The Scoundrel's Lover (The Notorious Flynns Book 2)

by Jess Michaels

  But even as he joined in her laughter, he couldn’t stop his mind from turning to Annabelle. Calliope refused to help him separate himself from her. And now he had a tiny, terrible glimmer of hope that he would have to squash before their next meeting.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Annabelle could hardly breathe as she sat at Marcus’s desk in his office. Did the man not know that when he leaned over her, it stopped her heart? Or was he actually trying to kill her?

  “You see here, where your membership fees are collected?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t tremble as much as her hands were. He nodded. “By going through some of your records while you were downstairs dealing with…what was it exactly?”

  He shrugged. “A fight over a woman.”

  Annabelle tensed. “Does that happen here often?”

  Marcus shook his head. “Not very often. It is more common for two ‘suitors’ to decide to share a lady rather than duel over her in these halls.”

  Annabelle gripped her fist against the desk. Two men, one lady? That sounded incredibly shocking and highly erotic. She wanted to ask him more, perhaps even be shown how such a thing was possible, but instead she bent her head.

  “Ah, I see. Well, at any rate, it seems you haven’t changed what you change for membership in a very long time.”

  He pressed one hand to the desk, dangerously close to her own, and leaned in. “Not for ten years, since I inherited the place and made the first changes and updates.”

  She glanced up. “You inherited the club?”

  He continued to stare at the ledger a moment, then slowly looked down at her. Their eyes met and she saw a flicker of pain in the bright green of his stare.

  “Yes,” he said softly and explained no more. “I suppose you are correct that in ten years enough has changed that perhaps I should reexamine my fees.”

  “One other thing I noticed was that you have some members who do not fall under a lifetime membership and yet they have not paid you their annual fee in several years.”

  “They are established members,” he murmured, looking over the list she had compiled. “We press them, but do not expel them.”

  “I think you should reconsider,” she said. “I’m certain most, if not all, of these people can more than easily pay your fee. And they cannot bring in so much business that they make up for what they take. They are taking advantage of you.”

  She folded her arms and Marcus chuckled. “I did not know I had picked up a champion when we agreed you would review my books.”

  Annabelle reached up and removed her reading spectacles, setting them on his desk before she said, “You have obviously worked hard to make this place the success it has become. I simply hate to see you throw away even a farthing’s worth of profit from all you’ve done.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds, but then he leaned in even closer, gripping both arms of the chair she sat in before he dragged it away from the desk and turned her to face him. His hands bracketed each chair arm, so she was trapped, caught with only his handsome face to stare into.

  And stare she did, her breath hitching as she fell under the spell of his strong jaw, full lips and utterly spectacular eyes.

  “Marcus,” she whispered, despite herself.

  He smiled. “Do you know how often I’ve thought of you since we last met, Annabelle? How often I’ve thought of having you alone in this space?”

  She swallowed. “I hope it is as often as I have thought of you.”

  His eyes went wide at that admission before his normally stern mouth turned up in a grin. “You thought of me, Miss Flynn? And what did you think about?”

  “Very inappropriate things,” she admitted, feeling the rush of heat to her cheeks.

  His smile faltered slightly. “Like what?”

  “Like being here alone with you,” she began. “Like feeling your hands and your mouth on me, all over me. I’m afraid those thoughts are a sickness now, I cannot do anything to purge them from my mind.”

  “Then would you like to surrender to them?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Yes. Please, yes.”

  He said nothing more, but merely grasped her, pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. She couldn’t help herself but surrender. It felt like forever since he’d touched her, despite the fact it had only been a few days. She melted against him. His fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her face up and up, but he didn’t kiss her. He just looked at her.

  “Do you know how many women I’ve had, Annabelle?”

  She flinched. She didn’t really want to consider that. “Is that an appropriate question to ask your lover?”

  He smiled, but it was only a flicker of his earlier grin. “Not at all. There had been many. Not here—they are right that you are the first woman I have ever brought to my private rooms, to my business. But I have not been a monk outside of these walls. And yet, despite my experience, when I’m with you…”

  He trailed off, and she tensed. “What?”

  “It is like the first time I’ve ever seen a woman. Like nothing else ever mattered before.”

  She blinked. That was not what she’d expected him to say. And yet, trapped as she was, she couldn’t turn away from the intimate admission. She could only look into his eyes and see that he meant every word. But that couldn’t really be true. Those things he said were too precious and too close to feelings she would not, could not allow herself to feel.

  “Marcus,” she whispered, shaking her head.

  The light in his eyes faded at her indication of the negative, but he didn’t pull away. Instead he moved closer, and suddenly his mouth was on hers, hard and insistent. His hand slid down her back, caressing her spine before he cupped her backside and lifted her against him, grinding the hard ridge of his cock against her thigh.

  She shivered at the feel, knowing he was ready and randy for her. She couldn’t deny she was the same for him. The moment he had entered the room almost an hour ago, her body had grown wet and she hadn’t stopped tingling. And now he would touch her and he would make those desires fade, at least for a short while.

