by Alyson Chase
Amanda stepped forward, uncertain. Was he burning her?
Wrapping an arm around her stomach, Julius drew her back. “The hurt is only temporary,” he whispered in her ear. “And the lady wants it. She comes back for it again and again.”
Amanda had a hundred questions, but kept silent, watching intently. The woman’s gasps and moans did seem to sound more of pleasure than pain. Putting the candle down, the man ran a hand through his bushy beard before picking up a different candle. With the eye of an artist, he drew patterns on her skin with the liquid wax, holding her down here, shifting her body there. The only sounds in the room were the woman’s throaty moans, the crush of skin against velvet as she shifted restlessly against the bench, and the soft drips of wax striking flesh.
The chamber was several degrees cooler than the main room, but Amanda’s body temperature rose higher. She pressed her thighs together and tugged at the top of her corset. Through the thin linen of her gown, her breasts scratched against the whalebone.
Tugging her hood back, she gulped down the cool air. Julius gathered her hair and pooled it to one side, over her shoulder. He blew gently on the back of her neck, a soothing breeze.
The tongue he used against her heated flesh was anything but soothing.
With the tip, he traced a pattern from the nape of her neck to her ear, sucking the lobe inside his hot mouth, making her melt. “Do you enjoy watching her struggle against the pain, to see as she surrenders to her pleasure?” His voice was a husky growl, and it sent a shiver from her eardrum to her core. “Do you grow wet seeing her submit? To give her body over to the care of her partner?” He grabbed her skirt at her thighs and began to gather it up. Inch by inch, her legs were revealed to the cool air.
Amanda tugged at the strings of her cloak, loosening the knot. The thick wool shifted down her back, still tied onto her, but exposing more and more. Maybe in the dark room, with Julius at her back, maybe she could remove it.
Her hands froze at the ties when Julius’s fingers brushed bare skin. He had her skirt raised to her waist, and only the darkness covered her.
“Do you see how pretty she is in her passion?” He scraped his teeth against her ear, and she sagged against his chest. “Not as pretty as you when you submit. That moment, when you stop struggling against the ropes, stop trying to find comfort, to find satisfaction. When you surrender, and give yourself over to me to pleasure you as I see fit.” He shifted behind her, pressing his hard length into the crease of her bottom. “You are the most beautiful thing in the world at that moment.”
Her eyes blurred, and the flickering candles turned into dancing spots of lights. His thick finger found its way between her folds, gliding easily. “I knew you’d be wet,” he whispered, satisfaction oozing from his voice.
She clutched at his arm, her fingers digging into his coat. Her own gasp was covered by the shriek of the woman on the bench as wax was poured onto her bottom, the candle only inches from her skin. The bearded man sat back on his haunches and appraised his work. With a nod, he licked his thumb and index finger and snuffed out the candles, one by one. Each hiss of the dying flames was echoed in the back of Amanda’s throat. Julius’s fingers danced along her intimate flesh, making her mind splinter along with her body.
The room went full dark, heavy breathing the only sound. Leaning her head back on his shoulder, she let Julius’s fingers sweep her away. He vee’d two fingers and rubbed back and forth around her clit. He reached his other hand down her corset and pulled out a breast. The tip was aching for attention, and when Julius pinched down, she almost wept with pleasure.
She was almost there. Just—
A gas lamp flared to life, lighting the chamber with amber shadows. The man and woman at the center of the room stood before the small group. He turned the woman so her back faced the audience. Different colors of wax splashed across her body in a lively pattern. The spectators clapped politely.
Julius’s hands were otherwise occupied. With one hand he continued his relentless assault, with the other he draped her cloak back over her body, covering her nudity. Amanda struggled to stuff herself back into her corset and rearrange the top of her gown beneath the cloak. She clutched her breast through the stiff fabric. She couldn’t let anyone see her like this, red-faced and panting, but her hips had a mind of their own, thrusting into his fingers. She was so close. Rational thought abandoned her, replaced by all-consuming craving.
