Kate Pearce - Simply Wicked

Marguerite covered her face with her hands. God forbid she found herself in the same nightmarish situation again, caught between two jealous men, unable to stop them from coming to blows, from trying to kill each other . . .

She needed to talk to Anthony, to find out where he stood in regard to Minshom, and without revealing exactly why she found the idea of being trapped between them too horrific to contemplate.

“Marguerite, what is the matter?”

Anthony stopped walking and stared down at his companion. They were supposed to be enjoying a companionable stroll through the park. He’d already made remarks about the mildness of the weather, the scenery, the ducks on the pond, and received hardly a word in reply.

“Will you at least look at me?”

She turned her face up toward his, and he registered the worry in her blue eyes, the dark shadows beneath.

“Are you still unwell?”

“No.” She sighed. “I’m just trying to think what to say.”

“To me?”

“Yes.” Her quick smile was strained. “Four days ago my mother came to see me.”

“And?”

“She knows about us.”

Anthony grimaced. “I told the twins it would be impossible to keep that news a secret.” He took her hand, placed it firmly on his sleeve and resumed walking. The park was still bare of foliage, no sign yet of the spring bulbs or the blossom. “And what did your mother have to say for herself?”

“That you were not a good choice for a lover.”

He stopped again as an all-too familiar sense of inadequacy laced with frustration rolled through him. “Does anyone in this damned world think I’m capable of anything?”

Marguerite tugged at his arm. “There’s no need to shout; everyone is looking at us.”

“Let them look, or do you want me to leave? I’d hate to spoil your afternoon with my loathsome presence.”

“Now you are overreacting.”

Was he? Briefly he closed his eyes and then fixed them on the elaborate park gates. He hadn’t been home or gone to the shipping office for three days. David had given him a key to his lodgings and left Anthony there to wallow in his own misery while his friend was away on naval business.

He grabbed Marguerite’s hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can be private, or don’t you trust me enough to be alone with you?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Marguerite picked up her skirts in her free hand and hurried along by his side. They reached David’s building, which faced onto the park, and Anthony pulled out his key. She said nothing until he closed the door behind them.

“Where exactly are we?”

“Does it matter? It belongs to a friend of mine. We are safe here.”

She slowly took off her gloves and considered him. He tried not to shift around as her sharp gaze took in his disordered linen and badly shaved chin. He realized he wasn’t prepared to be examined, dissected, found wanting—not by Marguerite, not by a woman he desired. He scowled down at her.

“So what exactly did your mother say to make you so worried about being my lover?”

Her eyebrows rose. “There’s no need to be so defensive. I didn’t say I was worried.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s obvious from the way you are behaving.”

“You are impossible.” Marguerite yanked at the cream ribbons of her bonnet until they loosened and threw the contraption on a chair. She stormed across to him and poked him in the chest. “Why did I bother to defend you to my mother when you have obviously given up on yourself?”

He caught her wrist, retaining his grip even when she tried to pull away. “What the hell does that mean?”

“My mother tried to tell me that your sexual needs were too extreme for me to imagine, let alone satisfy.”

Abruptly his antagonism disappeared beneath his apprehension. “What exactly did she say?”

She looked up at him. “That you like men.”

“You already knew that.”

“I know, but she insisted you needed to tell me the rest.”

Anthony found it much easier to watch her luscious mouth rather than react to her cutting words. He bent his head, captured her lips and kissed her as hard as he could. She made an exasperated sound and kissed him back, her teeth nipping at his already bruised lower lip, which made him instantly hard. He wrenched his mouth away, hissing as her teeth gouged his lip.

“Can we talk about this afterward?” Anthony said.

“After what?”

“After I’ve had you.”

“Why would you think I’d agree to that?”

“Because you want me, and I’m offering you the perfect opportunity to use my body to release all your tension and anger.” He shoved his hand under her skirts, cupped her sex, and felt her moist core settle over the palm of his hand. “You want me.”

He backed her toward the wall, kissed her mouth with a savagery he hadn’t known was in him. She slid her hand into his hair, held him close, her fingers between them wrenching at the buttons of his breeches. He groaned and thrust his cock into her hand.

“Please . . .”

She guided him downward, and the dripping crown of his shaft bumped against the softness of her stomach, the hair beneath it, her clit and finally the welcoming opening below. He grasped her around the waist and lifted her onto him. He gasped at the tightness and fierceness of her grip on his shaft. Hard and fast this time, to slake the need and to forget himself in the welcome of her body.

Even as he pumped into her, he remembered to thumb her clit, to bring her with him to a crashing conclusion. He even remembered to pull out, to let his seed release on her belly rather than where he really wanted it, deep inside her.

“Hold on to me,” he murmured, as he carried her into David’s bedroom, her legs wrapped around him, their bodies still close and connected. He placed her carefully on the bed. She immediately rolled away from him.

“That wasn’t fair.”

“You didn’t enjoy it?”

“Of course I enjoyed it, but sex is not a substitute for a serious conversation.”

He came up on one elbow over her, smiled at her indignant expression. “Are you sure about that?”

With one deft motion, he threw her skirts over her head, exposing her sex, and licked his way through the wetness he’d helped create. She bucked against him, grabbed hold of his hair and pulled hard. He winced at the pain but didn’t stop, driving his tongue deep, sucking her clit into his mouth until she whimpered and shuddered with release.

