by Sofia Daniel
Edward’s erection brushed against my ass. He murmured into my ear, “You’re awake.”
“And you’re hard.” I reached behind me and wrapped my fingers around his hot, thick length.
I slid my hand back and forth along Edward’s hot erection, enjoying the way it twitched and lengthened at my command. His quiet gasp sent a frisson of excitement down to my core, and I squeezed my legs together.
My grip tightened, which made him hiss, and I swirled the pad of my thumb on his cock-head. A bead of precum glistened on his slit, and my tongue darted out to lick my lips.
Edward’s breaths shallowed, his full lips parted, and his chest rose and fell like bellows. A smile curved my lips. A year ago, if anyone had told me I’d be in bed with a viscount, the son of a British prince, and a sexy rugby player, I would have laughed in their faces. Yet here I was, teasing Edward Mercia to distraction.
Edward rocked his hips with each movement of my fist, his precum lubricating my fingers. As Edward build up a steady rhythm, my eyes fell on Henry. He lay on his back, fast asleep and oblivious. With my free hand, I reached under the covers and grabbed his thick erection.
Blake’s hand closed around mine, and he propped himself up on his elbow. “Let me. He loves to be worked up this way.”
Still pumping one fist around Edward’s length. I withdrew my hand and pulled back the sheets, exposing Henry’s beautiful, hard body. His prominent pecs rose and fell with each breath in sync with the bunching and relaxing of his six-pack.
Groaning, Edward flung a hand over his head. “I can’t watch this.”
Blake chuckled. “Afraid you’ll shoot your load over Emilia in ten seconds?”
“Ha.”
Blake lowered his head to Henry’s erection. “Edward’s the ultimate voyeur.”
“And you’re an exhibitionist,” he replied through clenched teeth.
Mischief shone in Blake’s eyes as he wrapped a hand around Henry’s waist and pressed a kiss on the other boy’s massive pec. Henry didn’t respond. Not even when Blake’s tongue swirled around his nipple and teased the other until it darkened. Not even when Blake’s hand slid down Henry’s tight abs, and he threaded his fingers through the other boy’s blonde pubes.
The pulse between my legs pounded, and my breath quickened. I’d seen them both at the Valentine’s party, and I had seen Sergei and Andreo that time from the mezzanine of their apartment. But this was the first time I would witness two boys together in daylight.
“Emilia.” Edward’s voice was strained. “Loosen your grip.”
I relaxed the fist pumping up and down Edward’s erection and slowed my movements.
“Changed your mind, then?” Blake trailed kisses down Henry’s six-pack, over his prominent hip bones, stopping at the level of his crotch.
“I can’t miss this.” Still thrusting into my loose fist, Edward raised his upper body off the bed and peered over my shoulder.
Henry’s erection lay flat against his tight stomach, thick and slumbering, his foreskin fully retracted and exposing a bulbous cock-head. I licked my lips, partially wishing it was me who got to worship that gorgeous erection and partly in anticipation of what Blake would do next.
His dark eyes met mine, the look in them saying ‘you’re next.’ Arousal heated my core, and wetness slicked my folds. Then he swiped his tongue along Henry’s length from base to tip.
Edward’s groan went straight between my legs, and he thrust into my closed fist. “Looser, Emilia… Looser.”
I untightened my fingers. Watching Blake and Henry together and getting jerked off would bring anyone over the edge.
Blake’s hand cupped Henry’s heavy balls, and he massaged them between his fingers. At the same time, he swiped that tongue up and down Henry’s shaft, pausing to flick the underside of the other boy’s darkening head.
Henry still didn’t respond.
“He loves being woken up this way,” murmured Blake.
When Blake wrapped his full lips around Henry’s erection and sucked at the tip, Henry didn’t even twitch. All the moisture in my throat traveled south to my slick core. This was so unbelievably hot.
I brought my free hand between my legs and circled my clit with my index finger. Blake’s tongue lashed at the underside of Henry’s cock-head with vigorous strokes, and I stimulated my nub with the same rhythm.
