Page 19 of His Brazen Tart
Turning the key in the lock, he spun to face her, hands clenched behind his back. She watched him with a raised chin, both hands braced on her flared hips. A stray tendril of water slid down her neck, rolled over her collarbone and then trailed the downward slope of her breast. Piers licked his lips.
“Your word, Joan. You remember it?”
“Apple,” she replied without hesitation. She sounded breathless, as if she anticipated what would happen next as much as he did.
Piers began yanking at the knot of his cravat, though he never took his gaze off her. “Good. Now … take off your clothes.”
Chapter 8
Joan’s hands trembled as she began unfastening her gown. Fortunately, she had chosen a frock of simple design, one that didn’t require much help putting on or taking off. However, under her courtesan’s steely gaze, she felt as if all her fingers had become thumbs. As well, they were still slightly moist from her time in the fountain.
She finally managed to steady herself long enough to open the gown and allow it to fall, leaving Joan in her thin, meager undergarments. Piers remained in place, unmoving save for the hands unfastening the buttons of his waistcoat. Her own movements slowed as she followed his nimble fingers, recalling how they had felt pinching her nipples and stroking her clitoris. Her inner channel clenched and spasmed with need, and her knees nearly buckled with the force of her desire.
Joan hadn’t been ignorant to what her rebellion would earn her. In fact, she had hoped for this, wanted it more than she had anything in her entire life.
Piers had promised her a sort of pleasure she would never have thought possible, and she had no reason to believe he wouldn’t deliver on that promise. Thus far, their encounters had been illuminating, showing her all the wondrous things she had not known.
She had been so bored for so long, so annoyed with the people coloring her world for being dull and lifeless and typical.Thiswas what she had been missing.Thiswas what she hadn’t known she’d wanted. Perhaps, she had even needed it.
Piers shrugged out of his coat while Joan began unlacing her stays. He peeled off his waistcoat as she slipped the sleeves of her chemise off her shoulders. He began yanking his shirttails from his breeches while she pushed the fabric past her hips and let it slither down her legs.
It wasn’t until his head appeared from within the folds of his shirt as he pulled it over his head that Piers realized she was nude save for her stockings. He paused with his arms tangled in the sleeves, his nostrils flaring and his eyes darkening as he looked her over. Joan stood tall and allowed him to look his fill. His glacial eyes, warmed to a sky blue by the heat in his gaze, slid over her in an excruciatingly slow perusal. Her nipples puckered when his gaze lingered on her breasts, and goosebumps rippled along her skin in the wake of his traveling gaze—along her belly and thighs, down her stocking-clad legs, then back up to the nest of curls over her mons. She shivered, though the room wasn’t cold.
Piers pulled his arms free of the shirt and tossed it aside, revealing a stunning physique. He was broad, though not overly brawny, with sinewy lines defining the cords of muscle in his chest and belly. Taut stretches of supple flesh undulated along his arms, which were peppered with sprays of fine hair the same startling shade as that on his head. More of the same decorated his chest, downy and curled.
Joan had taken several handsome men to her bed, and her own husband—bastard though he was—had been pleasant to look at and well-formed. But none of her previous lovers held a candle to Piers. Though all men possessed the same rudimentary parts, some were better crafted than others. Piers looked as if he’d been shaped by God himself, and she was only viewing him from the waist up.
“Go to the bed,” he commanded, snapping her out of her reverie.
With a blink, Joan turned to do as she was bid. Now in unfamiliar territory, she decided it was best to obey him. She had to give Piers her back to approach a four-poster affair large enough to accommodate several people. Swift footsteps were her only warning before Piers was on her—his scent invading her nostrils and his hands heavy on her shoulders. She stiffened, but let the tension leave her body as he trailed his hands down her arms, his lips pressed into the crook of her neck.
“If the things I’ve supposed about you are true,” Piers whispered against her ear, “this night is one you will never forget.”
Joan had barely digested his words before Piers’ fingers clamped tight around her forearm. Her breath hitched when he yanked her arm upward and then the clink of metal reached her ears just before something cold and hard captured her wrist. While she stared in shock at the shackle hanging from one of the bedposts—now stretching her arm up and out—Piers repeated his actions with the other arm. Disorientation seized Joan as he moved about behind her, giving no hint to what he might do next. The sensation of being on edge became thrilling, and Joan shivered as she realized shelikednot knowing where Piers might take the encounter. He had promised her punishment, but Joan had no idea what that might entail.
“Oh!” she cried out, as more frigid metal touched her ankles. First one, and then the other, were trapped by another set of shackles. Joan pitched forward, her stomach lurching with the sensation of falling. However, the chains affixed to the bed saved her, though the jolt and pull made her shoulders twinge. Her toes curled into the carpet for purchase, but she could not move her feet to find her balance.
Piers’ hand took hold of her shoulder, and she was pulled upright. Staring down her body, Joan found that the bonds around her ankles were attached to either end of a slender metal rod. The shaft of metal kept her legs spread wide, leaving her open and vulnerable. She close her legs, or move without falling forward again.
She was completely helpless and at her courtesan’s mercy.
“Too tight?” Piers asked, his voice sounding far away though he was in the same room with her. The rush of Joan’s blood made her feel as if she floated, though the shackles and chains kept her grounded.
“No,” she whispered, breathless and quaking.
She felt as if she stood on the edge of a cliff with the wind in her face, her entire body poised for the plunge.
The warmth of her courtesan’s nearness faded with the dull thump of his shoes across the carpet as he left her there, strung up between the bedposts. Joan craned her neck, searching for a glimpse of him, but could only see one empty side of the room.
She flinched when something warm touched her spine. It slid upward, tickling the back of her neck before stroking slowly downward. Joan closed her eyes and tried to make sense of the feeling. The thing touching her was larger than a fingertip but smaller than the palm of a man’s hand. It was soft yet solid, supple but not completely flexible. Whatever it was, Piers used it to caress along the line of her waist, then trail the curve of her hip. Her spine went rigid when it tickled the lower curve of one bottom cheek, sending a foreign—though not unpleasant—sensation over her skin.
“Relax,” Piers murmured, tapping the object against her buttock, making the supple flesh jiggle slightly. “It will hurt more if your body is tense.”
Joan’s mind went blank; his words made no sense. What would hurt, and how the devil did he expect her to relax in this position? A burst of heat lit up her backside, and her back arched as a bright sting replaced the warmth, spreading like wildfire. Her lips parted on a cry that never emitted, and her entire body jolted from the second blow.
A dozen thoughts flooded her mind at once, as the pain receded into an odd tingle that sank through her flesh and radiated through her womb.
The instrument of her punishment was most definitely a riding crop—she could tell by the flick and strike of the leather tongue. Piers had told her there would be pain, and there had been. However, as she forced the tension to leave her back, and she sank down from standing on tiptoe, Joan realized that there was so much more. Her arse throbbed, but so did other parts of her body. Both her nipples had furled to taut points, and a nagging pulsation had begun between her legs.