  He maneuvered her through the office, kissing her and fondling her the entire way, until they reached his chamber door. He fumbled to open it, and they nearly fell inside when he finally managed it. Still, he didn’t stop kissing her, but guided her to his bed where he finally stopped and drew away.

  “If I could rip that dress off of you, I would,” he drawled, letting his fingertips travel along the bodice of her gown. She shuddered as he crested over her breast, the pad of his thumb stroking her nipple through the fabric.

  “Then I’d be naked and trapped here,” she whispered.

  He smiled. “Perfect. I’d keep you that way until you’d given me everything.”

  He started to unbutton her gown, and she stared at him. “But we can’t share everything,” she reminded him gently. “As much as I would like that.”

  He didn’t hesitate in his unfastening and he didn’t look up. “Trust me, Annabelle, I couldn’t forget your rules even if I tried.”

  She frowned. There was a strain to his voice when he said that which she didn’t understand. He couldn’t possibly care what she did when she wasn’t here with him. She was a diversion, an attraction he wanted to rid himself of feeling just as she had to rid herself of these dark desires in her soul.

  Marcus Rivers wasn’t the kind of man to truly care for anyone, she thought, but most especially not a woman like her. He could have opera singers and mistresses and widows who would know exactly how to please him. She was just…Annabelle Flynn, a woman not of his world, nor of the world she was trying to invade at balls and Society gatherings.

  His fingers brushed her chin, and she sucked in a breath when she found him focused entirely on her.

  “Why such a sad expression?” he asked, his voice low and hypnotic. She found herself wanting to curl into him, to tell him everything she’d ever feared and loved and lost.

  Instead she shook h
er head. “You should know this is difficult for me as well. I take no pleasure in denying you.”

  “I-I know that,” he said.

  His mouth covered hers again and she sighed in both pleasure and relief. Talking to him was so confusing sometimes, it was better to just touch, tease, pleasure. Those things were separate from the things he made her feel and think and fear.

  He opened her dress and pushed it and her chemise aside, baring her from the waist up. She found herself arching her back, giving him better access. He smiled as he pulled away and simply stared at her.

  “These beautiful breasts haunt my most wicked dreams,” he purred as he cupped them, pushing them together gently, thumbing her nipples, this time without fabric to stop her from feeling the touch.

  She gasped and let her head dip back over her shoulders. He laughed. “So sensitive.” Leaning forward, he licked one hard nipple and she jolted. “Do you feel that all the way in your pussy?”

  She jerked her face to look at him. He continued to lick and suck her nipple, but he was watching her.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “And are you wet and aching for me?” he asked, again so benign, as if he were asking if she wanted tea.

  “Since the moment you came in to the room,” she said, this time through clenched teeth. He was teasing her, testing her. But couldn’t she do the same? “And what about you, Mr. Rivers?”

  He sucked her hard and then said, “What about me?”

  “I felt how hard you were for me,” she said, blushing at the directness of her words. “Felt your cock press against me. Are you ready to feel my hands stroke you, my mouth suck you?”

  He straightened up and tugged the gown off her waist. It fell at her feet. “You are treading in dangerous waters, Annabelle,” he said, his voice sharp. “Because I have been hard for you for far longer than the first moment I saw you tonight. I have been aching for you for days and if you are not careful, you will feel how close I am to losing control.”

  “You, lose control?” she taunted, even though his ardor was frightening as much as thrilling. “I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it.”

  “Minx,” he spat, then dragged her against him. “If you keep teasing, then you shall see it.”

  She met his gaze evenly. The part of her that strove for propriety told her to stop this game with him. To back away. But the darker part of her, the larger part, urged her on. And in that moment, she folded Society Annabelle away and unleashed her true self.

  Slowly she eased her hand between their tightly pressed bodies, wiggling between them until she found the ridge of his cock. She stroked him through his trousers, watching as his jaw tensed, his eyes fluttered shut, his breath exhaled gently.

  “Annabelle,” he said, but this time his voice was pleading.

  “Take off your clothes and let us begin,” she ordered, pushing from his embrace and stepping back to watch him.

  He did not deny her, but took his time removing each item. His gaze never left her as he removed his jacket, tugged his shirt from his waistband, slowly unfastened it. Finally he tossed it away and she was the one who lost her breath.

  “How are you so well formed?” she murmured, stepping closer to touch him. She flattened her palm against his flesh, reveling in the warmth of his skin against hers, the way his muscles flexed.

  “Because I’m not a worthless fop,” he growled.

  She winced. He was addressing her desire to marry one of those worthless fops. Although right now she couldn’t recall why that had ever seemed like a good idea. Especially when she could have this standing in front of her. This specimen of male perfection. This man who, if she told him she would allow it, would claim her and please her until she was weak.

  And that would destroy all her dreams.

  She blinked and stepped away. She couldn’t allow her dark desires to be her only guide. She had to keep her reason alive in the midst of these pleasures.

  He moved his hands to his trousers, his gaze almost challenging as he stripped them open and shrugged out of the fabric.

