Chapter 3

Diana

This was madness she should put a stop to right now… but she could not make herself do so because she'd heard the true need in his voice when he'd asked for more. Moreover, she could not recall him ever requesting anything else of her. He'd ordered her to stay on when she would have declared him fully recovered; he had not asked her to stay.

She would have not considered it in his nature.

Yet here he was, asking her not to stop. Saying ‘please.'

How could she deny him?

She couldn't.

Putting down the flogger she'd been using, she picked up the heavier one with the knots. It would be far more thuddy and the effects far more lingering.

Somehow, she already knew he would love it.

Dimly aware of the room slowly filling, she could only wonder if anyone else had recognized him. Not that anyone would care particularly that a marquess was being flogged. At least he did not run the risk of running into his family members. Their absence from the event was why she had felt free to come and likely why he had as well.

She doubted any of his sons suspected that she or he knew anything about the club, and she had wanted to keep it that way. Now, she was especially grateful as she rained leather across his back and shoulders, her senses thrilling as he groaned and flexed under the assault.

Knowing he wanted it, knowing he was vulnerable to her… it was such a difference from her usual partners. They knew each other. She'd spent every day for months arguing with him, bullying him into bettering his diet, pushing him to rest when he needed to rest, and finally accepting that he was likely as recovered as he was going to get. From the way he'd swung her around the dance floor, he was even more recovered than she'd thought. Now, she knew for certain that the cane he'd kept using was entirely for show.

Blasted man.

Diana swung a little harder, not that it changed his reaction. He shuddered and moaned, leaning his head against the wooden frame. Her nipples tightened at the sound, the heat in her core feeling as if it was growing as she focused in on him. Was it the fact that they already knew each other that was making her so heated? Or was it knowing what a strong man he was and having him at her mercy?

Normally, she barely knew more about her partner than possibly their name and who they might be related to. She didn't know what they sounded like when they shouted or ranted. She had never seen them in bed and weak. Never been the confidant to who they confessed their fears and anxieties.

During the months she'd been in the Marquess' household, she had done all of those things and more. Knew he'd not wanted his sons and niece to see him weak because he had not wanted them to fear for him. Knew his determination to catch the traitor to the Crown who had been responsible for his injury. Knew that he liked blackberry jam with his crumpets and that his favorite color was orange but felt it was too flashy to wear.

She knew he liked a good argument and was very pleased when she did not back down to him.

Now, she had more of an inkling why.

Breathing hard, her muscles were beginning to strain. It had been a while since she'd flogged anyone this hard or this long, yet she kept going because she did not want to stop. Because when she stopped, it would be over.

However, she could not go on forever, and finally—with her arm screaming at her for relief—she let the flogger drop by her side. A smattering of applause went round the room as she inspected her handiwork. No skin was broken, though it was quite red across his shoulders and a nice dark pink everywhere else. She'd avoided his lower back, as it could be quite dangerous to whip someone there.

The inspection gave her one final excuse to draw her eyes over the curve of his backside, which made her blush again. She had seen what went on between some of the men who liked to submit to women in the Society. Diana had never worn the harness, never been curious to, but now she could not help but picture the Marquess in such a position. Not that she had any right to.

"Thank you," she said to the applauding crowd as she returned the flogger to its place on the table. "Please give us some privacy for the denouement."

Not everyone enjoyed having an audience for the aftermath of such activities. If anyone was going to assume she was asking for privacy so they could enjoy the pleasures of the flesh… well, she could not do anything about such conjecturing. She wanted privacy to allow them to speak frankly, and they did not need an audience for that. Thankfully, she did not spot anyone either she or the Marquess would object to among the voyeurs. Well, that she knew of. There was always the possibility there were personages he would prefer not to be seen by that she was unaware of. She had been rather embedded in his life for months now, and he was hardly a social creature. Perhaps, other than his family, he would not care either way.

The last person to exit the room closed the door behind them. By that time, the Marquess was straightening up, pushing away from the cross. When he turned, he had an expression on his face she had never seen before—at least, never seen on him. The utter bliss and relaxation made him appear almost an entirely different person from the man she knew. A softer one, though no less confident and self-assured.

His presence was always robust, but it was gentler now, like being in the presence of a peaceful protector rather than a god of war.

"My lady." A smile curved his lips. "Thank you."

He stepped toward her, and though there was nothing to indicate ill intentions, Diana felt her alarm rise. Despite the way his demeanor had gentled, there was nothing at all soft about the heat in his eyes. She had seen it before, but he had always banked it. Pulled it back.

