Chapter 2

Diana

Though it was hardly the first time she'd seen the Marquess without his shirt on, it was the first time she had really allowed herself to notice his broad shoulders, muscular chest with its liberal sprinkling of black and grey hair, and a tapered waist that disappeared into his breeches. One part of her mentally noted the gunshot wound he'd sustained had fully healed to a pale mark on his side. It shouldn't be a concern when she flogged him. The old injury was what should have consumed her thoughts, but she was unable to resist drinking in the sight of him, fighting against acknowledging how attractive he was… and losing.

Seeing the wound and realizing her reaction to his half-naked body only confirmed that she needed to leave his employ. Despite his claims that he was not fully recovered and despite the steady pay… after tonight, they could not possibly go back to before. She knew what bedroom play was. One could not be part of the Society of Sin without receiving a thorough education in the many different ways people could come together for both pain and pleasure. But she'd never before been tempted to find out for herself, never imagined what it would be like for her to experience the pleasurable side of the coin.

Yet one look at him and she… yearned.

There was no going back to before.

Several more people trickled into the room, taking up places to watch. Diana usually asked her partner whether or not they preferred privacy, but with the Marquess, she was determined to force the issue. The sooner he bowed out, the sooner she could leave and go back to his house to pack her things. She always kept enough money with her for some nights in a hotel before she needed to move on.

The Marquess just watched their audience growing with a smile.

Very well, then.

He was determined to keep going. Perhaps he thought she would not actually dare to flog him, but she had no fears of being fired as she had already decided to move on. She had no reason to let him off the hook so easily. She was going to call his bluff and flog him with all the fervor she desired. The blasted man even deserved it for being such a poor patient while she was treating him.

There had been many a time when she'd wanted to swat him for pushing himself too hard, too fast, or ignoring her admonishments. Now, she could actually do so, at least until he called it to a halt. Might as well enjoy what she could get.

And perhaps flogging him a few times would release some of the strange tension swirling in her gut, tightening her nerves.

Desire.

She'd heard of it but never truly felt it. Diana was honest enough to be able to admit to herself that she'd avoided it. If there was a frisson of attraction between her and a man, she did not flog him.

It was her pride that had gotten her into this position. Her pride and the challenge. If she was wiser, she would walk away now… but she couldn't stand the thought of him thinking he had won.

"Turn around and put your hands on the frame," she ordered, wondering at what point he would finally realize she was in earnest and was not going to go easy on him just because he was a marquess or her current patient.

The smug little smile that curved his lips was infuriating. Flexing her fingers on the handle of the flogger, she hefted the weight as he turned his back to her. At least she could no longer see his smile. Instead, she was greeted with the view of his very fine shoulders, the curve of his backside beneath his tight breeches, and his muscles rippling as he reached upward, leaning forward to rest his body on the frame and let it support him.

It was almost as though he had done it before.

For a moment, Diana hesitated. Had she misread him? There were powerful men who enjoyed being whipped, even humiliated, especially by a woman. But the Marquess had never seemed that type. Then again, how often did she interact with those gentlemen outside of this particular sphere?

Almost never. Although she never turned down a patient in need, she also did not accept long-term positions with anyone whom she'd engaged with at the Society. If she'd known the Marquess was a member, she never would have allowed herself to be hired. Though she'd seen several of his sons at events before, she'd never engaged with any of them, not even Joseph, whose preferences ran the same way as hers. He'd found Lady Catherine, and that had been that.

Thankfully.

Taking a deep breath, Diana focused on the matter at hand.

Right now, the Marquess was before her, waiting to be flogged, and they had an audience.

"If you need me to stop, say the word ‘Nurse.'" Being called that would immediately halt her in her tracks. Though not everyone at the Society used such safety measures, there were several who did, and Diana preferred to ensure anyone she was whipping could stop her with a word.

The Marquess chuckled, turning his head to speak over his shoulder.

"I hardly think that will be necessary." The haughty way he made the claim caused a few chuckles around the room, though it was unclear whether they were in support of him or her.

Diana narrowed her eyes, her grip on the flogger tightening. She almost wished she'd picked up the knotted one, which would have a much stronger strike than the soft leather of the one she was holding. Well, if he was determined to be smug, she could certainly trade them out after warming up his back. She'd give him the chance to back out first, though.

After a few lashes.

"Very well. Face forward." She intended to start with his shoulders, and she did not want to risk accidentally catching him in the cheek. He turned his head back around, and Diana stepped forward, getting into place so she would be close enough for the leather falls to make an impact.

