maid and requested a copper tub and steaming hot water be sent to her chamber, as well as some food. Then she hauled herself up the stairs, wincing as every step flexed her tired and well-used muscles. Lusty interludes atop a desk were all well and good, but next time she would insist on a bed. Especially with a strong, dominant lover like Ashton, who played her body like a violin until she begged for release…

She shivered. It was uncanny how fast the man had become essential in her life, both naked and clothed. But what if his talk was a discussion of marriage? Or a proposal? He thought her an older widow, free to make her own decisions, not the nineteen-year-old spinster daughter of an earl, still two full years away from her majority.

Her lips twisted into a scowl. Papa had better agree if Ashton asked for her hand, or she would show her father the true meaning of hellion. Liberated brandy or coatroom scandals would be the least of his worries.

After Georgiana entered her chamber, she went and gingerly perched on the edge of her bed, waiting for the bath to arrive. Not long after that, Mary bustled in holding an armful of freshly laundered linen. “Oh! Mrs. King! You’re back.”

“I am indeed,” said Georgiana wearily as she rotated her shoulders.

The maid frowned. “Are you well? You look exhausted.”

She attempted to flash a grin at the younger woman. “Words a lady always loves to hear.”

“Perhaps less riding and more napping?” replied Mary in the brisk tone she no doubt used often with all those younger siblings.

“Probably sensible. After my bath.”

Shortly afterward, her two footmen walked in carrying the copper tub, followed by the kitchen maids carrying large buckets of steaming hot water. Mary dashed away to fetch some towels and a bar of lemon soap, and soon Georgiana was easing down into her bath, trying not to howl as her sorest parts made contact with the hot water and then the base of the tub.

She sighed in relief when at last her body relaxed, trailing her fingers in the water as Mary lathered a washcloth and began gently sponging her shoulders.