Page 91 of Doxy for the Ton
He placed another kiss on her thigh, and she let out a low mewl. Then he traced a path toward the tops of her thighs with his lips, until he reached the curls at her center. He drew in a deep breath, relishing her scent.
What might she taste like?
Closing his eyes, he flicked his tongue out, tasting the salt on her skin. She jerked and then grasped his wrists.
“No!”
He opened his eyes to see her staring at him, her eyes glistening with moisture. “Mimi, I—”
“Let me giveyoupleasure,” she said, pulling him over her body with a strength born of resolve that belied her frame. Then she wrapped her legs around his and drew him closer, until he could feel her damp heat against his manhood.
Sweet heaven—she was ready for him!
Unable to conquer his body’s need, he thrust inside her, shuddering with pleasure at her slickness. Her scent intensified, smothering the woodsy, spicy cologne that clung to the air in the chamber like a thick fog.
Perhaps that was why she refused to pleasure him in her own chamber—the scent of female desire would overpower the delicate aroma of rose. But how pleasurable it would be to have her chamber marked by her scent, to have her acknowledge her desires each time she went to sleep at night—desires that only he could fulfil.
He withdrew and plunged inside her again, and she lifted her hips to meet each thrust. Pleasure grew, swelling like a tide, and he fought against the instinct to succumb.
No…
She squeezed her thighs together, and he gritted his teeth at the familiar surge in his groin at the delicious friction.
Not until she takes her pleasure…
He gripped her arms, pinning her to the bead, and lowered his face to claim her mouth.
“No!” she cried, twisting her head to the side.
“Let me kiss you, Mimi,” he growled. “Would you not take pleasure from my kiss, from my body?”
He withdrew and slipped inside her once more, slowly, and her nostrils flared as a whimper escaped her lips.
“I can feel your pleasure,” he said. “I can smell it.”
“No…” she whispered. “It’s a lie.”
“Your body—and your eyes—belie your words, Mimi,” he whispered. “Why deny yourself the pleasure I can give you in return for that which you have given me?”
“Alexander, I—”
She broke off, tears swelling in her eyes.
“Does it pain you to speak my name?” he asked. “Can you not take pleasure from it? You deserve to be happy, Mimi, to indulge in pleasure, as I do, as so many do. Why suffer for a sake of a principle—a whim?”
She grasped his arms, pushing him back. “You think I’m indulging in awhim? You have no right to take that which I do not wish to yield.”
“I don’t want to take from you, Mimi,” he said. “I only wish togive—my heart, and your pleasure.”
“No!” she cried. “You know nothing of hearts—and you have no right to my pleasure. You’re paying for my body, nothing more.”
“Then I’ll pay you more,” he said. “Name your price. I’ll give you everything I own if you would give me your pleasure.”
“Some things are not for sale.”
“Everything is for sale,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers. “Let me kiss you, and I’ll—”
He yelped as a sharp pain tore into his arms where she raked her nails over the flesh.
