M'Lady Read online

  Jane put off weeping over a life that wasn’t the kind for an actress with no name. A few times together in this room would be all he wanted. Some other young woman, who had no idea clubs like the Treasure even existed, would have that life. Men like Whitecliffe fell head over heels in love and never came up for air.

  Lucky girl. Jane tried very hard to not be jealous of a hypothetical woman.

  She stalked around her present, slapping the head of the crop against her palm. He had a lovely arse, perfect for biting and spanking. Unable to resist, she dragged the head of the crop up the inside of his thigh, then over one round cheek of his rear.

  “Do you own a kilt?” she asked.

  “Aye, I mean yes, of course.” A shudder passed through him as she caressed his other arse cheek with the crop.

  “Next time wear it for me, I would like to see you in it.”

  “Next time?” he asked, sounding both eager and surprised.

  Jane smiled to herself. “I’m going to need more than one night with you.” She’d take as many as she could get. The poor bloke must spend a lot of time forcing himself to be the prim, dour nobleman he was expected to be. If she could offer him a place to be himself and give him some small measure of joy, she wanted to do it. Her only real future with him was as a memory he might sometimes revisit while tupping his bride.

  It’d have to do. She’d make sure they were great memories.

  She walked back around to face him. Whitecliff’s poor cock was starting to look neglected where it jutted out hard and hungry from a thatch of dark curls. It probably tasted as good as it looked, but Jane doubted she’d get her tongue on it tonight. He’d climax after two or three good smacks to his bum.

  “Tonight, I’ll use scarves, next week it’ll be rope,” she said. He shuddered again. “If you need me to stop, please tell me and I will do so. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, M’Lady.”

  “What a good lad you are.”

  He beamed; the mask not able to hide his joy at her words.

  “But you were still naughty, not telling me what you wished, so you must take your spanking.”

  Whitecliffe nodded eagerly, his hair flopping onto his forehead.

  Jane cursed herself even as she reached up and brushed it back into place. “Over to the bed with you. Stand facing it and bend so your elbows are resting on it.”

  The mattress was high enough to make that easy for her clients to do. She chose several blue scarves that matched Whitecliffe’s eyes before joining him next to the bed.

  He stood staring at the mattress while worrying his lip between his teeth. “Are you naughty enough to disobey me again?” she asked, crossing her arms. Jane made sure it lifted her breasts, Whitecliffe had been very interested in those earlier.

  His gaze went to her chest. “Sorry, M’Lady, I’ll get better at all this.”

  He braced his feet like he was getting ready to take a punch. Leaning forward, he put his hands on the mattress, his gaze on her. She waited. Blowing out a tiny sigh, he leaned over more, until his head and elbows were on the thick quilts.

  “There you go.” She patted his raised bum, then stroked the smooth skin. It was a nice arse. She continued her petting until some of the tension left him, then she drew back her hand and smacked him squarely on one cheek.

  He gave a startled grunt but then moaned. She spanked the other cheek, pleased with the pink splotches appearing roughly in the shape of her hand. He’d be thinking about her later when he sat down.

  “That’s two, but I think you need another ten for disobedience.”

  “Yes, M’Lady.” The words sounded breathless and hoarse. He’d come before she reached ten.

  Jane caressed his arse again, kneading the solid muscle. “First, I need to secure your arms. Put them behind you.”

  He did it immediately, resting his panting chest on the bed. Jane guided him into a comfortable position, with his arms bent at the elbow and loosely crossed behind his lower back. She tied them to each other with two scarves, making jaunty bows.

  “How does that feel?” she asked. He had his head turned to the side on the bed, his eyes glassy with desire.

  “Is fine, lovely, really” he said, his accent stronger and the words slurred together.

  Jane’s middle hummed with delight. She was pleased to have undone him with so little work. “Excellent, now for your punishment. I’ll count.”

  “At your leisure, M’Lady.”

