by Megan Mulry
She started pacing again. “For him to see you in such circumstances and refuse to understand your side. If you had been weeping and struggling beneath a man he would have called him out and shot him dead a few hours later. But because it was your supposed friend, all he could see was the . . . well . . . never mind. It’s been on my mind recently, regarding a few people, and Nora has had to hear my soliloquies on the subject. I suppose I should see it as the pinnacle of equality when a woman can behave as abominably as a man, but let’s just say I had hoped for better.”
Vanessa unclenched her fists and then refilled her glass.
Selina took another deep breath and set aside her barely touched drink. “I think at this point it’s best if I go, don’t you?”
“Yes, you must go to see Archie at once.” Nora nodded her encouragement. “With your eloquence and persistence, I know you can make him see sense.”
“Oh, no. I meant I think it’s best if I leave Camburton.”
“Absolutely not!” Vanessa was vehement.
“You really believe he cares for me?”
“Oh, Selina.” Nora spoke kindly and patted her shoulder. “He is only behaving in this bizarre fashion because he is so overwhelmed by his feelings for you. You should speak with him tonight. Please don’t give up on him just yet.”
Feeling restored after the kindness and honesty from Nora and Vanessa, Selina stood up and collected her courage. “I think you’re right. I will speak with him now.” She glanced down at her favorite green velvet dress, then touched her fingertips to her puffy cheeks and eyes. “I thought I’d turned up rather pretty when I first arrived, but now I must look a fright.”
Vanessa opened the door to the hall. “You look perfectly gorgeous. Now go to him in that blasted laboratory of his and tell him he must know the truth of your feelings and own up to the truth of his.”
Hugging each of them before she left, Selina gave her heartfelt thanks and turned down the dimly lit hall toward the back of the castle and Archie’s laboratory.
When she reached the closed door to his workroom, she thought she heard Christopher and Archie speaking through the thick wood. She knocked and waited until she heard Archie say “Yes.” And then another slightly louder, “Yes.”
Taking this to mean he wished her to enter without waiting for him to let her in, she turned the knob and pushed open the heavy door.
He’d only just begun to recover from his embarrassing departure from the dinner table and already he was being interrupted.
“Get out.” Without looking up from his microscope, he could tell it was Christopher. The man wore some kind of bay rum scent that was subtle enough not to offend, yet potent enough to keep Archie in a confused state of partial arousal whenever he smelled it.
The door closed. “I think I’ll stay.”
Still not caring to look, he heard Christopher removing his jacket and his footsteps as he approached. “What are you working on?” Christopher’s strong, knowing hand cupped the back of Archie’s neck. He began to massage the strained muscles at the base, near his shoulder.
“Stop that.” He knew his voice was ragged and it was a weak protest.
“I think not.” Christopher let his other hand massage down the length of Archie’s spine, then down the cleft of his arse. “Have you missed me, darling?”
Archie laughed bitterly at the saccharine endearment. “Not you too, I hope. I can’t stand one sentimental lover, much less two.”
Christopher reached between Archie’s legs and grabbed his balls with possessive force. “So she is your lover, then?”
“No—” His voice was choked with lust. God, he needed to be fucked in the most terrible way. To have all of these rampant, useless feelings pounded out of him.
“So she’s just sentimental?” Wrenching Archie’s head away from the microscope with a forceful tug on his hair, Christopher bit the side of his neck. He gasped in primal pleasure. “Answer me.”
“No, she’s not just sentimental. She’s a whore.”
Christopher pulled his neck back even harder. “A whore like me? Did I tell you I fucked the Duke of Wexham just this morning? He was still in my bed at the inn when I left to meet your mother and Nora’s coach for us to carry on with our journey.”
Archie nearly wept with frustration. “Selina is a woman, you bastard.”
“And this past weekend I let that pretty little Earl of Sunningdale suck me off in the shower at Gentleman Jackson’s after I’d beat the daylights out of him in the ring. Did I mention that? Is she a whore like that?”
