Cavern of Pleasures Trio

by Brown, Em

  PHINEAS WATCHED AS the Countess headed in a direction that would take her further into the maze. He had apparently done much to offend her, but her vehemence startled him. Had he not flattered her with his remarks? Or did Alexander and his family yet manage to command a form of loyalty from her? He shook his head, refusing to believe it. None of the Farringtons deserved such devotion. He had seen the way Alexander spoke to his wife and the sneer upon the Dowager when she looked upon Gertrude—er, Lady Lowry. Sarah could not disparage her sister-in-law enough—he doubted her inability to coat her animosity.

  All that notwithstanding, he did not believe the Countess to be a dolt despite her occasional awkwardness—which, as he spent more time in her company, he found rather delightful. She was a woman of obvious intelligence. That she would marry into the family could simply have been the allure of title and prestige, of ignorance upon her part as to the true nature of the Farringtons, or even misguided affection for Alexander, who had both countenance and the ability to charm when he so desired. As Mrs. Pemberly had alluded, the Farringtons were unworthy of Gertrude. But why such sensitivity when he broached the subject of her husband and in-laws?

  He had detected a note of jealousy in her words, but that did not surprise him. The Countess was plain and her sister-in-law beautiful. But perhaps her jealousy stemmed from more than mere envy of Sarah’s attributes? He recalled how her breath had left her when he had helped her off her horse. That small respiratory pause was barely perceptible, but he was too skilled in the art of seduction not to have noticed. That awareness had enlivened him in a way he had not expected.

  Glancing at the position of the moon, he realized he would have to depart soon if he were to make it to the Cavern. He was confident that if he kept Lady Athena waiting, she would be done with him. All his efforts at pretending to be a submissive would be for naught, and he had every intention of conquering the mistress. But if he left, he would be leaving the Countess to wander in the maze when he could easily direct her out. He had had too many trysts in this wonderful garden not to know his way around.

  He walked over to a marble statue and waited. The Countess would eventually realize her error and retrace her steps.

  As he predicted, the Countess emerged, but upon seeing him, she quickly turned to her right and headed down another row that would lead her nowhere. A minute later, she returned. Refusing to make eye contact, she strode past him and headed in the other direction.

  “That path takes you to a pretty little fountain,” he informed her.

  She halted in her steps. He suspected she was grinding her teeth. She whirled around to face him.

  “Why are you here, Lord Barclay?”

  “To make myself available should you require my assistance.”

  She bristled.

  He took a step towards her. She had better accept his aid with gratitude for he was about to ruin his prospects with Lady Athena.

  “A debaucher with noblesse oblige?” she asked. “Your services are unnecessary. I am content to—”

  “Wander aimlessly and admire the shrubbery?”

  “A far better way to pass the time than in your company!”

  She walked in the correct direction. He followed. They reached a fork in the path, and she chose the wrong one yet again. She had as much sense for direction as she did for fashion, he decided.

  Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. She stood frozen for a moment before spinning on her heels, brushing by him with all speed. He saw a look of dismay upon her. Turning his head to see what had prompted her vexation, he saw Alexander, his face buried in the neck of a brunette. If the Countess had not known of Alexander’s mistress, she knew it now.

  Phineas hurried after Lady Lowry.

  “Countess–”

  He silently cursed Alexander for a bastard.

  “Countess,” he tried again as she barreled down another misleading path. “Lady Low–”

  Turning around, she demanded, “Why do you persist in following me?”

  He gazed deep into her eyes and saw that she had known of Alexander’s infidelity. He marveled a little at her fortitude.

  “Noblesse oblige,” he offered.

  “Sir, you may take your bloody noblesse oblige and shove it up your arse!”

  He stared at her. Her language surprised even herself for she began to blush. He was about to commit a horrible mistake, one that could destroy the agreement they had come to earlier over the mine and give Robert several more hairs of gray, one that would make permanent her loathing of him. But her show of defiance was too irresistible. She had spoken with such command, such unabashed ardor...

  Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her to him and brought his lips down upon hers as he wrapped his other hand behind her head. Stunned, she allowed him to kiss her. He pressed his mouth firmly upon her soft, plump lips. And then she gave way. He found himself sinking into her mouth, his tongue brushing hers. She tasted divine. The warm wetness of her mouth mixed with the feel of her body so close to him made the blood course forcefully in his veins and pound in his head. With his hand still upon her head, he angled her in the different ways he wished to devour her. Whole mouthfuls were not enough. He desired to have her body pinned against him.

  Just when he suspected she meant to return his kiss, she tore away. Surprised, he let her go. She had stumbled a few steps away from him and stood staring at him, a few tendrils of hair loosened near her nape and her rouge mussed along the lines of her lips. She looked beautiful.

  He could not tell if she was angry. Flustered, yes. With any other woman he would have smiled, confident of his effect upon her, or he would have advanced, a predator coming upon its doomed prey. But he did neither. He waited to see how the Countess would react and what she would say.

  Lady Lowry hesitated, as if wanting to speak, but wordlessly she turned away from him, and despite her addled state, ventured down the path that took her out of the maze and away from him.

  Chapter Nine

  WHY HAD HE KISSED HER? Gertie wondered as she pulled out a diaphanous chemise to wear to Madame Botreaux’s later that evening. It had been two days since Vauxhall, and yet her body flushed with the memory as if it had been but an hour ago. Over and over she recalled how masterfully his mouth had moved over hers, how fully he took her in. Her jaw had never been worked with such vigor. Her body felt ignited and weak all at once. She had never thought a mere kiss could be so involved, so engaging, so thrilling. Little wonder women overlooked his faults. His kiss had the ability to wash away their discretion.

  Indeed, she had forgotten where she was, even who she was. She was aware only of him and his effect upon her. The warmth of his nearness, the pressure of his hand upon her head—how secure and comforting that had felt, the heat of his mouth, the surge of longing in her loins. She wanted the kiss should never end. How she had summoned the will to break away from him, she knew not. With relief she had made her way out of the maze. Her heart had fluttered with the ferocity of a butterfly’s wings. She could focus on nothing thereafter—not the food, nor the music, not the daring acrobats who made the audience gasp as they flipped and somersaulted over one another high above the heads. How she envied Sarah, who would have had no qualms in surrendering her body to Barclay.

  Had he kissed her to prove he could? Gertie wondered. Did he think it some reward for her acquiescence to the mine? Or had he acted out of pity? Her cheeks burned at the thought. Barclay might have seen Alexander with his mistress. Perhaps Barclay intended to provide her a set-down for her rudeness. And she had given him the satisfaction that she did not object to his kiss for she could not muster a word in response. Instead of pushing him away the instant she knew what he was about to do, she had given in, had surrendered to his lips and allowed this tongue to probe where none other had. And enjoyed every moment.

  Gertie shook her head. She had had every intention of visiting the Cavern that evening, but she did not. Instead, she had sat down to write a letter to Harrietta, divulgin
g all that had occurred between her and Lord Barclay, only to tear the letter, begin anew, and toss it aside. Over and over.

  In her latest correspondence, the Marchioness had invited Gertrude for a stay at Dunnesford. Gertie decided she would accept the invitation.

  Dearest Hettie,

  With much joy, I welcome your invitation to stay at Dunnesford. I have missed your friendship dearly and can hardly wait to greet the little one. He is sure to be as handsome as his mother. I have much to share with you and admit to being beside myself. Never have I felt such uncertainty and such confusion. I am not myself. I regret that I shall leave you in suspense, but I cannot find the proper words to describe it all.

  My regards to the Marquess and to your family.

  Humbly and faithfully,

  Gertie

  Settling upon her Grecian gown and sandals, Gertie prepared herself for Madame Botreaux’s.

