Simply Wicked. Kate Pearce

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?”

      Anthony forced himself to meet Lord Minshom’s hard blue eyes. “Surely I need to find that out for myself?”

      He winced as Minshom grabbed the back of his head and drew him close, kissed him hard on the mouth.

      “I’m not giving you up. And when you do crawl back to me, I’ll make you pay for your disobedience.”

      A shiver of anticipation coiled through Anthony’s gut, and he pushed it away, hoping Minshom hadn’t seen the flare of excitement in his eyes.

      Laughing softly, Minshom stepped back. “You can’t hide your true nature, Sokorvsky. You need the pain to find the pleasure. That’s just the way you are made. Have a good evening.”

      Anthony leaned against the wall until Minshom disappeared and then found his way back into the theater. God, his legs were shaking and his cock throbbed with every labored breath he took. He’d seen men who couldn’t do without alcohol or opium continue to feed their cravings even though they knew it would kill them. Was he doomed to crave sexual domination for the rest of his life?

      He paused at the bottom of the stairs. How the hell could he go back to Marguerite in this state? He licked his lips and tasted a hint of his own pre-cum and Lord Minshom’s spicy cologne. He couldn’t help but contrast it to the softness of Marguerite’s response to him, the warm welcome of her mouth.

      He remembered to check that Mrs. Jones had departed, tip the footman stationed in the anteroom and retrieve their cloaks before he had to face Marguerite. To his relief, she sat patiently in her chair, her elbow propped on the edge of the box, hand under her chin. Her smile was full of welcome and made him feel even worse.

      “Are you all right, my lord?” Her gaze fell to his legs. “Did you fall? Your pantaloons are dirty.”

      He managed a nod as he handed her into her cloak. “In my eagerness to get back to you, I slipped on the steps.”

      “You didn’t need to worry. I knew you’d come back.” She chuckled. “I hardly think you’re the kind of man who would leave a lady stranded.”

      God, he couldn’t even smile at that. He’d been so close to following Lord Minshom farther into the shadows behind the theater and giving him what he’d wanted.

      Marguerite’s amusement faded, and she touched his arm. “Are