Seducing the Master (An Erotic Historical in the Red Chrysanthemum Series) by Em Brown

instance of the
punishment he had applied to Miss Greta.
    As if guessing his thoughts, she added, “I
can withstand anything you desire to do to me, Master Gallant.”
    “That is a bold and foolhardy statement. You
know nothing of what I am capable.”
    Pressing herself back against the wall, she
cupped her breasts and caressed her ribs before resting her hands
near her crotch. “Prove me wrong. I dare you to.”
    He shook his head. He was done with
challenges.
    “I vow I can endure more than Mistress
Scarlet, more than any person of either sex. I could be the most
perfect submissive for you.”
    “Unlikely. You have already shown a penchant
for misbehavior.”
    “You could correct my waywardness.”
    He frowned, because the prospect did not
repulse him as he would have wanted it to.
    “You need have no reservation with me,” she
continued. “You would be free to unleash your full strength, to
test the breadth of your wicked creativeness.”
    “You think my ultimate desire is to inflict
pain?”
    “In return, I promise you the greatest
pleasure. No woman can eat cockmeat as well as I. And, while it is
true that I have lain with several men, they all vow my cunnie is
as tight as that of a virgin.”
    His blood pumped forcefully through his
veins at her words. She cupped her mons through her skirts, and a
renewed sense of urgency swelled in him.
    “Miss Terrell, this tête-à-tête serves no purpose. I bid you desist from wasting your time as well
as mine.”
    Stepping forward, she grabbed the lapels of
his coat and pulled herself closer to him. Lust burned like anger
in her eyes, calling to a primal part of him that he could not
ignore. Her skirts brushed against his legs, and her corset nearly
touched where his hardened length was fast becoming visible.
    “Then ravage me.”
    She reached for his burgeoning erection,
but, dropping his articles, he grasped both her wrists and pinned
them above her head to the door behind.
    “Miss Terrell, I am done with this
tomfoolery. Produce the key.”
    He could have threatened to report her
mischief to Joan, but he was not inclined to snitch. Devereux was
likely to laugh at his inability to handle a young woman ten years
his junior. Moreover, the consequences might prove grave for Miss
Terrell. He knew not where or how she might survive if Joan cast
her out from the Inn.
    She squirmed a little in his hold. “I should
be happy to, Master Gallant, after you have had your way
with me. You cannot deny that you desire to do so.”
    She lowered her gaze to his crotch. He
pressed his lips together in a grim line. The scent of the pomade
she used in her hair wafted into his nose once more. Their bodies
were far too close together for comfort. She slid her leg along
his. Holding her wrists aloft with one hand, he cupped her chin
with the other and lifted her gaze to meet his eyes.
    ‘The key, Miss Terrell,” he demanded, unable
to keep the vexation from his voice.
    She did not blink and demanded, equally
hotly, “ Ravage me. ”
    Her words rang in his ears like a song of
sirens. The air between them grew thin. With a frustrated grunt, he
yanked her from the door and dragged her across the room to the
sideboard where he kept the ropes.
    “You wish me to truss you, do you?” he
asked, jerking a drawer open and grabbing a cord of jute.
    Her face brightened upon seeing the rope.
“Yes.”
    He began wrapping her wrists. “And punish
you for your impertinence.”
    “Yes!”
    When he had bound her wrists with the rope,
he dragged her to a simple wooden chair and bent her over its back.
He propped his left foot upon the seat of the chair to hold it
down. Bending toward her ear, he asked, “Your safety word, Miss
Terrell?”
    “I require none.”
    He would have insisted or provided her one,
but if she would persist in such recklessness, then so be it. He
was out of patience with her. Straightening, he flung her skirts
over her waist, baring her arse. The breath caught in his throat