“Bradford. I couldn’t bear even one more day.” He crossed the drawing room in long strides without even noticing Ilsa, dropped his hat on a chase, and seized Mr. Stratton.
The young man tipped his head, gripped Bradford behind the neck and dragged him into a kiss.
Chapter Three
Ilsa frantically sought a plausible explanation as the kiss went on. Finally she allowed herself to see it for what it truly was.
They are lovers.
Bradford also tilted his head to lean into it, and she could see that both men were passionately locked in a very open-mouthed kiss. Her cheeks grew heated and her breath burned in her throat, but not because she was embarrassed. Their forbidden kiss was the most beautiful, erotically fantastic sight she had ever witnessed. A bolt of heat scored her center, ending between her legs.
Bradford placed his hand at the other man’s back, and when the younger responded by touching his hips, Bradford took him by the upper arms and eased away.
For a long moment they stared at each other. Ilsa could see confusion in the young man’s expression.
Then his gaze slipped past Bradford and found her. She felt frozen, mercilessly held prisoner by the young man’s fathomless dark eyes.
“You’ve done it.” He shifted, pushing past Bradford. But two paces forward he stopped. “You’ve bloody gone and done it.”
“Frederick, allow me to introduce Ilsa Bergstrom. I have asked her to be my wife.” Bradford’s words now sounded rough.
She would die if he stared at her any longer. Her heart kicked so fiercely against the walls of her chest it hurt.
“Bradford,” he said slowly, still watching her. “May I speak to you upstairs?” He spun on a booted heel and stalked from the room, not looking back to see if Bradford followed.
He didn’t. Instead, he crossed the wide room to her. Instinctively she stood.
“I’m sorry. I’d hoped that would have gone better.” When he gripped her hand she realized she’d been reaching out to him.
For a few hours, it had been a wonderful fantasy. A handsome, alluring gentleman of the peerage had wanted her. She had been Cinderella, rescued from the evildoers who plagued her simple life, and carried off to the palace where all her dreams would come true. Now she understood there were reasons beyond her control that decreed she could never have him.
She’d been right. When something seems too good to be true, it usually is.
“You understand now that my problem has nothing to do with you?”
She merely nodded and forced a small smile, if only to convey to him she didn’t judge, or condemn.
He matched her smile with a feeble one of his own. “Let me talk to him. Perhaps this situation can be salvaged. Who knows, it might work out after all.”
That simple statement had the power to suck the air from her lungs. Oblivious to her sudden distress, Bradford departed the room in pursuit of his lover and Ilsa drifted back into her chair.
It would not work out. It could not.
Because as young and innocent and beautiful as that boy looked, as good as Bradford had been to her, she would never surrender herself to more than one man at the same time…not ever again.
* * * * *
“Good God, Frederick, I’ve never seen you behave so rudely to a lady.”
Bradford’s anger vanished the minute he saw the agonized look on Frederick’s face. He was seated in a velvet-covered Queen Anne tugging off his boots, too distraught to remember the boot pull by the armoire. Bradford closed the door under Frederick’s accusing stare.
“What kind of lady wears a peasant’s dress?”
“What?” Bradford demanded, then wished it hadn’t come out as such a growl. Frederick was clearly hurting, though Bradford couldn’t imagine why. Hadn’t he learned, after all this time and all they’d been through, he would always be first in Bradford’s life?
Frederick tossed his boot aside and rose to stalk across the room to the dresser chest. Threads popped as he savagely yanked off his cravat in front of the mirror. He opened his shirt so hastily one pearl button popped off. Bradford stared at Frederick’s bared chest and his mouth watered. He wanted to embrace the lover he’d gone too long without, bare skin to bare skin, but Frederick was wounded. First, his injured heart had to be tended.
“Have I not made sacrifices for you?”
“Of course you have, Frederick—”
“And you could not make even a single sacrifice for me?”
Bradford guarded himself. “You know this isn’t about sacrifices.”
“It is precisely about sacrifices. But no, the minute your father beckons, you jump to attention like a well-trained dog.”
