Page 81 of One Night with a Prince
“Oh?” The mocking gleam had returned to her eyes. “Then what is the point? I’m only doing what you paid for me to—”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlHe hauled the determined wench up onto his lap. “You arenot a whore.” He seized her mouth to blot out the words she was sure to throw at him now that she thought she’d won this argument. Not that she had.Isn’t a whore someone who exchanges her favors for financial gain? Damn her! He kissed her wildly, determined to erase from her mind the notion that she was his paid whore. She wasn’t.
Then what am I?
He’d show her what she was. Even if he wasn’t sure of it himself. She tore her mouth from his. “Byrne—”
“Shh,” he murmured, scattering kisses over her impossibly soft skin as he slipped his hand up under her skirts. “Let me make love to you, darling.”
“No, it’s my turn.” Brushing his hands aside, she began to work loose his cravat. “I understand that a woman can make love to a man as easily as he can make love to her.”
He drew back to stare at her in surprise. “And where did you hear that?”
“From your other mistresses.” She removed his coat, then unbuttoned his waistcoat. “We had a very interesting conversation about how to please a man.”
He groaned. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
Mischief filled her face. “Why not?” She took her time about undoing his shirt, which put him even more on his guard.
“Because given your military bent, you’re likely to use such knowledge to bring me to my knees.”
“You mean the way you brought me to my knees just now?” She tugged his shirt off over his head. Then she ran one finger down the center of his chest to his belly and lower. But when she dragged her forefinger along the length of his cock only to tease the tip, he caught her hand, and growled, “Don’t even think it, my sweet.”
“What?” she said innocently.
“You are not going to pay me back for what I did earlier by tormenting me for hours with your devilish little hand. I want to be inside you. Now.”
“Certainly, sir,” she said, with that falsely compliant tone of before. “Anything to please the customer.”
“Christabel—” he began in a warning tone.
“You didn’t bring your French letters, did you?”
Damn. He hadn’t. “Forget my French letters.” He shifted her on his lap so he could divest her of herGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlgown, then went to work on her corset laces.
“Ah, but do we dare?” she taunted him. “According to Lady Jenner, you never do without them, because you see your mistresses as ‘whor—”
“To hell with Lady Jenner.” He finished with her corset and practically ripped it off her. “And if you use the wordwhore in connection with yourself one more time, I swear I’ll stop the carriage and make you walk to Bath.”
She laughed. “No, you won’t.” She reached down to fondle his arousal. “Because then you couldn’t satisfythis .” When he merely glared at her, her smile faded. She kissed his mouth until some of the tension left him, then drew back, eyes solemn. “Why does it bother you so to think of me as a whore?”
“Because you’re not one. And because I don’t like your feeling that you are.”
She stayed his hand as he reached to shove off her chemise. “You once told me you didn’t care about the feelings of your mistresses.”
“I don’t,” he said hoarsely. “But I damned well care about yours.” God, she really was turning him into a blithering, besotted idiot. And at the moment, he didn’t give a damn. But she was staring at him with those solemn eyes again. “Why?”
Shrugging off her hold on his hand, he removed her chemise. “Why what?”
“Why do you care about my feelings, when you’ve never cared about the feelings of your other mistresses? How am I any different?”
Bloody hell. “I thought you were going to make love to me,” he countered. He set her aside long enough to shove off his drawers and trousers in one quick motion, then pulled her back to straddle his lap. “So get to it, will you?”
The sudden gleam in her eyes should have warned him. But even after she’d lifted herself to come down on his cock, encasing him in her delicious heat, he didn’t realize what she was up to. Until she stopped there, her gaze meeting his with mischievous intent.
“What makes me any different, Byrne?” she asked again. Slowly, she drew up on her knees, inch by inch making him groan.
“God preserve me from teasing wenches,” he complained as he tried futilely to make her increase her motions.
