The Sinners Club (22 page)

“So, who did the earl really want when he bought you both?”

Simon shrugged. “Who knows? He continued to fuck me until he became too ill to wield a crop.” He bit his lip. “In the last year or so, he became less careful, and used me too hard. When he finally stopped, I was quite relieved.”

“And I came along and put you right back in that hell.”

“No, you didn't, Jack, actually you made things all right again. I remembered what I loved.” His smile this time was sweet. “Why do you think I'm telling you all this? I like you.”

“It certainly does put a different perspective on things. Mary was obviously quite happy to use you to escape the brothel.”

“No, it wasn't like that. I asked the earl if she could come with me. He was desperate enough to own me at that point to agree, and eventually to pretend it had been his idea all along. He was quite fond of Mary, really.”

Jack's fingers dug into the wood of the window frame. “Did he ever—?”

“No, he never hurt her. I wouldn't have let him if he'd tried, but he never did.”

Jack slowly exhaled. He couldn't think here, needed peace and silence to decipher what Simon had just told him. “Your mother's clients are a peculiar lot.”

“Not really. They're just seeking what we all desire, sexual satisfaction. Don't tell me you've never been tied up, or enjoyed being told what to do?”

“I've certainly done that, but this? That schoolroom? That made my cock shrivel up.”

Simon smiled. “I certainly wouldn't want that.” He met Jack's gaze, his brown eyes steady.

“I wish I could dig up the sixth earl, and beat him to death with my bare hands.”

“I wouldn't bother. He'd probably enjoy it.”

“I don't know how you can laugh about such things.” Jack drew in a deep breath. “What can I do to make things better for you?”

“As I said, you already did that. I've discovered I like sex again.”

“Only when I tied you up and brutalized you.”

“Please don't feel guilty about that.”

“What if I offered you something different?”

“Here?” Simon's gesture encompassed the small, bleak bedroom. “I was at my happiest here with Mary.”

“Would you let me make you happy here, too?”

“To give me another good memory of the place?”

“I thought you said you liked it here.”

“I did, but I'm not sure I'd want to return to such excesses. I'd like to find one man who can own me to his heart's content.”

“It won't be me, Simon.”

“I know that.” He held out his hand.

Jack stood and walked over to the other man. He cupped his cheek. “Are you sure? I'm certain Mary wouldn't approve at all.”

“Mary is probably going to murder me for telling you about the Earl of Storr, so I don't have long to live anyway.” He turned his head slightly until his lips brushed Jack's hand.

“Why didn't she tell me herself?”

“Because she is as proud and stubborn as you are? You'll have to ask her.”

Jack brushed his lips over Simon's. “If she'll ever speak to me again.”

“Of course she will. When she finds out about this, she'll probably come after you too.”

Jack found himself smiling. “You are not encouraging me to proceed.”

“Maybe this will help?” Simon kissed Jack's mouth, easing his tongue inside to tangle with Jack's. “I want you. Just you.”

“I'm not going to hurt you.”

“I know.” Simon nuzzled Jack's lower lip. “Just fuck me.”

Jack wrapped his arm around Simon's hips and drew him in until their cocks were rubbing against each other, silk pantaloons to buckskin breeches. He groaned at the sensation, and shoved his hand between their two bodies to fondle and play with both their straining covered cocks. He was determined to take his time, to try and show this beautiful man he was worthy of kindness and gentleness.

“Take off your coat.” Simon murmured as he worked on the buttons. Jack reciprocated and soon they were both down to their shirts. He shoved an impatient hand inside Simon's breeches and unbuttoned the placket, pulling the shirt out and urging Simon to take it off. His own shirt and pantaloons were soon dealt with, and then they were naked, and Simon was leading him back toward the bed.

Jack sat down and Simon straddled him as they kissed, hands everywhere, teasing tight nipples, cupping balls and straining cocks until both of them were breathless. Jack was on his back, Simon over him, both of their cocks in his hand.

“Turn around,” Jack urged him. “Take me in your mouth, and I'll do the same.”

