Simply Wicked (10 page)

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“That’s not what I said!”

He bowed, aware of an ache in his cock and, ridiculously, his heart. “Perhaps you’d prefer to experiment with someone else?”

Marguerite sighed. “You are being stupid, and I am in no state to argue with you anymore. Come and see me tomorrow, and we’ll discuss this in a reasonable manner.”

“But I don’t feel reasonable.”

“I can see that.”

He watched as she sped down the stairs, skirts flying, and her kid slippers barely making a sound. Part of him wanted to follow her, push her against the wall and bury his thick shaft deep inside her until she screamed her release. He slammed his hand into the wall, enjoying the pain that shot up his arm.

But what if she really was done with him? He pressed his forehead into the cold unforgiving brick. God, he hated this self-doubt. Minshom had done this to him, and he needed to stop believing it. At the thought of his tormentor, Anthony’s frustrated cock started to throb in anticipation. Was that what he really needed now? To go up to the third floor, kneel in front of Minshom and repent for his stupid fantasy that he could connect sexually with a woman?

A sound below him made him straighten up and spin around.

Was Marguerite coming back? His shaft responded with enthu-siasm. But it wasn’t a woman’s light tread on the stairs. It was a man’s heavier footfall.

Anthony leaned back against the wall as Captain David Gray appeared on the landing, hat in hand, blue coat unfastened as if he’d just arrived. He hesitated when he saw Anthony, but his smile was warm.

“What are you doing here?”

Anthony simply stared at him. He’d known David for years, knew that his friend had no illusions about what he was or what he wanted.

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“I’m hiding, I suppose.”

“From what?”

“From myself.”

David nodded as if Anthony made perfect sense. “I haven’t seen you on the third floor for a while. Is that what you’re trying to avoid?”

“Yes.”

“I can understand that. I try to avoid it myself.” He gestured at the stairs. “I was just about to leave; would you care to walk out with me?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Because you think you can’t survive the night without Lord Minshom’s attentions?”

Anthony’s eyes snapped to David’s. “How the hell did you know that?”

“Because a few years ago I felt the same.” David’s smile disappeared. “But I broke free of him, so it is possible.”

“Perhaps you are simply a stronger man than I am.”

“No, I’m not. I just learned to value myself more.”

Anthony dropped his gaze. “At this moment I crave his ‘attention’ more than I want to breathe.”

“He has that effect on people, but there are many other ways to achieve sexual satisfaction without submitting to that bastard.” He paused. “What if I offered you one alternative to Lord Minshom and the third floor?”

Anthony straightened and ran an unsteady hand through his already disordered hair. “You have an alternative?”

David’s smile was calm. “At my lodgings, if you care to join me.”

Dark excitement threaded through Anthony’s body. He was hard and ready to fuck. If he couldn’t have Marguerite—and why should she want him inside her after all—he needed some-SIMPLY WICKED / 81

one, and if Lord Minshom was out of the question, David would definitely do.

Marguerite stepped into the kitchen, her face flushed, her whole body still trembling from Anthony’s caresses.

“Marguerite, are you all right?”

She jumped and turned to face her mother, who sat in the shadows beside the hearth. Despite the lateness of the hour, her mother still looked beautiful as she rocked back and forth in the old pine chair, her dainty feet swinging with every motion.

“I thought you were staying with Philip tonight.”

Helene made a dismissive gesture. “We made magnificent love and then he had to spoil it by insisting we make plans to spend more time together. Men are so annoying.”

Marguerite stayed where she was and leaned back against the door. She hoped her mother couldn’t see her too well.

“I can understand Philip’s frustration,
Maman
. You are a very busy woman.”

“He knew that when we married. That is no excuse.”

Marguerite knew it was pointless to argue. She’d never understood the inner workings of her mother’s tempestuous marriage with Philip. They, however, seemed to thrive on it.

“And what are you doing here, Marguerite, so flushed and unlike yourself?”

Silently Marguerite groaned. Her mother was notorious for her ability to sniff out romantic discord, the beginnings of an affair or the ending of a marriage.