“Don’t.”
“She’s a beautiful woman.” Frederick glanced at the door, as if searching for Ilsa beyond it. “Did you taste her?”
He squared his shoulders. This was futile. Frederick’s behavior was juvenile and Bradford struggled with his anger even as he recognized the younger man felt threatened.
“Of course I ‘tasted’ her, as you so charmingly put it.” Before he even said the words he regretted them, but Frederick had provoked him, and Bradford felt it best to be honest from the very start. “She’s to fill a role, and I wanted to be certain she was acceptable.”
Frederick smirked. “So you’re off to make your little heir with her.”
Bradford lifted one shoulder. “Perhaps.”
“What does that mean?” Frederick scowled and shook his head, dismissing the question. “You couldn’t wait to discuss it with me, not even two days.”
“We have already discussed it, Frederick.” When he remained silent, Bradford forced himself to take a calming breath. “An opportunity presented itself. I took it. Isn’t that what you always say—”
“Do you love me?”
Now Bradford closed the distance between them. “How can you even ask that question? Of course I love you. If you must ask it then—”
Frederick seized him and kissed him roughly. Teeth grazed his lip painfully and even as Bradford knew the kiss was to punish, it stoked the fire that had been smoldering since seeing him come through the door in all the flair that was so wonderfully Frederick.
He tore open Bradford’s shirt and ripped it from his shoulders. His kiss turned desperate and Bradford returned it with fervor, anxious to show Frederick without words he had nothing to fear.
Frederick roamed with his hands, gliding his palms over Bradford’s chest and around his back. As wonderful as Ilsa felt under his hands when he touched her this way, her soft woman’s body could never replace Frederick’s strong one. Yet at that moment, feeling Frederick’s taut skin over hard muscle, he understood she complemented him.
Frederick suddenly broke their kiss and shoved at Bradford.
“Go away. I’m tired and I want nothing more than a hot bath.”
He’d had enough of this childish behavior. Bradford grabbed his shoulders and forced Frederick to face him when he tried to turn away. “You’ve been gone nine days, and I want nothing more than to touch you.”
Frederick hesitated, clearly torn between wanting him just the same, and wanting to pout. “Leave me alone. I don’t want you right now.” He shrugged away, but the effort was halfhearted and he stopped when Bradford took his arm.
“I think you do.” Bradford shoved him backward onto the bed.
Frederick sprawled across the mattress. He pushed onto his elbows, but otherwise made no move to rise. “Go diddle your woman.”
“Ah, Frederick, you’re so proud.” Bradford sloughed off his trousers and shoes in one fluid movement. He crawled over him, touching Frederick’s chest and dragging his hand over the bumps and ridges he loved so much. Frederick leaned up, tempting him with lips he kept just out of reach.
“You can’t have her and me both. I won’t share my bed.”
“Then I’ll send her away.” He tipped his head, satisfied when Frederick let him have the kiss. “But marry her I will.�
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His next kiss was refused.
“Someday, you’ll have to marry as well.”
Frederick slapped his hand away. “I’ve already told my father to go to the devil.”
Bradford leaned back, grabbed the tight waist of Frederick’s woolen breeches and tore them open. He was bare beneath. Taller and stronger, Bradford easily dragged them off the squirming young man. Frederick’s cock was as hard as he’d ever seen it, blush red at the tip with powerful want. His own was so hard it ached.
“You’re the son of a baron with an enviable trust.” Bradford took him by the arm and flipped him over. “Don’t let your pride destroy it. Destroy us!”
Frederick growled a complaint, but landed neatly on his knees, thighs planted wide.
“You’re mine, and I’ll never let anyone come between us.” Bradford moved between his legs, guiding his cock to readiness with a hand.
“Did you fuck her in this bed?”
Bradford entered him roughly, spearing into the tender flesh with possessiveness. Frederick cried out and grasped the carved wooden headboard. He braced himself against Bradford’s violence. His body was dry and so tight, having no preparation, but Bradford needed to exert his dominance, and he knew Frederick needed to receive it. He nudged himself deeper with short but firm thrusts, not to be satisfied until buried all the way inside.