Simon reversed his position and Jack groaned as his cock was taken into Simon's clever mouth before swallowing Simon's shaft in his turn. He sucked hard, knowing the other man would love it, one hand sliding downward to play with his lover's tight balls and rim the pucker of his arse hole.

His cock vibrated as Simon hummed his approval and then Jack forgot everything but pleasing his lover, taking him as deep and as hard as he could until Simon climaxed and his come pumped down Jack's throat without spilling free from his mouth. Even as he swallowed, his own cock started to come in thick pulsing waves until he was almost crying out with the pleasure.

Eventually, he managed to roll Simon onto his back and kneel between his legs. He took his time exploring every inch of his lover's now damp skin, licking and sucking at his nipples, biting the skin that stretched over his jutting hip bones and following every intriguing line of taut muscle he could find.

Beneath him, Simon groaned and bucked against his mouth, his cock filling out again and already dripping pre-cum.

Jack licked at that and then leaned forward to kiss Simon. “I missed you.”

“We both missed you.” Jack grimaced and Simon chuckled. “It's much easier for you to fuck me than it is for you to make love to Mary, isn't it?”

Jack went still. “What makes you say that?”

“Because we know we are just enjoying ourselves. When you introduce
emotions
to the experience, I suspect you and Mary are equally terrified.”

“I don't want to think about her. Is there any oil?”

“On the table beside the bed,” Simon answered him. “You want to fuck me because you think you can't have her.”

Jack retrieved the oil and dripped some on two of his fingers. “Will you be quiet about your damned sister? This is hardly the place to be discussing her when I'm about to make you scream with ecstasy.”

“You'd like it even better if she was here, watching you fuck me, and breathlessly awaiting her turn.”

Trying desperately to ignore Simon's banter, Jack eased one oiled finger inside and then another and pumped them in and out. He leaned forward and licked the crown of Simon's cock with every thrust until his lover was lifting his hips to encourage Jack to take more.

“Please fuck me.”

“Only if you stop talking about Mary.”

Simon's answering smile was wicked. “I'll stop, but I know you're thinking about her now anyway.”

Jack gripped the base of his shaft and pressed the head against Simon's well-oiled hole. “Enough.” He pushed inward, enjoying the other man's gasps and the tightness of his passage. “Hold your cock, but don't come unless I tell you.”

He concentrated on the thrust and withdrawal of his shaft, using his full length to give his lover the most pleasure. Simon writhed beneath him as Jack kissed and sucked his nipples, his throat, and ultimately drove his tongue into Simon's mouth, replicating the movement of his cock. It was blissful but Jack couldn't quite shake off the sense that Mary was indeed watching him and waiting for him to turn to her.

The urge to climax grew and his thrusts shortened until he was slamming into Simon. He reached down to add his hand to Simon's and interlaced their fingers.

“Come with me, now.”

With a groan, Simon obliged and Jack closed his eyes and followed him into pleasure. After a while, he pulled out and remained lying over Simon, his face buried in the crook of the other man's neck.

Simon's hand came to rest in his hair. “It's all right, Jack.”

“No, it isn't.” He was too tired to dissemble. “I've bedded you when—”

“—when you're in love with Mary.”

Jack levered himself up on one elbow and glared down at Simon's amused face. “Devil take it, I am not!”

“She's in love with you too.”

“That's even more ridiculous.” Jack moved away from Simon's comforting warmth and sat on the side of the bed, his back turned to his lover. “Are you going to let me leave now?”

“I don't have the energy to stop you.” Simon hesitated. “Why does it frighten you so much?”

Jack shot to his feet and took a hasty wash using the icy water in the basin on the table. He found his shirt, disentangled his satin pantaloons from Simon's breeches, and sat back on the bed to get dressed again. His cravat seemed to have disappeared, but he shrugged into his coat and stood to leave.

Simon hadn't moved from the bed and lay there in all his naked glory, one hand absently cupping his balls, his thumb playing with his cock. Jack looked away from the tempting sight.