“Take him all the way in,” Edward said with a groan.
I would have said the same thing, but Edward’s hand snaked around my front, and his fingers slipped underneath my hands and between my wet folds. An inaudible gasp left my lips.
“Let me…” he growled into my ear.
I moved my hand away, and his fingers glided over my clit, sending sparks of pleasure flying down my thighs, up to my belly, and into my core.
Blake’s head bobbed up and down Henry’s length, his full lips stretching around his mouthful. At the same time, he rubbed his prick against Henry’s muscular thighs.
It was hard to concentrate with Edward fingering my sensitive bundle of nerves, and his erection sliding back and forth in my fist. His hot breaths filled my ear and sent tiny shivers of pleasure down my back, and at the same time, Blake continued to pleasure an oblivious Henry.
A low, resonant moan reverberated in Henry’s chest and made the muscles of my core ripple. My gaze flicked up to his face, but he remained fast asleep. Edward’s fingers circled my clit with cruel precision, never stopping, never easing up.
“He’s such a heavy sleeper and probably thinks it’s a dream,” said Edward, his voice strained.
Up and down, up and down, Blake went on that beautiful, thick shaft. Henry’s breaths deepened. I licked my lips. Maybe Henry was getting close. Edward’s thrusts quickened, and he increased the pressure of the fingers circling my nub.
My eyes rounded, my nipples tightened, and the muscles of my core clenched.
Pleasure coiled around me like a constrictor, squeezing and squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Then when I could take no more, the most intense orgasm squeezed out of me in a series of undulating contractions that radiated pleasure down to every nerve ending from scalp to toes.
Edward continued teasing more and more sensations, stretching out my climax until it reduced to the tiniest of trembles. A whimper of satisfaction escaped my lips.
Then Henry bolted upright, eyes flying open. “Oh, fuck!”
As Blake laughed around Henry’s length, I clamped my fingers around Edward’s dick, and he thrust against my grip, letting the tip of his erection rub against my ass. Edward’s erection pulsed in my hand, and with a low, shuddering moan, ropes and ropes of thick, pearlescent fluid shot out of his slit and landed on my hip.
Still thrusting against Henry’s lower body, Blake’s muscles bunched, and he gasped out his climax.
I slumped on the mattress and licked my lips. “Synchronized orgasms? I’m impressed.”
We left for Brixton Prison at lunchtime, aiming to arrive in London in time for the last available slot for the day. Five of us sat in the back of the limo. Henry at the far end, with Edward, Blake, and me forming natural barriers between him and Charlotte. After all the stunts she had pulled, I didn’t want her getting a whiff of him.
Sergio’s latest concerto played in the speakers, an energetic piece that reminded me of a storm. According to Musical Opinion magazine, he was touring Russia. I wondered if his security guy had gotten any closer to discovering the identity of the person who had poisoned his father.
“Prison’s no place for a trollop, you know,” said Charlotte.
I shot her a glare. “After your video sex with a man older than a giant tortoise and with a body to match, I’m surprised you have the nerve to throw accusations about.”
She sagged in her seat. “Sorry… Force of habit.”
“Take no notice,” whispered Blake. “She’s faking.”
I nodded. The only thing I could trust Charlotte to do was watch out for her family and stick a knife in the backs of everyone els
e.
Brixton Prison was a dreary, early-nineteenth-century building behind tall, brick walls that were bolstered by miles of barbed wire and what might have been an electrified fence. As the limo pulled up outside the gates, the lining of my stomach trembled. It would be me, Charlotte, and Henry visiting Peter Underwood.
“Will you be alright?” Edward asked.
I nodded, and Blake gave me a peck on the lips. “Be careful.”
Henry wrapped an arm around my waist. “Let’s go.”
He opened the door of the limo and helped me out. We turned toward the entrance when Charlotte stumbled across the sidewalk. I shared a glance with Henry. This was the same girl who had sprinted away from me in six-inch heels. I doubted that she was incapable of stepping out of a limousine.