“Our bed,” he corrected through clenched teeth. God’s breath, but Frederick was so warm, the forbidden canal so soft against his plunder. “Where you shall fuck her as well, because I decree it.”
Frederick dropped his head to the pillow, gasping out breathy cries in time with each thrust. He gripped the carved wood, pressing back to accept the invasion. Bradford held his hips, digging his fingers into the masculine flesh. The way he’d fucked Ilsa only hours before. They both felt so magnificent, yet so different, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t live without each of them.
“God, Bradford. I love you.”
“Then show me. Never refuse me.”
“I won’t.”
“Take me. All of me.” He was now buried deep, his thrusts barely moving, pushing and pulling against the flesh that gripped him. His balls grew tight.
“God yes. Harder, Bradford. Harder!”
He did, not moving so much as simply exerting a strong push and pull, but it was the delicious agony choking Frederick’s voice that drove him over the edge. He erupted, squirting slick seed deep into Frederick.
His lover’s words were now nothing but cries beautifully timed with Bradford’s hips. His motion increased until he was pulling out and plunging back in, the path now slicked with cum.
“Oh yes, oh God, yes, Bradford. Make me come.”
Frederick’s body shuddered from shoulder to hips, once, twice, before the tension in his body went limp, and Bradford immediately stilled. He withdrew gently and draped himself over Frederick’s sweaty back, hands running over trembling arms still gripping the headboard.
“We may be the Seconds,” he said, reminding him of their unique bond and the “club” name they had given themselves years ago—both of them second-born sons. “But you will always be first with me.”
Frederick twisted and collapsed on the bed. Bradford draped himself gently over him, worried by the wet trails he found on his cheeks. He swept one away with his thumb. “Never doubt my devotion to you.”
“I don’t.” He smiled bashfully. “I’m sorry if I’m intolerable sometimes.”
Bradford returned his smile. “And I’m sorry if I’m an ogre sometimes.” He pecked tiny kisses. “Did I hurt you?”
Frederick shook his head, smiling more broadly now. “Never.”
He kissed a path over Frederick’s jaw, down his throat and onto his chest. “Because I couldn’t bear it if I did.” He trailed kisses over the muscles and ridges until he found one nipple and gave it a lick. “If her presence in this house hurts you, I’ll send her away.”
Frederick sighed, but remained silent. He caressed Bradford’s hair, following his journey as he kissed and kissed and kissed until his mouth found Frederick’s waiting cock. He licked away a glistening drop of pre-cum, closing his eyes as he drew in Frederick’s magnificent flavor.
Bradford ran his tongue around the ridge of Frederick’s purpled head, and the sigh of pleasure it elicited was like music to his ears. As much as he enjoyed disciplining his young lover, he couldn’t bear it if Frederick were any less than entirely satisfied and happy.
He opened his mouth and gently drew Frederick’s cock inside, bowing his head to accept the upward thrust that pushed it deep into his throat. He shifted onto his knees, taking Frederick’s balls in one hand and working the shaft with the other. Frederick threw his arms wide, gripping fistfuls of the sheet. Bradford stroked him, cupping and squeezing, licking and sucking, until Frederick gave a choked cry. “Bradford. Now.”
The first jet of cum hit his mouth with the force of a nine-day absence finally released, and Bradford swallowed him down. He moved his hand to suck the length of Frederick’s shaft deep, until each bob of his head brought his nose to the curly patch of hair at its base. Frederick’s body trembled as he held every muscle taut, yet motionless, letting Bradford bring the pleasure. He was happy to, and finally felt himself forgiven as he swallowed the last drops. He released the spent cock and lay it down on Frederick’s abdomen as gently as a wounded baby bird. He then collapsed across the mattress beside him.
“Bradford. You really did miss me.”
“Of course I did, silly boy.”
