by Sahara Kelly
Now that she had had a little experience in this area, she knew that this cleansing, this ritual as it were, might well be preparing her for her own Night of Dark Delights.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but as soon as Evan leaned over and began to dry her breasts with a soft cloth, her body slid into the growing heat of her arousal and her thoughts fractured.
Jeremy also had a cloth and was softly rubbing her belly and lower, tracing his way to her mound, carefully drying the curls of hair, teasing lower with his touch then returning to her warming skin.
“Out now, I think,” Gabriel said quietly, and the two men lifted her easily from the bath, standing her on the rug before the fire.
It was heaven, sensually erotic and the most wonderful experience, feeling the heat of brightly burning logs against her bare flesh, and three hard and handsome bodies around her, rubbing her dry.
She closed her eyes, letting them lift her arms high, loving the delicate touches to her breasts, her buttocks, everywhere. Her thighs were damp from something other than bathwater, and she moaned as they finished—the sound of clothing hitting the floor telling her they were now as naked as she.
“We want you,” murmured Jeremy in one ear.
“All of you,” said Gabriel in the other.
“Come love, let us play,” whispered Evan, taking her hand and leading her away from the fire to the bed.
“All right,” she whispered back. “Let’s play.”
*~~*~~*
Journal of Gwyneth, Lady of Wolfbridge - November 1818
Last night - oh, last night!
Yes, I must write it all down now, that I may recall everything whenever I choose to re-read my words in years to come.
I must also ensure this journal is secreted somewhere very safe, much as those love letters we discovered at Fivetrees. For if my remarks should see the light of day, they would provide a shocking scandal the likes of which would be unimaginable.
I was bathed last night, truly worshipped, by three of my gentlemen, who cleansed, caressed, washed, and dried me with the utmost attention to every detail.
In truth, by the time I arose from the bath I was filled with erotic pleasure, and seeing all of them waiting in my bed…it was almost more than my mind could withstand.
Jeremy, so firm, his muscles curves beneath smooth skin, his strong arms ready to embrace me. He was aroused, thick around, and when he penetrates me I feel wonderfully stretched. He lay, unashamed, his cock erect, smiling at me as if I were the answer to his prayers.
Near him, Evan lay casually on his side, his eyes twinkling in the firelight. His hand extinguished the only candle near the bed, but the light from the fire illuminated his body, gleaming and so very male. His cock was also hard, resting on his thigh, and my mouth watered as I caught the tiny sparkle of liquid on its head.
Gabriel…ah, sweet Gabriel.
Pale as an angel, skin smooth and sleek, he waited by the bed, reminding me of a panther, calm and unmoving, yet strong and determined beneath the beautiful exterior. His cock thrust forward proudly, showing me how much he desired me.
There they were, three of them, all mine. And my heart was so full at the sight of them, I tried to absorb the picture they made, three luscious bodies over which firelight danced with glee. Would that I could paint and capture this moment for eternity.
“Come, sweetheart,” said Gabriel softly, extending his hand.
“She will,” Jeremy chuckled, making us all laugh.
It is hard to describe how willing I was to go to them. The eagerness that filled me, the joy, the lust—for I admit that’s what it was—with which I stared at them.
Of course I went to them and found myself amidst warm, firm bodies, arms that held me, lips that kissed me and hands that roamed everywhere.
My hands were just as eager, stroking that flesh, running down thighs dappled with hair, over nipples flat as little pancakes yet with their own tiny arousals I could excite with mouth and fingers.
I scarce remember the moans, but there were many. We tangled ourselves delightfully, and I found myself licking and kissing and sucking, as did my gentlemen.
We became heated, of course, by the passions that grew between us. I ached, my body weeping for someone to fill my empty sheath.
“She’s ready,” someone whispered.
And I found myself astride Evan.
