She was certain she’d found what she was looking for when she located a stately, masculine, very much lived-in bedchamber toward the back of the house. It had to belong to Lord Lichfield.
With a squeal, she shut the door and set to work, bounding across the room and throwing the wardrobe open. She was instantly hit by the rich scent of wood and spice and something distinct from all other male scents she’d smelled before. It reminded her of Rebecca’s comment about the man in a wolf mask at one of the East India Company’s house parties—who turned out to be Lord Herrington—and how he had smelled so good that Rebecca didn’t think he could possibly be the thief. Jo breathed in, leaning toward the neat row of Lord Lichfield’s jackets, wondering if she might, perhaps, be wrong about the degree of his guilt based on the glorious scent of his clothing.
But no, she couldn’t let herself be dissuaded so easily. There were too many other factors pointing to Lord Lichfield’s guilt. But her resolve weakened once again when she pulled open a drawer within the wardrobe only to discover neat rows of soft, folded drawers. She squeaked and moved to shut the drawer, but halfway through the gesture, she changed her mind. Instead, she leaned over, a thrill rushing through her, and brought her nose as close to the intimate garments as she could. With a naughty giggle, she breathed in, eyes closed.
Her reverie was disturbed almost instantly by the sound of footsteps in the hall. As fast as she could, she shut the drawer and then the entire wardrobe. Frantic, she searched for a place she could hide if a maid entered the room. There was a door at the far side of the room that, judging by its position relative to the wall, must have led to a closet. Jo bolted for that, throwing the door open.
She stopped and her jaw dropped as she gazed into the small closet. Several whips and flails hung from pegs along one side of the closet. A variety of shackles—some made of metal, some of leather, and some that were little more than strips of silk—hung on the opposite wall. A collection of paddles ranging in size from a cricket bat to a large spoon lined the back of the wall and the walls on the sides. Propped against the side of the closet were a few thick, iron bars with what appeared to be shackles at either end and closer to the middle. There were several other items as well that defied all description. The scent of leather and musk washed over her, confusing her senses even more.
“What in heaven’s name,” she murmured, taking what looked like a curious necklace with a collar and silver chains that ended with twisting clamps. She held the collar with one hand and picked up one of the clamps with the other, trying to decide if it attached to one’s sleeve or if it was meant to hold some other item of jewelry.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when, from behind her, Lord Lichfield said, “If you are looking for someone to show you how to wear that, you need only ask.”
Chapter 3
Felix Harlow, Earl of Lichfield, had had a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach from the moment he walked into his morning parlor and found his mother entertaining. She’d been wretchedly disappointed in him since Lady Malvis Cunningham called off their engagement early in the summer, and she’d threatened to find him a suitable girl herself if he didn’t start showing interest in the right kind of woman. He should have known she’d go behind his back to do exactly what she’d promised.
The trouble was, very few of the right kind of girl wanted anything to do with him at the moment, because he was positively dripping with all of the wrong kind of women. Women who had discovered his unusual reputation and whispered about his unique skill-set behind their fans at Almack’s and at the theater. That gossip had scared Lady Malvis away. For half a moment, Felix had held onto the hope that Miss Hodges hadn’t heard the gossip, didn’t know about his nocturnal activities, and that she might just be the key to him putting all that behind him and living a normal, vanilla life.
But then came her comment about leather goods. Certainly, it was couched within an innocent list of commodities he might trade in. There was a chance Miss Hodges meant nothing by it at all. But she was too eager, too curious, and the spark in her eyes was too cheeky for him to believe she was ignorant. And then she excused herself on the pretense of necessity.
Felix wasn’t at all surprised to find her in his bedroom. Not only that, she was peering into the closet where he kept the accouterments of his activities. He sighed to himself, his heart sagging, as the hope he’d had for putting his seedy past behind him fled. The fact that she had selected a thick, studded collar with chains leading to nipple clamps from the contents of his closet seemed to prove what she was there for. Although she did look puzzled as she studied the piece.