Frederick turned suddenly and grabbed him, kissing deep to taste himself on Bradford. He closed his eyes and sighed. Before long, he fell asleep.
Bradford rose from the bed and picked up his shirt. Seeing the buttons torn off, he claimed another from the wardrobe. He washed himself, dressed and brushed his hair, then lightly tossed a sheet over Frederick. He would likely sleep the afternoon away and awaken later tonight. When he did, Bradford would be beside him.
* * * * *
She hadn’t meant to spy.
She’d run upstairs to explain that she wouldn’t allow herself to be the problem between them, but lost her nerve when she came to the closed door. She had no business intruding on them, even if it were only to promise herself away.
Ilsa then went into her bedroom and saw the adjoining door was also closed. The sound of their raised voices brought her across the room to lean against the door. It was the large, old-style keyhole letting their voices through. She heard the younger say, “She’s a beautiful woman,” yet his next words were muffled. She knelt down to place her ear next to the keyhole, but realized quite by accident, through its wide hole she could see the entire room.
“Of course I tasted her,” Bradford responded loudly, squashing any hope what the younger—Frederick—had said was actually a compliment. “I had to see that she was acceptable.”
Acceptable. She glanced down, a sore spot in her throat. She’d already decided she couldn’t stay here, that Bradford as Prince Charming was a fantasy already dissipated in a wisp of smoke. Yet still the words hurt.
She glanced up to see Frederick rip open Bradford’s shirt and the men press their bodies together, and her heart leapt into her throat.
They looked so beautiful together. As she witnessed another passionate kiss, her secrecy prevented any embarrassment. She indulged in the forbidden delicacy of it, wildly intrigued and aroused.
She almost wished she were a man. And why not? Perhaps men had to go to battle, but they were rewarded well for it. They had a vote in politics. They could possess wealth and property. Their voices were heard, respected. If she were a man, she’d be a man who preferred men, like them.
Of course changing into a man was impossible, and she could not deny a second-best fantasy would be to have these two protecting her. Bradford already proved he was a kind man and a gentle lover.
But the brazen younger man—Frederick—looked dangerous. There was wildness about his youth, an
impetuousness in him that could prove treacherous. She suppressed a shudder as her mind went back to that horrible night…
Ilsa peered through the keyhole again to see Bradford throw the younger man onto the bed with effortless strength. She covered her mouth with a hand. Though he’d chosen to be gentle with her, she must never doubt his capacity for violence.
She heard Bradford say he would send her away, yet still intended to marry her. Her gaze drifted away for a moment as she contemplated this, unsure of how it made her feel, then snapped back to the keyhole again when she realized he was tearing the breeches directly off the younger man. Frederick appeared to be resisting, though even to her eyes it was obvious he was pretending.
Bradford flipped Frederick over, took his manhood in hand and guided himself to readiness.
Ilsa drew in a deep breath and smothered a gasp when Bradford thrust savagely into the young man, almost exactly the way he did to her last night.
She heard Frederick cry out, heard the bed squeaking, heard flesh slapping against flesh. Yet she did not hear a voiced refusal. She wondered if the enjoyment was the same for the young man as it had been for her. For that matter, if the enjoyment was the same, or more, for Bradford.
Warmth spread through her limbs and her pussy burned. It was so unnatural, so forbidden, so deliciously wicked…so beautiful.
Bradford gripped Frederick by the hips, pounding ferociously with his own, grunting out his pleasure from the sheer, physical power of it. Frederick braced himself on the headboard and pushed himself back to receive each divinely violent blow. At first, they seemed to rock together, but then as each man’s passion mounted, their bodies moved farther apart before slamming together again until Bradford fully disengaged from Frederick’s body and stabbed back inside with each ferocious thrust.
Her heart pounded and her breath grew thin. Frederick begged for more, Bradford obliged. Across the room they were in profile and she saw everything.
When they finally collapsed together on the bed, Ilsa could not make out their softly spoken words, but the sight of them together became even more beautiful for their intimacy.
Saving Lady Ilsa Page 4