Kate Pearce - Simply Wicked

Marguerite peered into the drawer and saw a rainbow of colors. “Black, I think, do you have that?”

“Indeed I do.” He extracted four scarves and handed them to her. “I suggest you tie a scarf around each wrist and ankle first and then attach him to the bed.”

Marguerite almost wanted to laugh at his quiet, businesslike tone, but she didn’t want to lose the anger inside her either. She turned toward Anthony on the bed, noted his barely concealed excitement, the heaviness of his straining cock quivering against his belly.

David bowed to Anthony, “I do apologize for coming back. I assumed my work would keep me out until the end of the week, but the ship I expected didn’t arrive.”

Anthony sighed. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. This is your home.” He glanced at Marguerite. “This wasn’t planned.”

“These things rarely are.” David’s smile seemed genuine, his interest in the situation obvious even to Marguerite. “Shall we proceed?”

Marguerite climbed onto the bed and awaited further instructions.

“Loop the scarf around his wrist, tie a loose knot and then tie both ends to the bed frame.”

“How tight should it be?”

David came up behind her and tugged at the scarf. “It depends on how much you want to mark him.”

Anthony cleared his throat. “Tie it as tight as you want, Marguerite; I’ll probably enjoy it.”

She stared hard at the black silk scarf. Could she do this? Did she really want to? Perhaps her mother was right and she was too afraid. She tied the knot, heard Anthony’s stifled gasp as she tightened it. Despite the fact that she was anxious, she was the one with the power this time, not a naïve young wife who didn’t understand what was expected of her.

“Would you like me to help you?”

She blinked up at David who had come around to inspect her work, his expression carefully blank.

“No, I’d prefer to do it myself.”

He nodded as if he perfectly understood. “Do you wish me to leave then?”

She studied him for a long moment, recognized the rising arousal in his sea blue eyes, the quickness of his breathing, the already prominent bulge in his breeches.

“I’d like you to stay. Perhaps you can check my work when I’ve finished.”

“I’d be delighted; as Anthony already knows, I like to watch.”

She continued tying Anthony up, avoided touching his erect cock as she moved around the bed. Soon he lay spread eagled on the covers, each limb attached to a bed post by a scarf. Marguerite knelt between his muscled thighs and simply looked at him, noting the slight red marks on his wrists and ankles, the tautness of the black silk, the play of his muscles under his skin.

“Do you like me like this, Marguerite?”

She looked up at Anthony’s quiet question.

“Yes.”

She felt a slight movement behind her and turned her head to stare at David. She’d almost forgotten he was there. His gaze was fixed on Anthony too, but she saw no sign of passion, just the experienced eye of a detached observer.

“Captain Gray?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“If you were alone with Anthony, what would you do next?”

He shrugged. “It’s up to him. I don’t believe in forcing a man to accept whatever I feel like giving him, although there are some men who do.”

“And some men who like being forced, no doubt,” Anthony murmured. “What would you like to do to me, Marguerite, now that you have me at your mercy?”

She shivered. This was bizarre; this whole situation was unusual. “Not hurt you, not force you.”

“You could oil his skin, he’d probably like that.”

Marguerite eyed Anthony’s long powerful body, now displayed for her enjoyment, constrained by her hands. How would his skin feel straining and slick as she massaged oil into his quivering flesh?

“Do you oil him, Captain Gray?”

“Yes, I do, and please call me David. I also use oil for other reasons.”

“When you fuck him, you mean?”

Surprise flickered in David’s eyes followed by wry amusement and respect. “Yes, my lady, for when I fuck him.”

Anthony groaned. “Marguerite, for a well-brought-up young lady, your language is appalling.”

“I told you, I’m tired of being treated like an innocent. I’m a widow, not a shy debutante.”

David handed her a vial of oil, and she turned back to Anthony. He flinched as she coated her fingers with oil and started to massage it into his chest.

“Dammit, you could’ve warmed it first.”

She flicked his nipple. “I thought you liked it to hurt?”

His skin felt burning hot beneath her hands. She shaped his ribcage, the hollows of his stomach and the slight flare of his hips. He started to move under her, the slight undulation pulling on his bonds, making him strain toward her touch. His cock brushed against her arms as she worked, leaving streaks of precum on her skin, on the fine lawn of her shift. She could smell his desire all around her.

“What about my cock?” he demanded hoarsely as she started to rub oil into his thigh.

“What about it?”

“Aren’t you going to massage me there?”

“Not yet.”

David’s chuckle reminded Marguerite of his presence. He sat in a chair, one leg crossed over the other as he watched the action on the bed. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Do you still want me here?”

She smiled at him. “Do you always put your cock in him or do you sometimes use something else?”

“Marguerite!”

She ignored Anthony’s strangled exclamation and kept her gaze on David.

“We could gag him, you know. That would keep him quiet.” David smiled. “To answer your question, sometimes I use a carved phallus or short jade plug instead. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “I just wondered.”

David stood up. “If such things interest you, take a look in the third drawer down in the tallboy. I’m something of a collector of the unusual and erotic.” He bowed. “Now I really must leave you—I have arranged a luncheon engagement with your sister Lisette, and she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“You won’t mention me, will you?”

“Of course not. I’ll be the soul of discretion.” He winked at her, stroked a lingering path up Anthony’s leg to his hip and then left, shutting the door behind him.

