Regency Rogues Omnibus

by Shirl Anders

  Ejaculated cunty juices coated Brynmore’s face and chin. Blessed Mary! He’d heard of this before. Once in a late night male drunken soirée, where a lusty old coot claimed that his late wife could squirt his face with her come juice, liken to a prick ejaculating. Brynmore had never had it happen before, although he had to admit that he’d been testing Kit’s penetration climaxes as opposed to her clitty ones, by using his tongue to fuck her and never touching her clit.

  Bloody hell! He wanted to shout and start the bagpipes! His woody-prick was pounding and his woman had just exploded on his mouth, marking him for life. He should want to thrust his engorged and throbbing prick deep inside her but he had more voracious cravings than that ... to propel Kit into coming again.

  Brynmore loosened Kit’s knees over his forearm, running his palms on either side down the creamy heated skin of her inner thighs, pressing her legs open wide. Just as the plump lips of her mink split open revealing the thrust of her clitty, he dropped his mouth over it like a ravenous babe after its Ma’s tit.

  “B ... Bry!” Kit squealed and he held her writhing body down by his hands clamped to her inner thighs, stretching the tendons tight as he held her open to him, her thatch of yellow pubic hair tickling his nose. Staccato cries issued from her mouth in incoherent pitches of ardor as he sucked the swollen bud of her clitty, drawing hard and fast with repeated ferocity.

  Brynmore moved the grip of his hands under Kit’s thighs and lifted her ass upward and her cunty deeper against his mouth, as he growled and she screeched. He could feel it then, Kit’s returning climax. So quickly! He moved one of his hands so that he could plunge his finger deep into her clenching cove. When it came, Kit grounded her muff against him wildly and nearly pulled his ears off.

  Brynmore twisted his head free of Kit’s clutching fingers and he rose above her. The demand to have his prick buried into Kit’s climaxing cove was beyond containing. The backs of Kit’s thighs fell to the tops of his thighs as he knelt between her legs, with his hand around the scorching heat of his shaft, as he guided the head to Kit’s entrance. Her breasts were heaving and her soft belly was still rippling with the effects of her climax as he thrust his prick head between her sopping cunty lips. The seed-soaked head of his prick combined with Kit’s drenched sex made the way slick enough that his prick slid deep into her on the first thrust.

  “Fuck.” His exclamation echoed in the room at the tight heat gripping his wooden prick from the tip to the base.

  “Yes, Bry!” Kit mewled as she curled up to him, her arms around his neck embracing him and wrapping her legs up over the tops of his hips. Her head nudged under his chin with her lips sucking his chest as he pumped his hips several times with aggravated groans wrenched from his throat.

  Bloody hell, he’d not had but his own hand for many months. Now war raged inside him. One wanting to savor — the other wanting to fuck. Yet one thing was certain, he had an overwhelming desire to see Kit’s face as he thrust into her. He wanted to see his prick fucking her, in the storm of her blue eyes and he rolled backward taking Kit with him, until they sat face to face. His legs were bent under him as he was kneeling on his heels on the bed with Kit’s legs around his hips.

  “Ah, lord,” she moaned.

  And he agreed with her. That movement of his body, both of them together with his prick deep in her cove did wicked things to his body all the way down into his balls. Kit’s head came up as his hands circled her waist and he used that leverage to begin pushing and pulling. His hips helped the thrust and retreat of his prick into her searing cunty. Their eyes locked and he saw each plunge in the depths of Kit’s blue eyes. She helped by grasping his shoulders, tightening her legs around his hips to rock in motion with his thrusts. Their speed built, while her moans cascaded, he dropped his gaze during pumping intervals to look at his fiery-red thickness piercing the rosy-swollen daintiness of Kit’s sex.

  His returning groan was deep, like the burn of his seed rising, as Kit’s eyes squinted and their thighs slapped. “That’s it, sweet,” he groaned. “That’s it!”

  “Bry, oh!” she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders.

  Brynmore pulled Kit harder to him with each plunge, making her breath pant out sharply as their slick skin made smacking sounds against each other. “Ah yes! That’s so good, Kit sweet. Ah, Christ!”

