As Wicked as You Want: Forever Ours Book 1

by Nia Farrell

  Her photographs would be developed here, and the glass negatives left with us when she was through. I was certain that Edward was paying her handsomely for her services, and was providing workspace as well as room and board, but something in her manner suggested that she might have done it at cost, just for the chance to be part of someone else’s art.

  The mirrors were set up, the silver bromide mixed and left to ripen. The tart, metallic smell escaping the closed darkroom door was similar to a cast iron kettle filled with apple cider vinegar.

  The women were gone by four but would return at eight, next time with Sydney’s camera.

  Daniel found me standing in the circle of mirrors, studying my form, seeing if this would work, and, if so, how well. It was not perfect. There were gaps, of course, and every image was reversed, but overall, I was pleased with the arrangement.

  The next time that we saw the room, it was well lit by the gaslight chandelier, and wall sconces supplied light beyond what I actually needed, reflecting in the mirrors to brighten the night-dark room to nearly daytime brilliance. The red chaise longue was positioned where I had been standing, a waterproof cloth draped over the velvet upholstery to keep it from being ruined. The surface of the low table placed near its head was nearly obscured by a china pitcher and matching bowl, a large stack of towels, a razor and strop, a shaving mug and hog’s hair brush, a blindfold, a crop, and a vial of Edward’s special oil.

  I raised an eyebrow at Edward.

  “Covering bases,” he said.

  I layered the chaise with towels as well, to keep water from shedding onto the wooden floor. Edward had volunteered to go first. The plan was for my hand to wield the straight razor while his hands helped keep bits and pieces out of harm’s way when I was ready to shave his genitals.

  That, I was saving for last.

  Edward had always been secure in his nakedness. Tonight, he was true to form, shedding his clothes as freely as a Druid at Beltane, preparing to bless the fields with sympathetic magic.

  “Heathen,” I tsked and had him lie first on his stomach. I shaved his backside from neck to ankles without one nick, taking my time, hoping to strengthen his faith in my barbering skills so that he would trust me with his front.

  While he rolled over and situated himself, I added a bit more water to the shaving mug and worked up fresh lather. “It will grow back,” I assured him, wetting the thatch on his chest. Again, I worked from his neck down, scraped and swiped, cleaning the blade on a towel between small, precisely angled strokes. With his chest and arm hair gone, there was nothing to hide his muscle definition, which was only enhanced by the light coating of oil that I smoothed over his skin.

  His abdomen was next, a sadder loss of that tempting trail leading to the bushy growth of pubic hair. When I got to his groin, I moved to his legs, making certain to keep my eyes on the razor and not on the erection he was holding.

  “Knees up and legs wide, please. I need to reach those inner thighs.”

  He positioned himself as directed, pressing his erection against his abdomen to have a better view. I finished his legs and worked up more lather, but stopped short of applying it. “If you’d rather do this yourself, I can fetch a hand-mirror,” I said, “but I feel it would be easiest if you kept yourself out of the way and let me work. What say you?”

  He eyed his manhood. Eyed the brush in my hand. Eyed Daniel and sighed softly, a sound rife with thwarted wishes and unmet needs.

  Daniel ducked his head and coughed behind his hand.

  “Do it,” Edward said, and bent himself down as best he could for me to shave his groin, then up again, to have his balls denuded. When I finished, they hung heavy and hairless in the crease of his parted legs.

  I made him lie there a minute more, so that I could look at him, and at us from every angle reflected in the mirrors. Satisfied, I brushed a kiss across his lips and called over my shoulder. “Next!”

  “It’s your choice,” I told Daniel, once he was naked, “whether or not you shave what’s in reach. One of us, however, will need to do your backside. There’s not a lot of hair, but everything must go.”

  He picked up the shaving mug, handed it to me, and bent to whisper in my ear. “Not everything. The family jewels stay, or me mither will be on the next boat over.”

  He planted a quick peck on my cheek and flopped on the chaise, head toward the foot of it, his bent legs resting on the back. He wriggled his backside, attempting to keep things light. I lathered him up and scraped him down from neck to ankles. After oiling his fair skin, I had him turn over.