  He was too precious for words. She stood beside him, her hand running over his arse one more time. He’d have a lot of thrusting power when she allowed him between her thighs. She raised the crop. It descended to snap smartly against his bum. She didn’t aim or add any finesse, just made it a punishing smack.

  Whitecliffe gasped and his hips jerked.

  “One,” she said primly, not wanting to betray how much fun she was having. The next three she did in quick succession. “Two, three, and four.”

  Her present was babbling something she couldn’t make out and his hips were rocking. She ran the head of the crop down his spine.

  “Oh, blast,” he mumbled.

  She spanked him hard. “Five.” She paused. Whitecliffe had gone quite red, skin flushed. Nearly there, if she judged correctly. He just needed a little push.

  Drawing her arm back again, she rained the last five down one after the other. “Six, seven, eight, nine, and ten.” She put extra effort into that one.

  Whitecliffe jerked and cried out, his hips pumping.

  Ah, there he went, probably like a fountain. When he stilled, she undid the scarves. “I’m getting on the bed,” she said, stroking his back. “Once I’m seated, please join me.”

  He nodded, his face buried in the mattress. “M’Lady—”

  “Don’t be concerned for the mess, it’ll be cleaned in due course.”

  He stilled, then glanced up at her. “Er, how did you know?”

  Jane couldn’t help laughing as she arranged herself on the quilts. “This might be your first time at the Hidden Treasure, but it isn’t mine. Part of what you’re paying for is my expertise. I knew you’d reach completion before I ever picked up the crop.”

  “Oh.” That one word sounded both pleased and chagrined.

  She patted the bed. “Come rest a minute.”

  He crawled into the bed, cuddling with his head in her lap. She played with the soft curls of his hair as he slowly recovered. It was hard not to take his mask off and gaze on his face. She longed to stroke his cheek, rasp her nails over his stubble, and trace his lips. But they were playing at anonymity, and it wouldn’t do to abuse that trust.

  “Did I do alright?” he asked, voice sleepy.

  “You did wonderfully.”

  “Are you sure? Shouldn’t I have helped you reach completion as well?”

  What a dear, sweet man. She wanted to gather him up and take him home. They’d never get out of bed again except for food and the loo. Jane was a dreamer sometimes. It was all nonsense, of course, she didn’t know this man apart from the fact that he had a pleasing cock and bum, which he liked having smacked. He also liked a bit of bondage and was a tad on the nervous side. That was not knowing someone.

  It did seem strange that she had been introduced to these desires of his, which he’d never tell his bride about.

  She rested a hand on his masked cheek. Whitecliffe looked half asleep and was nearly boneless as he lay naked across the bed.

  “Do tell me I’ve not mucked this up by not pleasuring you,” he said, the words followed by a yawn.

  “You haven’t, my pussy is a treat for very good lads. You have to earn the privilege of playing with it. And to lick it … that’s a prize I’ve never once met a man worthy of.”

  Whitecliffe went from being as still as a cat in the sun to wide awake and on his knees. “Lick?” he asked, eyes full of wonder.

  Oh dear, she’d thought him a bit more experienced than to for that to be a surprise. Liquid heat warmed her belly an
d her clit pulsed. It was very tempting to lay back and introduce Lord Fitzwilliam to her pussy, but she couldn’t tell him it was a prize and then just hand it to him.

  “Have you been brought off by a mouth on your prick before?”

  His jaw dropped open. That’d be a no, then.

  “Uh, didn’t know that was a thing that was done. I’ve only had a couple of rolls in the hay … not the literal hay. Scotland has proper beds and the like.”

  Jane clamped her mouth closed to keep from giggling, which wasn’t the right response at all “I didn’t think otherwise,” she assured him. “Something to explore in the future. Will you be here next week?”

  “Yes, M’Lady.” His gaze lowered. “Thank you. That was magnificent.”

  “That was hardly even a beginning.”

  Chapter 3

  Bright sunlight leaked around the curtains when Ian’s eye fluttered open. He stared at how it streamed across the ceiling, a wide smile creeping over his face. He’d actually done it, gone to the pleasure club, and had a striking, gorgeous, and brilliant woman whip him until he’d climaxed.

