Marguerite took a step back and came up against the door frame. “No, sir.”
“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?” Lord Minshom observed her through narrowed eyes, and she tensed for flight. “Perhaps you and I can sit down and work out a more civilized arrangement. It’s not as though Sokorvsky would mind being shared, is it?”
“Good night, Lord Minshom.”
He blew her a kiss. “Good night, Marguerite. I’ll expect you tomorrow at the same time.”
“And will Sir Harry be here?”
Minshom shrugged. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”
Marguerite turned on her heel and left with as much dignity and speed as she could muster. Fear trickled an icy path down her spine as if she feared a knife or a shot in the back. Minshom was indeed a devil. She hardly knew him, and yet she was slightly afraid of him. If Anthony had really been in his clutches, how had he survived?
She slowed to a walk as the sturdy walls of the main house came into view. She needed Anthony to help her deal with Lord Minshom, but after her earlier panicked dismissal, did she still have the right to ask for his aid? If she went to him now, explained herself and told him the truth, would he turn from her in disgust?
She twisted her hands together. Why was it so hard to make up her mind? She really needed to stop vacillating. It wasn’t surprising that no one took her seriously.
Marguerite took a deep breath and stared up at the outline of her bedroom window. For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to wait to confront Anthony; she was tired of waiting for people to acknowledge her. She opened the back door into the house and headed straight up the servants’ stairs. Despite the relatively short time since her departure, the house was quieter and more settled.
A faint light flickered under Anthony’s door. Marguerite whispered a prayer of thanks. She’d go into her own room, change into her night things and risk Anthony’s wrath by invading his room through the connecting door between them. At least she wouldn’t have to stand out in the hallway knocking and quietly begging to be let in.
She undressed quickly, warmth stealing over her as her body adjusted to the temperature of the room and shook off the coldness of the night. Should she take her hair down? She glanced at her pale reflection. Of course she should. If she was pretending she’d woken up and come to Anthony’s room in a sudden fit of remorse, she’d better look as if she had been sleeping.
Her fingers closed around the handle of the door that separated their suites. To her surprise, the latch clicked open before she could even insert the key. Had she forgotten to lock it after all, or had someone been into her room? She pushed the door until she could see into Anthony’s room, relieved that it didn’t creak.
Only one candle illuminated the space. Anthony sat by the fire, his face in profile. His white cravat and coat hung over the back of the chair and his boots had been kicked off. Gathering all her courage, Marguerite stepped into the room, the wooden floor cold on her bare feet until she reached the comfort of the fireside rug.
“Anthony?”
He didn’t look up, just continued to stare into the fire, one hand moving rhythmically in the shadows of his groin. Marguerite moved closer until she faced him and could see exactly what he was doing. His fingers were wrapped around his erect cock, which was itself wrapped tightly in leather straps.
“What are you doing?”
“You informed me that you were unavailable so I decided to pleasure myself.”
Marguerite bit her lip at his flat tone. “You do not seem to be enjoying it.”
His smile wasn’t reassuring. “Trust me, I am.”
She gestured at the tight binding around his cock. “It looks painful.”
“It is.”
“Is this for my benefit? Who exactly are you punishing? Am I supposed to feel guilty because I wouldn’t let you into my bed?”
He shrugged. “If you like. It’s as good a reason as any to excuse my perversions.”
“I wanted to talk to you, but perhaps I should wait until the morning.”
“Perhaps you should.”
The anger and frustration she hadn’t dared to show Minshom coalesced like a fist in her chest. There was obviously no other way to get his attention than to finish this. She stepped between his open thighs and grabbed his wrist, stilling his movements.
“Unless you’d rather I helped you ‘enjoy’ yourself?”
He raised his head and looked at her for the first time. Lust and anger swirled in his blue gaze, held her prisoner and made her swallow hard. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I’m sorry for walking away from you this evening? Because I want to see how you taste?”
He shuddered so violently she felt it through her fingers on his wrist.
“Do what you want.”
Marguerite sank to her knees and stared at his straining leather-clad shaft and balls. Pre-cum seeped through the strips, darkening the leather, especially at the crown. She touched the strap that curved under his balls.
“Where did you find the leather?”
“In my luggage.”
“You brought the straps with you for this purpose?”
“No. It’s simply a spare strap used to secure luggage in the curricle. It just happened to suit my needs.”
“Ah.” Marguerite leaned closer, inhaling Anthony’s scent and the muskier tones of the leather. His politeness ignited something fierce inside her. She was tired of being ignored, of being overlooked. Whatever was going on, she was determined to get his full attention.
With deliberate slowness, she licked a path from his balls up his shaft and circled his crown. His breath hissed out as she nibbled on the leather. She took her time then, investigated every gap in the leather with the tip of her tongue, sucked on the ties at the base of his cock, tugged at them until his hips lifted off the chair toward her mouth. His hand fisted in her hair.
“God, Marguerite.”
“Don’t touch me.”
She waited until he subsided back into the chair, until his hands returned to grip the arm rests. She had his attention now in every quivering inch of his cock. And, mon Dieu, she liked it, she liked ordering him around. Could she make him beg?
Anthony gripped the arms of the chair until his fingers hurt. Marguerite’s tongue flicked out again, and he tensed and then groaned as she licked a lascivious trail around his balls. She inserted a finger behind the constraining leather strap, tightening it further, adding more strain to his desperately aroused cock.
It wasn’t supposed to have happened this way. He’d fully intended to wait until morning and confront her when he was calmer, when his completely foreign wave of anger and possessiveness had died down. But she’d come to him, caught him at his most vulnerable and totally surprised him.
She tightened her fingers on the leather around his balls, bringing his shaft away from his belly, causing his blood to pump so hard he felt it in every tortured breath. Not that he should be surprised. She’d constantly proved that there was far more to her than superficial beauty. Wasn’t that exactly why he liked her so much? Would she like it if he begged? He swallowed a moan. He was about to find out.
“Please, Marguerite.”
She didn’t stop the torment, took the first inch of his tortured cock inside her mouth and sucked. He couldn’t help the surge of his hips, the instinctive urge to thrust deeper, for her to take all of him.
“Please . . .”
She folded her fingers around the base of his shaft and swallowed the rest of him. Heat seared through his cock, his groaning echoed every pull of her mouth as she forced his cum up his shaft to explode into her mouth.
“God . . .”
He shuddered and writhed as his pumping cock fought the conflicts of the binding to completion, to satisfaction, to utter bliss. He collapsed back into his chair, his breathing ragged, his heart thumping so hard it threatened to burst from his chest.
Marguerite sat back and wiped her hand over her mouth. He didn’t dare look at her, concentrated on untying the leather strap and using his handkerchief to clean himself off.