“If you are looking for someone to show you how to wear that, you need only ask,” he told her, slipping into character as he circled around his bed and approached her.
“Lord Lichfield,” Miss Hodges gasped, scrambling to shut the closet door. She still held the collar and clamps as she said, “I didn’t find anything, I swear. Nothing at all.”
Felix’s brow knit in confusion. She’d found everything and she was still holding the evidence. Oddities aside, he remained in character, stalking slowly toward her. “So, you’ve heard all about me, then?” he asked, arching one eyebrow rakishly.
Her mouth fell open and for a moment her eyes glittered with a sort of triumph. “I…I suspected,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“And you simply had to come see for yourself?” He moved close enough to touch her, but instead of caressing her cheek or stealing a kiss, he backed her against the door, planting his hands on either side of her and using his considerable size advantage to form a sort of cage she wouldn’t be able to escape from. That was what the women who pursued him wanted, after all—to give up all control, to feel mastered and helpless.
“I….” Miss Hodges continued to fumble. Her breath came in shallow gasps that did lovely things to her shapely breasts. In fact, he thought he detected lumps in her bodice where her nipples had hardened. He hated the idea of tightening the screws of the clamps she held over what were surely perfect buds of dusky pink, but if that’s what she wanted….
She didn’t say anything else. Felix wasn’t sure if it was because he had overwhelmed her with his presence or if she was already playing the submissive role that she expected him to honor. In the back of his head, something didn’t feel right, though. There was too much innocence in Miss Hodges’s eyes. She was younger than the jades who usually sought out his services. And his mother had perceived her as someone worthy of marrying him and siring the next Earl of Lichfield. Which could just mean Miss Hodges was an exceptionally good actress. She was in his bedchamber, after all.
“So,” he said, keeping his tone haughty and staring at her with a practiced look of unadulterated lust. “We are to be married.”
Miss Hodges made an indistinct sound before forming the word, “Apparently.” She followed that with a quick, rather mad burst of giggles, which she instantly swallowed and turned into a low moan that could have been either longing or dread.
The series of sounds and the whirlwind of emotions that passed through her eyes was so charming that Felix almost broke character to laugh. But in all likelihood, his betrothed hadn’t come to his room to giggle, she’d come to sample what she would be getting.
“You’ve discovered my secret, then?” he asked her.
Her eyes widened. “So you admit it?” she whispered.
“Of course,” he answered with a casual shrug. “If we are to be husband and wife, my secrets are your secrets, no?”
Her mouth dropped open, and Felix was struck with the desire to kiss her. Not the kind of brutal, bruising kiss women usually wanted from him, but a soft, coaxing kiss that would end with her blushing and giggling and wanting more.
“You want me to become involved in….” Her words faded and she gulped.
“That’s what you want,” he told her. Told, not asked. That was how the game was played, after all. “I knew right away when we spoke downstairs.”
&
nbsp; “You…you did?”
Again, the innocence in her eyes gave Felix pause. But no, he knew when a woman was swimming in lust, and Miss Hodges clearly wanted him. She was too artless to hide her ardor. Although he could argue with himself that that was another sign of her innocence. It all came back around to the same thing, though. She was somewhere she shouldn’t be.
“You’re a cheeky little minx, aren’t you?” he purred, taking the collar and clamps from her trembling hand. “Sneaking into your master’s room when you’re supposed to be having tea.”
“I—”
“Silence,” he snapped.
Miss Hodges blinked and stood straighter, indignation in her eyes. So she didn’t know how the game was played after all. He reconsidered his next move, tossing the collar and clamps aside. He’d have to ease her into everything.
“My future wife is a bad girl,” he said, brushing a hand along her side, then closing it around her perfect breast. He fully intended to squeeze hard, pulling her up until she was forced to stand on her toes, but, surprisingly, he didn’t. Instead, he simply caressed her breast, brushing his thumb over her nipple until it was hard beneath the thin muslin of her gown. He was rewarded with a sigh that tightened his groin and stiffened his cock.