  His backside was still pleasantly sore.

  Now he had a goal. Ian would do everything he could to be granted the treasure between her legs, and he’d lick her senseless. How had he not known that was a thing people did? It seemed obvious now that he thought about it. He also needed to check the stash of erotic drawings again, because how were there not any of such an act? He hadn’t paid much attention to the rest after the one with the spanking. Only … drat, that confusing one with a man kneeling in front of a woman who had her skirts raised high suddenly made a lot more sense.

  What he wouldn’t give to be that man, but only if the woman was his Rose. He could hardly stand waiting for an entire sennight until he saw her again.

  The door to his chamber cracked open. “Ah, you’re alive.”

  Ian groaned as his valet strode in. He had the sneaking suspicion that valets were not supposed to be so familiar with their employers, but Jack was more friend than servant, and Ian would have been lost without him this past year.

  “I can’t believe you’re finally waking at a decent hour.” Jack perched on the side of the bed, his brown hair disheveled and his livery more a suggestion in the direction of a uniform than actually being one. Only one side of his shirt was tucked in. “The entire house breathed a sigh of relief. We’ve been having to accommodate your odd habit of hopping out of bed at the crack of dawn. It’s good to see you taking on the habits of the rest of the high and mighty. Now, tell me, how was she?”

  Ian glared. “I have productive work habits, and I’m not telling you a ruddy thing.”

  Jack’s brows raised. “That good, eh? She got a sister?” He yelped as Ian kicked at his leg.

  “It was a pleasant evening, and that’s all I’m telling you.” Ian followed the track of a bright sunbeam that was glinting off the washbasin. He usually didn’t sleep in, but appointments at the pleasure club had all been for rather late. Miss Rose’s warm eyes, bright smile, and luscious tits played through his mind. He sighed. “Do I have to wait an entire seven days to return?”

  “You hound dog!” Jack crowed, patting Ian’s knee through the covers. “You could make her your mistress, set her up in that small house right on the edge of the respectable area of London. It’s what that place is for.”

  Ian sat up. “Wait, I own a house meant for a mistress?”

  “Of course you do.” Jack shot Ian a look that conveyed he was an idiot for not knowing.

  He rubbed his face. “That’s … good, but I don’t think this particular lady is looking for that. She was remarkable.” He let out a long sigh.

  Jack ruffled his hair. “Don’t be a ninny and go falling in love with her. She might seem very into you, but she’s like that with every man. It puts a roof over her head.”

  A dark cloud occluded the sunshine in his chest, which had been outshining the actual celestial orb. “Aye, right, well, what am I doing this fine morning?”

  “It’s starting with a meal with your mum, she’s got a bee in her bonnet about something and is insisting you talk with her as soon as possible. Lovely woman, but when she puts her mind to something then all and sundry better be on the lookout for trouble.”

  That was entirely Ian’s mum. “Any clue what she’s on about?” Ian stood, stretched, and padded over to the basin to wash his face while Jack laid out clothes on the bed. For all Jack seemed in perpetual disarray with his dress, he was excellent at making sure Ian looked the part of an Earl.

  “None, but she’s been going through the gossip rags all morning.”

  Ian paused in the middle of pulling his underclothes on. “Uh—”

  “It’s too soon for any of it to be about you, and those papers are for women, they don’t contain a word of the private comings and goings of gentlemen from places like The Secret Treasure. Stop worrying. Having a bit of fun with a fetching bird isn’t something worth noting among the ton unless you’re doing it in the middle of the palace grounds.”

  “Thank you, I’ll try to avoid that.” Drawers in place, he shed his nightshirt and donned an undershirt of fabric finer than anything he’d owned before he’d inherited. His regular shirt went over it, then his very fashionable trousers and tightly fitting gray waistcoat with its horn buttons.

  He inspected himself in a looking glass, trying to see an Earl and not a rag-a-muffin student with few prospects, one that a woman as fine as Miss Rose would turn her nose up at.

