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He leaned toward her. “I think you wanted to come here for yourself. I think if you had been in Josephine’s place, you would have accepted my invitation and been furious at anyone who tried to stop you.”
Her gaze blurred. She trembled inside. Good heavens, could it be true?
Stepping toward her, Sebastian lightly grazed the curve of her rump. It proved a mistake. He could breathe in her scent—not the scent of her soap or perfume, but something deeper, something that could best be described as her essence—and it made the blood in him pound. His cock reared its head. He would have ripped the clothes from her and fucked her there against the post if he had lacked the resolve she had so flippantly questioned earlier.
Hell and damnation. After having convinced himself in his room earlier that he had provided Miss Merrill a decent set-down, he had returned, prepared to set her free and see her off home. But then she had hurled those threats of hers. And looked so damn delicious tied to the post, still flushed with arousal.
For the first time, he had no plan, knew not what he intended. He knew only that his hands itched to touch her, grab her, make her quiver with pleasure.
“Submit to me.”
He knew not from whence the words had come, but suddenly his clothes were too warm. He undid his neckcloth completely.
Silence from her. He considered pressing his erection against her derrière, but he needed her reply. There had been women from whom he sought no consent for he knew full well their desire to be taken. And so he had played the game with them, he the ravisher and they the willing victims.
But not with Miss Merrill. A light spanking was one matter. For what he truly wished to do to her, he wanted her acquiescence. Her submission. Her surrender.
“Submit to me,” he repeated, softly. “You can trust me.”
Though he could not see the expression upon her face, he could sense her defenses coming down. He needed them to come down faster.
“You have such lovely hips, Heloise.”
She perked up at the sound of her name and allowed him to place his hands upon her. He grasped her hips, the flare of which her gown could not hide. What wonderful handles they would provide if he chose to fuck her hard from behind.
“And the most delightful arse.”
She was likely blushing at the compliment.
He caressed a buttock, then placed his mouth near her ear. “There is so much that can be done here…and here.”
He trailed his hand up one side of her arm to her wrist and down the other before cupping a breast. “And here.”
A pause. “Such as?”
Ah, he had stimulated her curiosity. Good.
“Anything you wish.”
With both hands he manhandled her breasts, eliciting a low groan from her.
“These,” he said, “can be fondled, kissed, bitten, pinched, slapped—by hand or by any of the instruments you see before you. We could fasten clamps to your nipples, pinch the flesh with pins, tie them until they turn red with anger, adorn them with molten wax…”
Her bosom heaved against his hands.
“Have you had such attentions upon your breasts before, Miss Merrill?”
“No,” she murmured.
“Has a man ever taken pleasure from your body?”
He half expected to rebuke him that such matters were none of his affair, but she replied, “Two. There were two.”
Two too many, he thought while impressed, not by the revelation, but by her honesty. Given her obdurate protection of her cousin’s virtue, one might expect to find Miss Merrill beyond reproach in regards to her own, but Sebastian knew human fallibility all too well and was relieved to find she was no virgin. Although learning that he was not her only encounter roused an unexpected jealousy in his chest. Such a feeling was not common for he had, in the past, often shared his women with the other patrons at Château Follet.
“And did they pleasure you?”
“It was many years ago. We were young.”
