Page 15 of The Seduction of Viscount Vice

“Please.”

It seemed nothing had changed in ten years. He was as susceptible to her wishes as ever.

Curving himself along her back, lacing his fingers with the hand that Mairi had rested on the window for balance, he pushed all the way in. She groaned as he stretched her, quivering, but in her current position she was so open, her greedy pussy so wet, that he was seated to the hilt in an instant. His cock throbbed, his balls so tight they ached, and it took every ounce of his willpower to remain still while Mairi adjusted to his size. Then she gave a guttural whimper, not of discomfort, but raw desire and anticipation.

Taking his cue, Vice withdrew then thrust forward, making her moan.

“More?” he murmured, nipping her neck.

“Faster. Harder,” she replied, her hips tilting to ease his way. “I need this. And I think you do, too. Has it been a wee while, Iain?”

His breath hissed between his teeth. How the fuck did she know that? For the impertinence, he pulled back with agonizing slowness, before ramming forward hard and deep.

Mairi cried out. “Again. Oh God, again. I’m close. So close.”

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye made him turn his head. A well-dressed couple stood on the footpath outside the building, their mouths agape. How much detail could they see? He was still clothed. Mairi’s chemise offered slight cover, but the movements of sexual congress were unmistakable. Shit. Just because he was completely comfortable with, nay, craved an audience, didn’t mean she did. The fact they had once fucked over and over beside a creek, risking the chance of being watched or caught, meant nothing. Mairi hadn’t done that because she yearned for the excitement of an audience’s attention and reaction. She’d had one specific goal of ending an unwanted betrothal by ruining herself, and that was the location where her chosen partner in crime happened to be.

“Uh, Mairi,” he muttered. “It seems we have spectators.”

She turned her head and Vice paused, ready to carry her away from their position to one of privacy. But instead of trying to cover herself, Mairi lifted the hand resting on his thigh and cupped her left breast, nudging aside her chemise to expose her dark pink nipple to the couple.

Stunned, he sucked in a harsh breath, almost unable to comprehend her action. Fortunately, his body wasn’t battling the same confusion. Pure instinct guided his cock to thrust harder and harder, ravenous for heat and friction, and that delicious pressure was centering in his groin.

“He envies me,” gritted out Vice. “That man. He does nae want to be strolling chastely with her, but in here, buried inside your sweet cunt…”

Mairi managed to muffle her scream, but there was no disguising the sharp inner spasms of her orgasm, the powerful waves battering them both. With one final thrust, he somehow remembered to pull out of her welcoming warmth, as the violent pulsing of his own climax overwhelmed him and long spurts of come coated the small of her back.

Swiftly attending to her with a square of linen from his pocket, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and nipping her neck, the urge to mark her as his uncontrollable.

He was in serious trouble.

Fucking her hadn’t eased his need, only intensified it. He was like a damned addict, even now wondering when he could have her again, despite the fact she was practically shrouded in secrets. Today had only added to that mystique, with her confessions about a club and some chance she so desperately wanted, and her startlingly enthusiastic response to their audience of two.

Hell. Unraveling the enigma that was Mairi MacNair could well be an impossible task.

Chapter Four

Any moment now, she would be crushed by an avalanche of jade cock rings. Either that, or the pyramid of barrels containing whips, crops, and floggers.

Hardly daring to breathe, Mairi tiptoed around the elegant but precarious displays and glared at Yvette’s handwritten list for the hundredth time. It felt like she, Ramsey, and Olivier had been pacing the length and breadth of this outwardly nondescript Blackfriars warehouse for days, and there were still so many things they needed to get. Dildos. Peacock feathers. Lengths of satin and leather for restraints. Semiprecious jewels.

Again, she fought a tide of resentment. Much like the cleaning, hefting bulky packages and traipsing the town running errands was old Mairi, surely not someone about to be a pleasure club lead act. But Yvette had crisply pointed out that she had been spending a great deal of time indoors lately, was starting to look sallow, and a wan-looking woman definitely could not appear in a grand opening. So she had donned a serviceable green-striped cambric gown and straw bonnet, selected her most comfortable slippers, and here she was. Buying enough damned cock rings for a regiment.

“You know, my lady,” said Olivier, clearing his throat, “for someone who shattered her chastity belt so thoroughly yesterday, you are looking very sad.”

Mairi stilled, then pasted a bright smile on her face before glancing at him. “Not sad. Just…quite tired. I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

Because every time I run an errand for Yvette, the woman who saved my life, I’m betraying Iain, the man I want and need so much more every time I’m near him.

Yesterday had been…beyond words.

The way he’d touched her. Readied her. Taken her.

Being pleasured in full view of the street had been erotic enough. But when he’d made her aware of the well-dressed young couple standing outside, it was like she’d become another person. Someone beautiful. Wanton. Free to not only indulge in her own desires, but revel in them. She’d been unable to stop herself behaving outrageously and caressing her uncovered breast to further scandalize the two bystanders. But it had been Iain’s rough, blunt words in her ear about envy which had hurled her over the edge. That dizzying climax had been a true le petit mort.

And now her emotions had gone quite Bedlamite. Making her crave something, or more specifically someone, she couldn’t have. When Iain had marked her, his huge body wrapped so protectively, so possessively around her, she’d wanted nothing more than to curl up in his lap and have him stroke her hair. Because that was exactly what should happen in the building about to house a pleasure club that would steal his patrons away. It was fortunate that Ramsey had appeared with a tea tray when he did. Otherwise she might have forgotten herself, and her actual future, completely.