  Daniel was hard as steel.

  He leaned against the back, legs sprawled in front of him, hands locked behind his head. His underarms would be tricky. I knew that he was ticklish there. “Daniel, I need Edward to hold you whilst I shave your armpits. I can’t trust you not to move, and I don’t want to nick you. Now, keep your hands exactly where they are. Edward, if you please?”

  Edward, still nude, came to stand behind Daniel. Reaching, he took a wrist in each hand, gripping them in a hold firm enough to not be easily broken. Still, he could buck. When his body convulsed at the application of soap to hair, I set aside the razor and stripped down to my undergarments, having no wish to ruin my dress.

  Taking up the razor, I straddled Daniel’s hips, pinning them into place, his cock rising like a codpiece from my crotch.

  “Do. Not. Move. I shouldn’t hurt your leg if I stay here.”

  “My leg, no, but ye’re killing me all the same.”

  Arching a brow, I pressed one hand against his chest and wielded the razor with the other, He tried, he really tried, to stay still, but ended up with a small nick on his left side. I wiped him clean and pressed on it to stop the bleeding. “Just look what you made me do,” I scolded. “You cannot move—you can not move!—when I’m shaving your genitals. Do you understand?”

  “Aye,” he snapped. “But understanding and doing are two different things, aren’t they now? Touch me wrong, and I’m going to move.”

  “Yes. Well. If you want me to touch you right ever again, then you’ve got to stay still.”

  His cock twitched at the promise in my voice.

  “Chest next,” I said. “Edward, continue to hold him, please.”

  There was something about the sight of Daniel’s wrists in Edward’s hand that spoke to me, both as an artist and as their lover. Daniel might never crave his discipline, but he seemed willing to be constrained. I thought of the rope that Edward had bound me with, and imagined Daniel, tied up and presented for our pleasure.

  I bit my lip and made another pass, removing a swath of thin copper curls. Daniel’s chest was not as wide as Edward’s, or as hirsute, but in eight more years, it promised to be every bit as tempting as the professor’s manly form.

  I worked my way down his belly, bypassing his groin and going for the legs. “Knees up, thighs spread. Kick me, and I’ll let Mary Margaret have at you.”

  He paled a bit, until he saw that I was joking.

  Unable to help myself, I leaned forward and kissed him, offering the reassurance that he needed. “Edward and I will protect you,” I promised. “We can’t help other people looking, but they won’t touch you. I swear.”

  There was a palpable shift in the energy. I sat between Daniel’s feet and shaved his legs, working my way up to his groin. I lathered his sac and tended it next, then worked soap into the ruddy thatch at his root. “Let go of his left hand, please. Clear the path for me, Daniel. Let’s get this done.” I straddled his good thigh and shaved him clean, then oiled up his front—including his cock—until he shone like a Greco-Roman wrestler.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  Somehow my clothes disappeared. My pulse was racing. My mouth was absurdly dry. I wet my lips and met Edward’s eyes. “How do you want me?”

  “Lie on top of Daniel,” he said. “Face down, first.”

  Daniel was stretched out on the chaise, his back leaning against the an
gled end. To face him required an erotic pose, hips pressed together, legs outstretched, my back bent, angled away from the rock-hard ridge pressed between us.

  Fortunately, my back side went quickly, by virtue of my gender, the wispy hair magically disappearing from my legs, then the dusting of peach fuzz from the small of my back.

  “Time to turn. I shall need your back to his front.”

  I sat on Daniel’s lap, facing his feet, and leaned against him, his cock digging into my waist, his front slick against my back.

  Edward denuded my forearms, then ordered Daniel to take my wrists. When I raised my arms, he caught my wrists and held them pinned against his chest.

  “Hold them above her head,” he said, “just in case she is ticklish, too.”

  I’d considered shaving beneath my arms, but I’d saved it all for them. It was only fair, after all. Each of them had surrendered to my hand. Now it was my turn to surrender to theirs.

