Page 30 of In a Rake's Embrace
A wicked thrill coursed through her as she turned over his words in her mind. “Have you been with many of the ladies here?”
His gaze became hooded. “I have been with a few.”
Agatha tilted her head, studying him. “What are your desires ... and boundaries?”
“I will not be bidding for you, so what does it matter?” he replied smoothly.
Her breath hitched, and she felt a sudden bemusement—her thoughts had not wandered along those lines. “Are you so certain you would not bid for me?”
“Yes.”
The immediate answer was startling. “Why?”
“The truth might offend your vanity and sensibilities.”
“I am learning to set them aside,” she said, tipping her glass of champagne to her lips.
He leaned back slightly, his gaze piercing. “Pussy comes too easily to me for me to pay five thousand pounds for it.”
Agatha spluttered on her drink, caught off guard.
“Such self-conceit,” she managed to say, amusement creeping into her tone.
“Of course,” he replied, utterly unapologetic.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “You are unrepentant.”
“I have been accused of it,” he said, a gleam in his eyes. Then, softer, “You have a lovely laugh.”
Those words drifted over her skin like fire, unsettling her composure entirely. She delicately cleared her throat. “What are the varied desires that men own?”
“There are many. Some men enjoy binding their partner’s arms and legs.”
She wrinkled her nose, not liking the notion of being so helpless before anyone, especially someone she did not know or trust. “I would not allow that.”
He nodded. “Some like flogging or spanking their lovers across their thighs, arse, breasts.”
“I would not like that and could not suffer it to please another!”
His gaze gleamed. “Some delight in only pleasing their women, devastating their senses without receiving anything in return.”
Agatha stilled. “Truly?”
“Indeed,” Thomas murmured, his tone deepening. “Take a gentleman I know who visits a particular woman here—Lady Bea.”
“I have spoken with her several times. Bea is delightful.”
“Hmm, this gentleman seems to think so as well. He goes to her boudoir once or twice a weekand presumably does not allow her to touch him. He focuses entirely on her pleasure, and when you walk past her room, you can often hear her pleading for mercy.”
A dart of heat pierced low in Agatha’s belly, surprising her. “If it is pleasurable, why would she beg for mercy?”
The earl smiled and rose to his feet. He refilled his glass with whisky before saying, “Follow me.”
Agatha complied, trailing alongside the earl from the private room, down the hall, and down the stairs into a large open room. He gestured toward the ceiling, and she looked up, gasping. The ceiling was lavishly painted, capturing a scene that was as carnal as it was captivating: a voluptuous, naked woman surrounded by five men, each worshipping her with their lips. One man’s face was nestled between her thighs, another kissed her breasts, and a third pressed his mouth against her throat. Each man seemed absorbed in tasting or touching some part of her exposed skin.
“Look at her face,” Thomas murmured.
Agatha’s heart raced. The woman’s expression was one of pleasure, yet there was a hint of something more … almost a grimace, perhaps.