“I don’t try to be,” she said in a small, soft voice, her eyes pleading.
A flash of genuine desire flared in Felix. She hadn’t denied his claim or protested her innocence. Beyond that, there was a story in her eyes. His bride-to-be was more than she seemed. But, of course, any woman who would slip into a man’s bedchamber and open his closets must be the kind of minx he’d accused her of being.
He forced himself to focus on what she had probably come to him for. “You know what happens to naughty girls, don’t you?” he asked, leaning close and whispering against her lips as he continued to knead her breast. When she shook her head, holding her breath, he said, “They are punished.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding on a shivery sigh that had his cock straining against his breeches. He didn’t usually want the women who sought out his particular brand of play half as much as he wanted Miss Hodges right then. The sensation was dazzling.
“Are you ready to receive your punishment?” he asked, lips so close to hers that it was torture for him not to ravage her with a kiss.
Miss Hodges merely whimpered.
Jo could barely stand, what with the way Lord Lichfield pressed against her. The way he fondled her breast—boldly, without apology—had her insides swirling into a pool of liquid heat, focused in her sex. In the back of her head, she was still indignant that he’d silenced her so harshly a moment before. But now that he was a breath away from kissing her, she could think of little else.
And then he swayed back. For a moment, the rush of cool air between them shocked her to her senses. The feeling didn’t last, though. He hooked his hand behind her waist and tugged her away from the door with him, then whirled her into his arms as he sat on the side of the bed.
She was ready to snuggle against him and rest her head on his shoulder, but he growled, “Naughty girls take their punishment and beg for more.”
She half opened her mouth to ask what in heaven’s name he was talking about, but before she could, he twisted her in his arms and lay her, face down, over his lap.
“Have you been naughty?” he asked her.
“No,” she insisted, squirming against him. Mostly because she feared she might slip off of his legs and spill to the floor entirely.
He answered her denial by gathering a handful of her skirts and yanking them up to her waist. Jo yelped as he managed to deftly expose her legs above where her stockings were fastened and backside with the movement. He adjusted the way he held her so that her skirts were tucked completely out of the way and her bare backside was fully presented to him.
“What was that, minx?”
“I’m not naughty, I’m—oh!”
She knew it was coming but she was surprised all the same. He smacked his open palm across her bare bottom, and with far more force than she expected. The blow stung sharply, leaving her breathless.
“Why did you—”
Her question was cut off as he spanked her soundly again. The pain of the blow radiated through her backside. But along with the hurt, a deeper, delicious ache grew in her sex. He spanked her again—hard—and both the stinging and the ache blossomed.
“Good girls do not sneak into their fiancé’s bedchambers,” he said, raining another smack on her bum. “Good girls do not play with dirty toys.” He spanked again, and Jo groaned. “Are you a good girl?” he asked.
“Well,” Jo squeaked, thinking about her actions honestly. “I suppose I’m not.”
He smacked her particularly sharply, but the sound she made wasn’t a cry of protest. Oh no, it was far too excited for that.
“Only good girls deserve lily-white asses,” Lord Lichfield told her, then spanked her hard. “Naughty girls have bright red asses.” He followed the comment with another spank.
Jo gulped and attempted to glance over her shoulder. “Is mine red now?”
“Not red enough,” Lord Lichfield said. He smacked her again, but when Jo got a fleeting glimpse of his expression, she could have sworn she saw a twinkle of mirth in his eyes and a tug at the corner of his mouth that must have been a grin.
By then, every new blow he landed fell on her already smarting flesh, making the pain radiate through her. “It hurts,” she said, wriggling against him.
“Does it?” he asked, smacking her particularly hard.
Jo squealed and answered, “Yes,” as she writhed against him. It was then that she realized what the hard length pressed against her side was. Spanking her had Lord Lichfield aroused.
