The Sinners Club (11 page)

“Thank you.”

Jack kissed the side of Mary's throat and drew her gown around her. To his secret amusement, she seemed incapable of movement. Had he satisfied her that well? He certainly hoped so. He carefully lifted her away from him and stood up, placing her back in the chair. He fastened the top button of his breeches over his still throbbing cock and turned to Simon.

“I wish I could lift her up so that you could lick her clean.”

Simon shuddered, his gaze fixed on Jack. His tongue moistened his lips, but he didn't say anything. Jack moved closer and brushed his fingers over Simon's mouth until he opened it.

“But you can still taste her. Suck them clean.”

While Simon worked, he used his other hand to play with his lover's nipples, pinching them until they were as tight and needy as Mary's. He glanced back at the chair where Mary still sat watching them both.

“We still haven't finished punishing him yet, have we?”

She smiled lazily at him. “You don't think watching us and not coming was enough?”

“Not really. I suspect he enjoyed it.” He turned back to Simon. “Didn't you? Shouldn't you be punished for that too?”

Simon met his gaze and then immediately looked down. “Yes, sir.”

Jack smiled, walked over to the chest of drawers and began looking through the lowest drawer. He found what he expected and drew two of them out.

“Whip or crop, Mr. Picoult?”

His captive's gaze remained on the floor, but his body quivered with what Jack knew must be anticipation rather than fear. He'd met men like Simon Picoult before, men who craved the pain and pleasure of punishment, who needed such roughness to enjoy it. And Jack prided himself on never having shied away from giving any man or woman what they truly desired.

“Mr. Picoult?”

“Crop,” he whispered.

Mary stirred in her chair, her expression strained. She spoke urgently to her brother as if Jack weren't even there. “Simon, are you sure? You don't have to—”

“I want it, Mary. Can't you see that? I need it.”

She swallowed hard and subsided into the chair. “If you are sure.”

His smile was breathtaking. “I am.”

Jack discarded the thin whip and advanced on his captive. He hoped Mary would stay to witness his mastery of her brother. It would make things so much easier.

He touched the rounded end of the crop to Simon's sternum and slowly brought it down to his flat stomach. With all his concentration, Jack wove a trail around Simon's hips and down his thighs, just touching him with the leather, soft against hard muscle, supple leather against heated skin.

He drew the crop up the inside of Simon's thighs, making his breath hitch, Jack paused to probe the still erect shaft and Simon groaned. The leather cock ring was darkened now with the pre-cum that streamed out of him. Jack eased the head of the crop down Simon's shaft, between his tightly strapped balls, and rubbed it hard against his taint.

“God.” Simon jerked forward, the muscles in his arms straining against his bonds.

“Be quiet, or I'll gag you and leave you like this.”

Jack waited, and with a visible effort, Simon slowed his breathing and gathered his control.

“Good.” He stroked the crop against Simon's soft skin once more and then stepped away. “How many strokes do you think you deserve?”

“I—don't know, sir. Whatever you decide.”

Jack smiled. “A dozen, then? Without you coming, or complaining?”

Simon nodded, his lower lip already held between his teeth. Jack turned to Mary, who was still looking anxious.

“You think that's too many?”

She managed to shrug. “It is your decision.”

Despite her airy words, her hands were fisted in her gown and she looked ready to fly to Simon's aid if he so much as whimpered. Jack admired that. He knew Violet would've done the same for him.

The muscled globes of Simon's arse beckoned him, their smoothness interrupted only by the leather bindings and the thick leather phallus stuffed between them. Jack stroked the end of the crop as he considered where to start. Six on each buttock, or should he alternate? He drew back his arm. He'd always liked the element of surprise....

Simon made no sound after the first four blows, and Jack stood back to admire the slight red lines on his skin. Four more and his captive was arching his back and panting, his skin gleaming with sweat as he took each deliberately placed blow. Jack walked around and took Simon's chin in his hand, forcing his gaze up to meet his. It was as he'd suspected; Simon was in another place entirely, his body now compliant to Jack's touch, the pain inextricably linked to the pleasure.

“Four more to go, Mr. Picoult. Where would you like those?”

Simon blinked at him. His lower lip was bitten ragged and Jack couldn't resist kissing him hard. He'd like to see that swollen, bloody mouth around his cock, sucking him dry, would like to see both of the Picoults on their knees taking turns to service him.

“Where, Mr. Picoult? On your cock?”

He sensed Mary stirring behind him; would she come to her brother's defense and offer herself in his place? Jack didn't want to give her the opportunity. He brought the crop up and rubbed it against Simon's mouth until he groaned.

“If you won't tell me, I'll have to do what I want then.”

He flicked the crop against his thigh as he considered Simon's quivering, expectant flesh. Seeing all this gloriously exposed male skin made his own cock ache like the devil. He wanted to fuck Simon more than he wanted to complete his plan. Carefully adding two more quick strokes on Simon's buttocks, he waited until his captive went still. With a sigh, Jack undid the single button now holding his breeches up and freed his cock. He was in charge. Simon would let him do anything he wanted.

He climbed up behind the other man and, without offering any explanation, extracted the phallus and drove his own cock home in its place.

“God—” Simon's cry was abruptly cut off as Jack started moving. The oil made his arse surprisingly easy to fill, and he thrust his whole length in and out, slamming into Simon's reddened buttocks with every lunge of his hips until he had to climax. Breathing hard, he slid out and wiped himself on the bed covers. Simon was shaking now, his whole body trembling with suppressed need.

Jack picked up the crop and pushed Simon's knees farther apart, making him arch his back and offer up his arse even more. With great care he smacked the crop once on the now tender skin of his lover's well-ploughed hole and soft taint.