  She caught her breath. He was magnificent. Even better than she had remembered. Every part of him was hard and muscled, from his thighs and backside to the thrusting ridge of his cock which curled against his stomach proudly.

  She wanted him. So desperately.

  Without thinking, she reached for him, wrapping her hand around him in a tight fist and stroking over him once, then twice.

  He growled low in his throat, and without warning he pounced on her. He grasped her waist, tossing her on the bed and then braced himself over her, his breath on her neck, stirring her tangled locks.

  She arched beneath him, rubbing her body against his in a desperate bid for control, but he shook his head. “You are mine right now, Annabelle. Don’t forget that.”

  His mouth crushed hers before she could respond, but he didn’t stay like that for long. He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth lightly and then dragged his mouth down her naked body. He suckled back and forth between her breasts and then slid to her stomach, tonguing her navel.

  Her body was on fire with sensation, but he never settled in any one spot on her body, leaving her discombobulated and moaning with the pleasure he taunted her with. Finally, his mouth glided over her hip and he pushed her legs open, revealing her sex.

  She recalled his mouth against her before and blushed, but she also lifted toward him, aching for the relief he could bring with his wicked mouth.

  He chuckled. “So eager. But I think we should try something different.”

  He stroked his fingers over her sex, opening her lips gently. She couldn’t help but cry out as he touched her, playing her like a virtuoso with an instrument. He leaned in, still stroking his fingers against her gently. She waited for the brush of his tongue against her, but it didn’t come.

  “Marcus?” she whispered.

  He smiled up at her. “You want my mouth?”

  She nodded, not caring how desperate she appeared.

  “Not today.” He rose up, positioning himself between her legs. She watched, awestruck, as he lowered his cock toward her.

  “No, we said—” she began, a weak protest when his body inside of hers was exactly what she wanted.

  He shook his head. “I will not breach you.”

  She had no response for that. If he didn’t intend to fill her, she didn’t know what else he could do. Until he nestled his cock within her outer folds and stroked along just the outside of her sex.

  “My God, Annabelle,” he groaned, stroking along her again. “You are so wet.”

  She gasped at the slide of him along her sex. He was so hard against her softness, and the head of his cock pressed her clitoris perfectly. He gently increased his rhythm, taking his time, being careful not to let his member dip into her sex and break the promise he had made.

  She felt her orgasm growing as his speed increased. It blossomed from where their bodies ground against each other, tingles spreading through her legs, her stomach, her arms, until in a starburst explosion of light and pleasure, it erupted.

  She cried out, flexing against him, but also reaching for more. She shook and he stroked on until she finally collapsed, weak on his pillows.

  She expected him to pull away, perhaps to ask her to pleasure him with her mouth, but instead, he glided his fingers along her opening once more and then began to stroke his cock, lubricated with her juices.

  She sat up on her elbows, unable to look away as he jerked his hand over his hard flesh. His eyes fluttered shut, his neck strained and with a massive shout, his seed spurted free.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Marcus panted, struggling to recover his breath and opened his eyes. He found Annabelle still splayed across his bed, watching him, her eyes wide and filled with renewed desire. He wrinkled his brow in confusion.

  “Why look at me that way?”

  She smiled. “I liked watching you lose control,” she explained. “Almost as much as I like when y
ou take mine.”

  He shook his head. She had no idea how powerful her desires were. How her words moved him body and soul.

  “And yet you see what we do here as dark and twisted, don’t you?” he asked.

  She frowned. “When we are together, there is nothing dark or twisted about how I feel. But a lady isn’t supposed—”

  He rolled onto his back with a huff of breath, cutting her off. “I’m sorry, but what you are about to say is pure foolishness. A lady isn’t supposed… You have been downstairs, Annabelle, you’ve seen ladies, powerful ladies, doing exactly what you crave and even far more!”

  She worried her lip. “I know. I know that they are here and that they are engaging in such activities. But tell me something—not everyone in your club wears a mask, do they?”

  Marcus turned his face to look at her. “No. It is not mandatory, but encouraged. Most do.”

  “And those who do not, are any of them women? Ladies?”

  He hesitated, not wanting to give the answer she sought as proof that what she felt was wrong. Worse, that what they shared was wrong.

  “No,” he finally admitted. “I’ve only ever seen the gentlemen forgo their masks.”

  She nodded. “And if someone were to storm into this place and uncover those engaged in certain activities…ones like those we observed from the peepholes in the hall, for instance…who do you think would be more damaged?”

  “It would depend upon rank, who managed to push past my guards, what they were looking for,” he said.

  She shook her head. “The men or the women.”

  “Annabelle.”

  “You and I both know that the stories of the men might hurt them, yes, but you’re right that it would depend upon the circumstance. Most of them would walk away embarrassed, perhaps, but not materially damaged. I can tell you, even after a short time in the ton, the women would be destroyed. Hell, even in the far less stringent company I kept before, the discovery that a lady was engaging in activities in a sex club would have meant social death.”