Worse, she felt an answering tug of need inside her. A little voice that said, yes… let me discover for myself what everyone is on about. She'd eschewed pleasures of the flesh when she'd eschewed marriage. Though granted, the Society had shown her that marriage was not a necessity; she'd never been tempted before.

Because I always kept myself apart from my partners. I did not know them.

But I do know him.

Knew him. Had been attracted to him from the beginning, no matter how determined she had been to ignore that reaction. Now, having interacted with him in such a manner… the need in her body demanded to be satisfied. If she were being truthful, she desired to know what it would be like to be with him. To have him hold her and touch her and kiss her and thrust inside her.

But it would be such an absolutely terrible idea for so many other reasons.

Diana raised her eyebrow at him, the same way she did when he was being a stubborn ass about some factor of his care.

"What do you think you're doing, sirrah?" The question came out nicely imperious, but it did not stop him in his tracks the way she'd intended. He kept coming toward her, and Diana automatically took a step back—and ran into the desk with the display of implements. Yet even under his advance, she did not fear harm, did not feel threatened… at least, not by anything but her own reactions and desires.

She was the only danger to herself.

When he dropped to his knees in front of her, at her feet, and pulled off his mask to reveal his face, her heart pounded so hard, she thought it might actually burst out of her chest. Warmth flooded through her like fire, crackling along her senses, making her tingle from head to toe as she realized his intention.

"You did something for me. Now, I'm going to do something for you." His smile was utterly wicked, his statement full of confidence that she was going to allow such presumption.

She was not.

Was she?

She stared down at him as he lifted her skirts and felt his hands gliding up the insides of her legs, touching her in a manner no man had ever dared to.

And she was not stopping him.

Instead, she was leaning back, her legs parting farther as the desk took more of her weight, and he disappeared under her skirts.

"Oh!" Her thighs were exquisitely sensitive as his palms and lips ran over them, kissing his way upward. She leaned back even more, her hips tilting forward, her hands bracing against the desk to keep herself steady as his presumption became her pleasure.

Though she had touched herself after witnessing some of the scenes at the Society, imagining what it would be like to be in their position, nothing could have prepared her for the reality. She controlled herself, but right now, she did not control him. She never knew where he was going to touch next, whether it would be firm or gentle, whether he would use his fingers, lips, tongue, or all three.

Diana gasped as his fingers parted her split drawers, brushing against her dewy curls. She could feel his hot breath on her inner thighs, and it was deliciously depraved. Her senses were swirling, drowning in the new sensations.

She was not going to stop him.

She could not.

She did not want to.

"Oh!" She cried out again as his tongue touched her for the first time, awakening ecstasy she had not known existed. It was sweet, hot bliss as his tongue delved between her folds, curling and exploring, the hot suction sending her into a paroxysm of pleasure. His shoulders pushed between her thighs, lifting her feet from the ground, and there was a patter of thuds as several of the floggers were pushed off the desk, falling to the floor to make room for her.

The Marquess' tongue was buried in her cunt, his shoulders holding her thighs wide apart, his hands sliding under her bottom to grip it tightly. It was a fever dream of eroticism, making her writhe as tension coiled within her, tighter and tighter. She could feel the heat of his skin on the backs of her calves through her stockings.

"Oh, please… more…" Her hips moved as much as they could, pushing against his skilled mouth as her pleasure coiled tighter.

He found a spot, the little spot she'd found with her fingers, and flicked it with his tongue. Diana shuddered, gasping for breath, then he sucked the little nubbin there between his lips, and she shattered.

It was in no way equal to the pleasure she'd discovered for herself with secret touches—it was far, far greater. Her fingers gripped the edge of the desk so hard, the wood creaked as fireworks of rapture exploded inside her, more dizzying and more powerful than any at Vauxhall Gardens. Diana's legs pressed together, trapping his head there against her—not that he was trying to get away—as wave after wave of sweet release crashed over her.

He suckled that tender spot until she went limp, and her muscles turned to water from the extreme sensations that coursed through her. The arm she'd used to flog him, in particular, no longer felt functional. She wanted to lie down and not move for at least eight hours.

How did people do this, then go on to watch more scenes? Or even participate in them?

Then again, she was a novice. Perhaps it was a matter of stamina and desensitization. Two things she did not intend to experiment with.

The Marquess pulled away, coming back out from under her skirts. His face was flushed nearly as bright as his back after the flogging, and there was a thin sheen of gloss around his mouth. My arousal. My pleasure. Diana blushed hotly, pressing her legs together, which just made all the sensations simmer again.

Looking up to meet her gaze, still on his knees, the Marquess looked her directly in the eye as he licked her cream from his lips.