Page 20 of The Notorious Lord Sin
She chuckled to hide the heat that kissed her cheeks at his query. "I believe it was quite obvious what occurred, my lord. Do not tell me you cannot remember when you're alone with a woman like we were."
"I know what physically happened, Paris, but I want to know why I had the impression you were taunting me. Teasing me with no inclination to share the enjoyment."
Paris sipped her tea. She would not tell him that their time together last evening had sent her reeling. That she, too, had returned home, disheveled and out of sorts. Satisfied and yet not.
"We were at a ball. There is not always time for both parties to find satisfaction," she answered. "Next time, mayhap we both shall come to a gratifying conclusion."
"You have changed," he said at length. "You are not as carefree and sweet as you once were. I suppose I only have myself to blame for that. And if I do not, then you most certainly will."
"Can you blame me?" she bit back, unwilling to be this story's villain. "I gave myself to you, and you cast me aside like some whore you had found deficient. I went from seeing you, talking and kissing you most nights to being left alone, given the cut direct before all theton. Lord Hervey saw your treatment of me and offered his hand, and I accepted. The sweet-tempered young woman who adored you does not exist anymore, and I'm sorry I'm not as naïve as I used to be. I suppose that means I cannot be used or manipulated anymore."
A muscle worked in his jaw, and he watched her. She wondered what was going through that clever mind of his. He finished his tea and placed his cup down on the small table before them. "I never manipulated you. That is unfair, Paris."
"Well, life is unfair, and so too are sexual encounters some of the time. I'm sorry you did not get to spend last evening, but I'm certain you could have handled that well enough on your own later. No harm done."
"No harm done?" he repeated. "It took me half an hour to get my cock to lower enough for me to leave the Duncannon’s music room."
His words conjured an image in her mind, and she chuckled. "I'm terribly sorry. How painful that must have been." She paused. "But you will be happy to know that I enjoyed myself most splendidly, and I'm looking forward to the next time you please me."
"Really?" he drawled. "Please you? Is there no room for me to have enjoyment also? You know that I want you still."
"I know," she said. "And we will not always be at balls and parties where time is of the essence."
"Like we are now?" he queried, glancing at the closed door. "Can we not enjoy each other's company somewhat now? There is no one to interrupt us."
Paris took in his long legs, how he sat in the chair and yet seemed to take up all the space in the room. So commanding and authoritative, and yet last night, he had been pudding in her hands. Hers to do with as she pleased, and she was pleased very much.
"What do you have in mind?" she heard herself ask, wondering if she would ever be able to deny him anything, and doubting that thought immediately.
Dominic rubbed a hand across his jaw as he debated what to do with the little minx who sat across from him. The determined challenge in her blue eyes sparked his own, and all kinds of wicked and willful ideas floated before him.
One front and foremost—he wanted to kiss her. To press his lips against those sinful ones of hers and make her succumb to him. Give her heart to him once more.
But stubborn his Paris had always been, and it was one trait she had not lost in the five years they had been apart. He stood and came and sat beside her.
"I did think about taking myself in hand last night. In fact, whenever I thought of you, my cock hardened, and right along with that attribute, annoyance thrummed through every portion of my being."
She grinned, seemingly pleased at his words.
He shook his head. "I do not think this is something to be proud of, Paris. My balls were blue all evening, and I think it is only fair that we make an agreement that we both find fulfillment whenever we have a rendezvous."
"Like now, you would like for us to be intimate?" she asked him before cringing. "I do not think I have time. I have an appointment with the modiste."
"Are you trying to torture me?" he blurted, starting to wonder if that was indeed what she was trying to do.
"Of course not," she said, her tone one of innocence, but he did not buy it. She was enjoying herself immensely. "I would never be so cruel."
"I'm not certain I believe that." Without warning, he wrenched her onto his lap, her hip fitting snugly against his cock. She wiggled in his hold, gaining a more comfortable seat, but did not try to escape.
One small win, he supposed.
She met his eyes and grinned. "What are you going to do to me now?"
He did not reply, merely slid his hand down her leg, clawing at her gown to fist in his hand. He slid it up her body, reminiscent of what he had done with her tunic last evening.
"Put your hand on my cock, Paris. We're going to come together this afternoon," he stated.
Her eyes widened, but after a moment, her tentative touch pressed against his chest, sliding down his shirt and waistcoat before stopping at the top of his breeches.