  I AM NOT MYSELF, PHINEAS thought to himself after he had walked into the wrong alcove and nearly tripped over a submissive who lay prostrate upon the ground as his mistress ground the heels of her shoe into him.

  “How fortunate you are that Lady Athena chose not to come that night you were absent,” Lance had commented last night. “Penelope and I were convinced that we had won the wager. Lady Athena would have been furious to discover your absence, but you have the devil’s luck, Barclay.”

  Phineas knew he had risked an end to his liaison with Lady Athena, but he couldn’t tear himself from Vauxhall. After escaping the maze, the Countess had managed to elude him the rest of the evening. He wanted a word with her. He wanted to know how she felt about the kiss. He wanted to ask her pardon if that was warranted. Those who knew him well would have it considered it outlandish that Phineas Barclay should ever entertain the notion of apologizing for a kiss, but the thought of having the Countess irate—truly irate—not the exasperation he knew he had provoked in the past—gnawed at him.

  But Lady Luck had not favored him in that respect for despite his best attempts, he could not get near the Countess. He had opportunity to study her from afar during the performance of the acrobats, but he could discern no emotion from her. Instead, his staring caught the attention of Sarah, who thought she was the purpose of his attentions and not her sister-in-law, who sat beside her. After the entertainment, he had made his way towards Gertrude. If he would have to engage in conversation with Sarah in order to gain access to Lady Lowry, so be it. But his path was blocked by Phillipa Summers.

  “A pleasure to have made your acquaintance, sir,” she said, holding out her hand.

  He took it and kissed it ceremoniously. When he released her, he discovered a note in his palm. He smiled to hide his irritation. The Countess was now joined by Alexander and the trio were making their way towards the exit.

  “My dear, you are not thinking of seducing Lady Sarah?” Georgina had commented as he saw her to her new townhome.

  Feigning a yawn, he had replied, “It was an accomplishment of vast uninterest.”

  Georgina frowned. “Oh, Phineas. Of all the wretched creatures to...why?”

  He waved his quizzing glass. “Why not? She is not as distasteful as you would believe.”

  “She may be beautiful, but I am convinced she is every bit as odious as I would believe. If you have done with her, why were you staring at her all evening?”

  He paused. He had no wish to tell a falsehood but he was not ready to explain anything to Georgina.

  But a woman’s intuition won out nonetheless.

  “The Countess. You were staring at the Countess!”

  “What a strange observation, Georgina.”

  “I saw you go after her in the garden. Is your intention to seduce the whole clan of Farringtons?”

  “I had a business proposition with the Countess.”

  Georgina looked skeptical.

  “Have I ever lied to you?” he challenged.

  “No, but neither are you always forthcoming with the truth.”

  Smiling, he kissed her forehead. “Good night, Georgina.”

  He could tell she did not want an end to their dialogue, but she knew better than to goad him.

  “She is not like the Farringtons,” Georgina said.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “And she is no Miss Summers.”

  “Definitely not.”

  She pouted her lips at his irritating concurrence.

  “M’dear, if I knew not better, I’d vouch you had developed some affection for the Countess,” Phineas remarked, making Georgina the subject.

  “She was kind to me,” Georgina defended.

  “Perhaps she lacks discretion.”

  “Are you suggesting she ought not have spoken with me?”

  “Consorting with you does not improve one’s reputation, does it? Now, as you are my sister, I am obligated to...”

  After emitting an indignant gasp, Georgina whirled on her heels and left him standing on the threshold alone. He let out a breath of relief. He had no wish to discuss the Countess further with Georgina. Not until he had more lucidity of his own.

  LADY ATHENA HAD HIM kneel upon a stone block once more. Phineas suspected she did not like her men to tower above her. She pushed her breasts into his face and commanded him to suckle her teats. He readily complied. There was an odd energy in Lady Athena tonight, almost an urgency, but he felt ready to take advantage of it. As he fit as much of one fleshy orb as he could into his mouth, he sensed her eyes closed behind her mask. Her body had relaxed, allowing him to guide the motions. Tonight was the night. He would win Lady Athena at last.

