LORD DECADENT'S OBSESSION (6 page)

hopes that she would. However, she'd been disappointed for several days.

"You'd best go. He is every bit as impatient as my husband, and that might not

bode well."

Desiree bid Serenity good day, and followed Marjorie to the room in which they

had prepared her a few days before. Though no bath was involved, she was stripped

naked and shaved. When they finished, Marjorie led Desiree to the same room where

she had met Prentice for their first session.

Upon entering, she removed the nightrail. She looked around the room, not at all

sure she was alone.

"Hello," she said, but received no answer.

She assumed, since he had summoned her, that he would make his appearance

any moment, but time passed, and still no Lord Wycroft. Candles were lit; the red

draperies were closed. She went to the window and peered through a separation in the

heavy velvet curtain. She gazed down at the garden below, a lovely, expansive retreat,

filled with scrubs, trees, and several babbling fountains.

Spanking implements had been laid out on the top of the bedside table, the sight

of which caused her quim to clench with anticipation of what was to come. She touched

her nipple, soon tugging, the sensation exciting her. All she could think of was a cock,

his
cock, large and hard. It had been days, and she wasn't used to such deprivation.

Suddenly, she detected movement in the shadows. "Hello," she said.

Nothing.

She had no idea what she should do. "Please say something."

" Please, don't let me stop you. Continue with what you were doing."

Prentice's deep, velvety voice washed over her. Damn his eyes, he could seduce

the frilly drawers off an old spinster. She hated how she reacted to him. Touching her

breast again, she relaxed, thinking of the many times she'd done this in the privacy of

her own chamber.

If her plan was to work, she'd not only have to seduce his body but his mind as

well. Having never been self-conscious, she decided he had afforded her an unexpected

opportunity to advance her scheme.

As she pinched her nipple with one hand, she used her other to seductively

explore her torso, then going lower, touching her mons.

"You will notice I am freshly shaven." She delved deeper, playing with her moist

folds.

A groan came from the shadows, the only indication he was still there.

Desiree walked to the bed and climbed up. She propped herself up against the

pillows, which faced the darkened corner. Raising her knees, she spread her legs wide

and began to pleasure herself. She knew of no man who could withstand the sight.

Although tempted to get lost in self-pleasure, she never forgot his presence.

Every move, every caress of her hand, every soft sigh, was for him. As her eyes drifted

shut, she circled her clitoris, dipped inside the warm folds. Her goal wasn't to simply

come. She wished to entice, tease, prolong the pleasure. Knowing he was watching

heightened each stroke, each spark. When the fire began to build, she moved ever so

slightly away, before she returned to begin building again.

She continued, until the tension built with so much heat, so much raw desire,

there was nothing to do but let it build. She worked her quim with great speed. She

inhaled sharply, with a hiss. She rolled her head side to side. And finally, she
did
forget

his presence and lost herself in the feeling.

Suddenly, her hand was drawn away. Desiree opened her eyes wide in surprise.

He stood over her, holding her moist hand.

"What did I tell you?"

Chapter Six

Prentice's cock ached, and he wanted nothing better than to drive into the

waiting cunny before him. However, this was all a game. He'd seen it when he slipped

from the viewing room into the darkened chamber. If he fell for her ploy, his authority

over her would be lost.

"Answer me, madam. Did I not tell you to wait?"

She was having trouble recovering normal breathing. She panted and blew out

what sounded like an exasperated sigh. "Yes, you did."

"Well then, are you in the habit of disobeying?"

"I've never obeyed anyone in my life."

Prentice laughed heartily. "If we are to have the association
you
requested, you

will
obey me or we will part company."

She jerked up to a sitting position. "No, please. You can't mean that."

"I mean every word. If you are willing to submit to me, you must do so

completely. If not, we'll part company. The choice is yours."

He couldn't read her face, but he saw her gaze dart from his face to the empty

space behind him.

"I do wish to submit, but you must teach me how. I've been independent for a

very long time. I am sorry, sir. I am so sorry."

The relationship he had in mind for them had nothing to do with master and

slave. Even he wasn't that jaded. He wouldn't humiliate her in public, though he wasn't

beyond giving orders at inopportune times. No, he simply wished for her complete

acquiescence.

"I am looking for someone who will bare their ass for me when I demand it and

take a spanking as I see fit. Your pleasure shall come
only
when I permit it and at no

other time, nothing more, nothing less. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Her answer was firm, her voice steady.

"Fucking comes when I say. Satisfaction—yours, at least—comes only when I

deem it necessary. You will learn to control your urges. Above all, you will never try to

seduce me unless you are absolutely sure seduction is what I desire of you and are

certain of my positive response. Otherwise, you will pay a penalty, as you will today."

"Pardon me, sir, but you look like you responded positively." She rubbed her

hand over the front of his breeches, over his painful erection.

He swatted her hand away and stalked to the door. He flung it wide and

shouted, "Get out and don't come back!" He deliberately avoided her gaze.

"But, my lord—"

"Don't argue. There is nothing for it. Get out. You are not serious, and I have no

patience for your nonsense."

She climbed off the bed, grabbed her nightrail and wrapper, and did as she was

told. He slammed the door behind her for emphasis.

Damn the wench. She was fighting for control, and he couldn't have that. He was

used to setting down the rules and wouldn't have a headstrong woman turning his

head and upsetting the way of things.