  Edward added water to the shaving mug and worked the soap into lather, painting my underarms with the hog’s hair brush before picking up his razor. He leaned over us, his breath making my nipples harden as the thin stand of black hair on each side disappeared.

  “I want your legs outside Daniel’s,” he told me. “Daniel, spread her wide. At some point, I shall need to kneel between your legs to check my work.”

  Edward lathered my cleft, from top to bottom, took his razor, and started to shave me. Ordered to spread myself as wide as I could, I used the fingers of one hand to catch and pull my swollen nether lips apart. He worked at it until I was as slick and smooth as a baby.

  He set down his razor and wet the corner of a towel, wiping away the lather with the dry end, then washing me with the other. Super sensitive, I bit back a moan, arching my back and pressing my head against Daniel’s chest.

  “So responsive,” Edward rumbled, kneeling between our spread legs and fingering my pussy, making certain he’d shaved it clean. He slid a finger into my channel, sounding its depths. “So wet,” he murmured. “It’s running down your crack, dripping onto Daniel. He could probably take that oil-slicked cock of his and shove it right up your arse.”

  “Yes,” I whimpered. “Please.”

  “Lift your hips. Hold her, Daniel.”

  I raised myself, freeing his cock that had been grinding between us. Edward took the opened vial of oil and poured it over us both. “Let him in, pet,” he said, spreading my cheeks to let Daniel’s glans press against my hole. I arched my back. Daniel flexed his hips, breaching me with a single, insistent thrust that just kept going, until I’d taken all of him, down to the root.

  Edward slid two fingers inside me and started stroking, in and out. He bent his head and tongued my pearl, fastening his mouth over it at the same time he curled his fingers and found the place guaranteed to bring me off. “Oh, God!” I ground against Daniel and rode Edward’s hand as my orgasm ripped through me, wave after wave of purest pleasure. Edward scissored his fingers and fucked me some more. Twisting his hand, he spiraled out and added a third finger, prying me open, forcing it inside my passage made tighter by Daniel’s penetration.

  Daniel had held himself still, buried in my depths. After my first orgasm, he jacked his hips, small nudges, in and out. When Edward rose on his knees, cock in his hand, Daniel went still beneath me, bracing the both of us for what was coming.

  “Yessss.” A single hiss from Edward’s lips as he forged inside in a move that stole my breath.

  “Jaysus.” Daniel groaned. Releasing my wrists, he took hold of my breasts, cupping, squeezing, flexing his calloused hands around my curves before catching my nipples between his fingers, pinching and twisting, making me buck and grind against him.

  “More,” I begged. “Fuck me. Take me. Make me come again. I want to feel it with both of you inside me.”

  Above me, Edward’s eyes were like blue fire, burning hotter than the gas light flames. “Look,” he said, “in the mirrors. See what you do to us. See how beautiful, how desirable you are.”

  Turning my head, I met their eyes in the mirror, saw the passion on their faces, the three of us connected, pure lust given form. I rolled my head to the other side. Committing the view to memory, I turned back, expecting to meet their gazes, but Edward and Daniel’s eyes were locked on each other.

  Before I could discern their secrets, Edward thrust hard into me, wringing a whimper from my throat. He thrust in again, deeper this time, his cock rubbing against Daniel’s through my vaginal wall. He grabbed hold of my hips and kept my ass impaled on Daniel below me while he hammered into me from above, driving me to a second paroxysm, and a third.

  “Fuck,” Edward chanted. “Fuck, it feels good. So good. I can’t…I must…Ah, God!”

  Edward pulled out at the last moment and ejaculated on my abdomen. The sight of it triggered a like response in Daniel, who managed to get off in two strokes, coming deep inside me.

  Edward sat back on his heels and dropped his head to my knee, sliding his lips along the inside of my thigh until his mouth reached where Daniel and I were still joined. For a moment, I thought he might taste both of us. Instead, he licked my slit and pressed a kiss against my shaved pussy, his lips firm and warm against me.