  “Bry! Oh, Bry! Oh!”

  Brynmore dug his toes into the mattress as his lips dropped over Kit’s mouth. “Kiss me, Kit. Give me your tongue. Deep!”

  “Bry! Mm!”

  Kit’s tongue surged into his mouth. He took it with hard suction as they ground and humped together even more wildly. Kit’s whimpers were shrill and he realized that she was going to climax again for him. He shifted his hands to push her belly forward and her clitty more onto the base of his cock with each hard fuck that he took. Her nails scratched his sweaty back as she wormed on his prick and he bellowed a groan calling the nearness of his ejaculation. He felt it, Kit’s cunty clenching his prick.

  “Ah! Fuck! Yes!” he bellowed as his seed pumped free and he threw his head back, repeatedly surging forward, deep as possible, fucking Kit with each expansion of pleasure.

  Sometime later, it seemed an eternity, or a minute, Kit slumped over his chest with their hot sweat-soaked skin gliding together, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Her breasts labored against his equally deep breathing chest as they gulped air to catch their breath. His prick, still incredibly semi-hard, was embedded in her heat. He tangled his fingers into the damp strands of her short wavy hair. Then he tugged lightly, arching her head backward as he looked down on her.

  “This is more than necessity, lass, what we’ve done,” he said. His gaze skimmed her flushed features, then he noticed a bright red burn across her small chin and one cheek. It was his mark. The mark of his beard grazing her softer flesh.

  “Will it hurt our cause, Bry? What do we need to do?” Kit asked, with her fingers rising to touch the side of his face.

  “I don’t know,” Brynmore answered honestly. His lips fell over Kit’s lips for aftermath passion of immersed kissing or perhaps the slow igniting of renewed ardor. He lifted his lips slightly. “But you will know this time and every time after this that I want to be with you.”

  “Yes, Bry, yes. Mm mm.” Kit’s voiced was muffled under their renewed kissing. She was not certain what had happened between herself and Brynmore tearing aside any plans or intentions she had for the way it would be. She only knew the feeling inside her was the intense knowledge that she would follow anywhere Brynmore led. To hell and back. And that might be enough.

  Chapter Seven

  Radford drummed the fingertips of his right hand against the long table set up in Drummond’s small ballroom. He slouched in his chair, his posture one of introspection. “Hmm,” he pondered. “I still do not see how we will gain Brynmore and Kit’s debut entrance into Hellion’s sphere.” Radford liked it best now. This quiet contemplation. His mind could go places his fading eyesight could not.

  Nia rustled papers from the end of the table, where she’d been sorting through the daily written reports on all activities that could be seen from a distance, happening day or night, at Lord Rushborn’s estate. Hellion and some members of the cult, plus patrons who were apparently in sympathy here in England, had taken up residence there. There could be one-hundred now that they’d been able to pinpoint, where before, according to Saxon, there had been hundreds.

  The patrons from England did not surprise Radford. He assumed they probably traveled abroad and had sampled Hellion’s brand of depravity when they could. If Radford could have picked one member of London nobility that Hellion and his cult might have landed with, it would have been the elder debauchee, Lord Rushborn, with his whispered deviant habits. There was still some speculation bandied about that Lord Rushborn had kidnapped and defiled young virgins in his more sordid youth. Rumor had it he’d had a group of men involved in some underhanded society they’d formed, where they ki
dnapped and used common women sexually, then paid them handsomely to remain quiet, playing on the women’s poverty to keep them subdued.

  Radford tapped his fingers. “Bribing one of the members is too risky. We could never be assured they would keep their mouth shut. Then using Yojo as bait to attract Hellion’s attention would be too obvious. Hellion would be on guard then and we would never get close enough to learn the intimate details we need. The cult’s move from Paris to outside London has put them easily closer to us, however, the upheaval of their order is making it more difficult and they must be more wary.”

