Page 7 of His Brazen Tart
“Five,” Joan replied between delicate bites of pheasant. “Mr. Durbin has been gone for three years now.”
“My condolences.”
Had Piers not been paying attention, he might have missed the derisive snort Joan muffled behind her napkin.
“Thank you,” she muttered. “If you inquired into my state of widowhood out of concern for my sensibilities, I would put your mind at ease. I have been disabused of any innocent, maidenly sensibilities for some time now. There is no need to worry that I might faint in your arms. Mr. Durbin might have been the first in my bed, but he certainly was not the last, and I would not have asked for a courtesan such as yourself otherwise.”
Piers’ teeth scraped the tines of his fork as he digested her declaration. Her demeanor was as bold and implacable as ever, yet he sensed something beneath the surface. Something that told him Joan wasn’t as confident as she let on.
“I see,” he murmured, swirling the wine about his goblet. “So, you consider yourself an experienced woman?”
Joan laid her fork aside and folded her arms on the table, framing her breasts in a charming picture. “Naturally.”
“We shall see,” he teased, unable to help needling her. “Many of my past lovers have thought themselves as worldly as you do, until I introduce them to my own unique … proclivities. They soon find that there are a great many things they have yet to learn about true pleasure, as well as themselves. I could explain it all to you with words, but having always been a man of action I prefer to demonstrate. That is … unless the idea of learning in the moment frightens you?”
It had been exactly the right thing to say. Defiance sparked in Joan’s eyes as she straightened her spine and held his stare, issuing an unspoken challenge of her own. “I welcome the challenge.”
“Good. You understand my one simple rule? Did I explain it well enough before?”
She huffed a sarcastic laugh, spearing a turnip with her fork. “Obey like a good girl, or I will be punished.”
“Unless?” he urged, needing to know she understood the most important part of the rule. The part that placed the majority of the control in her hands.
“Unless you are doing something I don’t like, in which case I am to utter my special word.”
“Which is?”
“Apple.”
“Very good.”
Joan leaned in over the table, her eyes sapphire-dark and flashing in the candlelight. “I have to admit to being underwhelmed, Piers. During our first meeting you made certain promises which I found intriguing. Yet all you have done thus far is warn and threaten and give orders. I am beginning to think you aren’t nearly as wicked as you claimed. Perhaps my trust and my initial deposit have been misplaced.”
Piers’ knife scraped his plate with a metallic screech as her taunt landed exactly where she had intended. His pride. His fingers clenched around the utensils in a white-knuckle grip, and an insistent roaring began in his ears. His every muscle coiled taut, and his spine became a rigid beam of outrage and resolve.
The frayed threads of his control snapped completely, and Piers was on his feet before he could think to restrain himself.
Hang the niceties. If Joan didn’t want to behave herself long enough to finish her dinner, she deserved what he was about to dish out.
“You are finished eating,” he declared, rounding the table and taking hold of the arms of her chair.
Joan let out a startled gasp when he jerked the chair away from the table, turning it so she faced him. He leaned down until the tip of his nose brushed hers, and he could see the faint line of dark kohl outlining her eyes. Another transgression. Her lashes were so naturally dark, he hadn’t noticed the cosmetic smudges until they were this close. He had to admit that the effect was a pleasing one—making her eyes appear brighter and larger. Still, she had broken yet another rule, and would be punished for it along with her insolent mouth.
“Don’t forget your word,” he warned one last time before allowing himself to step fully into the role he had been hired to play.
If Joan wanted him wicked and commanding, then he would give her just that … starting right now. She stared at him in stunned silence, eyes round and watchful and lips parted on quickened breaths. Piers knelt at her feet, maintaining her gaze as he reached beneath the table for his trunk. He typically kept the tools of his sexual practices in his bedchamber, but had sensed a need to keep them close at hand. Piers was glad of it, uncertain he would have had the patience to get her upstairs this time around.
He felt Joan’s curious eyes on him as he rifled inside the chest, coming out with a fistful of silken restraints. Laying them out on the table, he selected one the same shade as her eyes and circled behind her. He took his time, bracing both hands on her shoulders and experiencing the feel of her bare skin. It hadn’t occurred to him how small she was until he loomed over her, his hands appearing massive and beastly on the slender slopes of her shoulders. Her body burst with curves, but her height was barely more than five feet, placing the top of her head near the center of his chest when she stood.
His stomach clenched with undeniable hunger as he followed the spill of the silk over one breast, the fabric a perfect complement to the pale, plump orb. He trailed it along her flesh, watching goosebumps appear in the wake of the slight caress.
Piers couldn’t resist taking her other breast into his hand, giving it a light squeeze before taking the rouged nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned, arching her back and pushing her breast closer to the cradle of his palm.
“Now, now,” he crooned, when the removal of his hand resulted in a frustrated huff from Joan. “Naughty girls don’t deserve to be pleasured until they receive what they are owed.”
He abruptly took hold of her upper arms and pulled, making her sit ramrod straight in the chair. He then wrapped both limbs around the back of her seat, his hands trailing to her wrists—which he deftly tied together. Falling into this role made him feel more in control. His hands were steady and his movements agile as he went about his work.
Testing his knot to ensure she couldn’t slip free, Piers then took up two more ties—one gold and the other black. He went back to one knee, grasping a slender ankle and arranging it against the leg of her chair. He then repeated this with her opposite ankle, until both her legs were spread so that her skirts were taut around her calves, and she was at his mercy.
