Master of Pleasure (25 page)

Knowing she hadn’t once averted her gaze but was still watching him, he breathed out, “Your eyes haunt me into wanting to do things I swore I’d never do.”

A shaky breath escaped her. Leona lowered herself to his side, carefully setting her body against the better half of him, and with trembling hands, touched his face.

Her submission was all his heart needed to burst. Fiercely burying her head against his waistcoat with one hand, he sped up stroking his cock beyond his own breath and control until he yelled out against the blinding glory of pulsing pleasure that was laced with pain. The pleasure of his cock became greater than the pain streaking through his thigh, making his breath catch in reverence of how the two battled for his senses.

His seed leaked from the tip, warning him its warmth would soon cover his entire hand and cock. He refused to stop stroking. He refused to give into knowing it was almost over. He gritted his teeth, prodding and jerking his cock into giving his entire body more spiraling spasms and enough seed to fill Leona’s womb beyond holding.

Malcolm stiffened, knowing he was about to— “Leona, take me into your mouth,” he choked. “If you feel anything for me, anything at all, I need you to—”

Her mouth was already on his cock, her hot wet mouth pressing down on whatever length she could fit into her mouth.

Jerking against the velvet of her tight mouth, he held her head and buried his cock into her throat as far as it would go. He tensed as his seed pulsed and filled her mouth. She gagged. He groaned in blurring disbelief that he had spurted so much into her mouth.

His hands fell away from her and onto the mattress. He drifted, his head and his body and his heart feeling as if it no longer existed. It didn’t need to. It had experienced too much.

Leona sat up and using the linens wiped all of his seed from her mouth into it.

In between ragged breaths, he blindly shoved his cock away into his trousers and buttoned the flap then adjusted himself. He winced, realizing the dagger had moved with him. He pushed himself up on shaky arms and grabbed Leona, kissing her on the mouth hard. He refrained from nipping her lower lip.

To his surprise, she scrambled out of his arms and jogged over to the door. Unlocking it, she banged it open. Uneven breaths escaped her. Lingering by the door, she set both hands against flushed cheeks and made her way back over. “Why did you do that? Why did you…?”

Malcolm lifted his gaze to hers, feeling lightheaded. Everything was beginning to catch up to him. His arms trembled in an effort to hold himself up. The room swayed, and he didn’t know if it was because of how Leona made him feel or because blood had been trickling out of the sides of the blade for too long.

He staggered, reaching out a heavy hand to her. “Would you believe me if I said you make me delirious? Now come here.”

She was quiet for a moment, then slipped her hand into his.

Using whatever strength he had left within him, he yanked her down toward himself, forcing her to sit beside him on the mattress. He grazed the softness of her face with his fingers, watching his thumb edge along her cheek and then her lips. “If you haven’t already guessed, I’m yours, and I’m damn well hoping you’re mine. You better be mine.”

She searched his face, confusion clouding her pretty features. “Malcolm, why did you—”

He curved his hand around the back of her neck and gently gripped it. “Because I wanted to ensure this was real. I needed to know you and your concern were real. Was it real?”

Her brows came together. “Of course it was real. What sort of stupid—”

He jerked her toward himself and covered her mouth with his, not wanting to talk. He worked his tongue against hers, refusing to stop until the doctor came or until he lost consciousness. Whichever came first.

“I hate to interrupt what appears to be an application of modern medicine—” Holbrook called out, “—but the doctor will be here in a few minutes thanks to a neighbor, who let Jacob and I borrow his carriage. We just got back.”

Though not wanting to let Leona go out of fear he’d never get a chance to touch her again, Malcolm released her, still breathing hard from everything they had done. “Thank you for the kiss, Leona,” he rumbled out. He needed that. He’d been waiting his whole life to feel…loved.

Lurching back, she frantically swept back hair that was falling into her eyes.

Striding toward them, Holbrook veered his gaze to Malcolm’s leg. He let out a long whistle. “That certainly gives a whole new meaning to taking it in the leg, Brayton.” Nudging Jacob who lingered close beside him, Holbrook prompted, “Give this poor man some gin, Jacob. Oh and uh…
Miss Webster, Brayton
…I just wanted to say…I kept this boy from hearing things that would have aged him by at least twenty years. So…
you’re welcome
.”

Malcolm and Leona both cringed in unison.

Thumping his way over to Malcolm in silence, Jacob held out a full bottle of gin, his small chest lifting and falling in confusion.

Shit. “Thank you, Jacob.” Reaching out for the bottle with a dignified flinch ignited by pain that was exhausting him beyond what he liked or wanted, Malcolm accepted it. He met the boy’s gaze, trying to even his breathing. “Your mother’s kisses make me feel better,” he sheepishly offered.

Andrew snorted. “I bet they do.”

Malcolm glared. “Make yourself useful, Andrew, and get more gin. I need to get drunk before the doctor gets here.”

He hated needles and pins. It had the
opposite
effect of what he considered euphoria. They reminded him of the old tailor who used to come out to the cottage when he was fifteen and prick him with too many pins in all the wrong places. The old tailor smelled like urine and in between pinning wools and tweeds to Malcolm’s body for measurements, the old man’s cock would grow visibly hard from all the touching. The old man never did anything, but it wasn’t a memory he liked. No needles or pins. “Bring two more bottles of gin. This first one here will be going mostly to the leg.”

“More gin it is. I’ll be right back.” Saluting him, Holbrook jogged out.