He moved off her and allowed her to sit up, trying not to smile as she fought her petticoats and patterned muslin skirts to reveal her flushed face. “Anthony Sokorvsky!”

He deliberately licked his lips, watched her eyes widen in response.

“Anthony . . .”

“What?” He sighed and flung himself down on his back, savored her taste in his mouth even as he braced himself for her next remark.

“My mother wouldn’t say what else you liked in bed. Will you tell me?”

He’d known the question would come, but he still balked at answering it. How honest could he be, especially when he wasn’t sure what he really did like? He stared up at the cracked ceiling.

“The thing is . . . I’ve changed.”

Marguerite sighed. “You don’t have to say that.”

He rolled over to look at her. “But I have, you have no idea how much . . .” Dammit, the fact that he was lying there next to her having the conversation was astounding by itself, but he could hardly tell her that.

“Then tell me. You promised to be honest.”

He stared at her. What did he like? He’d never been given the opportunity to form his own tastes, only accepted those that were forced on him. He looked over her shoulder at David’s oriental cabinet. “Sometimes, I . . . like to be tied up.”

She nodded, her expression as serious as he suspected his own was. “And what else?”

Oh God. “I also liked it when you pulled my hair hard, when you dug your nails in my back, made me hurt.”

He held his breath, would that be enough? The rest of it he was too confused to even consider. She looked away from him, down at her hands, and he swallowed hard.

“Why?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why do you like these things?”

Now he was the one to look away. There was no chance of him sharing that part of his life with her. “I don’t know, and as I said, I’m trying to change.” He hated the uncertainty in his voice. He sounded so pathetic, so needy and so defensive about the indefensible.

“And do you only like it when a man does these things to you?”

“I’ve never tried them with a woman.” He forced a laugh. “Not that any woman would want to do such things.”

“My mother obviously thinks I wouldn’t.”

He glanced up at her sharp tone, recognized the anger in her face. It seemed he wasn’t the only one frustrated by his parents.

“She has no idea what I am really like. Why should she decide such matters for me?”

“Well, she does have a lot of experience.”

She glared at him, hands on her hips. “So you agree with her? You think I’m too weak to deal with your needs?”

He sat up against the headboard, held up his hands. “I didn’t say that.”

She turned her back on him, and he flinched.

“Help me take this damned dress off.”

“Marguerite?”

She glared over her shoulder at him. “Help me!”

He complied, undoing the ties and loosening her corset. He resumed his position cross-legged at the top of the bed as she struggled out of her clothes down to her shift. When the outline of her body was revealed in all its lush, flushed glory, his cock thickened and pressed against his untucked shirt. She gave him an impatient glance.

“Take off your clothes too. Do I have to do everything?”

He stripped, his excitement rising as she glared at him, his heart thudding in time to the pulse in his cock. He hadn’t realized she had such a temper and was surprised at his eagerness to see where her anger took them.

“Now what are you going to do?”

Marguerite scanned the small bedroom, returning her gaze to Anthony. “This friend of yours, does he like to be tied up too?”

“Yes, he does, but . . .”

She jumped off the bed, “Then he must have something here to secure you with, yes?”

“You’re going to tie me up?”

“Yes, why shouldn’t I? I’m fed up with being treated like a porcelain figurine, protected and alone inside the china cabinet.” She glared at him, dared him to challenge her, to tell her not to be silly, to laugh. He did none of those things and the understanding in his gaze almost made her forget her anger.

He shrugged. “I’m tired of people underestimating me too. I’m not going to stop you.”

She headed for the chest of drawers and hesitated at the thought of invading another person’s privacy.

“May I help you, ma’am?”

Marguerite gasped and spun around to stare at the man who leaned against the bedroom door. He was dressed in naval uniform, his hat in his hand, his long blond hair disheveled from the wind. He was also distinctly familiar.

“Captain David Gray, at your service, ma’am. We met at Madame Helene’s.” He nodded at Anthony. “I can only apologize for the interruption. I’ll get what I need and I’ll be off.”

Anthony looked appalled as he scrambled to the side of the bed. “God, David, I’m so sorry. We’ll leave immediately.”

Marguerite’s fingers curled into her palm until they bit into her flesh. He was probably mortified at being caught naked in his lover’s bed with a woman.

But Captain Gray didn’t look angry. If she remembered correctly, he was a friend of her mother’s and Lisette’s and therefore unlikely to betray them. She curtsied, difficult to do well when wearing only one’s shift.

“Perhaps I should go and leave Captain Gray to satisfy your needs.”

“Marguerite . . .”

Captain Gray smiled. “Please, both of you, stay here. I am the one who is de trop.”

“And what if I asked you to stay?” Marguerite couldn’t quite believe the bold words emerging from her own mouth.

Captain Gray hesitated. “Ma’am?”

“I want to tie Anthony up. Can you show me how to do it?”

The captain exchanged another longer glance at Anthony. “Sokorvsky?”

“I’m quite happy to be tied up, David. If Marguerite wants your help, I’m not going to stop her.”

“Then I’d be delighted.”

David put down his tricorn hat, took off his gloves and shut the bedroom door firmly behind him. Marguerite tried to breathe normally. He seemed to accept her seminakedness as nothing out of the ordinary and showed no tendency to salivate over her. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been naked in front of two men before.

“You need something strong but supple enough to tie well, if that makes sense.” He stepped past her and opened the second drawer of the red lacquered tallboy. “I find long silk scarves work very well. Which color would you like?”