  “Yes, I wonder that they will even accept new members,” Nia said, as she walked to his side, then she slid onto his lap. Radford adjusted his posture with pleasure to accommodate his soon-to-be wife comfortably, yet still be able to reach forward and tap his fingers. Nia continued, “From what Saxon and Joelle said, Incubus seemed to be The Orders new member curator, plus its money man.”

  “Money?” Radford asked, more pondering than question, money was one of the most powerful sins.

  “Of course you remember what Saxon said about Incubus. How, Incubus was worried over money and how Hellion was incensed that Incubus should bother him with such mundane human issues.”

  “Yes, one wonders what Hellion’s money situation is now, without Incubus in charge of it?”

  “Insane as he is or not, we both know Hellion’s lofty madness requires wealth to retain his position, Radford love.”

  Radford stroked Nia’s soft hair, while continuing to drum his fingers on the table with his other hand. “So, they need a replacement for Incubus and that might be one within their ranks. Dame Baset would be my first choice. Then they will be very interested in gathering money to afford the perverted style Hellion is accustomed to.”

  “Members,” Nia added to his list.

  “Yes, it only makes sense whether it is the careful thing to do or not, they must still seek members.”

  “The richer the better,” Nia added.

  “Aye, and megalomaniac that Hellion is, it is what he thrives on, peons to worship his warped ideals. So, the odds are accepting new members might not be an obstacle. One would assume, with the organizer Incubus gone, the network to check aspiring cult members’ backgrounds and the blackmail side of the cult would be in disarray.

  “That is good for our side and will help Brynmore and Kit’s entrance,” Nia said as she rubbed his shoulders.

  Radford had to admit talking out different scenarios and methods with his wife was an unexpected pleasure. He normally did such calculations internally. But his lovely wife was quick-witted and just voicing ideas and juggling them to and fro was proving productive, besides having the lush pleasure of her womanly curves cuddled on his lap.

  “What else?” Radford asked. “What else will they be looking for here? How will they find new members?”

  “I would think they would be looking for women and men to perform sexual antics with,” Nia said.

  “Hmm,” Radford responded. “You mean freely or using money as with prostitutes?”

  Nia patted his chest. “Well, there is an entire underground society of vast and varying sexual acumen in London. No one talks about it, especially decent nobles. But they partake, masked sometimes and in private.”

  “Your knowledge intrigues me, cherie. Not that I would have a clue about such things,” Radford quipped with a smile and a nibbling kiss on Nia’s cheek.

  Nia giggled and slapped his chest playfully. “I do not believe that at all, you rogue. Not once?” she challenged.

  Radford leaned back in his chair, rocking Nia’s plush bottom on his lap and over his attentively growing cock. “Ah. Hmm. There was one time when I was undercover, mind you, that I happened upon a situation in an exclusive bordello where a rather curvaceous nude woman was bound, wrists above her head, while an older gent lashed her pretty bottom with a fan whip.”

  “Really?” Nia’s light green eyes widened with the gold specks shining brightly with interest.

  Radford chuckled. “Quite a lady of the night you were, darling.”

  “Oh you!” Nia quipped. “I told you that I had barely started my career when you whisked me away and I certainly never heard of activities like that!”

  “I know this sparkle in your eyes, my feisty Lady Fire, it says you are intrigued as well as aroused.”

  Nia rolled her buttocks seductively over his stiffening cock as she lowered her heated breath to his ear. “I’m excited at the thought of having my wrists bound as you have your way with me.”

  “Hmm,” he responded with male purrs of agreement. “And your sexy nude ass whipped too?” he asked.

  “Radford,” she cooed, nuzzling his ear. “Maybe we could negotiate, try it lightly to start. I remember... Oh!” Nia pushed away from him, leaning back to look at him with some sudden realization on her features. “I remember a place Madame Lilly used to talk about. It was a dungeon club called the Satyr’s Whip!” Her voice ended on excitement.

  “Satyr?” he repeated sharply.

  “Yes. Yes!” she nodded. “I think if Hellion or his minions go anywhere surely it will be there. It has all the elements, the name, the sex fetishes. I’m sure... maybe, Madame Lily could help us or has heard about the cult or...”