Jacob openly gaped at the blade still sticking out of Malcolm’s leg. He pointed. “Is that going to stay in your leg from now on?”

Malcolm coughed out a rough laugh and then winced from the exaggerated movement. “Uh…no. Not if I can help it, Jacob.”

Jacob blinked. “Oh.”

“You’ve seen more than enough,” Leona interjected. “Don’t look at it, Jacob. It’s— Let’s go back downstairs. Lord Brayton is a touch delirious.” Scooting toward the edge of the bed, she picked Jacob up into her arms with a large breath and staggered. “Oh, for the love of butterflies. You’re getting heavy.” She winced and then stared down Malcolm, her cheeks and mouth visibly flushed from their kisses. “Hopefully the gin will remedy whatever I couldn’t. And when you
do
recover from the doctor and the gin,
my lord
, you had better start talking. Are we understood in this?”

How was he even going to begin? He cleared his throat. “Yes, Leona. Perfectly.”

“Good.” She made her way to the door with Jacob, but gave up and set him down with a puff. “You’re too heavy. Go on. We’ll wait downstairs for the doctor.”

Jacob darted out.

Leona finished walking to the door, hips swaying and skirts rustling.

Tilting his head, Malcolm enjoyed the view knowing it was his all his. “Leona.”

She paused and glanced back at him.

He held up the bottle of gin. “To us. I thank you for that kiss. I needed it.”

She gave him an exasperated look and left.

He smirked, gulped down several hearty mouthfuls of gin, letting it burn his tongue, throat and senses, and then merrily poured the rest of it onto the dagger and wound, letting it sizzle a breath out of him.

In that moment, it wasn’t the pain he savored. It was knowing Leona was his. And he would damn well ensure she stayed his. Even if it meant he never told her the truth.

Even if it meant the ‘
le moment parfait
’ never came.

Early evening

Gently closing the door behind herself, knowing Jacob was
finally
asleep, Leona grudgingly folded the incredibly detailed lithograph. A lithograph with a trouserless young man splayed unceremoniously on a chair while being pleasured by two young women facing outward who used the friction of their bare bottoms to rub his cock into a squirting fountain while he looked out toward the observer in a glowing daze from in between them. Jacob had found the lithograph in their room hidden behind loose wainscoting he had been trying to push back into place. The cheap paper had been well folded when Jacob had padded over and handed it to her an hour earlier. His pinched lips and overly big eyes forced her to sit him down and explain everything.

Fortunately, she wasn’t a prude and more than managed.

She turned to tip toe away from the door with it and jumped at seeing Andrew standing behind her in the corridor. “You scared me,” she choked out, almost smacking him in exasperation. She glared, unfolded the lithograph and snapped it out toward him. “My child bloody saw this.
He saw this
! You’re fortunate Lord Brayton explained your little
business
in advance. Not that I forgive you.”

Andrew’s dark brows went up. “I was looking for that.” He grabbed it, merrily folded it and tucked it into his pocket. “The paper isn’t the best quality, but Achille Devéria is incredibly popular. It’s worth five shillings.”

“I’m surprised it’s even worth that much.”

He smirked. “So says the woman interested in fucking Brayton.”

She gasped. “
Don’t
—” Glancing at the closed door of the room she and Jacob were now sharing, she tapped a finger to her lips. “Do watch that tongue and be quiet. It took Jacob a whole hour to settle into bed. Aside from the lithograph, all he kept talking about was the blade sticking out of Brayton’s leg. I feel like a horrible mother.”

“You aren’t a horrible mother. You’ve just involved yourself with horrible men. It happens.” Andrew chuckled and kept his voice low as he slung on a wool cap and yanked on leather gloves. “Speaking of Brayton, I suggest you go see him. He has been asking for you since the doctor threaded him up. I have someplace to be, and don’t know when I’ll be back, so I’m afraid you’ll be tending to him all night. I’ve already helped the poor bastard piss into the chamber pot, so no worries there. I also changed the dressing, so all you need to do is give him a cap full of laudanum if he needs it. Fair warning…he is still royally tipped. Not as bad as he was earlier, but I’ve never seen him so damn helpless. So whatever you do, don’t take advantage of the poor man.” Andrew smirked, swiveled on his booted heel and strode down the corridor, disappearing down the candlelit stairwell.

Leona let out a soft breath, dreading the idea of facing Malcolm. He had certainly followed through on his whole sex, blood and bruises warning. And they hadn’t even
had
sex. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Just as he said. That silver-haired female who had visited him asked her to be patient with him.

Which meant…the woman knew something Leona didn’t. So what was it? And why did Malcolm fear telling her? She was almost scared to know.

Quietly making her way to Malcolm’s bedchamber, she hesitated before his closed door and delicately traced all five of her fingers across its surface, desperately wishing she could better understand the man who was on the other side. She already knew she adored him. She also knew she would only be ripping her heart apart by pretending she didn’t want to be with him. She did. He made her feel…special. Something she had always wanted to be in the eyes of far more than herself.

Swallowing back her own angst, she tapped on the panel of the wood, announcing herself. “Malcolm?” she quietly called. “Are you awake?” She paused. “Might I come in?”

There was a prolonged moment of silence, followed by an overly drawn out and delighted, “I
insist
, pigeon. Did you...
miss me
?”

This ought to be entertaining. Edging open the door, she stepped inside and purposefully left the door wide open. Lest either of them had any ideas.