The Seduction of Viscount Vice (Fallen Book 3) Read online

  “Hoyden,” he groaned. “I’ll silence that wicked mouth of yours later. Now make sure at least one of your ladies makes her speech directly in front of Prinny. Never hurts to stay on good terms with the future king.”

  Mairi reached up and cupped his cheek, the warmth of her hand a contrast to the coolness of her wedding ring, the sapphire-set gold band that had waited over a decade to grace her finger. “Aye, aye, pirate captain. Painted nipples and pussy for the prince, it is.”

  “You look so damned delectable,” Vice groaned. “I wish I could fuck you right now.”

  “I think not, my lord. You’ll ruin my paint and your costume. Besides, I am very much looking forward to tearing those garments from you later, when the ladies win the high seas battle and claim their booty. We will not be merciful, I promise you that. I know some of the girls are positively itching for this opportunity to be the victors and wield the crops and cuffs.”

  He laughed. “Skullduggery and seduction. The story of our lives.”

  “How else to tame Viscount Vice?” she replied with a saucy wink.

  “Don’t be blaming me. This is definitely the twisting and turning tale of two untamable souls. Well, er, partially tamed at least.”

  “How very Scottish.”

  Fuck, he loved this woman. But before he could say another word, the loud clang of a bell sounded.

  “My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,” bellowed a footman as he walked around the ballroom. “Please take your seats; proceedings will begin in just a few minutes.”

  “That is our cue,” said Mairi. “I will see you out there shortly. I hope your tongue and fingers are limber and eager to perform.”

  “Minx.”

  “Such an appropriate stage name for me, don’t you think? Vice and Minx, ruling the Fallen floor with iron fists, honeyed words, and wicked deeds.”

  Vice shifted on the spot. Hell, if she kept this up, he’d be having her against the ballroom wall, paint and costumes be damned. “Go, woman.”

  Blowing him a kiss, Mairi hurried out the discreet side door and down a small hallway. At the end was another door which led straight out onto the pirate ship main deck. From there, she would make her grand entrance.

  With one last glance in the small looking glass in the corner of the antechamber, Vice swiftly adjusted the heavy jeweled rings on his fingers, smoothed the folds of his open shirt, and placed a tricorn hat on his head. Then he strode out onto the lower pirate ship deck, bowing low when cheers and applause threatened to lift the roof of Fallen.

  Damnation, he enjoyed his work.

  “’Tis a splendid evening,” he announced. “Perfect weather for sailing and wenching, and I hear we will soon be upon an island fair bursting with the most comely maids one could hope to see.”

  A young man dropped to one knee in front of him. “Beware, my king! I hear rumors of a ship that roams these parts, with a crew more fearsome and bloodthirsty than any. But more than that, they are cunning tricksters and ladies all!”

  The audience cheered again, and a female voice yelled, “Lady pirates? By heavens, bring them out!”

  Vice paused until the laughter died down, then gestured dismissively at the young man. “Defeat my crew? Impossible.”

  “On the contrary, sir,” drawled a rich, husky voice. His cock jerked in his breeches at the sight of his wife strutting through the upper deck door, naked but for her paint, and brandishing a sword. “Quite, quite possible.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence as the men and women in the crowd stared at Mairi, trying to pinpoint what looked different about her. Gasps and whispers flew about the room, the noise rising in intensity with each passing minute.

  Prinny leaped to his feet from his place in the front row. “It’s paint! Mark me, it’s nothing but paint! Jolly good form!”

  And then the cheers and applause and whistles were for his wife. Vice grinned, bowing as she sashayed toward him with her equally naked and painted crew behind her. They looked seductive as hell, confirmed by the glazed looks of sheer lust on hundreds of people’s faces.

  “Surrender, knave,” called Mairi. “Or my crew will be forced to exact a terrible punishment on your men.”

  “Never!”

  But they did, of course, after a battle of approximately five minutes. The audience was in transports as the ladies began their reign of “terror”. All around him and Mairi, men were being sucked and fondled and ridden and whipped, the air heavy with the spicy, earthy scent of arousal and come, the heady sounds of acute pleasure.

  And then she shoved him onto the throne, tore his breeches open, and was straddling him, much the same way she had done on that other blissful night when they’d been alone. Except this was infinitely more erotic as his engorged cock thrust deeply into her soaked cunt, and her head fell back in ecstasy to the sound of the crowd chanting and clapping.

  “That’s it, darling,” he said hoarsely. “They want you to take it. Feel it. Own it all.”

  “Oh, God,” she breathed. “Please Iain, yes.”

  All at once Mairi was shuddering and pulsing around him in a powerful climax, and he was coming inside her, and it was better than he’d ever dreamed. Fuck, the way her pussy gripped him, massaging and pressing and forcing him to fill her with more seed.

  “I love you,” he groaned. “I love you so much, Mairi.”

  She sighed and cuddled closer to him, tucking her head into his neck. “And I love you, my sweet husband. This is just the beginning, you understand. I have all sorts of plans for us on this delightful stage.”

  “I am, of course, at your service, Lady Vissen.”

  And this time, it was forever.

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  About the Author

  Nicola Davidson worked for many years in communications and marketing, as well as television and print journalism, but hasn’t looked back since she decided writing wicked historical romance was infinitely more fun. When not chained to a computer she can be found ambling along one of New Zealand’s beautiful beaches, cheering on the champion All Blacks rugby team, history geeking on the internet, or daydreaming. If this includes chocolate—even better!

  Keep up with Nicola’s news on Twitter (@NicolaMDavidson) Facebook (Nicola Davidson—Author) or her website www.nicola-davidson.com.

  Discover the Fallen series…

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  The Devil’s Submission

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