  “I’m going to get more about this amazing woman out of you,” Jack said, leaning against the mattress. “She must be quite the goddess to have you all smiles the morning after.”

  Ian curled his lips over his teeth. Damn it, everyone from the cook to the butler to his mother would be suspicious if he started grinning like a loon.

  “That’s not working, mate, but it’s a valiant effort.”

  Drat. Ian blew out a breath as Jack straightened up and grabbed a comb. Sitting on a stool, Ian tried to do a better job at schooling his features, so he’d look less like he’d been … what, exactly? “I didn’t tup her,” he blurted.

  Jack didn’t even pause. “Same thing even if you didn’t put it between her legs.”

  “She never even got undressed. I … I was. Undressed, and there was … I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

  Stepping back, Jack’s expression was one of pure delight. “You are naughty. It’s always the quiet ones. I bet this paragon of womanhood was a very stern lady.”

  Ian’s cheeks flamed and he shifted on his seat. “She’s very clever, with shiny hair the color of freshly turned earth.”

  “A word of advice,” Jack said, soaping up a shaving brush. “Don’t tell her that. Most women don’t want to be compared to dirt.”

  “You’re probably right.” Ian groaned as he tilted his head back so Jack could scrape off the several days’ worth of scruff that was making Ian itch.

  Jack chuckled. “I am always right.” He dabbed the shaving foam on, and Ian did his best not to flinch from the tickle. At least it wasn’t freezing like usual. “And you should ask me for advice. I’ve got a bit of experience with bossy ladies.”

  Ian eyed the straight razor in Jack’s hand. “I hardly know what to ask, yet. Though she did say that, uh, parts of her were a prize and that if I wanted to … er—”

  “No being coy, Lord Fitzwilliam,” Jack neatly drew the razor over Ian’s skin, the scrape loud.

  “Fine. If I wanted to lick her pussy I needed to earn it.”

  Jack’s mouth dropped open, but he quickly recovered and set about shaving another stripe. “I think I like this woman,” he muttered.

  “How, exactly, does one earn that?” Ian knew he had to look like a barber’s pole, with his flushed skin next to the white shaving foam.

  Jack shaved Ian’s chin while wearing a thoughtful expression. “That depends on what this woman enjoys, and I can’t tell you that exactly, but she’l
l give you clues. Study her eyes and face, watch for tiny frowns and smiles, and do what makes her smile.”

  “That’d be easier if we weren’t wearing bloody masks the entire time, though I supposed I’m grateful she doesn’t know who I am.”

  The bark of laughter from Jack made Ian frown. “What?”

  Shoulders shaking with mirth, Jack had to take a step back. He wiped off the razor. “She knows, there’s no way she doesn’t.”

  “But—” Alarm bells peeled in his skull and he made to rise, though he had no idea what he was going to do when he stood.

  “Sit, head back,” Jack said. Ian did as asked because he couldn’t go out half-shaved. At least Jack had stopped chuckling. “She would have known before she was in the room with you. For us much further down the ladder, that’s life and death. Don’t worry, she won’t go blabbing your business to anyone.”

  Ian sighed and tilted his face to let Jack make quick work of the other side. Of course, his Miss Rose would be aware of his identity, though she’d not breathed a word of it. “She asked me to wear my kilt next time.”

  “Then you’d best do it if you want to go about earning things.”

  “Aye,” he grumbled, now imagining himself in his kilt and nothing else, lying between Miss Rose’s thighs with his nose---

  Right, enough of that, he was about to take breakfast with his mum.

  “Don’t wear a stitch under it.”

  Ian rolled his eyes as Jack shaved off the last bit of scruff. “I’m not such a ninny, I’d do that at a pleasure house.” He grabbed a damp cloth and wiped the last remains of foam from his face.

  Jack retrieved a snowy-white cravat and worked his magic with the fabric to create a dignified knot at the base of Ian’s neck. Ian donned his bottle-green jacket, smoothing down the front, then holding still again while Jack fussed with his collar and cuffs.