“No, damn you! Stop this!”
“Stop this?” Christopher bit his neck again and reached one hand around to Archie’s steel-hard rod. He rubbed Archie’s length through his silk trousers. “Stop making you feel everything your body was born to feel? Stop saying everything you need to hear?”
“Yes.” But his body betrayed his words, as his hips began to thrust and retreat in time with Christopher’s clever hand.
“That’s it, you nasty boy. Let your body tell me what is right and what is wrong. You picture that splendid creature taking you like this, don’t you? All that long blonde hair uncoiled and draped around your face and chest as she rides you . . . because that’s what she will do, won’t she?”
“Yes, damn you . . .” Archie was now sprawled facedown over his workbench, gripping the far edge with desperate firmness. Christopher unbuttoned the fall of his own trousers and somehow pulled Archie’s down to his thighs as well, kicking Archie’s ankles as wide as they would go.
“Tell me how she takes you in hand in your fantasies, Archie.”
“I can’t . . . I can’t speak of her like that . . . when you are . . .” He said the words into his forearm, hating himself and wanting what Christopher was about to give him all the same. Wanting Selina beneath him, to slide his cock deep into her silken warmth while Christopher—
He gasped, hot tears springing to his eyes, when Christopher slammed into him. He. Wanted. Everything.
“Yes . . . yes . . . yes . . .” he panted in rhythm to Christopher’s thrusts, imagining the simultaneous counterpoint of Selina’s softness, a counterpoint he would never have the opportunity to actually experience—either due to respect or shame, he wasn’t sure.
He didn’t hear the knock at the door, if there had even been one, but his endless string of yeses would have made any sane person think he was inviting them to enter. It was only when Christopher stopped abruptly, inside him to the hilt, that he realized something was amiss. “Don’t stop now, you bastard,” he growled in frustration.
Christopher grabbed the back of his sweaty hair and forcefully turned his head so he was facing the door to the laboratory.
Where Miss Selina Ashby stood with her hands folded politely in front of the pleated waist of that spectacular green velvet gown.
“Selina.” Christopher’s voice was rutty and charming all at once. “Do come in.”
Archie stared in horror as she shut the door behind her and then turned to look into his eyes. “This explains so much, my dear Archie. Why didn’t you simply tell me you preferred the company of men?”
She approached the two of them slowly, never taking her eyes from his face. Perhaps she won’t notice Christopher’s cock is in my arse, he thought madly, as if she could somehow fail to observe that salient fact.
He must be hallucinating. That was the only explanation. No histrionics. No tears. No censure. No (very warranted) accusations of hypocrisy. Just the most profound tenderness in those green eyes of hers, as if he were some elusive woodland creature she had always longed to see, and had finally happened upon in a secluded glade.
“May I?” She reached for his cheek but paused before touching him, apparently asking Christopher for permission.
The bastard pulled out slightly and then pushed back into him, the momentum jerking his face against the lab table.
“Be my guest,” Christopher answered. “He was just talking about you.”
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She touched his cheek, petting him like she petted all skittish, powerful creatures, with admiration and animal curiosity. “So beautiful,” she whispered.
He shuddered, and his eyes slid shut, no longer able to process what was happening. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to reappear. He wanted to melt into her touch.
“He is a work of art, is he not?” Christopher pulled out and thrust in again while Selina’s delicate fingertips traced the angles of his face, then trailed down his neck. He shivered, and Christopher groaned in answering pleasure. Selina hummed her agreement, and Archie opened his eyes slowly to see her.
“A masterpiece,” she agreed. “May I watch you finish?” Her fingers raked through the hair at the base of his neck, a tender touch compared to Christopher’s firm grip a few inches away.
“You only want to watch?” Christopher asked.
“I’d hate to impose.” Selina began toying with Archie’s ear while she spoke. “He gets very . . . remorseful . . . when I attempt to please him.”
