Recovered from her orgasm, Sia scooted up the bed until she was underneath Martie and resumed her earlier position of having the larger woman’s nipples in her mouth. Finally, Helix joined the trio by kneeling behind Martie. He reached into his pocket to retrieve a small, square packet, then pushed his trousers down to his knees.
His thick, solid erection towered majestically from a mass of dark hair. He sheathed it, then took Martie’s buttocks in his hands to hold her steady as he plunged into her. She let out a muffled scream—in pain or pleasure, Molly wasn’t certain—but kept her mouth around James’ hard cock.
Molly had never witnessed a ménage, not even on TV. She hadn’t been exposed to any sort of porn before. Now, it was being played out right in front of her. She watched, agog, and a wave of lust swept through her. The fire at her sex burned anew. She let her hand travel down to her clit and stroked. Her movements were tentative at first, but as the rhythm of the foursome intensified, she allowed her own to match it.
Helix’s groans were deep, almost cave-man like, as he ground his pelvis against Martie’s full, womanly backside. Sia was in her element, feasting on the hard peaks of her girlfriend’s nipples, and Martie’s back was arched like a big cat being mated as she slid her lips up and down James’ engorged shaft. But it was James’ expression that had the hottest effect on Molly’s heart rate. He breathed deeply in and out as he toyed with Martie’s hair, guiding her forward and backward, up and down his shaft.
Molly imagined it was her in Martie’s position, and she was the one teasing James’ cock with her warm, wet mouth. She wondered what it felt like to stimulate one man with her mouth while being penetrated by another, just as Martie was experiencing. The woman’s posture and expression said it all—pure bliss. Her ample backside shook with the intensity of Helix ramming himself in and out of her. The force sent ripples over her deliciously curvy body, all the way up to her breasts. Sia was clearly loving how her favorite playthings jiggled over her face. Her fingers massaged her pussy as she wriggled and thrashed, looking like she was ready to come all over again.
Turning her attention to James, Molly could tell he was nearly there. The thought that she was about to watch her husband ejaculate into Martie’s mouth switched her libido up a notch. She could feel the wetness over the top of her jeans as she pressed harder on her trigger points. James held Martie’s head still, his cock inside her mouth, and cried out the pleasure of his release. Seeing his enjoyment hit its crescendo sent Molly over the edge. As her husband groaned out his orgasm, ripples of pleasure washed through her. Her legs trembled, and she reached out to steady herself.
The loud smack jolted her back to sobriety. She was no longer behind the dressing screen. It lay flat on the floor, and she was completely exposed to the foursome on the bed. A cold sweat engulfed her body, and she snatched her hand away from between her legs. The room was deadly quiet. Four sets of eyes were on her. No one spoke.
Then Sia’s cut-glass vowels punctured the silence. “Well, James, we seem to have a voyeur in the room. Mmm, I like the thought we were being watched. Did you organize her as a surprise for us?”
Everyone looked at James, who stared at Molly, mouth wide open.
“That’s his wife,” Martie answered for him, in little more than a whisper. She pried her body away from Helix’s and sat to the side of Sia. A flicker of shame passed over the larger woman’s face.
“How do you know?” Sia asked, almost accusingly.
“I’ve seen her photograph in the hall,” Martie answered quietly, lowering her eyes from Molly’s.
“Oh. Okay.” Sia seemed content with the explanation. She rolled onto her side to face Molly and propped herself on her elbow. “You joining us, honey?”
Her tone was casual, as if she were asking if Molly wanted to have dinner with them rather than join in their orgy.
“No.” James’ voice was so deep and forceful that everyone snapped their attention immediately to him. “No. She won’t be joining us.”
Sia turned back to Molly, lips curled in a provocative smile. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, James. I like her. She’s so pretty with all that crazy red hair everywhere. I’m sure she’d like to join in the fun, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”
“Shut up, Sia.” The blood had drained from James’ face, leaving him pale. A vein in his neck bulged, and his nostrils flared.
Molly had never seen him like this before. She didn’t know if it was hurt or anger, but she needed to get out of there. She bolted for the door and raced out of it, straight down the stairs to the main house. To safety. Back to her innocent life. She wished she’d never stepped foot in the East Wing. She wished her husband’s private life was still a mystery to her. But now that she knew the truth, things could never be the same again.
She ran and ran to the other side of the house and didn’t stop until she reached her bedroom. Once there, she slammed the door shut behind her, tugged a suitcase from under the bed, and blinded by thick, salty tears, began to fill it with whatever she grabbed first out of her wardrobe.
Chapter Three
Molly’s broken fits of sleep had been plagued by disturbing dreams involving James making love to a series of men and women, all while she looked on. Her hands and feet were tied, rendering her incapable of joining in, even though they invited her to. Even though she wanted to.
It wasn’t even five a.m. when she woke, but there was no point putting off the inevitable. She’d leave James a note. She hated conflict and had no excuse for her actions last night. She’d lain awake for hours, trying to fathom why she’d felt compelled to sneak up to the East Wing and watch. The only possible explanation was that she was perverse. And that was something she didn’t have the stomach to contemplate.
