Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(64)

“But, I find I am not ready for you yet. I think you must stand a little longer, anticipate what I want, what I will do, a little longer.” He lifted the crop and let it fall softly once more—a promise of what was to come—and turned and marched from the room, the sound of his steps loud.

Waiting would be good for her, would teach her who was in charge.

Or so he told himself.

Letting himself into the library at the end of the hall, he pulled out a cheroot. He would smoke it and then go back, perhaps have a glass of port as well. Choosing a chair by the empty grate, he made himself comfortable. There was certainly no hurry.

Louisa did not expect him back this night, and the woman was his to do with as he wished.

So what did he wish?

He wished he were home in bed. Why had he even bothered to come? Louisa might not give him what he needed, but she came far closer to doing so than the woman in the red chamber.

Hell. He stood, dropping the still unlit cigar into the grate. Why not get it over with and then just go home, where he wanted to be?

He could satisfy the woman without being involved himself. Such encounters did not always involve sex, and if what she wanted was punishment he supposed he could supply that—although there was no pleasure in the thought. It felt more like work than a game.

The pain mattered little too him—only the control, and this seemed to take little control on anyone’s part.

Fuck, he could just have Ruby send someone else in. The woman hadn’t seen him and even if she had it wouldn’t matter. She wanted a few good welts across that fine ass. He doubted she cared who put them there.

With that thought in mind, he walked from the room and down the hall, past the door to the woman’s room.

And then he stopped.

She was screaming—smothered screams, but still screams.

And there was terror in those screams, not just pain and anticipation.

He placed his hand on the door and hesitated. There were strict rules of no interference here. But this was his room—surely they did not apply. Or had Ruby sent someone else to fill his spot? It would not be the first time she had anticipated his needs before he understood them himself.

Or perhaps he had mistaken the door?

He looked back down the hall and counted.

Another shrill scream echoed from the chamber.

Without further thought, he shoved the door open.

The Countess stood there, a heavy cane raised in one hand.

She turned and smiled, coy and inviting. “Have you come back to play? I was so disappointed to find you gone, even if you did leave me such a lovely toy. So considerate of you. I do hope you don’t mind sharing?”

Her breasts heaved over the low black corset she wore, the rouged nipples visible as they sought release against the top edge. Long dark hair swirled about her as she moved, her lips a cut of scarlet across her face.

“What are you doing here?” he barked.

“Why, waiting for you, of course.” She smiled, and held out the crop to him. “I was so happy when I heard you had returned to play. I rushed right up. I have been waiting for this, for you, for far too long now. Nobody satisfies my needs as you do, Geoffrey.”

“I did not invite you.”

“And since when did I require an invitation?” She took a step nearer to him, the deep musk and jasmine scent of her perfume surrounding him. “You know I want only what you want.”

He could see the woman now. A dozen bright red welts covered her backside and legs, blood trickling from some of the marks. And her terror—it was impossible to miss the rigidity of her pose, the way her head thrashed back and forth. Her eyes glinted white across the room; a ball gag, tied tight, filled her mouth. It was a wonder she’d made as much sound as she had.

This was not what she had come here for.

“Does Ruby know you are here?” he asked, trying to hold his calm for just a moment more.

“What does it matter what that no-account whore knows? I am here to finish what you did not. I thought I’d have her ready for you; I know what a swollen cunt does to you. She’s almost ready, if you care to give her a go. Just look at how she’s dripping. She’s enjoying it as much as you will. And if you give me a good show, perhaps I’ll take a turn beneath your whip next. You always could make me come with just a few strokes. I’ve missed you, Geoffrey.”

His stomach curled with distaste, and for a moment he thought he would be sick. This was never what he had wanted, what he had enjoyed. “I do not think so. I think perhaps you had best leave.”

“You don’t mean that.” Dropping the cane to the floor with a clatter, the Countess stepped toward him, her hands rising to her breasts. With the slightest movement, she pushed down the bodice, her turgid nipples springing free. “Look how I want you. Don’t you want to pinch them, bite them? I brought clips with me. Think of those metal teeth biting into me. You know you want to hurt me, to cause me pain, to restrain me to your will. It will never be as good for you as it is between us. I will fight you and then submit. I need you, Geoffrey.”

“I do not need you.” Although at this moment he would have liked to hurt her—and not as part of any game.

“You do. You just don’t know it.” She knelt before him on the floor, pushed her bodice even lower, and then picked up the cane and held it out again. “Hurt me. Make me pay. You know you want to.”