Lifting her arm, she brought the flogger down across his shoulders with a satisfying thwapping sound that both settled something in her soul and disturbed her body. Seeing the red marks on his skin, the way he shuddered—from his clenching fingers all the way down to his feet as he went up on his toes for just a moment—made the desire inside her burst into flames. She could feel the heat igniting in her core and spreading outward, like a flush of warmth that traveled in bursts along her limbs and up to her cheeks, making her blush hotly.

Men had shivered for her before, moaned, even begged, but not one of them had ever affected her like this. And he hadn't even made a sound.

Taking a deep breath, she reversed the strike, taking him across the other shoulder with a quick snap that left her feeling breathless. This time, his head tipped back, and he did groan, flexing his muscles and rolling his shoulders before his head fell forward again. It was a movement she recognized, though she could hardly believe she was seeing it.

She'd dismissed the bulge at the front of his breeches as an anomaly, perhaps just due to their surrounds. Certainly not because he was actually aroused by the idea of submitting to her.

The signs were all there, no matter how she tried to dismiss them. He was attracted to her and aroused by her domination of him. She wished she didn't know because she knew that meant she should stop this madness. Immediately.

But she didn't truly want to.

Oliver

Had he overplayed his hand by showing his enjoyment of the lick of leather against his skin? His ears strained, listening, trying to figure out what she was doing. Wondering if she was taking her time or if she'd paused because she was going to stop after hearing him moan. He'd thought about trying to stifle it, but the fact was he wanted her to know that he was enjoying himself.

He'd wanted her to be able to hear it.

To see how she'd react.

Because despite her presence here and her willingness to take up his challenge, he was unsure of how she felt about him specifically. And he wanted to know. Now that he knew her preferences, now that he knew she was part of the Society, it was as though the fetters holding him back had finally been released.

Some gentlemen older than him took brides who were much younger than her. It was her presumed innocence that had always held him back. Some spinsters took lovers, but she had never struck him as the type. She'd always held him and every other gentleman that he'd seen her with at arms-length.

And if she had had a lover—or taken one—while in his employ, he would have known about it. He might be the former spymaster to the Crown, but he still had plenty of informants at his fingertips for whatever he might want to know. His employees were under his protection, and if he kept a closer watch on his nurse than he did a footman… well, she was a lady, after all. Not entirely a member of his household, and therefore, she needed extra protection.

That was how he excused it to himself, anyway.

"Was that it?" he asked over his shoulder when the waiting became interminable. Was he deliberately pushing her? Absolutely. If she was having second thoughts, he did not want her to dwell on them for overlong.

She had already shown some reluctance, though he noted it was more due to what she likely thought was proper as opposed to not being attracted to him. If anything, she was fighting her attraction. He did not want her to.

What had felt forbidden had now become pure temptation, and he wanted to give in. All he had to do was convince her to give in with him.

Rather than answering him verbally, the leather snapped against his skin. She must have taken a step back because now only the ends were hitting his skin, which made them far stingier. Which he liked just as much as he had the more thuddy sensation.

He'd missed the feel of the flogger in all its myriad forms.

Knowing it was Diana behind him added a different element to the situation he'd imagined when he'd decided to attend the masquerade this evening. It was far better than how he'd thought his evening would go.

The flogger fell again and again, stinging his skin and lighting him up from the inside out. He groaned more than once, shuddering as he sank into the sensations, the hard bulge of his cock rubbing against the wood in front of him.

Bloody hell.

Closing his eyes, he could picture her in his head, wielding the flogger with all the skill of Artemis with her bow. The longer it went on, the surer he was that she was a very practiced hand. She was not a novice. His cock was rejoicing as much as his fantasies.

"Was that better?" she asked, her voice silky.

A gentle hand swept over his shoulders where she'd been flogging him, caressing the heated, tenderized skin. The sensitive surface tingled as she touched him, making him groan again, but this one, he held back now that he was more aware of her sensitivities. He recognized what she was doing—it was not so much a sensual touch as checking in to see how he was faring.

"Yes, my lady. More, please." He asked because he wanted it. Because he didn't want her to stop. Because he'd never asked her for anything before, and he wanted to see if she would indulge him.

There was a pause, a hesitation in her hand, before she removed it. For a moment he did not know what her answer would be, and he held his breath, waiting to find out.

"Very well, then."