“I came to see Lisette.”

“And?”

“And she was upstairs in the pleasure house with a Captain Gray, so I went to find her.”

“That must have been a while ago, as Lisette was just here talking to me.”

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“I know, I just saw Captain Gray on the stairs. He told me Lisette was here.”

Helene stopped rocking. “Marguerite, come and sit where I can see you, and tell me what is going on.”

When her mother used that voice, it was very hard to dis-obey. Marguerite came closer, trying to decide which pieces of the story she could share and which not.

“
Bon
,” her mother said. “Now tell me why you lingered in the salons.”

“Because Lisette called me a coward and dared me to look around while I was up there.”

“That sounds like your sister. But why did you agree?”

“Because I was curious?”

“Finally!” Helene clapped her hands together. “I knew you were too young to bury yourself in your husband’s grave.”

“
Maman . . .
” Marguerite hunched one shoulder.

“Now what advice can I give you about starting again?” Helene sat forward, her expression purposeful. “The most important thing, I believe, is how to avoid a pregnancy,
oui
?”

Marguerite stared helplessly at her mother. Perhaps it would be better to simply keep quiet and listen. She might pick up some useful advice without having to betray herself.

“Yes,
Maman
.”

“I’ve spoken about this with many women over the years, and I have a few ideas about when is the best time to conceive or, in your case, to avoid making love.” She frowned at Marguerite. “And before you suggest that any real gentleman would pull out before his seed emptied into your womb, then think again. In the throes of passion, many men forget this most basic thing, or would secretly like you to be pregnant in the first place.”

“I’m not sure . . .”

Helene kept talking, her slim fingers ticking off each point SIMPLY WICKED / 83

as she made it. “It is the middle of your moon cycle that you must avoid. I think a woman is most fertile then. I’m not sure why, but that seems to be the case. It’s easy to work that out, my dear, just note the day you start to bleed and count on from there until the day you bleed again.”

“
Maman . . .
”

Helene stood up and patted Marguerite’s shoulder. “I know—

it’s a lot to take in. Come and see me tomorrow and I’ll show you how to use a sea sponge dipped in vinegar as well.”

What on earth did vinegar have to do with anything?
Marguerite dredged up a smile. “I’ll do that, and thank you.”

Marguerite got up too and gathered her belongings. Her mother’s businesslike attitude toward sex never ceased to amaze her. At least it had stopped her inquiring too deeply about exactly what was wrong. Perhaps she should be grateful for her mother’s incessant chatter. Marguerite clutched her bonnet to her chest. And perhaps her mother knew her better than she realized and had achieved what she intended all along.

“Here we are.”

David opened the door to his lodging and led Anthony inside, shutting the door behind him. Anthony looked around the Spartan apartment in surprise.

“It’s very clean.”

David shrugged as he took off his hat and gloves. “When you’ve lived in a tiny cabin on a ship for months, you learn to stow your belongings carefully so that they don’t all descend on you in a storm.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

Anthony continued to walk around the room, touching the mahogany desk in the corner, the pair of leather wing chairs by the welcoming fire.

“Do you live alone?”

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“Yes, I have a man who comes in every morning to help with the essentials, and a woman who cooks for me when I’m here.

I’ve never cared to have live-in help. I find it a little suffocat-ing.”

“I agree, but as I still live at home, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Would your family object if you had your own suite of rooms?”

Anthony stroked the worn brown leather of the chair. “It’s complicated. My father almost lost one of his sons, and he’s determined not to lose the other.”

“That must be something of a burden for you.”

“I suppose it is. I’ve never really thought about it before.”

“Perhaps you should. My father was glad to see the back of me.” David’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “He insisted that as the fourth son of an impoverished earl I was a damned inconvenience. I was expected to make my own way in the world.”

David picked up a candelabrum and headed down a dark hallway. “Bring the brandy.”

Anthony picked up the bottle and two glasses and followed the source of the light. He drew in an unsteady breath as he realized he was in David’s bedroom. Again, the room was stark—

a narrow bed with dark red coverings and two other pieces of furniture that looked distinctly foreign.