  Radford interrupted. “We need to be careful about saying anything this Madame Lily could be involved already. To approach her we would want to do so carefully.”

  “Of course, I’m certain you can come up with a devious way,” Nia’s said, with a sly smile aimed at him.

  “Yes. This is good, we need eyes and ears in as many bordellos and hidden fetish clubs as we can manage.”

  “As usual,” Drummond’s voice suddenly interjected into Nia and Radford’s theorizing. “Your strategies of action are excellent.”

  Both turned to look at Drummond as he entered the small ballroom and walked toward them. Radford said, “It came about postulating on how we were to gain Brynmore and Kit’s entrance into The Order.”

  Drummond stopped on the opposite side of the table with one hand in his side pocket. “Ah yes, it has given me pause, a difficult task. I just might have something tucked up my sleeve along the lines of your thinking.”

  Radford cocked his raven-winged eyebrow at Drummond. Drummond merely smirked and continued on another venue without quite revealing his intentions. Radford chuckled, shaking his head lightly, as Drummond said, “And, Nia, I believe visiting these underground clubs across London, looking for signs of the cult’s movements could be some couples events, to include the women. Don’t you?”

  “Definitely,” she replied.

  Chapter Eight

  Harrison moved like a whisper of air in the dark of night. The slender figure beside him moved in graceful tandem motions with each of his stealthy movements. They were dressed in tight-fitting black from head to toe, including masks. Harrison was pleased with his wife Chloe’s ability to move in slowly calculated secret beside him. He was not truly surprised.

  He knew her body. He knew its grace, agility, and patience. Yet more than that, he knew her mind. From the mind came the control to move and not be seen. It was equally amazing because he knew Chloe was excited to be with him on this surveillance mission. That she could contain the adrenaline rush. The thrill of it pumping through her was impressive.

  She would have made a skilled assassin.

  He nearly chuckled at the absurd, but quite accurate thought. But now, her truest skill was lying nude beneath him, accepting their union for all that implied between them. An indulgent rise made the first thought in his cock and he shut it down immediately, even as he enjoyed the view of Chloe’s compact and supple ass wrapped in the tight britches she wore. That he knew her nipple tips were lassoed and tied with thin leather strips, beneath her form-fitting black shirt, was a sadistic pleasure he’d never invented before tonight. He told her that it would keep her alert, when in reality it was for his own dark pleasure. Later, he intended to use the leads a
s he fucked her. He was beginning to wonder if he would make it off Lord Rushborn’s estate before he had his cock buried into Chloe’s hot cunt.

  However, he had the control. He enjoyed teasing it, regardless. The harder it was for him to control the better he relished it. Nonetheless, he turned his mind away from the distinct pleasure of having his wife by his side on this nocturnal visit to Rushborn’s country estate mansion. It was close to midnight and they stood on the second balcony of the estate’s ornate chapel. This was not a separate building on the estate but was crafted into the mansion. The balcony ran in a semicircular pattern around the main chapel below. Fortunately, the entire balcony and balcony decks that protruded outward in half circles around the chapel were all heavily curtained, masking any activities going on below, on the floor of the chapel.

  It was just what Harrison expected of a nonreligious order and it served his purpose well. He stopped by the tasseled edge of one heavy black velvet curtain at the end of the circular balcony. From there he could easily escape to either the right or the left. Chloe glided to a stop beside him. Their mission tonight was to obtain an inside look at Rushborn’s mansion and The Orders newest base of operations.

  Drummond wanted the layout, however whatever else came up was left to Harrison’s interpretations. He already had a few ideas. Both he and Chloe found it curious that Hellion was never observed leaving the estate. Perhaps they would come across something that would shine some light on that mystery. Nevertheless, he was only there to observe what he could safely without being caught, and then report back to Drummond. He felt confident that he could do that without being caught and he would only be there for a short time. That is why he brought Chloe along.

  “There appears to be some activity below,” Harrison rasped.

  “Is it safe to speak?” Chloe asked in a breathy whisper beside him.