Wicked Temptation (Regency Sinners 6)(11)

“Who taught you such things?”

“I…”

“Do not lie to me,” he warned.

“My mother told us—”

“Your mother?”

Pru nodded. “She did not want Cilla and me to be a pair of ninny heads when it came to—to the marriage bed. She explained a woman has needs. Ones that some gentlemen are not even aware of or do not wish to acknowledge in a wife.”

“That is unfortunately true.”

“My mother told us she was sure that neither of us would choose to marry such an unworthy gentleman. And in the meantime, there is no shame in pleasuring our own body in order to learn what we like and do not like when we—when we feel the need.”

“There is no shame in it,” he agreed huskily. “Is your need great now?”

“Yes!” Pru squirmed as she tried to find the purchase to rub her clit against his now unmoving fingers.

“No.” Titus gave her ass another slap, deliberately harder than any of the others he had administered. “I shall decide when you are to have your pleasure. Nor will you touch yourself in this intimate way again, but wait until we are together, and I will satisfy your needs. Do you understand me?” Ridiculous of him to feel jealous of Pru’s own fingers, but he did. He most assuredly did.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“Yes, I understand I must not touch myself but wait for you to satisfy my needs,” she repeated desperately.

“Good.” Titus resumed stroking her clit, interspersed now with a light pinching that caused Pru to groan and writhe as he pressed the length of his cloth-covered cock against the burning flesh of her bottom.

It was only seconds before he felt her nubbin stiffen and then Pru’s body began to quake and tremble as she attained her release. He continued to stroke her through that climax, his fingers slick with the release of her juices. Then, unable to stop himself, he rubbed and pinched her flesh into another climax immediately after, and then another, each becoming more powerful than the last.

“No more,” Pru finally groaned weakly.

“Did you not give me permission to give you pleasure?”

“Yes.”

“Only me?”

“Only you,” she choked.

“Good girl.” He had to stop this, Titus admonished. He had to. He had already gone beyond the purpose of the initial spanking. Far beyond, he acknowledged self-disgustedly as he removed his hand from between Pru’s thighs and stepped back. “You may straighten your clothing now.” His voice sounded harsh in the silence of the room.

Titus turned his back on her as he strode over to the window, aware of the rustling of clothing behind him as he took out his handkerchief and wiped Pru’s sticky juices from his fingers. An exercise which did nothing to take away the addictive aroma of her release, a sweet floral aroma mixed with that earthier musk. His cock was so engorged and throbbing, it was tenting the front of his pantaloons, and he longed for privacy in which he might relieve that painful ache. It was—

He turned abruptly at the sound of Pru’s sobs. Her clothes were as they had been when she entered the library almost an hour ago, but Pru herself was still bent over and lying prostrate across the table, tears raining unchecked down her cheeks.

Because he had not given her leave to rise?

Two long strides brought him back to Pru’s side to gently help her to straighten. He took her in his arms as she began to sob in earnest.

Which had been the whole purpose of his unorthodox behavior.

Not enjoying spanking Pru.

Not pleasuring her.

Not demanding that only he was allowed to pleasure her.

Not the need he now felt for his own physical release.

This was about Pru. For Pru. The tears she now cried were the catharsis that would, he believed, with time, aid in her full emotional recovery.

Titus bent slightly so he could put one of his arms under Pru’s knees and the other about her shoulders, before lifting her and carrying her over to the chaise in front of the window. He settled her comfortably on his lap, cradling her in his arms as he patiently waited for her tears to abate.

Pru cried until there were no more tears left inside her. Hard, body-racking sobs, with her face buried against Romney’s throat, her arms clinging about his neck.

Her copious tears had dampened his neckcloth and shirtfront by the time she came back to herself enough to recall all that had come before those tears began to fall so readily.

Titus taking exception to her continued rudeness toward him.

His demand she prostrate herself over the table and bare her bottom to him.

Those hard and punishing slaps administered to her bared flesh.

Titus’s fingers exploring and stroking between her thighs.

The pleasure of having those fingers on her nubbin and bringing her to climax after climax.

Titus had not done those things to her but for her, Pru realized in a daze. To shake her, once and for all, kicking and screaming if necessary, from that well of numbed and helpless despair she had been lost in for so very long.

Except she had not kicked and screamed in anger or torment, but in pleasure.

Pleasure Titus had given her as unselfishly as he had the pain, all to help her break through the numbness she felt at the loss of her beloved twin.

She moistened her lips before speaking. “I believe I should thank you once again.”