Someone pulled me to my hands and knees, and Evan’s clever fingers found my secret places, teasing me and making me squirm. Jeremy knelt beside him and it was only natural for me to find his cock. I was hungry, so hungry, and Jeremy has the perfect member for satisfying that hunger. So I willingly took him into my mouth, even as Evan played around my soaking wet flesh.
And then, dear reader, I felt Gabriel behind me. His hands were slick, warm, and he was gently rubbing and teasing that tight ring between my buttocks. How can I describe the unique tingling of flesh? The addition of an extra wonderful sensation…
Shocking, is it not? And yet it was so sensual, so erotic, that I found myself enjoying it. Perhaps because I was distracted by Evan and Jeremy, or perhaps I was just lost in this wonderful lustful moment in time.
I gasped around Jeremy’s cock as I felt something cool and moist on my backside and then fingers spreading it around.
“Relax, love, I would never hurt you. ’Tis only a silky cream…”
Knowing Gabriel was there, spreading my thighs wide so he could settle on his knees, reassured me. I knew he would never break his word.
So I let go. I sucked Jeremy, focusing on the feel of his cock against my lips and tongue, while letting Even rub his fingers over my swollen folds.
Both these attentions would have been sufficient, but then I felt a firm pressure and as I tried to relax, there was a sudden and most unusual fullness within me.
Gabriel had done his job and slid inside my arse, in the gentlest manner possible.
I think I froze for a moment, but then he moved and the sensation was beyond description. I remember moaning, I think, around Jeremy’s cock, and I also remember Evan sliding fingers into me, finding the exact spot, his other hand toying with my breasts as he pinched my nipples.
It was fierce, all heat, desire, desperate need…everything within us walking the steps to the peak at the same time.
I barely noticed Evan’s cock as he raised his hips to rub it against my wet flesh, so intent was I on the rising volcano they had unleashed within me. A selfish moment, yes, but I defy anyone reading this to remain detached with three men doing such magnificent things to one’s body.
I could not possibly withstand such attentions for very long, since each one—a cock in my mouth, a cock rubbing my sex, and a cock in my arse—united to drive me toward an explosion of passion.
I felt Jeremy groan deeply and knew he was almost there, Evan’s body rippled beneath me as he worked himself against me, and Gabriel’s hands were holding my hips as his flesh pressed hard against my buttocks.
He broke first, and the sensation of him coming there, in such an unusual spot…well it was the end for me. I shattered, dear reader, long, long moments of a release that blinded me and robbed me of air.
Jeremy was breaking, and I let him, gulping down his seed hungrily, just as Evan cried out beneath me and I felt the hot gush of his seed erupt against me.
We throbbed, all of us, our flesh shuddering, our hearts thundering and our lungs fighting for breath.
For long moments we remained thus, lost in some magic place where the only thing that mattered was the exquisite release racking our bodies. We flew, soaring high to our own peaks of magnificent pleasure.
And finally we fell, tumbling on and around each other, murmuring sounds of pleasure and exhaustion.
“Dear Lord above,” whispered Jeremy, the first to get his breath back.
“I saw angels,” muttered Evan, limp and damp from his own seed.
“I saw God,” said Gabriel. “No doubt about it.”
I felt the laughter build and I couldn’t hold back the first thing that came to my mind. “My arse isn’t that magnificent, Gabriel.”
It was the perfect ending.
Laughter, and the four of us wrapped together with boundless love, tucked beneath the warm covers.
I regret nothing. For a woman deserves pleasure every bit as much as a man.
I like to think I am making up for the years that were filled with little else but dullness and pain. And to judge by the smiles on the faces of my gentlemen, they are doing the very same thing.
Chapter Sixteen
The chess game in the parlour had turned into a prolonged session of strategies on the board and conversation between Royce and Harry.
Both had been enjoyable, realised Royce as he pondered a move that might lead to victory. He glanced at Harry as he moved his bishop. “So what do you think of Wolfbridge? You’ve been here a while now…”
Harry eyed the board, sipping his brandy, his face revealing very little of his thoughts. “It’s unique,” he said, “I’ll give you that.”