The bitch had heated his blood, causing his current suffering. He should have

put a stop to her actions as soon as he saw what she was doing but he'd decided to see

how far she would go. He'd had three choices after she'd begun to pleasure herself. He

could have joined her, pleasured himself, or stopped her at a most inopportune

moment. He'd chosen that last, as disrupting her pleasure seemed to be the most

effective thing to do. It would either chase her away or he would have a humble,

biddable woman, willing to do anything to garner his slightest attention.

He'd done this too long to question the effectiveness of his methods. She'd be

back, bare ass, in need of his ministrations.

* * * * *

To describe Desiree as livid would be like calling the grass green. She raced

down the hallway as though the hounds of hell were nipping at her arse. Only when

she burst into the empty room did she realize she hadn't even stopped to cover herself.

"How dare he?" She ranted, pacing the floor. Her heart was beating so fast she

could hear it. Her plan had just gone up in smoke, and worse, he had the upper hand.

Oh, he is good! He knows exactly what I will do, and I'll do it, there is no doubt.

She'd never been good at groveling, but she knew she must. When? It galled her

to think he expected her to do just that. If she did so right away, he would be ever so

smug, and if she waited, he could well reject her out of hand.

She dressed with alacrity. A nice slice of humble pie was in order, and she would

choke down every morsel.

* * * * *

The next morning, bright and early, Lord Wycroft received a missive from

Desiree.

"I wish to make amends for my behavior. Please advise as to the best way to do so."
The

note was short and to the point, something he greatly appreciated.

He determined he would send no answer, at least not immediately. He went

about his business, pleasing Upton with unusual attentiveness. He was particularly

chipper, having had Fortune attend him, several times, after his manufactured rant. By

the time he'd placed his head on the pillow, he'd been rather pleased with himself.

It hadn't always been to his benefit to be so cocksure, but he knew when a

woman wanted what he had to give more than she valued her pride. By withdrawing,

he had insured her compliance in future.

He remained at home throughout the day, reading and tending to several

squabbles that had festered amongst the staff. He'd turned out two footmen who had

deemed it their duty to harass an upstairs maid, and read copious amounts of Greek

history, a particular favorite. As afternoon slipped into evening, he began to feel

restless.

After scribbling a short note and sending a trusted footman to deliver it, he made

his way to his chamber to freshen himself. He planned a rare evening at home but one

he would enjoy.

Three quarters of an hour later, he received word that his guest had arrived. He

never received ladies at his home, but the added intrigue and impropriety were

deserved in this instance.

Though it had been some time since he'd plied his favorite activity within the

confines of his home, he was well prepared. He made his way to a room, which had a

fire crackling in the grate and a single candle casting a flickering shadow. He'd

instructed a footman to escort the lady to the room in fifteen minutes time.

This night, he would put her through her paces, as Lucien was wont to say. She

would either walk away satisfied that their agreement was intact or she would simply

walk away. This was her final chance to come up to scratch.

Despite the merrily dancing fire, the room was gloomy, helping Prentice to

assume the role he played so well.

A knock sounded at the door, and he answered with a firm, "Enter."

Prentice stood beside the fireplace, one elbow cocked against the mantel, and one

leg bent over the other knee, balanced on the toe of his boot. He was his usual languid

self, at least on the inside. Outside, he'd assumed the role he'd play this night.

"Good Evening," Desiree said.

Prentice nodded.

"You asked me to come here?"

Prentice casually pushed away from the mantel and walked to a pier table that

held a cut-glass decanter filled with brandy. He poured a healthy amount in a snifter.

The glass had the club's signature stem, resembling a nude woman. Deliberately

fingering the bosom of the frosted figure, he looked at Desiree but said nothing.

She fidgeted, and he was pleased. She was uncomfortable, just the way he

wished her to be.

"You sent me a missive. Why?"

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior, sir. It will not happen again."

"I would hope not, unless, of course, I want it to."

"Of course."

The air grew thick as Prentice continued to play with her. He liked eroding her

composure. He imagined her heart racing, knees shaking. She was worrying her hands,

dancing from one foot to the other. He thought he detected a tremble in her voice. She

wanted this. She'd proved her intentions by returning with his messenger. All she'd had

to do was refuse, and this arrangement would be null and void. She wanted whatever

he wished to dole out and somewhere in him, he was happy for that.

He walked closer to her. She stood just inside the room, not having moved but

for the trembling, which grew even more pronounced as he neared. When he reached

her, he moved his arm around her waist. As he brushed her gown, she started and

sucked in a breath. With a flick of his wrist, he locked the door, the sound of the click

filling the room. The noise made a statement louder than words.

"Tell me precisely what you want, because I have become confused by your

actions."

Desiree licked her bottom lip, an action that had never failed to arouse him. "I

wish to summit my body and will to you, sir. I wish to learn to do that. I want to please

you, in whatever way I can."

"Really? I suppose your attempt to seduce me was an effort to please me."

"Yes, it was."

"Seduction pleases me, but not initiated by anyone but myself, is that

understood?"

"Yes, sir, I am sorry, sir."

Prentice circled her, a technique he'd learned from Lucien. The action never

failed to disarm the other person. He skimmed his fingers over her exposed arms,

breathed in her fresh, clean scent. He liked the tension he sensed in her, evidenced by

the stiffness in her shoulders, by her quick, shallow breaths. He could almost smell her

fear.

"I am not sure you are sorry, Mrs. Huntington. You didn't act sorry."

Now standing before her, he noticed a glistening around her eyes. He smiled to

himself. Submission was never easy, even if one desired to do it. Some found it

distasteful to put themselves completely in someone else's hands, and then, there were