The Seduction of Viscount Vice (Fallen Book 3) Page 6

  He frowned. They should be jet, studded with sapphires. Or solid silver with emeralds and diamonds. And the comb on the left was half an inch higher than the right.

  Damnation. Why did his brain always dart to such fucking inane things?

  “Good evening, Mairi.”

  “What is the matter, Iain? You keep staring at my head…oh dear. My combs are uneven, aren’t they?”

  Heat scorched across his cheekbones. “They’re fine. Just fine. Come along, the dining room is this way. Cock-a-leekie soup does indeed await.”

  She laughed as they walked along the hallway. “Will you adjust them for me? I know it will pain you, otherwise.”

  In one swift movement, Vice had her against the wall, his fingers tangling in her sweetly fragrant hair as he straightened the combs. “What are you doing here? Really?”

  Her breathing quickened, her lips glistening as she ran her tongue over them. “I was invited.”

  “No. Something compelled you.”

  “Indeed. Decent food. Ramsey also mentioned you might still be at least part Scot and have proper whisky.”

  As punishment for the impudence, he slid two fingers under her bodice and pinched one already hardening nipple. Mairi moaned, the soft sound primitive and needy, but rather than continuing, he withdrew his fingers and smiled. “Try again, my lady.”

  “A poor attempt to seduce me. I know you actually prefer blondes now.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “The beauty at the Castlereaghs.”

  Vice choked. “That was Helena!”

  “What? I mean, ah, of course. I was only teasing. My, aren’t we on edge.”

  “You would be, too, if people were referring to your unmanageable baby sister as a beauty. Christ. For the safety of the world and my own sanity, she should probably go and live in a nunnery atop the Pyrenees until she is at least in her dotage.”

  “Bah,” said Mairi, shaking her head. “What a hypocrite you are. Hellion was a high-spirited girl, but never silly. I doubt she has become a henwit who would surrender her virginity to a penniless rake just because he smiled at her.”

  “And what a master you are at attempting to change the topic of conversation. Again, I ask, what are you really doing here?”

  She glared at him, her eyes blue infernos. “What woman would turn down an invitation to see the most handsome man she’s ever known in his own luxurious home, to forget for a few hours that she is naught but a worthless servant with so many dreams unmet?”

  Shocked, Vice searched her face for signs of guile. But for once, she held his gaze unflinchingly. “No,” he said softly. “No. Not a worthless servant. Never, ever that. In fact, a brave and beautiful Highland warrior.”

  Mairi’s eyes glistened, and without thinking, he cupped her face. She tensed, then with a shaky exhale, she turned into his touch and rubbed her cheek against his palm. The moment stretched to infinity, all the betrayals and mistakes and lost time raging a silent battle against a hope and a love that had never quite died. Dare he believe? Fuck, he wanted to. So badly. To forget Scotland, to forget the last decade, and publicly claim this woman for his own.

  A discreet cough dragged him back to reality.

  “Begging your pardon, Vice, my lady, but everyone is seated and ready to eat,” said the footman from several feet away, his expression apologetic.

  “Yes. Of course.” He reluctantly stepped away from Mairi. “Lead on, MacNair!”

  “The soup!” she added, her smile too bright.

  For the next few hours, she put on quite a show for Devil and Eliza, Sin and Grace. Through the courses of soup, fish, and roasted beef and vegetables, she sipped wine, laughed, and answered the others’ probing questions with varying degrees of humor and substance. But oddly, when the dessert trays came out she refused everything, even the slice of berry cream gateaux he’d caught her gazing longingly at.

  “No sweets?” he asked, looking at her askance. “Who are you, and what have you done with Mairi MacNair?”

  “I’m trying to watch my weight.”

  “Excuse me?” Eliza looked up from where she was sharing bites of a cinnamon-and-sugar-dusted apple tart with Devil. “Why?”

  “Yes, why?” Sin helped himself to another serve of vanilla custard. “We have the best dessert chef in England, you know. Prinny has tried to steal him away on several occasions. It is quite the bone of contention that the man chooses to stay here.”

