Rex
Engaged. Not in the manner he had expected. His soon-to-be-bride had untapped secrets. For a moment, Rex wondered if he was doing the right thing by marrying the chit… but there had been no alternative. Keeping Lady Jersey quiet after catching them in a passionate embrace would have been nigh impossible. It was a good thing he had already been publicly courting her, or there would be mutters about Miss Wilson trapping him into marriage.
Ha! If anything, it was the other way round, and Rex was not sure how he felt about that, either.
He would have to ponder those feelings later. For now, he had to face the fluttering Duchess and Lady Jersey, the surprised and suspicious Viscountess Hood, and the openly glowering Thomas Hood. Mentally, Rex started tallying up all of Mary’s sins, for which he would chastise her later.
The Viscountess masterfully hurried the Duchess and Lady Jersey through their responses before suggesting they take their leave and regroup at Hood House. To speak to the viscount was the silent message behind her words. Rex had no qualms.
“Perhaps I could take Mary in my carriage and meet you there?” he suggested when Thomas hied off to search for Arabella. Viscountess Hood pursed her lips, then nodded. Normally, such a thing would be unthinkable, but with Lady Jersey surely spreading the news of their engagement throughout the ballroom at this very moment, the proprieties could be bent a bit.
“We will join you shortly.” The viscountess glanced back toward the ballroom. “As soon as Thomas finds Arabella. I am sure he will not be long.” He would not miss out on berating Rex—Rex had no illusions about who the Hood heir would blame for that little scene in the conservatory. Another item to add to Mary’s tally. His palm itched something fierce.
Mary stirred next to him, pulling herself out of a reverie. He had almost begun to worry a bit about how quiet she had become after his announcement. While she had nodded and murmured all the right phrases, she had been otherwise silent.
“Oh… no… I should wait, too.” She started to pull away from him, but Rex held fast.
“No, you should come with me.” Stating it as a command, he covered her hand on his arm with his own, his fingers pressing down against hers. Bending his head, he caught her wide, startled eyes. “We have a few things to discuss in private. I assure you, no one will think twice about the proprieties.”
While he knew very well, the proprieties were not at all what she was worried about, his statement caused the viscountess to reassure Mary that there was no cause for social concern. Which, of course, meant Mary could not voice her true reason for disquiet—she did not want to be alone with him.
Given the circumstances they had been found in and her aunt’s reassurance, it would look deucedly odd if Mary continued to protest. The angry little look she directed at him when they turned away from her aunt made him smile. The center of his palm was feeling itchier than ever, and his cock was thickening in anticipation as he issued the order for his coach to be brought round.
Mary
Marshaling her arguments against marriage was far more difficult, with Rex standing right beside her. Just his presence was distracting, so were his firm grip on her fingers, the hard line of his body, and the strength and power emanating from him like an aura clinging to his form.
Getting in his carriage with him, alone, was certainly not going to help matters. Her aunt felt it was appropriate now that they were engaged, which only made their engagement even more difficult to escape from.
Do I want to escape?
Poppycock. Of course, she wanted to escape. She did not want to be married to someone she did not love, who did not love her. From observing the couples around her, she had come to the conclusion the best marriages were those where the couples loved each other and were faithful to each other—two things she did not think would feature in marriage to the rakish Marquess of Hartford.
They do say reformed rakes make the best husbands.
Hmm, that point was harder to argue. Several of the couples she had observed proved the point. Even her cousin, Felix, had a very disreputable reputation before he had married Gabrielle, yet the two of them were happier than ever. Thomas’ reputation had been that of an upright gentleman before marriage to Arabella, but Arabella’s brothers had been more like Felix, yet they, too, were happily in love and faithful to their wives.
Arabella’s friend, Cynthia, who had married the Earl of Spencer, was even more of an example. The Earl of Spencer’s reputation had been so scandalous, stories of his exploits were still bandied about, several years after his marriage. There were no new stories to add to those, however, as he was utterly devoted to his wife. All current tales involving the Earl and Countess centered around Cynthia’s heated reactions when women importuned him or the earl’s possessive displeasure when a gentleman dared flirt with his wife.
Presumably, having sampled so many delicacies before marriage, the rakes were perfectly happy to choose their favorite dish and remain steadfast to it after their wedding.
Which was all well and good as long as the rake chose to reform. Was there any indication Rex would agree to relinquish his hedonist pursuits? What would happen to the Society if he did?
Could love ever enter the equation between them?
Mary grimaced. Unfortunately, it was far too easy for her to imagine it—on her side. She already had feelings for him that went far beyond her interest in any other gentlemen of her acquaintance. The problem was, she did not know if his emotions ran the same way.
Standing beside him in silence as his carriage finally came to a halt before them, Mary inwardly sighed. Maybe riding in private with him would not be so bad. At the very least, she would have an opportunity to question him on his views about marriage, how he pictured them going on. At least, she hoped she would.
Instead, the moment Rex shut the door behind himself, Mary found herself hauled out of her seat and across the carriage, tumbling into a far-too-familiar position over his lap. It didn’t matter that she had only been in this position once before, her body immediately recognized it and reacted accordingly. Her bottom and insides clenched, her legs kicked, and heat surged through her core.