Simon cried out and Jack got off the bed and walked around to face him. His lover's gaze was hazy, his mind somewhere Jack didn't want to contemplate. But he was where Jack needed him, totally under his control.

“Mr. Picoult. One smack of this crop against your cock and you'll be coming whether you want to or not.”

Simon didn't answer, or raise his head. Jack grabbed hold of his hair and made him look into his eyes.

“Yes or no?”

“I want—”

Jack smiled. “All you have to do is answer one question, and I'll make this the best sexual experience of your life.”

“Simon,” Mary whispered.

Jack held Simon's gaze. “I'll give it to you hard, just how you like it, and afterward I'll lick you clean.”

Desire flared in Simon's gaze. “What do you want to ask me?”

Jack picked up the crop. Simon's gaze followed it like a lover's. “Mary isn't your sister, is she?” Simon grimaced as Jack gently placed the tip of the crop on the crown of his cock. “You want to come, don't you? You want to please me?”

“God, please, I need this. Mary, I'm sorry, but—”

Jack's arm shot out as Mary launched herself from the chair and held her back. “Say it.”

“No, she's not my sister.”

“Damn you!” Mary shouted. Before Jack could stop her, she ran for the door.

Jack drew the crop back and delivered one short tap to Simon's cock. “Thank you.”

He dropped the whip and wrapped Simon in his arms while he kept coming and coming into Jack's hand. He ended up cradling Simon's head on his shoulder as the other man shuddered and shook like a babe. After releasing his bound wrists, he carefully unbuckled the cock rings, and made Simon lie back in bed while he washed him clean both with soap and water and then with his mouth.

“Sore,” Simon murmured.

“I'm sure you are. I'd suggest sleeping on your side.” Jack drew the covers up over Simon's naked body.

“I can't sleep. I have to find Mary, you don't understand ...”

“I'll find her and make sure she's safe, I promise you.” Jack smoothed Simon's damp auburn hair behind his ear and kissed his forehead. “Now sleep.”

Simon was snoring within less than a minute. Jack had seen such behavior before, at the pleasure house, from those who took their pleasure in the more dangerous forms of sex. It seemed a pit of exhaustion usually followed the height of ecstasy. He could understand it, even if he didn't crave such excesses himself.

He left a candle burning by Simon's bedside, and went back into his room to wash more thoroughly and find his dressing gown. Simon was right about one thing. Mary Lennox was not going to be pleased about what had happened at all.

 

The tap on the door was not unexpected. The fact that her visitor was Jack Smith was.

“I didn't give you leave to come into my bedchamber. Get out.”

Mary turned away from him and continued to brush out her hair. She could see him in the hazy reflection of her mirror and he was advancing rather than retreating. He'd changed into a long dark blue robe, belted at the waist. His feet were bare and his black hair was damp and swept back from his face. Even in the mirror he looked beautiful. How could she and Simon have ever thought him plain?

“I said, get out.”

“I'm afraid I can't do that. I promised Simon I would see if you were all right.”

“And you can see that I am. Now leave.”

He sank down into the chair beside her bed and studied her averted profile.

“Don't you want to know how he is?”

“After you brutally assaulted him?”

His eyebrows rose. “That's patently untrue and you know it. Some men crave being dominated in bed. Simon is obviously one of them.”

She slammed her brush down on the surface, making her crystal perfume bottles tremble. “You
used
him.”

“Yes.”

“You even admit it!”

He shrugged, which widened the V of his robe to display more of his chest. “I had to do something, and this seemed to be an opportunity for mutual satisfaction. Simon got what he wanted, and so did I.”

“You are callous.”

“I'm simply trying to find out the facts, my lady.”

“What possible interest do you have in whether Simon and I are related?”

“Don't be naive. If you lie about such a fundamental thing, why would anyone believe anything else you have to say?”

“That's ridiculous!”

“It's the way of the world. If George Mainwaring has his way, you and your brother will be on trial for incest and intent to deceive the Crown to obtain an inheritance with an incestuous bastard.”

“He's far too miserly to ever finance such an endeavor.”

“He will—if my employer agrees to pay half the costs.”

Mary's heart thumped so hard she thought he'd hear it. “And will he?”

“It depends on my report, doesn't it? Which is why I feel I have a right to inquire as to your relationship with Simon Picoult.”

“And if I tell you the truth?”

His blue gaze was sharp, but also amused, which irritated her immensely. “I'd really appreciate it. I suspect tying you up wouldn't have the same results as it did with Simon.”

She gritted her teeth. “I'd like to tie you up, Mr. Smith, and drop you in the nearest canal.”

He stretched out his bare feet and crossed his ankles like a man with all the time in the world. “You are more than welcome to do so, my lady. I've always enjoyed being restrained. But I'd rather not end up dead.”

“As if I'd give you a choice.”

His sudden smile was as unexpected as it was beautiful. Damn the man for making her want to respond to him, for making her want to trust him....

“You probably don't believe me, my lady, but I admire your courage and your desire to protect your brother immensely. You remind me of my sister, Violet, and there is no higher compliment I can give you than that.”

“Did she sleep with you too?”

“We did once share the same bed, but there was a man in the middle of us who demanded all our attention.”

“Is there nothing obscene you haven't tried in your spare moments, Mr. Smith?”

He contemplated her for a moment, his brows creased in thought. “I've never copulated with an animal. I've never wanted to.”

She had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from either smiling or asking him why.

“Now, tell me how you and Simon came to be brother and sister.”

There was a hint of command in his voice that made her bristle.

“If you don't tell me, George Mainwaring will spin his tale to my employer instead. Which truth would you rather he had?”

“All right!” Mary retorted. “I met Simon when I was eleven and he was thirteen. My mother was... widowed. We had to leave our house, and find somewhere else to stay.”