“You could have at least helped me.” Charlotte ran her hands down her blazer and shot me a venomous glare. “Why do they all like you?”
“Shouldn’t we focus on the matter at hand?” I muttered. “Helping your brother?”
Henry placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me through the first of the security checks. My mind kept flashing back to that terrible night when Mr. Carbuncle had threatened to rape me, and how Peter Underwood had only cared that the former caretaker didn’t do it in his presence.
He had even left me to email some photos, knowing that Mr. Carbuncle would soon return from his cigarette break. Even though he’d been duped and double-crossed by Philippe, as Rudolph would never have paid a ransom for something he had set up, I couldn’t feel much sympathy for the man.
“Edward spent years stringing along my best friends, yet you arrive and swoop him up and his friends. How did you do it?”
My gaze darted to the female security officers who checked our ID before directing us to a bank of lockers. “Focus, Charlotte.” I hissed back.
Her lips puckered as though I had insulted her. Ignoring her expression, I asked, “You brought your brother into the scheme to abduct me, right?”
“Philippe told me—”
“Now he’s in prison because Rudolph’s abandoned him. Let’s focus on seeing how much of the blame we can push where it belongs.”
She cast her eyes at Henry, who had just returned from the lockers, and whispered, “Alright.”
There were more people in the waiting room than I had expected. At times like this, I would have people-watched, but my stomach churned with a combination of dread and guilt. I should have kept my revenge to dumb pranks, like hair remover in Charlotte’s conditioner or something that would only affect the people I had wanted to hurt. By striking too deeply and aiming at their families, I had brought the wrath onto myself.
I sat on a plastic chair and stared at my loafers. When I had passed information about Peter Underwood’s gambling addiction to the Saturday Correspondent, it had set off a chain of events that had uncovered his father’s expenses fraud and created a national scandal.
“Are you alright?” Henry wrapped an arm around my back.
I nodded. “Just getting mentally prepared.”
The prison guards led us to a visitors hall, consisting of rows of plastic tables and chairs. Half the tables were occupied by male prisoners clad in gray sweatshirts and jogging bottoms. I looked around for the man who had abducted me, but I didn’t recognize anyone.
Charlotte’s shoulders tensed, and she walked to the far side of the room. Henry and I followed, my heart in my throat and pulsing so hard I thought it would burst.
I recognized the man who hugged Charlotte. Right now, he looked haggard with a fat lip and a fading bruise on his cheek, but I’d seen him before. He had opened the door for me in Chelsea Heights before I had gotten a chance to ring the apartment bell. He had probably been lying in wait for me the entire evening.
Peter Underwood’s brow lowered into a frown.“What’s she doing here?”
“Helping us,” Charlotte replied.
“Can she be trusted?”
“Philippe withdrew his financial assistance. We’re on our own.”
Surely she meant to say Rudolph? I opened my mouth to ask but clicked it shut. Watching and listening at this stage might give me the answers I needed.
Peter closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “Bastard.” He turned to me. “Will you pay for our lawyers? It’s the least you could do after leaking our family business to the press.”
I bristled, and Henry placed a comforting hand on my knee. That entitled prick was even worse than his sister. “Isn’t that a question for the secretary who went to the Correspondent with all that evidence against your father?”
His lip curled into an ugly sneer. “What are you here for, then?”
“I want to make a complaint against Rudolph Trommel for my abduction, but I won’t be able to prove anything unless I have witnesses. Are you willing to testify that you were working for him?”
He raised both shoulders and spread his arms wide. “I’ll say anything if it results in a lighter sentence.”
Frustration welled up in my insides. “Did you meet Rudolph?”
“No.” He gave his sister quizzical look. “I worked with Carbuncle and a man called Philippe, but I can say we worked with Rudolph if it will help me.”
My shoulders slumped. “No one will take you seriously if you fabricate claims that can be refuted with alibis,” said Henry. “Can you testify that Philippe was behind the abduction?”
“Yes, but I thought you were trying to pin this on Rudolph,” he replied.