He growled into his forearm at the sound of their drawing room niceties while they played with his quivering body.
Christopher nearly laughed. “Well, it’s not his decision just now, is it?”
Selina stepped back as Christopher pulled him clear off the table, hauling him up to a standing position and turning him to face Selina. He couldn’t hold her gaze, and let his eyes drift shut again. “He’ll do as I say when I have him like this.” Christopher began a slow rhythm, using his controlling hands to manipulate Archie’s body—one hand still firm in his hair and the other flat across his lower abdomen to keep him close. “He becomes very agreeable . . . and he can always ask us to stop. Isn’t that right, Archie?”
Archie could not open his eyes, paralyzed by mortification and lust, but the word came just the same. “Yes.”
“See?” Christopher said. “Quite agreeable.”
Then Selina’s hands were on him, and he wasn’t sure he could breathe. Christopher kept up that slow, methodical pace in his arse while Selina’s satiny fingertips began to explore every inch of him. She undid his neck cloth, slowly and with great care. He was in a dark sea of sensation, the heavy anchor of Christopher behind him, the light wind of Selina before him. And then her lips were on his skin, licking and exploring his neck, humming her approval. The tantalizing velvet of her dress billowed against the thin linen of his shirt, which was already wet from his seeping cock. He pulled back to avoid soiling her extravagant fabric. The movement only served to shove him harder against Christopher on his next thrust, and the two men groaned in unison.
She pushed her hips more firmly to him, cradling his leaking cock against layers and layers of her feminine warmth. “Are you worried you will sully my gown, Lord Camburton?”
He nodded and nearly whimpered.
“Perhaps I need to clean up your messy cock?” she taunted.
Christopher laughed devilishly in his ear, and Archie’s eyes flew open. Selina’s beautiful face was mere inches from his, the light citrusy scent of her spiraling around him.
“But I think I’ll kiss you first, before my mouth is full of your delicious, filthy seed. And then I’ll kiss you again, after.” She leaned in and traced his quivering lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Kiss her properly, Archie. I want to see how you do it. Does she know you’ve never let me kiss you on the lips?”
He could no longer repress his desire. His arms flew around Selina, grabbing her close and nearly knocking the wind out of her. Her mouth was heaven, warm and welcoming; her small grunts and moans made his blood roar while their tongues tangled and played.
“Is this really you?” She was speaking between hot kisses. “Is this what you need?” She held his face in her hands. All he could think was how spectacularly beautiful she was in this moment—raspberry lips wet and swollen, jade eyes smoky with lust, golden hair coming loose.
“I need you,” he admitted hoarsely, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers. “I need you both.”
“And so you shall have me. Us,” she added after another kiss. Then she withdrew slightly and he missed her horribly.
“Selina—”
She pulled his shirt up and over his head, and tossed it carelessly on the floor. Kissing her way down his chest, licking and sucking on each of his nipples in turn, she slowly dropped to her knees, a vision of billowing green fabric settling around her as if she were a woodland sylph alighting on a lush, delicate fern. And then she took his length into her mouth and his body left this earth. His mind scrambled and then miraculously calmed. Christopher, bless his virile endurance, had never ceased his relentless rhythm, and Selina began to match him thrust for thrust with her eager, welcoming mouth. Everything about his body—his being—was finally locked into perfect alignment, and he began to vibrate with joy.
Of course Selina had been shocked when she first saw Archie bent over the table and being fucked from behind like a common serving wench. But dear God, how fantastically erotic! Of course she should have told him what a terrible hypocrite he was for making her feel like such a hussy when he’d happened upon her with Constance, but none of that mattered anymore. The man was an angel. She could feel the tension coiling in every muscle of his body while her mouth hummed with pleasure around his cock. The scent of the two men together made her breasts swell with longing, her pussy throb in time with Archie’s thrusts. Or were they Christopher’s thrusts?