“It is indeed.” Royce watched the countermove, very pleased that at last he had found a player with skills equal to his own. “And?”
“And what?”
Returning his gaze to the game, Royce smiled inwardly. “Any observations? Comments?”
Harry shifted in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him toward the fire, and crossing them at the ankles, neatly avoiding the fluff ball that snored quietly next to the hearth. “Many of both, but I’m not sure I’m ready to air them. Damn…” The last word came as Royce neatly toppled Harry’s rook, putting his queen in jeopardy. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
His opponent grinned. “I know. Strategy, my lad.”
“You must be at least six moves ahead of me, damn your eyes,” Harry frowned. “Stop trying to get me to talk about Lady Gwyneth and let me concentrate on the game.”
“How did you…”
“Hah.” Harry snickered. “Strategy, old lad.” He threw Royce’s words back at him with a chuckle.
But Royce knew the game was over. It was a matter of either going through the final moves, or declaring the game over right now.
His assumption was verified as Harry leaned back with a sigh and lay down his king. “Your game, and a damned fine one it was.” He held out his hand and Royce shook it. “A pleasure to lose to someone so well-versed in the intricacies of chess.”
“Agreed. We must play on a regular basis. I think you could easily take me, but I sense you’re out of practice.”
“You’d be right.” Harry stared at the fire. “I’ve not had the chance nor the inclination to play for some years now. But it seems that here I’ve found both.”
“What else have you found?” Royce sipped his brandy, awaiting the answer to his deceptively casual question.
Harry was silent for a little while. “A new friend?” He eyed Darcy.
“He does seem to have taken to you, doesn’t he?”
Harry chuckled. “Dogs have always liked me. I like them too. As long as Gwyneth doesn’t mind, we’re quite happy.”
“She’d have said something if she’d minded.” Royce gazed across the chessboard. “Mostly she will tell you what she’s thinking.”
“A woman of strong will,” observed Harry.
“Indeed.”
“And very beautiful.”
“Yes.”
Harry turned his head and gazed at Royce. “Have you had her?”
“Would it bother you if I had?” He shot back.
That gave Harry pause, and to his credit, he took his time to think about it. One of the features Royce had noticed that pleased him.
Finally, Harry shook his head. “No. No, it wouldn’t bother me. Any more than knowing the others have enjoyed her.” He took a breath and frowned. “It should, but it doesn’t.” He gazed at Royce. “Why is that? I’ve shared a woman before, and—to be blunt—been shared by women. I’ve enjoyed both, but there’s been no…no entanglement.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “If that’s the right word. I am becoming entangled in Gwyneth. I should be less than happy thinking that she’s upstairs right now doing God knows what with God knows who.”
“But…?”
“But it doesn’t bother me. For some unknown reason, I seem to want her to be happy, no matter how she achieves it.”
“Maybe it’s something in the water,” grinned Royce.
“You never answered my question,” Harry eyed him. “Have you enjoyed the favours of our Lady?”
Royce wondered how much to reveal. He decided on a limited version of the truth. “When I first arrived, it was not to fulfil the position I now hold. Giles was in charge; I was simply one of her gentlemen. We spent a night together, enjoying each other, but since my interests aren’t always as simple as a quick fuck, then my answer is no. I have not had Lady Gwyneth in the traditional sense.”
“Regrets?”
“Some,” admitted Royce. “She lures me still, although I’m not sure she knows it. My memories haunt me. And yet…this is Wolfbridge, and the mandate of this place, according to Giles, is quite clear. Until I give up the position I hold, I cannot touch the Lady. The thinking is that someone has to have a clear mind and, if necessary, a cold heart.”
Harry thought about that. “I don’t envy you,” he said quietly. “I’ve had one night with her, and now I am craving more. Can I share that time with another man? I’m not sure, but for the chance to be inside her again? I believe I could probably endure anything.”