“Wait!” She shrieked as quietly as she could. Even though the carriage was already in motion and she was unlikely to be overheard by departing guests, unless the coachman was deaf, he would be able to hear her. “What are you doing?”
A humorless chuckle rolled around the dark carriage.
“You know exactly what I am doing, Miss Wilson. What did you expect to happen after that little performance?”
The skirts covering her legs were flipped up, his hand slipping between the slit of her drawers to touch the curve of her bottom and push her drawers open to bare her buttocks to him. A hard shiver shook Mary, her body responding with instant arousal at his touch, despite her ominous positioning… or perhaps because of it.
This was the man who was going to be her husband.
Oh, Mary, what have you done?
Rex
With his intended bride draped across his lap, his cock throbbing against her side, palm resting gently on her upturned arse, Rex was finally back in control. The carriage lurched along, reminding him of the time constraint, but he was already calmer. Rubbing the smooth skin of her bottom centered him even more, back to being the king of his world.
“Now then, Miss Wilson, since I have salvaged your reputation, I would like an explanation of your actions this evening.”
The bottom under his hand wriggled, and her back arched as she tossed her head up, trying to look at him over her shoulder. He could practically feel her accusing glare burning him.
“What do you care? You are getting exactly what you wanted!”
Smack!
Squealing, her head whipped back around before she managed to muffle the noise, throwing her hands over her mouth.
“I thought you wanted a proper courtship,” he mused aloud, rubbing the spot on her bottom he had just slapped. She squirmed for a moment before stilling, silent, trying to think of an explanation for her fickle behavior. The mystery was tantalizing but becoming frustrating. Mostly because he was now bound to marry a woman whose motivations were a complete enigma. He thought he would have more time to puzzle out her secrets. “What changed?”
Rather than answering, Mary squirmed on his lap again. Lifting his hand, Rex gave her bottom another hard slap, enjoying her muffled shriek, amused by her attempt to stifle her cries. John Coachman would probably be able to hear her anyway, but he was well paid to say nothing. Rex decided it was best not to inform her it was a useless endeavor since trying to quiet her shrieks seemed to comfort her.
“Why did you go into the conservatory?”
Silence.
Smack!
Another muffled shriek.
Rex shook his head, bemused. Mary was an intelligent young woman. She knew the direction this was heading. Maybe she was counting on arriving at Hood House before he could truly begin to punish her?
Well, there were other ways to torment a woman. First, he would heat her bottom, though. He was enjoying spanking some of his frustrations out on her tender flesh, knowing from the last time she’d been over his lap, a dollop of pain increased her arousal.
“Were you meeting someone?”
Silence.
Rex sighed.
“Perhaps a little more convincing is in order before I ask another question,” he murmured in warning.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
No longer holding back, Rex vented his ire on her rapidly warming cheeks. Despite her hands over her mouth, Mary was no longer able to hold back her shrieks and howls at the robust swats raining down, turning her vulnerable backside a bright red.
Mary
What was his hand made of, wood?
Tears ran down Mary’s cheeks, and she writhed against the growing burn searing her bottom as Rex’s hand came down, over and over. The first few slaps had been almost tender compared to the assault he laid on her now. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, leaving her gasping and somehow unsatisfied.
The palm that rested against her cheek felt warm, especially when he rubbed his hand over her sensitized skin, but the well of guilt that had bubbled up inside her had not been liberated. Part of her actually yearned for him to keep spanking her until she was freed from the heavy burden of shame curling in her stomach.
She was well aware she had used him, used their connection, to investigate his secret club, and now he was trapped into matrimony with her. That the altar had been his eventual aim did not ameliorate her conscience since she had no idea if he would feel the same if he had full knowledge of her secrets.
Knowing fingers dipped into the well of her womanhood, and Mary whimpered, her hips pushing back against the callused pads, seeking more contact. Her bottom might be burning, her middle churning with guilt, but that did not stop the growing need between her thighs. There might very well be something wrong with her, but she didn’t know how to temper her reaction, much less make it stop.
“Is this what you were seeking in the conservatory?” His voice was a low, seductive murmur, a perfect accompaniment to the gentle fingers stroking where she was most sensitive. With her senses distracted by the heady sensation, it took a moment for his meaning to become clear—he thought she had been seeking an assignation in the conservatory!
“No!” The word burst from her lips before she considered what an excellent deception it would make. The thought of him believing she had been meeting another gentleman for similar intimacies was something she instinctively rebuffed, though a moment later, she cursed herself. His fingers paused, and she could almost hear him thinking in the darkness, trying to puzzle out what she could have been doing instead.
With a delicate groan, she wriggled, shifting her hips to press more firmly against his paused fingertips, the contact sending pleasure bubbling through her lower body. As expected, the movement distracted him.
“Oh, no, petal,” he chided, withdrawing his hand. Mary almost whimpered at the loss. “Naughty girls are not rewarded for withholding information.”