The bearded man looked up from his human canvas and caught her in his stare.
Heat raced across her skin. Embarrassment. Lust. Need. It was all the same. “Julius,” she begged.
Spinning, he nestled her body against the wall, his own blocking her from view. “Do you want me to stop?”
“God, no.” She placed her palms flat against the wood, wishing there was something she could grab hold of. “Please …”
With no more teasing strokes, Julius increased the pressure. He thrust two fingers in her channel and circled her clitoris with his thumb. With his other hand, he palmed her mouth and leaned in close. “It’s all right. No one can see or hear you. Come for me, Amanda.”
She clawed at the wall, ignoring the sharp prick of a splinter. She stood on the edge of the abyss, her heart skipping a beat, before flying off, shattering into a million pieces. His hand muffled her moan, his arms keeping her from slipping to the floor, a boneless mess. He rubbed her slowly, prolonging her crisis.
After her body stopped shuddering, he slipped his hand from between her legs, and her skirts dropped to the floor. He straightened her cloak and pressed a soft kiss to the skin beneath her ear. “There’s one more reward I owed you.” His lips curved against her skin. “Though I’m still much in your debt.”
She took a steadying breath and turned. Everyone in the room was grouped around the naked woman, admiring the streaks of color along her back. No one took notice of what Julius had just done to her in the corner. No one except the bearded man.
He strode across the room, everyone stepping aside for the behemoth. Stopping in front of them, the swarthy man crossed his arms across his broad chest. Amanda shrank into Julius’s side under the man’s scrutiny.
His fingers disappeared into his beard as he rubbed his jaw. “A new plaything, Julius? She doesn’t look much like your usual sort.”
Amanda’s spine snapped straight. What did he mean? And what was Julius’s usual sort?
Draping an arm around her shoulder, Julius pulled her into his side. “Not a plaything. A friend. And someone who will be assisting us tonight, so be nice.” He turned to Amanda. “This shaggy fellow is Maximillian Atwood, Baron of Sutton. He rarely has much of import to say, so feel free to ignore him.”
Sutton grunted. “Are you sure she wouldn’t like a bit of sport?” He eyed her exposed neck and the top of her gown between the folds of her cloak that just barely covered her breasts. “Her skin is delightfully pale. The wax would look wonderful on it.”
Julius bared his teeth. “Not. For. You.”
Amanda chewed the inside of her cheek. “Assisting you? I thought you only wanted me by your side for appearance’s sake.”
He squeezed her arm. “Yes, that. And I need you to distract Madame Sable while Sutton and I search her office. A bit of acting, if you will.”
Amanda and Sutton were twin images of gaping fish. The baron recovered first. “Julius! What the bloody hell? Who is this woman that you’d speak so freely in front of her?”
“Oh, my apologies,” Julius said, sounding anything but contrite. “Did I forget to introduce you? This is Amanda Wilcox, Montague’s sister-in-law.” Opening the door, Julius led them into the hallway and towards the main room. “And don’t worry. She already knows.”
“I daresay she didn’t know about me.” Sutton kept his voice low but his words held plenty of heat.
“Acting?” Amanda squeaked. Her feet took root to the hallway floor. “I am no performer.”
Julius swept her hair over her shoulder and squee
zed her arm. “I thought the idea might alarm you, so I waited until now to tell you to save you from the worry. But think of it as a bit of entertainment. Just follow my lead.”
Turning to his friend, Julius clapped the man’s back. “And you, cheer up. She rarely goes out of doors, and speaks to no one but me and Marcus’s dotty aunt. Your secret is safe with her.”
Sutton didn’t look convinced.
Of all the devious, under-handed tricks. Amanda glared at the man who was looking much too pleased with himself by half. Her irritation was so great, she barely noticed as Julius guided her into the main room of the club full of people.
“I don’t know what plan you think you’ve devised—” she began.
“You’ll do splendidly. Have faith in yourself.” Julius wrapped an arm around her waist. “And in me.”