She dragged her case down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. She’d have a quick swig of water before leaving for God knew where. She had no clue where she would go, but staying at Croft Hall with the man she had defied was no longer an option.
She gulped down the ice-cold liquid, which went some way to restoring clarity into her head, still fuzzy from all the crying she’d done.
“Molly.” The stranger’s voice saying her name made her body jolt with shock. She dropped the glass, and it smashed into tiny shards all across the hard flagstone floor.
“Oh Christ, are you hurt? Your feet are bare, Molly. Stop moving around.”
It wasn’t a stranger. It was James. She hadn’t recognized his voice. It was croakier than usual, like that of a man who hadn’t slept. His hair was ruffled and flopped over his forehead, dancing on his upper lashes. He was wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else. His chest was smooth and lean, flashing her back to how he’d looked in the bedroom before she’d been so humiliatingly exposed.
Before she had a chance to object, he strode over to her, swooped her up into his arms, and carried her into the neighboring sitting room, where he lay her gently on the chaise longue.
“Stay there,” he ordered and stalked out of the room.
Molly froze, not knowing whether to obey him or take this as her opportunity to dart out. This is your chance. Go for it.
She swung her legs around and placed her feet on the carpet in preparation to make her escape. A movement by her foot caught her eye. Thick red liquid seeped from her broken skin onto the cream carpet.
“I told you not to move. You’re bleeding. Hold still.” James jogged into the room and dropped in front of her to his knees. He’d returned with a bandage and began wrapping it around her wound. Neither spoke as he tended to her. Finally, he looked at her. His eyes were bloodshot and shadowed in dark rings. He looked as if he either hadn’t slept a wink or had been crying.
He sniffed and looked away. “You’re not leaving, Molly.”
She wasn’t sure if he meant it as a question or a statement. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing, just gulped back tears.
“I won’t let you go.” His voice was heavy with feeling, and she could have swor
n she heard her heart crack as he said them.
“Wouldn’t it be better if I did though, James? At least then you could do what you wanted without sneaking around.”
He looked back at her. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “How can you even think that my life would be better without you in it? Don’t you realize how much I love you?”
Molly lost the fight to stop the tears streaming down her face. “You love me like a sister or a friend. Not like a husband should love a wife.”
“Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you? What the hell were you doing in the East Wing anyway? You promised me you’d stay out of there. I trusted you.”
“I did, James. I did stay out of there. For nearly five whole years I let you get on with things. I never so much as questioned what you were up to in there.” Shame stabbed through her chest, and she hung her head. “Why couldn’t you just have told me? I wouldn’t have judged you.”
He reached up and clasped her hands in his larger, warm ones. “You’re so kind, Molly, so…” He seemed to be searching for the right word. “You’re so perfect. I didn’t want to sully your innocent mind with my weird ways. I wanted you to think I was a good person, not see me like that.”
“I do think you’re a good person. I just wished you loved me enough to let me into your life fully.”
He sighed, took his hands away from hers, and rubbed his eyes. Then he stood up, and for a moment, Molly thought he was going to walk out on her. Instead, he sat beside her on the chaise longue and put his arm around her. In spite of herself, she relaxed into him, soothed by the weight of his muscular arm and the warmth of his body next to hers.
“I was too ashamed for you to know the truth about what…” He struggled for the right word, and Molly offered it to him.
“About what you like in bed?” She turned to him and was surprised to see he couldn’t meet her eye. The James she knew was always perfectly self-assured and not at all embarrassed or awkward. This was the first time she’d ever seen him remotely ill at ease.
He exhaled sharply. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m not like most people. The whole one man, one woman forever scenario has never done anything for me. I’m not proud of the way I am. I wish I could just be normal. I wish I could be the husband you deserve.”
“But I don’t want you to pretend you’re something you’re not.” She reached for his hand and squeezed.
He gave a watery smile, then placed a single, firm kiss on her forehead. He drew tender circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, and a silence ensued between them until finally he spoke. “It would destroy me if you went, Molly.”
Her throat filled with a lump, and she held her breath to stem the tears, unable to speak.
“But I love you too much to expect you to stay now that you know the truth. I know I’ve been selfish, expecting you to live like this, but I thought you only cared about your horses. And if I could give you that, then you’d be happy. I’m so sorry.”
Still battling with her emotions, she squeezed her eyes shut and lay her head on his shoulder, allowing the steady rhythm of his breathing to soothe her. The only sound was the distant lawn mower as the gardener tended to the grounds. The scent of freshly cut grass wafted through the living room, licking at snippets of many happy memories of summers gone by spent at Croft Hall. She realized if she left now, she’d never add to those memories, and sadness plummeted like a stone to the pit of her stomach.
“If I promise, Molly, to give up that life, will you stay?”
Her heart flooded with love for the husband she adored but had never known intimately. She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. “James, I’m not asking you to change who you are.”
“I know, Moll. I’m offering.” He turned toward her and cupped her face in his hands. “I want you to stay, and if that means me making some changes, then so be it. I’ve taken your generosity for granted for too long. From now on, it will just be me and you in my bed. In our bed.”