“I'm sorry, Simon.”

“For fucking me? I wanted you.”

“I could've stopped.”

“Why?”

“Because I've recently learned that using a person for sex isn't a good idea.”

Simon stretched luxuriously. “I liked being used. That's why the Earl of Storr bought me.”

“And Mary.”

“Do you think I should've left her here?”

“No, I'm sure you did the best you could at the time.” Jack hesitated. “In truth, I wish you both well. You may reassure her that I will never try to get out of the obligations of the late Earl of Storr's will.”

“I told her you wouldn't.”

“I'm not quite that vindictive. If only she hadn't—” He stopped himself just in time and headed for the door. “Good night, Simon, and thank you for everything.”

He heard Simon sigh and softly closed the door. He managed to reach the exit of the brothel without having to deal with Mrs. Picoult, which was lucky because he doubted he could meet the woman with any civility at all. She might claim that her son went willingly with the Earl of Storr, but he found such cold-blooded behavior appalling. It reminded him too much of his own father.

I
gnoring the dangers, Jack walked back to the Sinners from Whitechapel, his mind too unsettled to contemplate company of any kind. Tomorrow night, as resident host, he would have to attend the social event on the second floor. Watching sexual antics had never been difficult for him. He didn't expect anyone to ask about his
feelings
like Simon did, only to perform as vigorously and inventively as possible.

He didn't even want to participate, but all it required was the ability to maintain an erection and he was more than capable of that. He turned in to the square where the Sinners was located and headed down the steps to the basement. Despite his worries, he was hungry, and he knew the cook would've left something out for his return. He'd eat there and then take the backstairs up to bed.

One of the kitchen maids ladled a big bowl of soup out for him and he sat at the scarred table and ate it with some cheese and fresh bread. Feeling immeasurably better, he thanked the maid and made his way up to his apartment, which was warm and blessedly silent.

With a groan, he dropped his clothes on the floor and filled the bath with hot water. When he finally took possession of Pinchbeck Hall, whatever the cost, he was going to install one of these marvels in the dressing room next to the earl's bedchamber. He sighed and sank deeper into the tub, allowing his head to go under the surface. When he resurfaced he pushed his hair out of his eyes and then almost jumped out of his skin.

“How in God's name did you get in here?”

 

Mary waited for Jack to stop spluttering and handed him one of the towels warming by the fire. He wiped his face, threw the towel to the floor and stood up. Water ran in rivulets down his magnificent, lean body following the lines of his muscles and the curve of his hip.

“I'm sorry if I startled you.”

He stepped out of the bath, grabbed the largest towel, and wrapped it around his hips. “I asked you a question.”

There was nothing welcoming in his voice, but she had expected that. Had braced herself to deal with his contempt, even if it hurt.

“The butler let me in.”

“Damn him.” Jack ran a hand through his wet hair. “That's all I need to make this the perfect evening.”

“You saw Simon.”

He turned away from her and picked up the other towel. “And what if I did? Are you jealous? Have I become some kind of prize in a competition between you both?” When he swung around he wore the smile she'd learned to hate. “Do you want to fuck me too? Will it be before or after your latest confession?” He rubbed at his hair. “There's no need. Simon did an excellent job of defending you.”

“Do you think I asked him to do that?”

“I don't know, did you?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “You really don't like me, do you?”

“On the contrary. How could I not admire a woman who is ruthless enough to get what she wants? If you were a man, you would probably be extremely rich, or extremely powerful by now.” He bowed. “Now would you mind going away? I'm extremely tired, and I have an orgy to organize here for tomorrow night.”

“But—”

He grabbed her by the elbow. “As I've already explained, Simon told me everything that needed to be said.”

“Did he tell you about his relationship with Jasper?”

“Yes, he did, thank you. I now understand that you weren't the earl's first choice, and that you were only brought along because Simon insisted.”

She shrugged out of his hold. “Did he tell you he went
willingly?”

