She felt the jerk—the telltale sign of his oncoming climax. And she took all of his seed into her mouth, laving and sucking, draining him, until he bucked and signaled the end of his pleasure.

Pulling her up off the floor and into his embrace, Exeter buried his head in the slope of her neck. “Mon Dieu, love.” His whispers only served to elevate her arousal, as he turned her toward the peephole and rucked up her skirts. He slipped his shaft between her legs—lubricating himself between her labia, rubbing out more pleasure for himself.

Exeter bent her over and she groaned loudly as he planted himself deep. She could see through the window that Etienne’s cock was firmly embedded into the Contessa, and the comely woman was near tears of ecstasy.

Exeter thrust in and out—still hard, even after that explosive climax. His fingers slid into her labia from the front as he plunged deep inside her from the rear. His manipulations were slow and firm, with an occasional light circling of her engorged clitoris. “Come for me, Mia.” A slick finger traveled between her buttock cheeks and pressed into her anus, wiggling, tickling the tight opening. “Give me a climax—I want it now.” His fingers quickened their strokes—as he explored deeper and deeper.

The sight of Etienne thrusting into the Countess matched Exeter’s deep strokes and light touch. Mia uttered a gasp, unable to stop herself from crying out as she edged ever closer. His fingers invaded every possible orifice; she felt as though three men attended her every desire. The climax ripped through her—shattering her reality, taking her to a faraway place of pure sensation. Her belly shuddered and her knees wobbled at the depth and strength of the pleasure she was experiencing.

Stroking softly, Exeter held her up, drawing out the last of her ecstasy. For several moments, she rested in his arms. “That was—” She could hardly express herself. “I hardly know what to say.”

“I take it the cat is sated.” There was a smile in his voice. He rocked her gently in his arms. A low-pitched vibration came from the depths of her body and she purred for him.

He snorted soft laughter against her temple.

Mia knew her peak had not coincided with that of the couple in the dark room beside them—her cries of pleasure had come later. Somewhat mortified, she straightened. Eyes wide, she found herself confronted by Etienne. He was peering at her, as curiously as she was looking at him.

The Contessa winked.

Whipping around and shoving her skirts down, Mia knew Exeter had seen the look on her face and had surmised they had been discovered post coitus. Fast witted, as always, he closed the small door to the window and tied up his drawers.

It took only moments for Etienne to drag the disoriented Contessa from their dark little den to the adjacent room. Exeter slipped Mia’s pantalettes into his coat pocket and settled her bosom into her dress. Breathing hard, they stared at each other until they both snorted a soft laugh.

“Mes amis!”

She and Exeter pivoted an about-face and stood primly beside one another. The unfortunate part was they were both laughing—which was neither proper nor worldly wise. And certainly not clever. Even so she tried to maintain a stiff smile.

Luckily, Exeter was coherent, for Mia was still flushed and speechless from her pleasure. The doctor nodded formally to the trysting couple. “Monsieur Artois . . . Countess.”

Etienne sauntered over to the small window on the wall, opened the diminutive iron door, and peered through it. Turning back, he wore the look of a man with an advantage.

“Well, now, I hope it was as fine and rare for you both, as it was for us.”

“Exceptionnel,” Exeter offered, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Rejoining his lover, Etienne and the Contessa returned Exeter’s compliment with a pleasant nod. “Glad to be of service, Baron et Baronesss de Roos.”

Mia could not stop the upward twitch to her mouth, and soon the smiles of both she and the Contessa were as much in evidence as were both men’s snorts of laughter. Etienne spoke first. “The next time you two choose to become voyeurs, have a heart and let us in on it.”

“Mais oui, but won’t that spoil the enjoyment . . . knowing?” Mia asked with an innocence she did not pretend to hide. There was no use fooling these two.

“Mes no, chouchou, Etienne and I often delight in a bit of—exhibitionnisme.” The Contessa winked at Mia a second time.

As they exchanged a few risqué remarks and bawdier jokes, Mia and Exeter were escorted out from behind the tapestry and deftly slipped back into the crowded hall. “Enjoy!” The Contessa called over her shoulder. With a snap of her fan she pointed in the direction of a large table of refreshments.