She grabbed hold of his wrists and wrenched them away from her face. She could hardly bear to look at his pained expression, even through a veil of tears.
“It won’t work, James,” she gasped between sobs, “however good your intentions. You can’t help who you are.” She swiped roughly at her tears with the back of her arm and sniffed them away as best she could. “No. I won’t let you do that. I won’t.”
She got up to leave, but as soon as she shifted her position, he pulled her back down.
“Please don’t go, Moll. Please don’t go.” A single tear ran down his face, and her heart lurched. An idea entered her head, and her mind raced.
No, she couldn’t. Could she?
She heard herself blurting it out before the thought was even fully formed. “I want to experience it for myself.”
James stared at her, lips apart, eyes unblinking. “Experience what?” he asked, his voice low.
“I want to join in, be part of it. Just like Sia suggested. Maybe it’s not you who needs to change. Maybe it’s me.”
He shook his head slowly without taking his eyes off her. “No, Molly, no. I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not. I’m offering,” she said, throwing his words back at him.
“But, Moll. Those girls, Sia and Martie, they’re not like you, darling. They’re…they’re different.”
A ping of anger shot through her chest, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me, James. I’m a woman, just like they are. And how do you know I’m any different from them? You’ve never even once tried to so much as kiss me. Perhaps if I try it, I might just like it!”
She was shouting now, but she didn’t care. The more she said, the more she realized she had to say. “For five years I’ve been your dutiful little wife, standing by you while you put on a show to your family—to the whole world—that you’re the perfect earl, when really all you’re interested in is shagging everyone but me.”
He cringed at her directness. She’d never spoken to him like that before. His shocked expression riled her all the more.
She sprang up and glowered down at him. “You want me to stay here? Fine. I will, on one condition. I join you for one of your sessions. If I don’t like it, then I promise not to hold you responsible, but you’re going to let me try. Tonight.”
Her heart thumped behind her ribcage. She didn’t know which of them was more shocked at her outburst. James stared at her, wide-eyed and eyebrows raised, causing his forehead to crease.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
“Very well,” he said. Was that sadness or pride in his voice? It was the tone of a parent reluctantly accepting their beloved offspring was a grown-up. “Come up to the East Wing at seven. I’ll organize the others.”
The others? Those words made it real somehow. Had she really just asked her husband to arrange a ménage? With her as the main attraction? A wave of nausea swept through her. Oh God. What had she done?
****
Molly stood at the door of the East Wing’s master bedroom and pressed her middle fingers into her temples. What am I meant to do now? Do I knock or just go on in?
Deciding what to wear for her initiation, as she thought of it, had been impossible enough. She didn’t own sexy lingerie or sexy anything for that matter, so she’d settled for a knee length cotton summer dress, bare feet, and the newest underwear she had. It was plain and boring but crisp white at least.
She raised her hand to tap on the door, but before her knuckles made contact with the wood, it swung open.
“You came.” James sounded more surprised than pleased. With his beige chinos and black polo, exposing taut and naturally bronzed forearms, he looked the quintessential English country gent.
Fearing her voice might come out like a squeak, Molly cleared her throat before daring to speak. “Yes. I said I would.”
He stood aside to let her in. Without crossing the threshold,
she peered from one side of the room to the other.
“They’re not here yet,” he said, as if reading her mind.
“Oh, right.” She walked in and stood in the middle of the room, feeling like the new kid at school who didn’t know the ropes.
James shut the door behind her, sauntered over to the bedside table, picked up a glass of red wine, and joined her in the center of the vast room. “Relax,” he said, handing her the glass.
She drew a large mouthful of the smooth, velvety liquid and felt it travel down her gullet until it landed in her stomach with a fiery burn. She took another gulp, then another, enjoying the warm surge to her gut and the beginnings of light-headedness. She’d barely touched a morsel of food today; she’d been so nervous. It wouldn’t take long to get drunk. She drew in another mouthful.
“Hey, Moll, go easy.” He placed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades and guided her to the bed. “I know you’re nervous, but you’re not as nervous as me. Trust me.”
She perched on the edge as he indicated, and he sat next to her. “You?” she asked. “What have you got to be nervous about? You do this stuff all the time.”
“Not with anyone I care about.”
“What?” She turned to look at him.
He hooked one knee onto the bed and turned his body to face her. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand and grimaced. “Well, not for a long time, anyway.”
“Why do you only sleep with people you don’t care about?”
“It hasn’t always been this way, Moll. I lost my virginity to a girl I was crazy about. I thought she loved me, too. It sounds ridiculous now, because we were just kids really, but at the time, it really mattered. I gave myself to her, entirely. I promised her I’d never touch anyone else ever, and she vowed the same to me. Then, well, you can probably predict the rest.”
“She cheated on you?”
James nodded and gave a tight-lipped, grim smile. “Yep. I found her in bed with one of my best mates. Turns out he wasn’t the first.”
Secrets of the East Wing Page 3