“Philippe works for Rudolph,” said Charlotte.
Peter reared back and glowered at his sister. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
She dipped her head.
“Answer me!” he roared.
A fist clenched at my heart, and I winced. By instinct, I raised my arms to my chest. Peter Underwood hadn’t hurt me while I had been conscious, but being in his presence made my skin crawl.
One of the prison guards stepped forward, and Henry raised his palm. “It’s just a discussion that’s gotten out of hand.”
The guard stood over Peter. “Watch yourself.”
Peter’s nostrils flared. “If you had told me, I would have asked why a mogul would have his own stepdaughter kidnapped,” he said through clenched teeth. “I would also have asked why he would want photos of the girl plastered all over the papers to extort ransom money from himself.”
“Sorry.”
“You were so blinded by your hatred for the girl that you brought me into this harebrained plot. I thought it was a chance to pay off my debts with a bit extra to help Father, not a crusade to hurt another schoolgirl.”
It was my turn to bow my head. Charlotte wasn’t the only person whose desire for revenge had turned into an out-of-control monster.
“Now, look at me.” He leaned forward and whispered. “Behind bars with murderers, pedophiles, and men who dominate others with rape.”
My throat thickened, and I gulped.
Peter Underwood turned to me. “I already planned on telling the authorities everything I knew about this Philippe fellow. Now that I know he was working for Rudolph all along, and this was a sick game they’d concocted to push the blame onto me for hurting you, I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He turned to Charlotte. “Did you even think about the impact that dragging me into your vendetta would have on me? How could you?”
“How could you?” she spat. “Look at what your gambling has done to the family. Mother and Father sold all their assets to pay off your casino bills, and now Father’s in trouble for fraud. All because of you!”
My insides cringed. All this time, I hadn’t anticipated that Charlotte was capable of such malice toward her own brother. I turned to Henry and grimaced.
He gave me an equally awkward glance in return and mouthed, ‘Are you alright?’
Nodding, I tried to tune out the family dispute. It was hard to feel sympathy for Peter Underwood, even if Charlotte h
ad kind of set him up. If Blake hadn’t come to my rescue, I might not have left that apartment alive.
With a long sigh, I let my gaze wander to a man chatting with his wife and toddler daughter. At least Peter had agreed to do the right thing, even if he was motivated by self-interest.
Chapter 13
While Henry updated Blake and Edward on the conversation we had with Peter Underwood, Charlotte wept the entire journey back to Mercia Academy. I peered at her through the corner of my eye.
“I’ll bet you consider this a victory,” she spat, “But it’s not!”
“I’m just trying to make sure those out to hurt me get punished. Mr. Carbuncle tried to abduct me yesterday.”
“He should have taken you.” Charlotte wiped her face with the back of her hands. “Maybe you’ll learn a bit of humility after spending a few days in his basement.”
“What did you say?” asked Blake.
Face paling, she broke eye contact. “Nothing.”
“Did you tell him where to find Emilia?” asked Edward.
Something niggled at the back of my mind. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. So much had happened yesterday—the blow job with Edward in the shower, the Board of Governors, meeting Edward’s father, Mr. Carbuncle, sex with Henry, confronting Aunt Idette—it was hard to keep track of everything. But where had I seen Charlotte, and would she have known where I would be in the afternoon?
The memory rolled to the forefront of my mind, and my eyes snapped open. “She walked past us when we stood outside the main block,” I said to Edward. “Charlotte heard me tell you to go home and visit your father.”
She cringed. “I didn’t tell him to snatch you.”
Blake shot out of his seat and grabbed Charlotte by the chin. Through clenched teeth, he growled, “Where is he?”
My hands clapped over my mouth. I’d never seen Blake so angry.
She jerked out of his grip. “I don’t know!”
“You’re still in contact with him!” he snarled.
Edward grabbed his arm. “Blake—”
Blake shook him off. “No! This fucking bitch set Emilia up for a horrific beating that left her broken and unconscious. Then she called Carbuncle so he could do it again!”