Bless Mr. Christopher Joseph. Her fingertips trailed around Archie’s exquisitely firm hip and touched the other man’s thigh when he slammed into Archie. Christopher wove his fingers together with hers and pressed their joined hands against Archie.
“We’ve got you.” Christopher voice was low and clear against Archie’s ear, but loud enough for her to hear. She sucked harder and pulled deeper, not caring that her breath was short and her head light. She wanted Archie to feel the power of what the three of them had, the beauty of it, free of any of his misconceptions about propriety or what was supposed to constitute right or wrong. Archie’s hands were tight in her hair and she began to weep from a combination of joy and pain, the coiled heat of everything—emotional and physical—that was about to be released.
Christopher’s movements finally became jerky and erratic and his hand pressed hers even harder into Archie’s flesh. There would be bruises on him; the idea pleased her. She whimpered, or cried, or moaned around Archie’s cock and then dragged her fingernails roughly down his hair-dusted abdomen.
When he thrust into her with a final victorious groan, she felt the hot jet at the back of her throat and her own body responded instantly. She hadn’t touched herself in the past two weeks and—with the combination of Archie’s joy and the presence of the domineering Christopher and her stockinged heel rubbing against her clit—her orgasm exploded in a quick sharp flare of ecstasy.
She kept licking and tasting Archie as his cock softened, afraid to part from him in this heightened state; she dreaded the reappearance of another postcoital, penitent Archibald Cambury. Finally, licking him clean to her satisfaction, including the underside of his heavy cock and the sensitive balls beneath, she kissed him one last time and then, filled with trepidation, looked up to see which Archie awaited her.
“See, Archie?” Christopher still held his friend in place. “She likes you anyway . . . even though you’re such a dirty boy.”
She smiled at Christopher, then, more tenderly, at Archie. She stayed there resting on her heels, liking the way it made her feel, as if she were Archie’s loyal pet; she realized she liked worshipping him. In fact, she loved it. She loved him.
Her heart pounded anew when the depth of her feelings crashed through her. He was still in a daze of physical satisfaction, his eyes glassy and stunning.
“Archie?”
“Yes?” he croaked.
“Will you kiss me?”
Christopher helped Archie lower himself to the floor, then ruffled his hair affectionately
. He buttoned up his own trousers as he walked toward the door. “Always a pleasure, Lord Camburton.” Once he was fully dressed and had his jacket back on—his person not even slightly disheveled from their recent doings—Christopher bowed and added, “Miss Ashby.” Then he left the room.
She pulled Archie to her, not wanting even a few inches between them. A part of her had wanted Christopher to stay—so much had happened in such a short span of time that they needed to discuss—but for now she was deeply grateful to have Archie to herself.
“You stupid, beautiful man. You should have told me.” She stroked his hair tenderly. He somehow coiled his large, muscled body into the swath of green velvet, nestling into her. Leaning down, she kissed him tentatively on the forehead. “Is it all right for me to kiss you now, on the lips, with my filthy mouth?” She smiled and caressed him, letting her fingers luxuriate in the silk of his hair and the slight stubble of his cheek, while she waited for him to reply. They looked in one another’s eyes, and her body cried out for his. She wanted to tie him to his bed and take so much more than kisses on the lips, but asking for his permission this once felt profound.
The silence lengthened, and then Archie licked his dry lips. “It is all right for you to do anything to me that you wish.” He looked away briefly, earnest and bashful all at once. “I want you so much it has twisted my mind, Selina.” He turned back and wound a strand of her hair around his finger, then tugged slightly to bring her closer.
Cradling his face, she pulled his mouth to hers and pressed her breasts to his chest. Within seconds they were nearly mauling each other on the hard floor.
He tried to stop her. “Bed—”
“No—”
“What—?”
“No bed. I want you again now.”
He laughed into the next kiss, and it was the most wonderful sound she had ever heard. Archibald Cambury laughing in the midst of lovemaking was the best of all things imaginable: tenderness and power and love all rolled into one delicious, muscular package.