“Yes. Aren't you pleased?” His smile was cool. “At least, I can't blame you for that. In fact, he did you a favor by bringing you along, didn't he?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

“What's wrong?”

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't stop the tears from falling.

“He hated it.” She swallowed hard. “He
loathed
what that man did to him. The only reason he agreed to go with him was to save
me.”

Jack frowned. “Why would he lie?”

“Because, as usual, he's trying to protect me, to insist that everything was fine. I even believed him myself at first, until I found him shivering and crying and hiding from the damned man, so badly beaten and bruised that—” She gulped in air. “Why do you think I made Jasper marry me?”

“To safeguard your future.” Jack had retreated to safety and was searching for something in one of his drawers.

“No! To safeguard
Simon's!”
She actually stamped her foot. “Why shouldn't he receive something in return for all those years of servitude? The earl didn't even leave him the smallest of legacies in his will. How could he be so
ignorant,
so
ungrateful?”
She glared at Jack. “What is that for?”

He gave her a clean handkerchief. “To wipe your beautiful face.”

“I don't care about my beautiful face. All it's done has brought me misery.” She dabbed at her tears anyway, and defiantly blew her nose. “When I see Simon I'm going to kill him!”

“I think he knows that.”

“I never meant things to become so
complicated.
Originally, we were just trying to put George off the scent, and then you turned up, and everything became too much, but it was too late to pull back, and I just
hoped
... I never imagined I'd come to feel so
guilty....”

Jack steered her into one of the chairs by the fireside. Shock obviously turned her into a chattering, weeping fool. Her knees were shaking and her hands were fisted so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.

He handed her a glass. “Drink this.”

She obeyed because it was easier not to think, or to argue. The brandy seared down her throat and pooled like lava in her stomach. He took the seat opposite her and sipped his own drink.

She glared at him over her glass. “Don't worry. I'll leave in a minute.”

“There's no hurry.”

“A few moments ago you were practically throwing me out!”

He regarded her for a long while, his head angled to one side. “I must confess, it's almost refreshing to see you with a red nose and eyes from crying too hard. I don't think I've ever seen you mar the perfection of your features before with real tears.”

She took another swig of her brandy. She felt quite unlike herself. “You would know all about pretending, wouldn't you?”

“About wearing a mask?” He smiled. “Of course.”

“And when do we see the real Jack Lennox, or is it John? Or whatever you wish to be called now.”

“I don't think you'd want to see him.”

“Why not? Haven't you got the guts to tell me to my face how much I hurt you by attempting to steal your birthright?”

Cold fury flashed deep in his blue eyes. “I hardly think—”

“That I lied and deceived you, and that despite everything, you still can't wait to get me back in your bed?”

He came out of his seat so fast that she dropped her glass on the carpet. He caged her in the chair, his hands bracketing her head.

“Now that's an excellent thought. We're both so
good
at fucking, aren't we?”

She cupped his rigid jaw. “Stop it.”

“You wanted to see the real Jack.” He bent his head, his lips bruising her mouth. “He's as much of a whore as you are.”

“I whored to protect my mother, to provide her with a place to die that wasn't on the streets. What's your excuse, Jack? From what I can tell, you just love to fuck anything, and then you run away as fast as you can.”

“I couldn't run when I was fourteen, could I?” His breathing hitched. “When my father prostituted my services to any man or woman who wanted me so he could continue to live as he pleased? If I run away now, it's because I damned well
can.”

She shoved at his shoulder. “Then run.”

“And if I don't want to?”

“Then you stay, and we do this for each other, not for money, or for obligation, or because we want something from the other. We do it because we both choose to stay and we want each other.”

He stared into her eyes, a muscle twitching at the side of his mouth. He looked quite unlike himself, all the charm stripped away to display the hardness beneath. And beneath that ...

His mouth descended again, and this time she let him in. The kiss wasn't nice or pleasant, it was a tangle of need and anger and ... God. She whimpered his name against his lips and was rewarded by a sharp nip. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling at the towel until it fell free and he was naked, his hard cock pressed against her belly. Her back hit the bedsheets and he was over her instantly.