When he spanked her again, she decided two could play at that game. She wriggled against him, purposefully making contact with his manhood. She might not have known much, but between what Rob had told her that fateful day before they’d been caught and what Rebecca and Caro had shared, she knew her movements would cause him pleasure, which might disarm him.
Indeed, he groaned and jerked against her, but then he spanked her harder.
“Cheeky little minx,” he said in a voice tense with arousal. “You’ll pay for that.”
He smacked her again, but this time, rather than pulling his hand away, he stroked her smarting backside. Jo winced…until he slipped his hand between her thighs to stroke her sex. She caught her breath as a powerful wave of need pulled at her and let it out in a long, “Ohh!”
“Naughty girls get wet when they’re punished,” he said breathlessly. “God, you’re wet.”
Jo tried to make a clever reply, but it came out as a wanton moan as he slipped two fingers inside of her. The sensation was delicious, and she instantly wanted more. She would do anything for more, as wicked as that made her.
“Come for me,” he demanded, adjusting his hand so that he both penetrated her and rubbed her clitoris. “I want to feel my naughty wife-to-be with her stinging, red ass come when her master tells her to.”
She couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d wanted to, but she didn’t want to. With a shuddering cry, her sex felt as though it was twisting up into an impossibly tight coil, and then it burst apart in an orgasm so powerful that it filled her entire body. Lord Lichfield groaned and slipped his fingers deep inside of her, giving her inner muscles something to squeeze as wave after wave of ecstasy filled her.
“Good God,” he gasped, his thighs tense under her as if he were as moved by her climax as she was.
As the height of her pleasure began to subside, Jo latched on to her desire to get even with him once again. The time for meekness and propriety was over. There she was, draped over the man’s knees, her backside bared and smarting, her sex still twitching in post-orgasmic throbs, and he merely sat there feeling smug. She could change that.
With a quick burst of energy that he couldn’t have been ready for, she slipped off of his knees, rolli
ng to the side. Somehow, she managed to catch herself on her knees on the floor. By some miracle, she took him by surprise and he didn’t react as she reached for the fall of his breeches and swiftly undid them. By the time he flinched in reaction, it was too late. She had his cock in hand and was stroking it fast and hard, the way Rob had instructed her to do.
He was already aroused and didn’t stand a chance. In a handful of seconds, he gasped and made a strangled sound. His groin contracted powerfully and a fountain of pearly-white liquid erupted from his tip. Jo milked him for a few more strokes until his body went limp and he fell back. He only barely managed to catch himself on his elbows as his delightfully large member began to soften in her hand.
She let go and sat heavily on the floor, catching her breath with the sting of the movement, then finding a more comfortable way to sit. Lord Lichfield reclined where he was, making no attempt to move or to hide his penis from her. Neither of them said a word. Only after the fact did Jo consider how wickedly delicious it would have been if, instead of using her hand to pleasure him, she’d climbed into his lap and sheathed him deep within her. Not that she had the skill or coordination to carry off something that momentous. No, she’d done the best she could, and now Lord Lichfield was thoroughly disarmed.
At last, still panting, Lord Lichfield sat straighter. He glanced down at himself, his clothes in disarray and now soiled, and let out a wry laugh. “That wasn’t exactly a shining example of stamina and control.”
Jo opened her mouth to tell him he deserved what he got, but a knock at the door had both of them tensing like cats on a fence.
“My lord,” a male voice said. “Your mother is concerned. Miss Hodges has gone missing. She would like your assistance in the search.”
“I’ll be right there, Paulson,” Lord Lichfield called. When the butler’s footsteps retreated, Lord Lichfield glanced at Jo with one eyebrow raised. “This should be interesting,” he said, pushing himself to stand. “Think we can make ourselves presentable enough to return to our mothers without raising suspicion?”
The Cheeky Minx Page 3