Marguerite tugged at his arm. “There’s no need to shout; everyone is looking at us.”
“Let them look, or do you want me to leave? I’d hate to spoil your afternoon with my loathsome presence.”
“Now you are overreacting.”
Was he? Briefly he closed his eyes and then fixed them on the elaborate park gates. He hadn’t been home or gone to the shipping office for three days. David had given him a key to his lodgings and left Anthony there to wallow in his own misery while his friend was away on naval business.
He grabbed Marguerite’s hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere we can be private, or don’t you trust me enough to be alone with you?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Marguerite picked up her skirts in her free hand and hurried along by his side. They reached David’s building, which faced onto the park, and Anthony pulled out his key. She said nothing until he closed the door behind them.
“Where exactly are we?”
“Does it matter? It belongs to a friend of mine. We are safe here.”
She slowly took off her gloves and considered him. He tried not to shift around as her sharp gaze took in his disordered linen and badly shaved chin. He realized he wasn’t prepared to be examined, dissected, found wanting—not by Marguerite, not by a woman he desired. He scowled down at her.
“So what exactly did your mother say to make you so worried about being my lover?”
Her eyebrows rose. “There’s no need to be so defensive. I didn’t say I was worried.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s obvious from the way you are behaving.”
“You are impossible.” Marguerite yanked at the cream ribbons of her bonnet until they loosened and threw the contraption on a chair. She stormed across to him and poked him in the chest. “Why did I bother to defend you to my mother when you have obviously given up on yourself?”
He caught her wrist, retaining his grip even when she tried to pull away. “What the hell does that mean?”
“My mother tried to tell me that your sexual needs were too extreme for me to imagine, let alone satisfy.”
Abruptly his antagonism disappeared beneath his apprehension. “What exactly did she say?”
She looked up at him. “That you like men.”
“You already knew that.”
“I know, but she insisted you needed to tell me the rest.”
Anthony found it much easier to watch her luscious mouth rather than react to her cutting words. He bent his head, captured her lips and kissed her as hard as he could. She made an exasperated sound and kissed him back, her teeth nipping at his already bruised lower lip, which made him instantly hard. He wrenched his mouth away, hissing as her teeth gouged his lip.
“Can we talk about this afterward?” Anthony said.
“After what?”
“After I’ve had you.”
“Why would you think I’d agree to that?”
“Because you want me, and I’m offering you the perfect opportunity to use my body to release all your tension and anger.” He shoved his hand under her skirts, cupped her sex, and felt her moist core settle over the palm of his hand. “You want me.”
He backed her toward the wall, kissed her mouth with a savagery he hadn’t known was in him. She slid her hand into his hair, held him close, her fingers between them wrenching at the buttons of his breeches. He groaned and thrust his cock into her hand.
“Please . . .”
She guided him downward, and the dripping crown of his shaft bumped against the softness of her stomach, the hair beneath it, her clit and finally the welcoming opening below. He grasped her around the waist and lifted her onto him. He gasped at the tightness and fierceness of her grip on his shaft. Hard and fast this time, to slake the need and to forget himself in the welcome of her body.
Even as he pumped into her, he remembered to thumb her clit, to bring her with him to a crashing conclusion. He even remembered to pull out, to let his seed release on her belly rather than where he really wanted it, deep inside her.
“Hold on to me,” he murmured, as he carried her into David’s bedroom, her legs wrapped around him, their bodies still close and connected. He placed her carefully on the bed. She immediately rolled away from him.
“That wasn’t fair.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?”
“Of course I enjoyed it, but sex is not a substitute for a serious conversation.”
He came up on one elbow over her, smiled at her indignant expression. “Are you sure about that?”
With one deft motion, he threw her skirts over her head, exposing her sex, and licked his way through the wetness he’d helped create. She bucked against him, grabbed hold of his hair and pulled hard. He winced at the pain but didn’t stop, driving his tongue deep, sucking her clit into his mouth until she whimpered and shuddered with release.
He moved off her and allowed her to sit up, trying not to smile as she fought her petticoats and patterned muslin skirts to reveal her flushed face. “Anthony Sokorvsky!”
He deliberately licked his lips, watched her eyes widen in response.
“Anthony . . .”
“What?” He sighed and flung himself down on his back, savored her taste in his mouth even as he braced himself for her next remark.
“My mother wouldn’t say what else you liked in bed. Will you tell me?”
He’d known the question would come, but he still balked at answering it. How honest could he be, especially when he wasn’t sure what he really did like? He stared up at the cracked ceiling.
“The thing is . . . I’ve changed.”
Marguerite sighed. “You don’t have to say that.”
He rolled over to look at her. “But I have, you have no idea how much . . .” Dammit, the fact that he was lying there next to her having the conversation was astounding by itself, but he could hardly tell her that.
“Then tell me. You promised to be honest.”
He stared at her. What did he like? He’d never been given the opportunity to form his own tastes, only accepted those that were forced on him. He looked over her shoulder at David’s oriental cabinet. “Sometimes, I . . . like to be tied up.”
She nodded, her expression as serious as he suspected his own was. “And what else?”
Oh God. “I also liked it when you pulled my hair hard, when you dug your nails in my back, made me hurt.”
He held his breath, would that be enough? The rest of it he was too confused to even consider. She looked away from him, down at her hands, and he swallowed hard.
“Why?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why do you like these things?”
Now he was the one to look away. There was no chance of him sharing that part of his life with her. “I don’t know, and as I said, I’m trying to change.” He hated the uncertainty in his voice. He sounded so pathetic, so needy and so defensive about the indefensible.
“And do you only like it when a man does these things to you?”
“I’ve never tried them with a woman.” He forced a laugh. “Not that any woman would want to do such things.”
“My mother obviously thinks I wouldn’t.”
He glanced up at her sharp tone, recognized the anger in her face. It seemed he wasn’t the only one frustrated by his parents.
“She has no idea what I am really like. Why should she decide such matters for me?”
“Well, she does have a lot of experience.”
She glared at him, hands on her hips. “So you agree with her? You think I’m too weak to deal with your needs?”
He sat up against the headboard, held up his hands. “I didn’t say that.”
She turned her back on him, and he flinched.
“Help me take this damned dress off.”
“Marguerite?”
She glared over her shoulder at him. “Help me!”
He complied, undoing the ties and loosening her corset. He resumed his position cross-legged at the top of the bed as she struggled out of her clothes down to her shift. When the outline of her body was revealed in all its lush, flushed glory, his cock thickened and pressed against his untucked shirt. She gave him an impatient glance.