Amanda grumbled to herself, but she didn’t have an argument for that. She did have faith in Julius. He always kept her safe.
A flash of red and a tinkling laugh drew their gazes to the center of the room.
“Ah, there’s our hostess.” Julius’s fingers dug into her side. He blew out a breath and relaxed his grip. “Let me introduce you, my dear.”
Amanda stumbled forward, her heart rate increasing with each step she took towards the center of the room. All gazes in the room were directed at the red-haired beauty, and Amanda had no desire to stand in the shadow of all those eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Julius whispered in her ear. “Just let the current take you where it may.”
Amanda frowned and tugged the cloak tightly around her body. Julius swept her in a half-circle and presented her to the proprietress, bowing his head. “Madame Sable. How lovely to see you this evening. Might I introduce my guest, and someone most eager to become a member of your esteemed establishment. Mrs. Matthew Walker.”
Sutton snorted but covered the sound by clearing his throat. Amanda frowned at him. This was hardly the time to come down with the giggles.
“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Walker,” Madame Sable said, her voice a musical tinkle. “Have you had a chance to enjoy The Black Rose?”
“Indeed, I have.” Heat flushed across Amanda’s cheeks as she stuttered the words. “Your club is most intriguing.”
The redhead laughed, the heavy ruby and diamond necklace she wore shimmering above her breasts. “That is one word for it.” She swept a hand towards a closed door. “May I show you to my office? We can discuss membership there.”
Julius held the door open and followed the women into a stairwell. “You are most kind. However, Mrs. Walker has a similar complaint as I. Rather worse, actually. And your office, while charming, is most small.” The foursome reached the top of the stairs and entered into a large hallway. A window sat at the far end and two doors were on either side of the corridor. Julius swept a hand towards an open door. “Perhaps your interview can be held elsewhere?”
“Of course.” Madame Sable grasped the handle of the fan dangling from her wrist and tapped Julius in the chest with the closed end. “But you know my interviews are held alone with the prospect. I demand complete frankness with the candidates, and that rarely occurs when one’s friends are in the room.”
She extended a hand, to point back down the stairwell Amanda thought, and Julius grabbed it, lightly kissing the skin above her fingers. “Of course. I know your policy well. Sutton and I will wait in your breakfast room.” He turned and entered the room across from them, Sutton lumbering behind. Still without his shirt.
Madame Sable eyed the muscled back and bit down on her lip. “There are great benefits to being a member here, as you can see.” She turned and entered the sitting room. “But female members remain rare. I am quite interested to learn what piqued your interest.” She held her hand out to an empty chair, a smile on her face.
Amanda sidled past the woman and took the seat on the settee that faced the open door with its view of the hallway. She willed her racing heart to slow its pace. “Perhaps”—she licked her lips—"perhaps female membership is rare because men hold women’s purse strings. Not because we are so different in our needs.”
Madame Sable raised her eyebrows, but settled gracefully in the chair opposite. “Too true. And all too unfortunate. If men only knew what women were capable of they would no longer underestimate our sex.”
Amanda shifted. She didn’t know of what she was capable. Except for the one moment she’d stood up to her father, the moment she’d lost control and lashed out at him with a knife, she hadn’t accomplished anything in her life.
That one horrible deed had achieved her sister’s and her own safety from a monster. And that was the grand sum of Amanda’s life. It was a depressing thought.
The proprietress loosely clasped her hands together above her knee. “Now, let’s get down to business. I take it you heard about our little club from Julius?”
Nodding, Amanda smiled through gritted teeth. Hearing his Christian name roll off the woman’s painted lips was as irritating as the scratchy jute rope Julius had tested against her skin.
But it shouldn’t be. Julius was a man with a past, and a future that wouldn’t include Amanda. He could have as many red-headed harlots screaming his name as he wanted.
A pit opened up in her chest at the thought. She had been fooling herself to think that she could keep her affair from touching her heart. She had been half in love with Julius from the day they’d met and adding physical intimacy had only strengthened her attachment. No, she could no longer fool herself but she prayed Julius would remain unaware of her feelings.