  Her costume was unusual, though fitting to her nom de plume. In her layers of translucent linen, she appeared almost virginal but for the golden mask and helmet. He liked the way the straps of her sandals wound around her lower leg. Lady Athena could wear almost anything, and he would find it enticing. If he could coax her out of her garments, he would have attained no small victory. Her attire was a source of power for her.

  He sensed her desire building as he nipped and sucked a nipple. She let out a low moan and arched her bosom into his face. Gently, he placed his hands upon her hips to aid in her balance. He increased the vigor of his suckling to distract her from his right hand, which he drifted down her thigh as his fingers began to collect the thin fabric separating him from her flesh. When he had pulled up the hem to her thigh, he slipped his hand beneath the chiton.

  Her own hands were wound through his hair. She grasped him tightly whenever he sucked with too much vehemence. He reached his thumb between her thighs and slid it between the folds to connect with the nub of flesh there. Slowly he circled his thumb against her pliant flesh. Suppressing his own urges, he focused on teasing the now swollen nub with light strokes. She lifted a leg and placed her foot upon the block next to him, allowing him better access to the forbidden treasure. Victory was indeed in sight.

  He could smell her desire, feel it coating his thumb as he slid the digit against her, graduating from tender caresses to a more aggravated fondling. Her body quivered at his ministrations. Her breath grew uneven. He brushed his thumb rapidly across her clit. Lady Athena was a slow burning furnace—perhaps from a lack of frequent orgasmos. Her desire built steadily but slowly. Nonetheless, he would sooner die from exhaustion before she reached her climax. And hers was nearing. He could tell from the straining of her body and the uncontrollable gasps escaping her lips.

  Suddenly she had her hands upon his shoulders and shoved him away. She stumbled back and took in a deep but haggard breath. Startled, he wondered if perhaps she had spent without him knowing. He knew many women who achieved small climaxes, sometimes in advance of a grand climax. But Lady Athena did not have the look of a woman satisfied.

  After she had collected her breath, she straightened herself.

  “You are not without skill, Hephaestus,” she said with a slight tremor despite her best attempts to appear regal. “But we are done.”

  “Done for the evening, Mistress
Athena?” he inquired.

  She shook her head. “Done.”

  The finality in her tone needed no further clarification. Taking up her riding crop, she strode out of the alcove without further word.

  “WERE YOU EXPECTING an adieu of some kind?” Penelope asked as she spread herself across her bed. Triumph glowed upon her features.

  Phineas grumbled as he stroked his cock to hardness. Penelope was not the sort to inspire desire in him, but fortunately, one of his talents lay in his ability to command an erection whenever needed.

  “She was near to spending,” he said.

  “Are you sure? Seems to me damn near impossible to know with a woman,” Lance commented from where he sat. He licked his lips as he glanced at Phineas’ cock.

  “I know,” Phineas disputed. “It was as if she feared to spend.”

  “Why would anyone not wish to spend?”

  “And you had her as near to it as anyone,” Penelope said as she lifted her gown and began to finger herself. “I saw it. Would you oblige, good sir?”

  She spread her legs as he stepped up to her bed. Phineas pressed his thumb at her clitoris, a long slice of pink with flaccid legs extending along her quim.

  She purred in satisfaction. “Indeed, our Lady Athena is a mystery.”

  “I have not done with her.”

  Lance shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, ole chap, but Lady Athena has never been known to alter her mind.”

  “There is always a way.”

  “I would be happy to put up another wager,” Penelope murmured as she ground her aging hips into his hand.

  Unlike Lady Athena, Penelope did not take long to begin her ascent. Phineas thrust himself inside of her. Her cunnie lacked the tightness of bodies less traversed, but her muscles inside were strong, and she used them well against his cock. Soon she was spasming beneath him as her cries echoed off the walls. He pulled out of her after she had settled into a contented stupor.