He didn't bother to strip her, just pulled up her skirts, parted her thighs with one heavy knee and was shoving himself deep inside her. She bucked against him, but he held her still, his body too big to push away, his need to have her just as he wanted too strong.

But she was done with lying passively under any man.

She wiggled one arm free and yanked hard on his wet hair until he yelped and released his iron control over her body. She punched his shoulder until he was forced to look at her. There was none of his usual sensual amusement in his gaze; he looked as lost as she felt.

“No.” She punched him again, felt his cock jerk inside her.
“Both
of us.”

After a breathless second, he rolled them over until he was on his back and she was astride him. She started to move on him then, grinding her clit against the cradle of his groin, squeezing his cock and releasing it within her until he bucked against her, his hands on her hips trying to slow her down, to hold her steady.

With a growl he rolled them again until she was under him and he was pounding into her, each thrust from root to tip. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and then moved them down his back, scoring his skin, making him work her even harder. She climaxed so suddenly she screamed. He rumbled his approval, his cock still working her, his fingers sliding between their two bodies to circle and play with her clit, sending her off again.

He thrust deep one more time, and held still until she felt the hot pulse of his come at her very center. For a long moment, he lay heavily on her, and she didn't have the energy to do anything except breathe. She fought an impulse to wiggle. Her dress would be ruined and her corset was digging into her side.

As if he'd read her mind, he moved off her and set about unbuttoning her gown and unlacing her corset until she was as naked as he was. He sat her on his lap so that she straddled him and put his hands on her, shaping her breasts, and biting and sucking her nipples until she moaned his name. She touched him, too, her hands roaming his chest and broad shoulders, the myriad of scars and marks that lined his back.

Kisses too, something she'd avoided as a whore but craved from him. She leaned into him, rubbing her aching nipples against his lightly haired chest, her wet sex against the underside of his rapidly growing shaft. Eventually she came up on her knees, and let him slip inside again. He wrapped an arm around her hips and held her impaled on his cock. His thumb and forefinger alighted on her already swollen clit. Still holding her gaze, he played with her until she was straining against him, the pleasure too much, too intense, too ...

“Jack ...”

He kissed her as she shuddered through her climax and slipped his hands under her thighs, opening her even wider. He pumped in and out until she was unable to think of anything but his mouth, his cock, his hands on her and what they were doing, that she couldn't live with such intense pleasure, but couldn't imagine not having it ever again.

She gasped as he came up on his knees and laid her down on her back, moving her ankles to his shoulders and pinning her to the bed with intensely deep thrusts that left her unable to move, just to take and take whatever he wanted to give her. There was no artifice now, just two bodies straining against each other to give pleasure.

He started to shudder and each thrust shortened, as his hips jerked and he fought to stop coming. She didn't use any whore's tricks to hasten his climax. She was transfixed by his face, by the strain of his pleasure, by the delicious sight of him almost biting through his lip in his desire to give her everything he had, everything he was.

“Ah, God ...”

He climaxed and she held on to him through every shuddering pulse until he collapsed beside her on the bed and buried his face against her shoulder. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held him close.

There was nothing to say.

Words were for clients.

This was for each other.

Mary closed her eyes and went straight to sleep.

 

Jack stared up at the ceiling and held Mary as she slept. He was usually well on his way out of the door before his bed partners fell asleep. But this was different. It was Mary, and she didn't want anything from him except for him to be himself.

Which was terrifying.

He'd never felt so secure and yet so vulnerable before in his life. What if she didn't like him after all? After tangling with the Lennox family once, didn't she deserve better? But then how was he supposed to live without her?

Reason resurfaced with the faint cold light of the dawn. She was his uncle's wife. As far as he understood it, he couldn't marry her if someone else objected, and he was damned sure that George Mainwaring would object from the very rooftops. And if he couldn't offer her that legal status, he wouldn't demean her by making her his mistress. She'd fought too long and hard to rediscover her respectability for him to ruin her again.