For some reason, when he called her a ‘naughty girl,’ her insides clenched. Mary had never been a naughty girl, not even when she had been young enough to be called a girl. She had always been a good, sweet, biddable child, hoping that good behavior would be enough to draw her parents’ attention and convince them to be home more often—or take her with them when they left. They had always said it would be a bother to have a child with them during their travels, so she had done her best to prove she would not be a bother.
It had never worked, but the impulses had remained.
Being ‘naughty’ was the antithesis to everything she had aspired to be, but when Rex said it, she didn’t feel the sinking feeling she normally associated with the word. She did not feel like shriveling into a shell and hiding away. If anything, it felt as though her body was blossoming, her arousal growing, as though he had stroked a finger through her wetness with mere words.
Coldness swept through her when she found herself being removed from his lap, but he didn’t seat her back on the bench across from him. Instead, she fell to her knees between his legs, facing him. His hands were at the front of his pants, opening the flap, and Mary gasped when his manhood sprang free.
The dim lighting of the carriage notwithstanding, she was struck by the impression he was very large. The masquerade she had attended at Hartford House had been very educational and given her multiple points for comparison, but none of those had been directly in her face, so his seemingly large size might be from perspective.
“If you are not going to answer my questions, I shall make some use of that pretty mouth.” His hand cupped her chin, his thumb tugging on her lower lip, as he pulled her closer. Mesmerized, Mary went. When the carriage rocked, the tip of him pressed against her mouth—into her mouth, between her lips—as he pulled her chin down.
“Just like that, petal, lick my cock… suck it…” There was a new quality to his voice, a feverish strain. Releasing her chin, his fingers curved around the back of her head, pulling her further forward.
Mary had seen enough at the masquerade to have a semblance of an idea what he wanted. The salty, meaty taste of him filled her mouth, and he pressed deeper. Her tongue flicked over the underside, exploring as she wrapped one hand around the thick base of his cock. A male rooster? While his member might not resemble one, in many ways, Rex did—preening, posing, and completely sure of himself.
Pressing her thighs together, she wriggled against the needy ache of her swollen folds, sucking a little harder as her arousal surged. Rex’s quiet groan urging her on, she dipped her head, gagging when the rocking carriage pushed him deeper than she was ready for. His fingers tightened on the back of her head, and he groaned again. He liked that.
Sliding her mouth up and down the shaft, gently at first and slowly growing more sure of herself, Mary pushed her lips down until they met the side of her fist.
“Good… bloody hell, that’s good, Mary.” The guttural way he said her name made her ache, then he groaned again when she rubbed her tongue along the soft underside of his shaft.
The name of his secret society made so much sense now. It was not just that the ton found their past times sinful, the actual acts felt sinful in and of themselves. She had never felt so utterly wicked as she did now on her knees in a darkened carriage, her bottom still tingling from a spanking, her body swollen and throbbing with need, a man’s cock in her hand and mouth…
The act was wicked. Depraved. Utterly and thrillingly perverse.
Perhaps Mary was a naughty girl because she was already craving more.
Rex
The inexperienced but enthusiastic suckling of Mary’s hot mouth was getting to Rex. Knowing their time together in the carriage was dwindling added to the urgency of his need.
Wrapping his hand around hers at the base of his cock, he guided her in pumping up and down, in the same rhythm she bobbed her head over the rest of him. The slick glide of her tongue over the sensitive skin had him groaning and his balls aching. He moved her hand harder, faster, squeezing his fingers over hers.
Once she had the movements down, he released her hand and reached lower, seeking the soft, plush mounds of her breasts. Her moan vibrated over his cock when his fingers dipped into the neckline of her dress, curving over her flesh until he found her stiffened nipple. She gasped when he pinched the little button, tongue fluttering pleasurably against his cock.
The dark carriage was filled with the soft slurps of her mouth, his low groans, and her muffled whimpers. He could feel the carriage slowing and knew they were coming close to their destination.
One hand closed over her breast, squeezing almost harshly while the other pulled her down, holding her in place as his ecstasy crested.
“Swallow.” The word came out as a harsh order. “Drink me down, Mary.”
Pleasure erupted, and he jerked, gritting his teeth against the shout of climax. Hot liquid spurted as Mary’s mouth worked, pulling at his cock and swallowing his offering. She sucked, increasing his pleasure, and he emptied himself between her lips just as the carriage rolled to a stop.
Replete, satisfied, and feeling much calmer, Rex smiled down at her, using his hand to lift her head. Light stole in through the window of the carriage, and he could see her swollen lips, slightly parted, with a milky drop of seed adorning them. Scooping it up with one finger, he popped it into her mouth. Staring up at him, her expression was dazed.
“Up now, petal,” he murmured, helping her to the bench seat across from him, then quickly putting himself to rights. Mary did not need much, although strands of her hair had escaped the arrangement, and her skirts were somewhat rumpled. Mentally, Rex shrugged. It hardly mattered now, which was why the Viscountess had allowed him to whisk Mary off without a chaperone.
“What… what about me?” Her eyes were wide, pleading.
Rex took great delight in letting his smile grow, and leaning forward, he gently kissed her soft lips before pulling away.
“Naughty girls have to wait.”
Opening the carriage door, he climbed out before turning to assist her descent. If looks could kill, he would be dead before the engagement was officially announced.