Rex
“Rex, there you are—come and play.” The sultry, seductive tones of Mrs. Emilia Huss matched her appearance. She was temptation personified—tall and plumply curved, with a face and body like a Botticelli angel—and they enjoyed the same games in the bedroom. In fact, they had whiled away many an hour together on those games.
Tonight, he was not tempted at all.
The translucent material over her breasts hid nothing, and she’d thrown open her domino, so he might have a look at her ripe nipples and the swell of her breasts. The mask over her face hid her identity well enough, but the hood of the domino had slipped, showing off her easily identifiable dark red hair, and she had not bothered to disguise her voice.
“Perhaps later,” he found himself responding, already knowing later would never come. “I believe you will find an eager partner in the next room over. The blue domino and mask.” He tilted his head, indicating the direction. Emilia brightened with interest, the front of her domino sliding closed again before she hurried away.
He was fairly certain the gentleman in question was Lord Hartshorn, newly in from the country. Emilia would not have played with him before and would appreciate the novelty and the mystery of his identity.
That was half the fun of a masquerade, especially for the Society. Like a regular masquerade in the ton, there were those who clung to their chosen partners, but for those who spread their favors around, it added an extra flavor of forbidden fruit to the night. The very anonymity of the encounters created an entirely new kind of excitement.
Rex did not bother wearing more than a half-mask. With his height and coloring, he was instantly recognizable, regardless, and since he was the host, he preferred it that way.
There was one guest he was looking to identify, though. He had been looking for Lucas for the past half hour, going room to room to room. After assuring Hood and Perth, Lucas would not interrupt their enjoyment of the evening, Rex was determined to ensure that would be the case. While he had been truthful in saying the masquerade would disguise their identities, he was not the type to take chances. A reminder to Lucas, and perhaps an eye on how much drink he imbibed, would not be amiss.
It also gave him a convenient excuse for not indulging in the activities. They were not having their usual effect on him. Oh, his body responded, but his mind was not engaged. He was easily distracted and found himself fantasizing rather than diving in.
Miss Wilson’s face kept sliding across his mind, making its way into every tableau he became a voyeur to. Wondering what kind of wife she would make, whether or not she would enjoy the various scenes laid out around his house, and which ones she would be willing to be a part of. Between his fantasizing about his current marital prospect and his concern about Lucas, he was not in the mood for the kind of play the Society had to offer him.
Frowning, Rex realized he had come to the front of the house and had not seen Lucas. Was he even here? Determined now, he turned to make his way back through the rooms, closely inspecting every single person. Which was when something caught his eye—something… wrong.
He paused in the doorway. At first glance, the scene in the room appeared to be common for one of the Society’s gatherings. One of the women was bare to her waist, her domino puddled on the floor around her, hands held above her head by a masked man, while a masked woman and masked man sucked on her nipples. She was moaning and writhing, thrusting her breasts forward. Around the edge of the room, various couples and singles were watching.
Except not all of them were watching.
A petite lady, her domino hood still covering her gown and hair completely, was not watching. She was standing close to two of the gentlemen, but she did not seem to be trying to attract their attention, which would have made sense. Her eyes would go to the erotic tableau in the center of the room before she averted her gaze. Sometimes, she tilted her head toward the two gentlemen as if trying to hear what they were saying.
Rex pressed his lips together. He did not immediately recognize her, which was the whole point of the evening, but he could not think of anyone she might be, either. The only woman as petite in the Society was two rooms back, being roundly spanked by two men whose identities Rex was not entirely sure of, other than they were not Lucas.
Which meant they had an intruder.
As pressing as his desire to find Lucas was, this clearly took precedence. The two gentlemen she was standing near turned to each other and began kissing. Even with the domino she was wearing, Rex could see her spine stiffen. She was absolutely someone who did not belong here.
Protectiveness rose up as he strode forward to deal with the interloper. She would regret trespassing… and he would need to have a word with Cormack about who the man was letting enter the house.