“There is a mystique, I suspect. Something within ourselves that responds to this place. We bring pleasure to the Lady and that is returned to us in equal if not greater measure. And not just in bed…” Royce found himself almost thinking aloud.
“I agree,” Harry answered, half-surprised. “When we’re together, and she laughs at something someone said, we’re all laughing too. It is indeed shared delight in each other. Perhaps the isolation helps too,” he offered. “We’re not subject to the pressures of London life or societal dictates. We can be ourselves.”
“And to be loved for ourselves…it is a rare gift,” Royce nodded. “I do believe Lady Gwyneth cares for all of us because of the people we are, not because of what we do for her.”
“Which is indeed rare, also desirable and guaranteed to ensnare the most callous heart,” agreed Harry.
Royce stretched. “Yes, ’tis a strange place we find ourselves in, my friend. But given what we’ve experienced?”
“Not quite heaven, but close.”
*~~*~~*
Gwyneth, though she didn’t realise it, shared Harry’s opinion of life at Wolfbridge. She was happy, truly happy, enjoying her gentlemen, and also very glad to be able to involve herself in the activities of their little community.
The school project had started with drawings, suggestions and a meeting with just about all the tenants, who excitedly voiced their thoughts. Even Vicar Thomas took advantage of a sunny winter day to drive over and add his mite to the conversation.
For Gwyneth, it was a double pleasure. As Lady of Wolfbridge, she could oversee and listen to everyone’s ideas. And there were many, more than a few wholly impractical, but fun to hear all the same.
As Gwyneth, Dowager Duchess of Kilham, however, she took enormous satisfaction in the knowledge that the money her vicious stepson had withheld was now helping toward making education a reality for so many deserving children. It helped offset the terrible situation he’d forced her into, and from which Giles had saved her in the nick of time.
She looked up from the meeting through the windows of what would be the new school and caught sight of the Wolfbridge chimneys. It was her home now. And she had no intention of leaving it.
Being far away from London, and everything that went with it, had lifted burdens she never knew she carried on her shoulders. She didn’t miss hearing about politics, people or scandals, nor did she mind not having to worry overmuch abo
ut whether her attire was in the latest fashion.
She was happy as she was, content with her life and now that December was almost here, looking forward to her first real Christmas in a long time.
The Wolfbridge party—Jeremy, Gabriel, Harry and Gwyneth—returned home for lunch, to find Evan ladling soup and Royce already at the dining table with letters at his side.
“How did everything go?” he asked as they took their seats.
“Loudly,” grimace Gabriel.
“Indeed it did,” grinned Gwyneth as Jeremy seated her. “Everyone had an opinion, and they all voiced it at once.” She eagerly accepted a bowl of soup. “My ears are still ringing.”
“But we did make some headway,” said Harry. “And what we couldn’t agree on, we put off for a couple of weeks.”
“An admirable decision,” Evan commented. “By next summer everyone will be satisfied.”
The laughter echoed around the table.
Gwyneth noticed Royce opening his letters. “Letters arrived?”
He nodded. “Just now.”
“Anything interesting?” Gabriel inquired.
“Two from Giles.” Royce glanced around. “You’ll forgive my reading them right now?”
“I’d be cross if you didn’t,” encouraged Gwyneth. “How is he?”
Royce scanned the note, and his face turned sombre. “He is well, but sad to say, our Queen is not. She passed away some ten days ago. London is in mourning.”
“Oh no, how sad.” Jeremy spoke the words everyone was thinking.
“She was ill, I believe,” Evan said quietly. “I recall someone in the village mentioning a serious ailment…”
“The King?” Gwyneth asked.
“No mention of His Majesty,” answered Royce. “Although given his state, I doubt he’s aware of his wife’s demise. It’s all quite sad. All of it.” He sighed.
Everyone remained silent for a moment, busy with their own thoughts, then Gwyneth resumed her soup. “We must also display our sympathies,” she said, putting down her spoon. “Gabriel, do we have any black material? We should have some sort of hatchment or something on the front of the house…”