Marguerite returned her attention to Anthony, who was gazing helplessly at the door. She stripped off her shift. Anthony’s eyes widened and he licked his lips.

“Come here and let me kiss you.”

“Non, I haven’t finished with you yet.” She knelt between his legs and took the heavy crown of his shaft into her mouth and sucked hard, used her teeth to draw him deep down her throat.

“Oh God,” he moaned and thrashed under her, his hips trying to lift, his heartbeat pounding loud enough to hear. “Yes, just like that, make me come, make me come hard for you.”

She cupped a hand under his balls and squeezed, brought them tight against the root of his shaft until he started to groan with every pull of her mouth. He climaxed, his cock so far down her throat that she barely had to swallow to take all his cum.

While he recovered, she set about untying him, rubbed at the red spots on his wrists and kissing the soreness away.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

She dropped the last of the scarves onto the bed. “Yes.”

His smile was slow and lascivious. “So did I.” He continued to watch her as she vainly tried to smooth out the wrinkles in the silk. “I certainly don’t see you as a shy retiring debutante anymore.”

She sniffed. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Perhaps your mother can be wrong. And if she can be wrong about her own daughter, perhaps she can be wrong about our relationship as well.”

She met his gaze. Why had he mentioned her mother? Suddenly she didn’t feel brave and daring anymore. Had she truly wanted to give Anthony what he craved or was she simply trying to prove a point to Helene?

“I never said I was prepared to give you up.”

“But you thought about it, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. She is my mother; we normally agree on most things.”

He sighed, shoving a hand through his already disordered hair. “I don’t want to come between you and your mother, but . . .”

She moved closer to him, kissed his stubbled cheek and then his lips with a confidence she was far from feeling. “You won’t.”

He cupped her chin and waited until her eyes met his. “I haven’t shocked you then?”

“Not yet.”

“You have certainly shocked me. I didn’t realize you had such a temper, but I’m not complaining.”

Conscious now of the coldness of the room and her naked state, Marguerite slipped off the bed and picked up her corset and petticoats. Despite what he said, she knew she’d behaved appallingly, had lost her temper, allowed two men to see her naked and—even worse—enjoyed every moment of it.

“Let me help you.”

She stood still as Anthony patiently laced her corset and tied the strings at her waist. He dropped her dress over her head, settled it around her and did up the fastenings.

“There, you look beautiful again.”

“Scarcely that.”

He chuckled. “God forbid I offend you. I meant you look presentable.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “What are you going to do about your hair? It looks like a bird’s nest.”

In answer she hunted up some hair pins from the floor and the bed, gave the ends of her hair a quick practiced twist and pinned the mass on the top of her head. She quickly added her bonnet and tied the cream ribbons, then curtsied to Anthony as he stared at her.

“Well, will I do?”

His smile was warm and full of admiration. “Perfectly.” He hesitated, rubbing a hand over his naked chest. “Give me a moment to dress and I’ll escort you home.”

“I think I’d like to go by myself.” She tried to hold his gaze and failed. “Do you mind?”

He stepped back, the laughter dying from his eyes. “Of course not. Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Marguerite picked up her gloves and reticule. “That would be lovely.” Why had this suddenly become so difficult? She nodded awkwardly. “Good-bye then.”

He didn’t reply, and she almost tripped in her haste to get to the door and leave. Unexpected sunlight on her face made her pause at the main door. She’d forgotten it was still afternoon. How long had she allowed herself to be with Anthony and forget the outside world? She needed to get home, take a deep breath and think.

What the hell had he done now? Anthony shoved a hand through his hair and stared at the door through which Marguerite had departed. She’d seemed to like tying him up, exulted in it even, so why had she looked so forlorn and uncertain at the end? He sighed and bent to pick up his clothes.

Perhaps she’d gone along with what he suggested simply to appease him and hadn’t enjoyed herself at all. Dammit, why should she want to watch a man beg? Women wanted strength in a male, the kind of man who’d give them children and protect them from the realities of life.

Anthony paused as he pulled his shirt over his head. But she’d let David stay. In truth, she’d asked for his advice, and she hadn’t needed to do that. He wondered again exactly what had gone on during Marguerite’s short marriage, what had been her relationship with Harry Jones and her husband. Perhaps her frustration at being seen as naïve came from what she had experienced. Had she suspected Justin and Harry were lovers? She’d seemed almost comfortable being with two men.

“Anthony, you are a fool.”

He said it aloud, could almost hear Marguerite’s distinctive voice echoing the sentiment. He frowned as he tucked his crumpled shirt into his breeches. He stunk more than a fishmonger’s whore. It was definitely time to go home, replace his clothing and decide what to do next.

His father’s mansion was almost as forbidding from the rear as it was from the front. Anthony slipped through the mews and into the kitchen, winked at the cook and started up the back stairs. He paused on the first level to hold the door open for a flustered-looking footman with a laden drinks tray.

He frowned as the sound of raised voices reached him. What in God’s name were his father and Valentin shouting about now? He distinctly heard his name. With a sigh, he stepped into the vast empty hall and walked across to the library. The door was ajar enough for him to see his father confronting Valentin in front of the imposing marble fireplace.

He walked into the room and waited to be noticed, waited in vain as his father started speaking again.

“This is probably your fault, Valentin.”

“I think not. You asked me to speak to him. You were the one who wanted him out of my business and into yours.”

“Only because you refuse to face up to your responsibilities.”