Madame Sable’s eyebrows drew together the longer it took her to answer, and Amanda squared her shoulders. She could console herself later. Now, she had a job to do. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “The earl knew we had mutual interests and thought I might enjoy your club.”
Said earl poked his head out of the room across the hall and slipped out the door, heading for the office. Sutton tip-toed behind him, his knees slowly raising to his bare stomach with each step. He looked like an extremely large child sneaking out of nursery, and Amanda bit back a smile.
A floorboard in the hallway creaked.
“I was quite impressed with my tour,” Amanda said loudly. “You seem to, uh, have something for everyone.” A guess, based on the several closed doors downstairs. If dripping wax on a woman was in one of the rooms, she could hardly imagine what the other chambers contained.
Smoothing down her skirts, Madame Sable sent her a satisfied smile. “I do try to cater to everyone’s needs. Well, the reasonable ones, at least. The safety of my girls and the other patrons is of paramount importance.”
“Of course.”
The madam smirked. “If you came with Julius, I can imagine what your need might be.”
There was a muffled bang from down the hall, and the proprietress turned to look out the door. “Did you hear something?”
“No.” Amanda gulped down a breath. “Nothing at all.”
“Maybe I should go check …” Madame Sable began to rise.
Amanda scooted to the edge of her seat. “Please. I’ve only ever been tied by Lord Rothchild. But he won’t always be available.” Especially not if he was thrown in prison for burglary. She swallowed, trying to bring moisture back to her parched mouth. “Can you tell me how your club would handle finding me a partner?”
“Of course.” She cast another concerned glance over her shoulder but sank back into her chair. “I can either find another guest whose preferences suit yours, or one of my domestics. They are highly trained, and all interactions would be monitored until you feel comfortable with your partner. Now.” She leaned forward, her breasts threatening to spill from the top of her gown. “Let’s talk business. It is an annual membership, entitling you to entry any night you wish. Or every night.” Her sharp gaze flicked on Amanda’s mask. “Anonymity is highly-prized. Each member signs a contract guaranteeing they won’t disclose anything that he or she sees at the club to non-cl
ub members. You never have to reveal your face, Mrs. Walker, if you don’t wish to.”
“The members sign contracts.” A bead of sweat gathered at Amanda’s temple, and she brushed it away. “But what about the workers. As you say, you have many girls.” She looked to the empty door and back to the madam. When would Julius be finished? She didn’t know how much longer she could maintain the pretense.
“And some men,” Madame Sable said. “I provide for every taste. And they, too, are made to sign privacy contracts.”
Amanda wiped her damp palms on her skirts. “And you? What guarantees do I have of your discretion?”
The woman opened her mouth, but it was a deep voice that rang out across the room. “Apparently no guarantee at all.” Julius stepped into the room, Sutton right behind.
The baron leaned against a side table and tapped a leather-bound book against his thigh.
Madame Sable spun in her seat. She saw the book in Sutton’s hand and gasped. She shot to her feet. “How dare you? That is private property.”
Amanda pressed her hands to her stomach. Thank the heavens. Her task was done. Rising to her feet, she asked, “What did you find?”
Madame Sable turned her venomous glare on her. Amanda lifted one shoulder.
“We found proof that Madame Sable is as greedy as she is stupid.” Julius shook his head. “Keeping the book in your top desk drawer, and with such a flimsy lock?” He tutted. “Did you really think no one would ever come looking?”
Stalking to Sutton, the proprietress tried to grab the book from his hand, but he held it out of reach. “That is proof of nothing. Merely some notes.”
Sutton opened the journal. “Aidan, Marquess of Derry. Likes to wear a lead and be made to bark like a dog. Five hundred pounds. Harry Cockburn, second son of the Earl of Manchester. Likes spanking men who are dressed as women. Eight hundred and fifty pounds.” He snapped the book shut. “I guess the tupping goes without saying.”