Mary
Oh, dear…
Walter was kissing another man.
Well, that explains a few things.
The automatic response of fear gripped her as she realized the danger he was in, but it only took her a moment to relax. Clearly, Hartford’s secret society was a safe place for her cousin. He was hardly the only person here with a desire for his own sex.
She had thought her propensity for shock had worn off after touring several of the rooms and seeing the various performances. Worried someone might approach her with an offer to join them, she had not stayed too long in any one place. For once, she was having trouble fading into the background—perhaps because she was dressed in a domino and mask like everyone else, or she was having difficulty focusing on her own tasks with all the wickedly intriguing spectacles to behold.
Despite this being the perfect setting for intrigue and private conversations, no one was talking about anything nefarious that she had overheard. The most progress Mary had made on her task this evening was recognizing a few members of the ton also present, which would at least give Evie some new avenues to investigate.
Even though she was fairly certain there was nothing more for her to learn, and the longer she stayed, the more danger of being discovered as a trespasser, she could not make herself leave. Watching the various couples—sometimes trios or more—was having a shocking effect on her. Not just her body, which was decidedly aroused, but also her mind, as though a seductive spell was being woven around her, she could not break.
She had never felt a yearning like this—to see more, know more, experience more.
A hard grip wrapped around her arm and her head jerked upward in shock and surprise, heart lurching in her chest. The hard, yellowish eyes of Hartford glittered down at her, the regal lion displeased with finding an invader in his den.
“Come quietly,” he said, warning in his voice. Mary stifled her instinct to call out to Walter as Hartford began pulling her around the edge of the room, heading to the door. Her cousin could not help her now—and she would not embarrass him or make anyone think he was somehow involved with her snooping.
Hartford escorted her down the hall. A couple was coming toward them, the woman naked and wearing a collar and leash, a black mask across her eyes with little points on either side like cat ears. Mary had become used to seeing all sorts of anatomy this evening, but when they came closer, she had to blink several times to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing—was that a tail coming out of the woman’s bottom?
What struck her most, though, was the look of utter peace on the woman’s face, discernible despite the mask. Confident as she gracefully sashayed down the hall like a pretty black cat, she was just as comfortable walking beside the man holding her leash as a duchess being escorted through a ballroom.
This secret club was incredibly egalitarian—Mary could tell by the accents of some of the members, they were certainly not ton—but they all had that one thing in common. A self-assurance that left her burning with envy even more than the rest of it aroused her.
To her surprise, rather than being shown straight to the front door of Hartford House, the man gripping her arm swung her into a room and closed the door behind him. It was an empty room, clearly an office, but Mary skittered away from him as soon as he released her. She did not think Hartford was the type to physically harm a woman, but being alone in a room with him and at his mercy, it felt unwise to rest easily on that front.
She could not imagine screaming for help would do her any good. Even if someone came to her rescue, they were likely to be just as irate as Hartford at her presence.
“Who are you, and how did you find out about tonight?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he blocked the only exit to the room. Evidently, he did not feel the need to chase after her since he was standing in front of her only escape route. Unless she went for the windows—hardly an appealing prospect. They were on the second floor, and he would easily catch her before she even got the thing opened.
In fact, the only true shield she had available to her was who she was.
Sighing, she pushed back the hood of her domino, revealing her blonde locks pulled into a simple coiffure, then she tugged at the strings of her mask, letting it fall away. The shock that crossed Hartford’s face when he realized who he’d snared was almost recompense for being caught.
Rex
No matter how unlikely a guess he could have conceived of the mystery woman’s identity, he would not have come up with Miss Wilson. Indeed, in his wildest dreams, he would not have thought of any debutante.
“What the devil are you about?” He almost shouted the words, glaring hard.
Did she have any idea of what… wait… did she have any idea of bedroom pleasures? Perhaps the reason she had not stepped back from him earlier today was due to her experience rather than her curiosity. His interest was piqued even more.
