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He stared down at her, hardly able to believe his ears. Had she truly said the word “cock?” If so, his wanton little cousin was far bawdier than he could ever have imagined.
He put his hands to his hips. “Who told you this? I will have his name,” he demanded, thinking that he would have to beat the bastard to a bloody pulp.
“What does it matter?” she returned. “It is true, is it not?”
“Did he force you to take his member?”
“By ‘member,’ you mean to say ‘cock?’”
A vein in his neck throbbed. “Such a vulgar word should not pass the lips of a refined young lady.”
She had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Have you not determined that I am far from a proper miss?”
“Did the bastard force you?”
“I wanted his cock! I was curious. And it pleased me to pleasure him in this fashion.”
“Undoubtedly, he suggested it. Who was he?”
“No one of consequence. But, as I have had some practice in it, I think you will find pleasure in my performance.”
Hell and damnation.He was being propositioned by his cousin—once more.
“I have defiled you enough,” he answered, and reached again for her shackle.
“Or you can take me. Here. Now. I beg of you. Make use of my body. Lest I am not to your liking.”
He suppressed an oath. “Millie, that is not the issue.”
“But it must be. You have not disavowed it. Your arousal is quite plain, but you must not desire my body enough.”
“Millie! Do you forget we are cousins?”
“Not blood cousins. And no one need know. Please let me satisfy you. It would gratify me to do so.”
He groaned as his cock stretched at her words and he hoped he could answer without wavering. “I can address my own needs to satisfaction.”
“I know I must not please as well as Miss Hollingsworth, but you could close your eyes and imagine you are with her, and not your inferior cousin.”
The blood was pounding in his head, clouding all thought.
"I'll not mind. You could—"
He succumbed. He crushed his lips to hers. To shut her up. To ease the all-consuming pressure at his crotch. To prove that she was not as undesirable as she thought. To surrender.
And once he gave himself permission to proceed, he knew there was no turning back.
The more he tasted her, the finer she tasted. Over and over, his mouth ravaged hers. He kissed for his pleasure now, and it seemed would have done so even had she not invited him. Fisting his hand in her hair, he tilted her head in various directions, that he could sample all angles of her mouth. How delectably warm and moist she was. That she had no skill in the art of kissing mattered not. Her efforts amused him, and he favored them over no effort at all.
The air between them grew as hot as that in the hearth. Her breasts pressed into him. Her hips. The little wanton had ground herself hungrily at him, and he had nearly succumbed the first time she had displayed the depths of her prurience. How could a woman who hitherto had shown such reserve, relinquish all inhibition?
He flattered himself that he was the inspiration, though Millie had never shown any partiality toward him. It was what made him part with the sort of respect that he rarely spared his fellow men. She was not one of the many simpering maids who melted at his touch or tried to earn his affection through coquetry or flattery. Neither was she as beautiful, as witty, or as charming. But she was, for the most part, a sensible young woman, without artifice and possessed of a daring spirit. He had not anticipated this last quality, and the mystery of it intrigued him.
His cock yearned to burst free of its confines. He fought the urgency and shoved his hips at her, giving her time and a sense of what she asked for. If she had a change of heart, despite the difficulty of fighting a tide turned, he would withdraw. But only upon her word.
Had she truly surrendered her maidenhead? He did not think Millie would lie to him, but what if she had overstated what had happened?
“If you wish to reconsider,” he muttered between kisses.
