Page 17 of The Notorious Lord Sin
She scoffed, wondering if he were ever so arrogant when she had known him years ago. She did not think so. "Punish me? And how are you supposed to do that?" she questioned, heat pooling between her thighs.
She was wicked and wrong, but she had also been without a man for so long that she ached. Better the devil one knew than the one not known.
"You did not specify a time when we should meet in the music room this evening. Tell me when and I shall reveal all," he said, fighting to keep his cock from standing to attention.
The toga was no good under such circumstances, and the last thing he wanted to do was walk around with his cock hard and poking out of his costume like some randy dog.
Which, in truth, he was. It had been so very long since he had been with a woman. The thought of having Paris, of stripping her bare of her tunic, of taking his fill of her body made sweat break out on his upper lip.
"Before supper," she said, meeting his eyes.
He read the fire that burned in her blue gaze, his own a conflagration also. The waltz came to an end, and he swept her to a stop. "Until then, my queen," he said, reluctantly letting her go.
She turned on her sandaled feet and left him to watch her stroll away, as regal as Queen Cleopatra herself.
He beat down the desire that raged through him. Of thoughts of having her alone, his to make love to, and only in a matter of hours. He could win her back yet. The thought of courting Lady Esme was not something he could continue. The lady deserved better than what he could offer her, and he would forever want another.
The remainder of the evening dragged, even when he had offered to dance with several ladies, including Lady Esme, whom he could not cut. That would never do, and he was no longer the immature youth he had once been.
Even so, he did not give any of them an idea of his interest being any more than that of an acquaintance, and with any fortune, Lady Esme would soon realize the same.
He stood near the supper room doors, watching where the ladies left to head to the retiring room. He glimpsed a woman in white silk slip through the door, and he knew Paris had left for their rendezvous.
He downed the last of his brandy and went after her, slipping out of the ballroom doors before making his way to the music room.
He found her sitting on the piano stool, facing the door. She leaned back against the instrument, the hood of the pianoforte down so as to stop it from making music.
The moonlight shone in through the doors, and Paris looked like a goddess from the past.
"Close the door and lock it," she instructed him.
He did as she bade, striding toward her with determined steps. His cock hardened, and he stood before her, not attempting to hide how she made him feel.
She looked up at him, mischief in her eyes. "You said you would punish me, but I do not think a Roman senator has such power over a queen, so I think there is something else you should do for your monarch."
He took a calming breath, nodding. "Anything you desire. I'm your humble servant," he said, playing along with her game.
"Mmmm, well, let us see," she purred. "I think you ought to get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness. I think I deserve such groveling," she said, the determination in her eyes telling him she was in earnest.
His pride growled at the idea, but he relented and did as she commanded. She watched him, spreading her legs wide.
"Earn my forgiveness, Lord Astoridge," his queen commanded. "I think you can understand in what way I want."
ChapterTen
Paris took a calming breath and fought not to blush, not to stop this madness she was about to embark on.
She sat on the piano stool, watching with much anticipation, along with the satisfaction of seeing Dominic on his knees before her.
She leaned forward, lifting his chin when he did as she bade. "Now that you're before me on bended knee, I think you ought to ask for forgiveness before we continue anything else."
He leaned toward her, trying to capture her lips, and she shook her head. "No, no, no, my lord. No kissing, remember?" she said, placing a finger on his lips.
He sighed but pulled back in agreement. "My queen," he stated.
"No," she said, stopping him. "Not my queen. Paris is my name." She needed to hear him use her given name, not some make-believe, dress-up name for this evening.
He cleared his throat. "Paris, please forgive me for what I did to you. I was young and foolish and did not know what I was doing. I let others guide me, and I should not have done that to you. You deserved so much more than what I offered. Allow me to make it up to you tonight. Let me give you pleasure instead of pain."