  “Hold still,” he said, reaching for a towel. I waited, relishing the feel of Daniel softening inside me, the tender burn from being so used. Having two skilled lovers bring me to climax again and again had left me satiated beyond belief, deliciously replete, and decidedly exhausted.

  “Now lift.” Edward slid a towel between my legs as Daniel slipped free. “Well done, my dears. Well done. Time for a bath, then to bed. To sleep, perchance to dream, hmm?”

  When tomorrow promised to be such another momentous day, what could I say but yes?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sydney Blevins and her assistant arrived shortly before eight, equipage and carpet bags in tow. The camera that Sydney would entrust only to Mary Margaret disappeared up the stairs with her long-legged stride. Young Frank was allowed to take their carpet bags to their room, next to Daniel’s and across the hall from Edward’s, selected because of its close proximity to the jointly shared water closet.

  I’d done a sketch of Achilles, Patroclus, and Briseis so that the others could more easily share my vision and make it a reality. First thing this morning, before any of us had dressed, the three of us had practiced in front of my mirror, posing as two other men and the woman shared between them, recreating a scene from the past.

  I had shaken off the sense of déjà vu and double checked the balance of our extended forms. I still had some concern over Daniel’s leg. What I asked of it did him no favor. Hopefully sitting down between exposures (and imbibing a glass or two of whiskey as the day progressed) would be enough to make it manageable.

  All traces of last night’s shaving party had vanished. Only the faintest smell of sex permeated the air. Naked beneath our robes, Edward, Daniel, and I sat outside the circle of mirrors on the red chaise longue. Its waterproof covering had been stripped away, and the tufted velvet provided a welcome distraction, something to occupy my idle fingers while we waited for things to start.

  Daniel caught me playing with it and crooked his familiar grin. I stuck out my tongue at him, needing to break the tension taking hold. This would be the first time for us actually posing together (let alone in front of the mirrors that would reveal every flaw), and the first time that I had posed nude since I was three. Knowing that I would not be alone should have helped, but the looks that Sydney and Mary Margaret cast at Edward in general and Daniel in particular had me feeling like a feral wolf, hackles raised and more than a little territorial.

  Sydney provided background noise, a running commentary on any number of topics. Theatre. Boating. Women’s fashions. Lawn tennis. The latest scandal to rock the political world and the newest advances in photography. Her detailed descriptions of favorite restaurants had Daniel practically salivating.

  The plans were to take two exposu
res in quick succession, develop the plates, then return with two more. When the camera was ready, Sydney yelled for Mary Margaret to bring the glass. The three of us shed our robes and got into position. Sydney fine tuned the placement of her camera, her artist’s eye sweeping over us, constantly assessing, missing nothing, including the marks on my bottom, laced with fading bruises from Edward’s discipline.

  She smiled at him, winked at me, and took the first wet plate from Mary Margaret.

  We had to hold still, of course, while the exposures took place. Glancing, I feasted my eyes on our mirrored images, Daniel with his body torqued to look at me, Edward with his hand on my hip and his eyes on Daniel. I’d half expected to feel his arousal against my buttocks, but so far the men had maintained admirable control.

  Sydney and Mary Margaret disappeared with the two exposed plates, headed for the chemical baths that had ripened in the next room overnight. My stomach pinched, and I placed a hand upon it. I thought that we had done well. It certainly felt like it. Sydney was practically humming with excitement when she left, which I took as a good sign. She returned like a conquering hero, a triumphant smile plastered upon her face.

  “Oh, yes,” she trilled. “Just wait until you see them. They’re brilliant. Just brilliant. My God, I’m good.”

  She was good. And they were brilliant, from what I could tell, looking at the reverse images when we took a break at eleven to give Daniel’s leg a rest. The three of us then went to our rooms to dress for lunch. Sydney and Mary Margaret met us in the dining room, at a table set for five.

  Sydney, as usual, kept a running monologue, her mouth occupied between bites and her eyes seldom still. For whatever reason, Daniel had snared her particular interest. Perhaps because of the Irish lilt in his voice, or his ginger hair or the pale smattering of freckles on his chest and back. At one point, she asked him what instrument he played.