Kate Pearce - Simply Wicked

“I’m glad you agreed to go out with me again,” Anthony said.

Marguerite bit her lip as he walked her back to their box after the interval. Mrs. Jones had decided to sit with one of her friends for the remainder of the performance, leaving her alone with Anthony in the Sokorvsky’s box.

“I think I overreacted last time.”

“It was, perhaps, understandable. No one likes to be gossiped about.”

“That is true, but I can’t continue to run away from everything, can I?”

He paused to open the door into the shared anteroom that connected the two adjoining boxes and looked down at her, his blue eyes glinting. “That’s exactly what I told myself when I met you.”

“That you should run away?”

His smile warmed her. “No, that I should take the unique opportunity you offered and make the best of it for both our sakes.”

“Such a diplomat.”

“A man in need of some honesty in his life could never succeed as a diplomat.” He took her hand and led her into the ornate box. “I’m just delighted that you wanted to see me after the way I behaved.”

She studied his expression, tried to guess whether her response to his kiss had repulsed or interested him. After almost a week of sleepless nights and vivid sexual dreams of Anthony, perhaps it was time to test the waters.

“Your behavior didn’t offend me.”

He paused before sitting in the chair beside her. “You didn’t object to being kissed?”

Marguerite studied his cravat rather than risk a glance at his face. “I thought I would, but it was . . . nice.”

“ Nice? ”

She looked up at him then, saw the male outrage on his face and fought a smile. “Yes.”

He inclined his head a half inch. “I’m so glad I rate such expansive praise.”

Marguerite sighed. “You only kissed me for a second. Would you prefer I lied and said it was earth-shattering?”

His mouth quirked up at one corner. “Of course I would.”

She looked out over the theater, focused her attention on the thick red velvet and gold curtains across the front of the stage. Strange that she felt comfortable confiding such an intimate thing to a man she barely knew.

“It is difficult for me to admit even that. After my husband died, I thought I would never kiss a man again.”

He didn’t reply, and she continued to stare out over the rapidly filling theater. To a chorus of whistles and catcalls, the interior went dark and the curtains opened to reveal the archaic set for the second act. She jumped as he took her hand and squeezed.

“Nice is a perfectly acceptable word. And, to be honest, I haven’t kissed many women recently, so I might be out of practice.”

Marguerite didn’t believe that for a second. Any man who spent as much time at the pleasure house as Anthony did must be skilled indeed. His hand slid up her arm and over her shoulder, and he tilted up her chin.

“Perhaps we should try again.”

She couldn’t help but glance around. They sat in deep shadow and couldn’t possibly be seen. She wanted him to kiss her with an intensity that surprised her.

“Marguerite?”

Anthony lowered his head until his mouth brushed hers. She closed her eyes as the tip of his tongue slid past her slightly open lips. She let him explore her mouth, touched her tongue to his and felt heat gather and settle low in her stomach. She couldn’t believe how gentle and tentative he was being. In her limited experience, men took a woman’s mouth like they took her sex, hard and fast. Not that that wasn’t exciting in its own way, but this . . . this was simply enchanting.

Anthony drew back. “Well?”

“That was very nice.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I progress. Perhaps one day I’ll wring an excellent out of you.”

She relaxed, content to sit beside him and watch the rest of the play unfold, her gloved hand held firmly within his. She’d imagined her intimate relationship with Justin was unique and couldn’t be repeated. Perhaps she had inherited more of her mother’s temperament than she realized and simply needed to be bedded regularly. The revolutionary thought both alarmed and intrigued her.

Her mother insisted that women were perfectly entitled to enjoy sex as much as men, and that there was no shame in it. Marguerite licked her lips and tasted Anthony. Was she bold enough to ask for more, and more important, would Anthony be willing?

Anthony stood up and stretched as the curtains parted yet again to reveal the grinning and bowing actors. A stir of movement in the box opposite him caught his eye, and he recognized Lord Minshom with his latest mistress and usual crowd of obnoxious cronies. God, he hoped Minshom hadn’t seen him. He touched Marguerite’s shoulder.

“I’ll go and fetch our cloaks and order the carriage. Don’t worry if I take a while; it can be a terrible scrum out there.”

“There’s no rush. I’m happy to wait here and see if Mrs. Jones returns or if she has made other arrangements to get home.”

“That woman is an appalling chaperone, you know.”

“I know. Aren’t you glad?”

He grinned at her, left the box and headed down the main staircase to find someone to call his carriage. Caught up in the teeming masses of people exiting, he found himself outside, fighting to re-enter the theater.

“Sokorvsky.”

He half-turned to find Lord Minshom in front of him. He tried to avoid him but was ruthlessly pushed back against the wall of the ornate stone building and then shoved into a narrow passage to the side. His shoulder hit the wall, and he lost his balance and fell to his knees.

“Aren’t you pleased to see me?” Minshom murmured. He wore black and white, and his teeth gleamed in the darkness.

“No.” Anthony flinched as Minshom kept him down on his knees in the filth of the gutter.

“Already half erect, I see. I didn’t know you were capable of getting it up for a woman.”

“That is none of your damned business.” Anthony tried to rise, but Minshom tightened his hand in his hair and shoved Anthony’s face against his groin.

“My, you are eager tonight. Is that because you’ve been denying your true nature, playing the gentleman, bestowing nothing more than a chaste kiss on the lips of your beloved?”

His grip tightened. Between the combined scent of Minshom’s arousal and the hard press of the man’s cock against his tightly closed lips, Anthony couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t you want to suck me off?”

Anthony used all his strength to pull away and stand upright. He rubbed his hand over his mouth before looking at Minshom.

“I don’t . . . want this.”

“You want it all right. You’re primed and ready to go.” Minshom flicked Anthony’s pantaloons and then dragged his nails over the taut white satin, plucked at the wetness already seeping through. “You’ll be coming before you know it, pleading with me to give you more.”

“No.”

“No?” Minshom brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them, brushed them across Anthony’s tightly compressed lips. “This doesn’t taste like no.”

Anthony swallowed hard against a desire to sink to his knees and take what the other man offered and have done with it. He readjusted his cock with shaking fingers and forced his erection to conform to the tight-fitting garment. Why was he trying to pretend he could ever have a successful relationship with a woman with his perverted sexual needs?

“I want to change. This doesn’t help.”

Surprise flickered in Minshom’s cold gaze. “Why should I help you? I want you right where you belong, servicing me.”

“I don’t believe that’s where I belong.”

“You think you’ll do better in a woman’s bed?”