“It’s only that I’m so used to saying words. I mean, obviously I am. And normally, I have no compunction about saying the ‘bad’ ones—though I’m loath to call any word bad.Bloody. Damn. Hell.See? I can say those just fine. I just haven’t really had any experience sayingcockin this context. I suppose it’s simply a matter of timebefore you become comfortable. Perhaps one day, I’ll have no compunction about saying it. I’ll simply need to practice.”
The rambling had either calmed her or emboldened her, or both. Harriet finally allowed herself a good look at all of Alexander. From his strong thighs, down to his feet, back up to his broad chest. She could admit that her gaze snagged a bit at his truly impressive cock.
“You can saycockto me as often as you’d like.”
“How generous of you, my lord,” she teased back.
“Only trying to assist my wife in her … practice.”
“Is there another word for it?”
“For …?” And then Alexander did something truly wicked and made it move on its own. Harriet let out a small yelp of surprise or delight or something in between. Then she laughed, fully and loudly, the sound bouncing off the high walls of the library.
“I had no idea it could do that! Thatyoucould do that! Can every man do that?”
“I would imagine. We haven’t discussed it at White’s, but I can’t see why not.”
“Intriguing. But you haven’t answered my question. Is there another word forcocklike there is withquim? A lack of synonyms often becomes repetitive.”
“One wouldn’t want that,” he replied, trying to stay serious. “You could call it a ‘penis,’ although that feels rather … medical. Or ‘member,’ but that’s rather bland. ‘Prick’ is fairly common. And then there are the less than appropriate names.”
“Less appropriate than ‘cock’?” Harriet asked eagerly, removing her hand from him, the body part in front of her forgotten in exchange for its synonyms. “Oh, you must tell me!”
“Harriet.” Alexander sounded somehow rather desperate.
“Please,” Harriet begged. This was precisely the type of information she needed.
“‘Whore-pipe, frigger, hair splitter, wedding tackle, bush-beater.’” Harriet’s eyes widened and she turned away from him.
“Where the devil are you going?” he growled, coming up behind her and grabbing her to him, preventing her movement.
“I have to write these down!”
He was encircling her, surrounding her. It was the most overwhelming sensation she’d ever experienced. More even than when he’d licked her quim.
“Harriet, I swear to you, I will remember every single one of them tomorrow. Perhaps even more.Please,” he bargained, his voice a desperate whisper in her ear. It was, she could admit, quite a heady experience to have Lord Alexander begging.
Harriet considered his offer, then nodded. In that moment she realized she was being held by a very naked man. She rested her hands on his thick forearms, arms which were still embracing her most deliciously. She looked down, and the sight of her skirts bracketed by his bare legs was, for reasons she couldn’t articulate, unbearably erotic. He was breathing just as heavily as she was, she was happy to note.
Alexander planted a kiss on the back of her neck, which shot a frisson down her spine; then he released her and lowered himself tothe nest he’d made on the floor. She turned to face him, and it was a miracle she didn’t collapse.
Harriet sincerely hoped hewouldremember those words because she suddenly forgot almost every single one she knew. She couldn’t stop staring at him. The heat in his midnight eyes made her feel as if they both might combust here together in his library. Leonine as ever, Alexander was lounging on his side, waiting for her. She was the prey.
“I guess we better return to your cock, then,” she whispered, joining him on the blanket.
Alexander didn’t believe in seeking out pain for the sake of personal growth; life was hard enough. So he couldn’t rightfully say what had compelled him to devise this exercise, which could most accurately be described as an acute form of torture.
“Can I touch it?”
“You don’t have to ask, Harriet. I’m yours.” As soon as the words tumbled out, Alexander felt the need to hastily add, “To touch.”
Harriet knelt on the blanket next to him, dragging her gaze over him once again. The position provoked too many fantasies. Though, really, what position wouldn’t have? He was distracted from this—and any—line of thinking when Harriet reached out and traced a tentative finger down his cock. A groan he barely recognized as coming from his own mouth filled the room.
“Is that all right?” she asked, tentatively.
“Very much so,” he gritted out, shutting his eyes tightly. Watching her explorations was too much to bear.
She did it again, lightly drawing up and down his shaft. Alexander was doing his best not to fly off the floor at her every touch. Harriet continued, sweeping her hands down his thighs, and then back up. Every touch was gentle and hesitant. Despite that, she let out a little hum of pleasure as she traced his hip bones and then traveled back down to his desperate, aching prick. The sounds she was making were going to kill him. Or make him spill his seed all over himself. He clenched his teeth and tried to breathe through the feeling.