Etienne turned back. “A warning, perhaps? There are some gentlemen here—Anglais, I believe.”

Chapter Twenty-three

MIA COULD ONLY WAGER A GUESS, but she suspected Exeter ran a worst-case scenario over in his mind. A cloud of perplexed thoughts whirled behind those sensuous, hooded eyes. The Anglais Etienne had mentioned would likely be gentlemen of the ton, peers whom Exeter might run into at a social event—or club members. She searched his face. “You’re worried.”

“Ordinarily, I would call it circumspect. But since we have tossed caution to the wind this evening . . .” He shrugged a shoulder and fashioned a reassuring simile. “We are masked. And from what I understand, no one makes acquaintances at soirees of this nature. Anonymity is de rigueur.”

As they circulated among the fornication and flogging, Mia would stop now and then to stare. She couldn’t help herself, it was all so . . . titillating. “I had no idea how shockingly wicked I could be and how easily I am brought to such depravity.”

“I blame myself for exposing you to such immoral salaciousness. Are you repentant over it?”

Mia hoped her blush was more dazzling than demure. “On the contrary, I am most humbled by my lack of regret.”

This time Exeter stopped to stare.

She started to pivot—to have a look at the sought-after, seductive woman he found so beguiling . . . and then it struck her. He was staring at her.

A slow smile, something decidedly masculine and feral, tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Hungry?”

She glanced about, as her hand swept over the buttons of his trousers. “I believe I have what is called—an appetite.” She kept her touch light, and quickly found what she searched for. That she openly dared such risqué foreplay appeared to kindle more than a glimmer in his eyes.

She stood with her back to a buffet table, entranced at the sight of a nude woman bound in leather and suspended by ropes in midair. Exeter coated pieces of dried fruit from a chocolate fountain and fed her bites of plum and berry.

“M-m-m.” The woman was being denied orgasm by her partner and it made Mia’s lower anatomy begin to thrum and quiver. She leaned back against Exeter and whispered in his ear. “Will he ever let her climax?”

“Depends how prettily she begs for it.”

Exeter pulled her to one side of the table, to a darker corner of the room. “I almost forgot.” He pulled the emerald collar from his coat pocket.

She swallowed. “Where did you find it?”

“Prospero’s bedchamber.”

A rush of heat flushed her cheeks. “I . . . we . . .” She lowered her eyes.

Exeter tilted her chin up. “For the moment, what happened between you and Prospero is not important—as long as you weren’t hurt.” He slipped the collar around her throat and clipped on the silver chain. “I thought we could use a fetish.”

A passing group of young men all turned around to openly gape at her. A sudden modesty caused her to turn away.

“Hold on, love.” He tugged the chain and positioned her derriere against him. Across the aisle, another female was being ceremoniously laid over a paddling rail. A male partner tossed her skirts and petticoats overhead—exposing a peachy, plump bum. Mia pressed against Exeter and he opened his hand. A glow of violet-blue energy swirled in his palm.

He inched up the back of her dress. “I was just thinking you might enjoy another lesson. Something mysterious, arcane—like the use of potent force for a bit of pleasure.”

More than curious, she smiled. “I must admit I’ve enjoyed my lessons thus far.”

He closed his fingers around the swirling, radiant force and pressed the tingling egg between her labia. She jumped when the compacted energy began to vibrate.

Exeter chuckled softly. “I’ve got you.” He massaged until she moaned and rubbed her ass against him. When the pulse of energy faded, she groaned. “More, please.”

“Not yet.” Exeter could be shockingly erotic at times. He was going to keep her begging for more, just like the woman splayed out in front of them waiting for the next pass of the cato’-nine-tails. Exeter’s fingers remained between her buttocks, gently circling the small, tight sphincter muscle. With each lash of the whip across the aisle, Mia’s cheeks quivered.

She leaned against him. “I do remember that spanking of yours being rather titillating—but I can’t imagine under what circumstance a flogging might be enjoyable.”

Exeter hunkered down close. “If I were to flog you . . . properly . . . I’d use the whip to increase the blood circulation to your skin. You would gradually become more receptive to the sting.” His breath carried husky words across the tip of her ear, which he kissed.

Mia shivered. “And I would beg for more.”