  Mairi’s laugh was uncomfortably brittle. “I’m sure. But I’m full, anyway. That cock-a-leekie soup was divine, as was the beef. Positively melted in my mouth. I shan’t need to eat for days.”

  “In that case,” said Grace, kicking him under the table. “Vice, why don’t you take Lady Mairi on a tour of Fallen?”

  “Very well. If only to protect my shins. Mairi?”

  “Thank you all for a wonderful evening.” Mairi smiled at the others before getting to her feet and taking his hand.

  Soon they stood in Fallen’s main ballroom. On the nights they were closed it was only partially candlelit, the soft glow and shadows giving the room a rather ethereal feel.

  “What do you want to see?” he asked. “Costumes? Activity rooms? The toy chamber?”

  Mairi shuddered. “No, thank you. I’ve seen more than enough toys today.”

  “Really? How so?”

  “I, er…accompanied Ramsey and Olivier to a certain warehouse in Blackfriars. My God. I’m quite sure my dreams tonight will be cock ring soup rather than cock-a-leekie.”

  Laughter rumbled in his chest as he picked up a large candelabra to light their way. “How about my pirate ship, then? No cock rings, I swear.”

  As in the dining room, she strangely hesitated. Then she nodded. “I’d love to.”

  They walked in silence to the secondary ballroom, and he unlocked the door with a key from his pocket. Hell. He was actually anxious, showing her the creation he’d poured his heart and soul into. “Here ’tis,” he murmured, aiming for a casual tone as he ushered her into the room and used the candelabra to light several chandeliers.

  Mairi gasped, her head bobbing and twisting like a little bird as she took in every feature and angle of their pirate ship, newly recreated after the Midsummer Night pagan ball. “Iain. It’s…perfect. Why, I could picture it on the high seas right now. And it even has a throne. How extraordinary. Far superior to the usual pirate ship!”

  The compliment warmed him to the core, but it was hardly true. The corner of the skull and crossbones flag was torn, the ship railings had been inadequately polished, and some beetle-brained bastard had used Russian flame instead of fawn to touch up a few paint chips on the west rigging. “Not perfect, but thank you. And the throne is for the pirate king, naturally. He needs a little luxury to ease the crudeness of constant plunder.”

  “A king after my own heart. And this is your stage?” she said excitedly, leaping up onto the wooden deck bathed in golden light. “Oh, it’s marvelous. Every single person in the audience could see you.”

  “That is the aim. Everyone in the tiered seating able to see everything, to watch and want. It is beneficial for me, too. I get so much from the audience. The cheers and applause and tense silences because they are so aroused they can scarcely move…it spurs me on. I love it.”

  Mairi stared at him, and suddenly he felt ridiculous, sharing something so very personal. He had yet to meet anyone who truly understood this craving in him.

  Then her lips curved into a smile so wicked his cock throbbed.

  “Show me,” she whispered. “Right now.”

  …

  Mairi had never wanted anything more in her life than to be part of a little theater with Iain. And if this was her final night with him, she wanted it right now, in this gorgeous, beautifully lit setting.

  “Show me,” she repeated, her voice gaining in strength.

  “Show you what, exactly?” Iain replied mildly, but his gaze was hot. Lustful. Daring her to confess all.

 
“How you…might introduce me if I were in one of your shows.”

  “Hmm. My lords, ladies, and gentlemen. May I introduce Pirate Queen Mairi, a ruthless, fearless wanton who plunders at will and takes no prisoners…ably assisted by her loyal and obedient first mate.”

  Her blood heated, the throbbing between her legs unrelenting. “Go on.”

  “Don’t you think you should take your throne first, your majesty?”

  Mairi nodded and settled herself on the huge throne decorated with semiprecious gems and oversized cushions. “Why only one throne? It looks a little forlorn.”

  Iain cleared his throat. “Well, you know, it’s bloody difficult finding a spouse when you are pirate sovereign. So few want to plunder and pillage as a couple.”