Her chin lifted stubbornly, for all the world as if she was in the right and he in the wrong.
“I overheard you and Walter talking about the masquerade earlier today,” she said simply, mask dangling from her fingertips, voice cool and haughty. “I wanted to know more.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rex closed his eyes for a moment, tightening the reins on his burgeoning temper.
“Where are you supposed to be this evening?”
“Lady Farthingale’s ball.” She shrugged. “I told my aunt I had a megrim and wished to stay in to recover. She was happy enough to stay home to dote on my uncle. I am sure everyone believes I am in my room resting. Or possibly reading. If they even think about my whereabouts.” That last was tacked on matter-of-factly. She was not looking for sympathy, merely stating things as she saw them. “I tucked some pillows under my sheets, so if anyone opens my door. they will think I am in my bed and will not bother me.”
Pushing away his desire to reassure her, of course, her family would think of her, he focused on the why of her presence.
“Did you have any idea what you would be walking into this evening?”
A blush heated her cheeks. Interesting. Although not necessarily indicative. Even for a young woman with some experience, the activities of the Society could be shocking.
“I did not,” she admitted.
Rex leaned back against the door, tilting his head in consideration. She watched him… warily but silently. Submissively.
“Did you understand what you saw?”
“Well enough.” There went her chin again, although the blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck. Something about her demeanor convinced him she was bluffing. He was not sure why he thought so, but he was inclined to call her bluff.
While he would not have taken this step until after the wedding to gauge her interest in such things, since she had invaded his territory, all bets were off. The temptation to discover her inclinations was too great—and she deserved it.
“Good. Then you understand why I am going to punish you now.”
Hazel eyes widened in shock, pink lips shaping into a little ‘o.’ His cock jerked with interest at the image that flew through his mind of her on her knees, taking his thick shaft into her mouth.
“P-Punish? H-How?” Her voice quavered, but she did not retreat. If anything, she sounded breathlessly interested rather than terrified or dismissive. Rex’s cock began to swell, his instincts sharpening, interest heightening. His entire world narrowed and focused on her.
“You are going to put yourself across my lap, and I am going to spank you.” He stated it as a fact, pushing off the door and striding to the chair nearest her—one of the leather chairs across the desk from his usual seat. Settling onto the chair, only a mere two meters away from her, he patted his thigh. “Come here, petal.”
Mary
She could run out the door. There was no barrier to escape now. She could run out the door, out into the night, and never look back.
Except… she would have to see him again, even without Evie’s plea for help—especially because of Evie’s plea. Did this count as successful infiltration of his club? Would she be welcome back again if she did this? Was this some kind of test?
Most importantly, would she be able to admit to herself the true reason she was talking herself into letting Hartford spank her had nothing to do with Evie’s plea or duty to her country but because she wanted him to? She wanted to know the why behind the expressions she had seen on so many faces throughout the house… and she wanted it to be with him.
“Is it going to hurt?” she whispered, even as she took a step closer, her skirts shushing across the top of the plush carpet.
Hartford tilted his head, studying her for a long moment.
“It would not be much of a punishment if it did not.” His eyebrows rose, mocking. “Do you think your infringement on my party and all of my guests’ privacy should go unpunished?”
“No.” Of course not. She just had not expected this punishment. Had not expected to be so curious about what it would feel like. Had not expected to want it.
She took another step closer. One more step and the only move available to her would be to put herself over his lap. Staring down at his broad thighs, the muscles sleekly encased by his tight leather breeches before they disappeared into his knee-high black Hessian boots, she felt as though reality was fracturing. This could not be real, could it?
Perhaps she was dreaming. Tomorrow, she would wake, and it would be just as she had told her aunt—she had had a megrim, laid down, then fallen asleep and had the wildest dream about Hartford’s masquerade.
He held out his hand.
Silent.
Demanding.
Mary placed her fingers in his.