Page 19 of The Seduction of Viscount Vice

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.”