  “Perhaps the pirate queen worries that as soon as a ring is on her finger, all adventures and excitements come to a grinding halt.”

  “I don’t think that would happen,” he said slowly, a frown creasing his forehead, “when it’s the right man. Er, pirate. I mean he’d like to share…that is, to work, ah, together…never mind.”

  As in the hallway before supper, the moment stretched between them. Except infinitely more alluring with his unexpectedly sweet and awkward words hanging in the air and her pussy damp with arousal.

  And infinitely more dangerous.

  “Tell me more about this plundering and pillaging while I make myself comfortable,” she said, both unwilling and unable to break free of the sensual web closing about her. Daringly, she lifted her gown, revealing her calves, knees, then thighs, until cool air teased her overheated core. “And what does a pirate queen have to do to get a little service around here?”

  He stared at her hungrily. “Give an order to the first mate, of course.”

  “Such as…lick my pussy?”

  “Indeed.” Iain strode forward, his cock visibly straining against his trousers. “But you’re positioned all wrong. Sit back against the throne. One foot on the floor, and one leg draped over the arm. There. That’s better. Moves and gestures need to be exaggerated so the audience at the back can see, as well as those at the front.”

  Need clawed her hard at the thought. She cupped her own breast, resenting the fabric of her gown and stays that constricted her rock-hard nipples. “How many in the audience?”

  “Oh, at least several hundred. All those covetous eyes on you want to know your plans, your majesty, so you’ll have to project your voice. None of this bashful, whispering nonsense. Now, what was it you wanted again?”

  “To have my pussy licked.”

  “Louder.”

  Mairi squirmed on the throne, her hips tilting in blatant invitation. “To have my pussy licked!”

  He knelt between her spread legs, casually smoothing the thatch of dark hair shielding her wet core with the back of one finger, but not touching her where she wanted it most. “Ah. Much better. Your audience is sitting forward in their seats. Can you feel the anticipation in the air?”

  “Damn it, don’t tease me. Not now.”

  “But darling,” said Iain idly as he leaned down and blew gently on her center, parting the hair and revealing her swollen, aching labia. “Teasing is all part of the fun. You don’t want the show to be over too soon.”

  “Are you going to make me b-beg again?” she gasped. Instead of easing the ache, he moved away and trailed soft kisses along her inner thigh. Her entire world had been reduced to one excruciating need, and at this point, she would do anything to sate it.

  “Probably,” he said, restraining her restless thighs with his big hands and massaging her labia with his thumbs until her wetness was audible. Then he flicked her clit with just the tip of his tongue, a light, torturous touch in no way enough to make her come. And he knew it, damn him. “I guess it depends on how badly you want my tongue deep in this deliciously soaked cunt. If I give in straightaway, the audience really doesn’t get their money’s worth. Perhaps I should go and find another lady pirate to attend to while you decide.”

  Fury roared through her at the thought. Mairi buried both hands in his hair and tugged it so hard it came loose from the queue. “No,” she snarled, unable to stop the words tumbling from her lips. “You pleasure me. That’s it. The others can watch forever, but if they try to touch, I’ll take a skillet to their skull.”

  Iain blinked, and she wanted to disappear under the throne in embarrassment at her outburst. After everything she’d done, and with no future between them possible, how could she dare make demands? But when he grinned, his gaze both searing and tender, her heart broke and mended at the same time.

  “Now those are the words of a true Highland lass,” he said mildly. Then he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers, and slowly, expertly licked her slit.

  Mairi groaned, the guttural sound overloud in the ballroom.

  Again and again, he licked her before taking her clit between his lips and sucking it greedily. She writhed on the throne as she came, her hips bucking at the intensity, but she couldn’t escape it, not when he held her thighs so securely in his grip. And he didn’t stop there. Now his tongue was circling her back entrance. When she regained her senses she could be shocked at the wicked and unfamiliar act, but right now it felt too damned good, both soothing and intensifying the throbbing between her legs.

  “Iain.”