David indicated a large black lacquered chair that sat in front of a mirror.

“I bought this in
Heung Gong
harbor a couple of years ago.” His fingers trailed over the high ladder back and down to the red silk cushion on the high seat. “It is exactly the right height for
shibari
.”

“What is that?”

David smiled. “Literally it means beautiful bondage, or so I was told. It’s an ancient erotic art from the land of the rising SIMPLY WICKED / 85

sun. The exact translation proved elusive and, to be honest, the pleasure was so extreme that I didn’t really care to inquire any further. I was too busy enjoying it.”

Anthony licked his lips as his excitement grew. “Will I enjoy it too?”

“I hope so. Will you take off your clothes?”

8

“What exactly are you going to do to me?”

Anthony stripped and watched as David took off his coat, cravat and waistcoat and then opened one of the drawers in the red lacquered oriental cabinet beside the bed. As David turned back to him he couldn’t suppress a tremor of excitement.

“I’m going to tie you up, but I want to take care of your arse first.”

He opened a flat box to reveal a collection of jade and ivory phalluses and a selection of perfumed oils.

“Do you have a preference?”

Anthony swallowed hard. “You’re not going to fuck me?”

“Perhaps later. There are more interesting things I wish to try first.” David hesitated, his fingers wrapped around one of the carved ivory shafts. “Unless you have changed your mind.”

“No, I haven’t. It’s just that Minshom . . .”

“Always fucked you first? But I’m not Minshom, and remember, I’m trying to show you that there are other ways to achieve the levels of pleasure you crave.”

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Anthony mustered a smile. He had to stop expecting the worst and trust his companion. “Then go ahead, choose for me and I’ll be content.”

“I hope you’ll be more than content.” David stroked one long finger along the length of Anthony’s already erect cock. “I want to hear you scream.”

He drew his hand away from Anthony’s shaft, over his hip and cupped his buttock. Anthony sighed and tried to relax. He was so eager to fuck that the slightest touch made his cock twitch and his balls tighten with need. David moved behind him, his fingers stroking and caressing Anthony’s flesh until he wanted to groan.

“I’ll use sandalwood oil. It’s my personal favorite and nothing like that acrid flowery stuff Minshom prefers.”

Anthony gasped as David slid one oiled finger inside his arse and then another. His mouth trailed along Anthony’s shoulder, paused to nip, lick and nibble his skin. Anthony arched his back, asking for more, and sighed when David replaced his fingers with the hardness of the thick ivory phallus.

“Don’t come yet,” David murmured and then bit down hard on Anthony’s ear lobe. “We’ve hardly begun.”

“I won’t.”

“Excellent. Then come and sit in the chair.”

Anthony moved carefully toward the cushioned seat and sat down. There were no armrests, so he anchored his hands on the edge of the seat. His cock throbbed, setting off a vibration through the embedded phallus that made it difficult for him to breathe, let alone think.

David took a black silk bag out of the chest and brought it across to Anthony. He slowly untied the silk cords and tipped the contents into his hand.

“This is
shibari
rope. It can be made of hemp or jute, or in this case, fine linen.” David stroked the carefully tied skein. “I 88 /
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had it dyed red because I like the contrast against white skin.

Each rope is about twenty-three feet long. That’s the traditional length, I’m not sure why.”

Anthony stared at the thin red linen, imagined it wrapped around his body and licked his lips.

David smiled. “The aim, I’m told, is not to use any knots.

Unfortunately I’m not an expert, so I might need to use one or two. Are you ready?”

The sudden question made Anthony look up from his fascinated contemplation of the rope into David’s calm blue eyes.

He swallowed hard.

“Yes.”

“Good. Will you put your hands behind the back of the chair?”

Anthony almost wanted to close his eyes as David knelt in front of him and brought both ends of the rope from under the seat. He positioned Anthony’s knees and ankles against the cold wood of the chair legs and wrapped the linen around his knees, holding them in place. With a practiced motion, he brought the ropes over Anthony’s knees and started cross-binding his thighs to the seat.