“No. It’s different. I doubt I’d like it. These drawings are a fantasy. Looking at them—”
“They’re all drawn from life. The artist is well-known to me.” Theo’s hand glided up her thigh and under the skirt of her dress, found the edge of her underwear, and a moment later, his blunt finger drew along her wet cleft. “Looking at them seems to make you wet. Perhaps you’re lying, love?”
If she admitted anything, he’d want to do this. Quelling the need to take quicker breaths, she said, “No, I’m being truthful. It’s just you, next to me.”
“Really? I doubt that. I’m going to deal with the other matters I spoke of, and then, you are going to tell me the truth.”
She made to rise from his lap but found he still held his arm tight beneath her breasts. “What other matters?”
“One. You walked away from me at the river. You attacked Ericson without cause. He was doing his job, and one or both of you could have been injured seriously. You refused to apologize to him or to Dankyo when I asked you. I will never allow that behavior again. Both are examples of rudeness and require punishment. Two. You denied a direct order from Dankyo, my second in command.”
“Punishment?” This was sounding more and more like Inkline. “Let me go!”
Theo chuckled, snagged both her wrists, and drew them behind her. She froze in place, her chest heaving. Sharp time would get her free—let her read every single one of his reactions. If she wriggled her wrists the right way, microsecond by microsecond, she’d get free. But did she want to go that route? No. An awful idea. It would destroy everything. He’d never trust her again.
“Claire, do you agree you were rude, impulsive, endangered yourself and Ericson?”
The switch of tactic made her think. He wasn’t going on about Dankyo. Thank God. He’d been plain nasty, and she’d not budge on that one. Her body betrayed her, as she recalled the way she’d been held while they made love at the river. That made it difficult to think. She licked her lips, tried not to be conscious of his erection.
“Was I rude? And, everything else?” Her words came out squeaky. She cleared her throat, hung her head. “Yes, I suppose I was. A bit. I’m sorry. There. Is that what you wanted? I’m sorry.”
“It’s a start,” he said in a mellow baritone. “You have a choice.” He released her, and she moved away, wide-eyed, her wrists stinging. “See this?” He reached over the back of the sofa and brought up what he’d dropped there—a round leather paddle with holes in it and the black corset.
“Uh-huh.” She went round the other side of the sofa. One of the lithographs featured a woman being hit by one of those.
“Choose.” Theo said grimly. “This, or you get to wear the corset all day under that dress.” Now his eyes were twinkling.
“This amuses you?” She said it slowly.
“Oh yes.” He came round the end of the sofa, paddle still in hand. Warily, she backed away. “Why not? Spanking your little bottom while I bend you over the sofa…” His mouth curved in a wicked half smile. She took another step back. “Stand still, Claire, while we talk. If you make me chase you, I will make this public, and that, I guarantee, will not please either of us.”
She stopped, let him come up to her.
“So. Which is it to be? Ten strokes of this?” He jiggled the paddle. “Or wear the corset? You’re accompanying me on a tour of the remaining outlying buildings after brunch.” He cocked his head, raised an eyebrow.
How was the corset punishment? And then she recalled how it had affected her, wondered what she’d do in public, wearing it. She blushed. It was entirely possible, after ten or twenty minutes of that friction between her legs…that she’d come. A mortifying thought.
Theo stretched out, ran his finger lightly over her lips, brushed back some straying hair. “Having second thoughts? Perhaps, you’d like to see what one stroke feels like and then decide?”
Clearly, he wasn’t going to budge on this. It couldn’t be that bad. She’d had a knife slash in training, bruising from sparring. Though she had an inkling Theo would make the ten strokes take ages if she volunteered.
“No permanent injury?” she asked nervously.
“No. Of course not. Pain, yes. Well?”
“One then. Only, then I’ll…see.”
He nodded. “Pull down your underwear, bend over, and grab your ankles. Keep your knees a little bent to help you balance. Do not move, or I’ll have to repeat the stroke.”
“I thought—” She gestured at the sofa.
“No. I think this way is better. I get to see more of your pretty ass.”