  “Mairi?” he replied innocently, as though he wasn’t tormenting her to madness with his skilled, sure touch. But finally he returned to her pussy, burying his tongue inside her, plunging and stabbing and hurling her toward a climax twice as prolonged as the first.

  Boneless, she slumped forward. Iain cradled her against him as he rose to his feet and swapped their positions, settling himself on the throne. The sound of fabric ripping as he tore open his trousers echoed in the ballroom, and finally, finally, the blunt head of his hugely engorged cock nudged her entrance.

  “Yes,” she begged, needing to be filled. “Hurry. Please hurry.”

  “Aye,” he murmured, swirling and coating the head of his cock in her juices. Then he lifted her, forcing her knees to slide to either side of his thighs, and guided her down onto his thick length.

  Oh God.

  He stretched her so wide a heady bite of pain blended with the ecstasy and relief. Yet she could do nothing but take every inch of him in one scalding, relentless glide as her drenched core and gravity conspired both for and against her.

  “More,” Mairi whimpered, when he was seated to the hilt. She braced her hands on his shoulders for an anchor, the promise of an even more powerful orgasm licking at her feverish senses.

  He stared at her, his eyes glittering. “Mine. Say it.”

  “Iain…”

  “Say it.”

  “Yours,” she whispered, a wild cry following when he gripped her hips and thrust deep.

  In. Out. In. Out. Heat. Exquisite friction. Her whole body tightened, straining, reaching toward climax, and then she was there, screaming his name over and over. Seconds later, Iain came, yanking himself from her pussy and gushing his seed across her belly with a low roar.

  Mairi wound her arms about his neck and held him close, despair tearing her apart. He thought this was a beginning. But again, it was the end.

  Chapter Five

  “All right, who are you, and what have you done with our surly Scot?”

  Glancing over his shoulder from where he was finishing getting dressed for the evening’s entertainment at Fallen, Vice quickly shoved the dusty ring box he’d been holding under a pile of cravats. He smiled politely at Sin and Devil as they ambled through the bedchamber door. “Good afternoon. Go fuck yourselves.”

  Devil snorted. “See, it vaguely sounds like him with that grating Lowlander accent, but his lips are arranged in a smile that may have to be surgically removed.”

  “You really should refrain from attempts at humor, Sassenach. It’s just painful for everyone.”

  “So things are going well with Lady Mairi?” said Sin, perching on a chaise.
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  More than well. Mairi had actually stayed the night after their incredible interlude on the pirate ship. In between hours of kissing, touching, and sometimes slow and sensuous, sometimes fast and rough fucking, she’d lain naked in his arms where she belonged and finally talked a little about her years in Paris. Her employer Yvette du Bois. Ramsey and Olivier. The work she’d done as a seamstress and prop mistress at the original Worldly supper and entertainment theater.

  The last few days had been never-ending because he hadn’t been able to see her; she’d been caught up in final preparations for the opening of Madame Yvette’s new venue. Actually, he couldn’t help thinking that Yvette sounded damned lazy and manipulative—ten years of six-day-a-week service from two people, and now the setting up of an entirely new business, seemed a very high price for one act of kindness.

  “Well enough,” he said with a shrug, knowing that would irritate both men beyond words. They were as bad as their wives when it came to wanting details.

  “When are you going to see her next?” said Devil.

  “Tomorrow, I hope. We’ll both be free then.”

  Sin grimaced. “This arrived.” He handed over a thin envelope. “From your investigator man.”

  “Thank you.” Vice took it and tucked it into the inner pocket of his black evening jacket. Tonight was one of the rare occasions he wouldn’t be performing onstage.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  “Not right now. I’m sure it will only confirm what I already know, and I still have some tasks to complete for our dear Charlie’s dominatrix show. That flogging bar has a hairline crack in it; the last thing we want is it snapping in two.”

  Hours later though, he wasn’t nearly as cool and calm.

  What the hell was wrong with everyone? Fallen was usually a crush at this hour, but they’d had about half their usual number through the door and half again had left as soon as Charlie had finished her act featuring three brawny and particularly disobedient young men.