by Demelza Hart
She was coming. Surprisingly softly at first, her orgasm then hurtled to assert itself with stupendous determination. Her eyes blinded and her body was released from its grounding. She was coming so completely she had lost herself. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her jaw dropped open as a groan rose from her.
Frederick continued to eke her pleasure out with sucks and licks for as long as he felt her craving more. With skilful awareness, Edward then moved in to release her nipples and arms and she fell into his arms, a quivering, sated mess, damp with fulfilled lust and pleasured pain.
He placed her on the bed and she lay there, eyes closed, recovering gradually. They let the clock eat away their precious time for a while, allowing her to tune back to her surroundings. When she did, she knew she was ready. They were naked before her, their two hard, hewn bodies as ready for her as she was for them—their cocks stood up, large and proud, craning towards her still-wanting body.
Edward came to lie on one side, Frederick on the other. “You want full?” murmured the valet into her ear. “We’ll give you full. Trust, Is. Do you trust me?”
“With all I am.”
“Take his cock. Lie on him and take his cock.”
Frederick was stretched out on her bed, the cock in question so firm and erect that it was practically nudging his own belly button. She let her tongue sweep along the smooth, honeyed skin of his torso from navel to sternum and threw her leg over him. She was suddenly energised again and wanting more than ever. Her insides throbbed, desperate for completion. Her backside was red and sore and brilliant in its sensation. Taking the stiff length of him in her fingers, she brought him to her soaking quim and moved to engulf him.
Frederick’s eyes shut and he sucked in a breath with sharp rapture. “Fuck! I’d forgotten what a stunning cunt you ‘ave!” As he said it his lids flew open and a flash of panic shot across his face. “I mean…you feel so amazin’…like…so tight an’…fuck! That’s amazin’, my lady.”
She threw her head back and laughed, half at his awkward apology and half at the sensational feel of his cock. “Luckily, I had not forgotten what a stunning cock you have, Frederick. Oh God, that is like nothing else.”
She closed her eyes, revelled in the stretch, and rode him as hard as her prize stallion. Bracing herself on the firm rock of his torso, she bucked and dipped and rose and pumped, milking pleasure from them both. Frederick met every rise and fall, instinctively matching her rhythm and tuning into the needs of them both.
But then her head fell back and came across the firmest, smoothest shoulder. She let herself rest in the crook of Edward’s neck as he placed himself behind her. He brought his hands around and cupped her breasts, toying once again with the nipples—gently this time, they were still red from before, but it only added to her body’s bliss.
“You ride him, my lady. You ride him deep and hard. How does the rhyme go again? Ride a cock horse to Ecstasy Cross? Somethin’ like that.”
She moaned, pacing herself, not wanting to release her pleasure too soon. Something was missing. She turned her head and was met by the delicious, searching tongue of Edward. She opened wide for him and he kissed her long and deep. He kept up his light but insistent torment of her nipple with his left hand, while he dropped his right to cajole yet more from her swollen clitoris, keeping pace with it as it slid perilously close to the thick rigid flesh she was ploughing along.
“Edward…miss you…want you too.”
He murmured soft and dark against her ripe, needy lips, “Oh, don’t you worry, my lady…you shall have me. You shall indeed.”
He pushed her down so that she was lying more fully atop Frederick. The footman’s eyes were focused on her breasts as they swayed and danced before him. He was close, she could tell, but she knew he too had been pacing himself. There was a sense of anticipation, which they all knew to respect. And, as ever, it was dictated by Edward.
Isabella felt the cold slick of a familiar substance. She tensed at first, but warm hands stroked down her back to her rump, soothing away any nerves. “Trust,” murmured the valet.
Then she felt it. Next to the already stuffed feeling wrought by Frederick’s vastness, there came more. Edward was squeezing into her arse. And, oh heaven’s angels, it was phenomenal. She stopped moving on Frederick and a stillness hung about the three of them. She held her breath and Edward took the moment to push deeper in. Having a man in her tight arse with a huge cock already nestled deep in her cunt was the most extraordinarily brilliant thing she had ever experienced.
“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Edward, unable to subdue his own amazement.
“Fuck, I can feel you gettin’ into ‘er,” slurred Frederick. “Hell, I didn’t know anything could be like this.”
“You all righ’?” Edward managed to ask Isabella.
“Yes. Oh God, yes. More.”
He obliged. With concerted gentleness, he edged his cock ever deeper into her arse. Slow and careful, he pushed until he was in as far as he could go.
Isabella was staggeringly, miraculously full. She stared straight ahead of her. Her eyes glazed then watered, not with pain but revelation. Tears pricked her but only through intense satisfaction. She was crammed, and at last she was complete.
“Move,” she implored.
She rose up and let Frederick’s huge cock ease out of her a little. When he then pushed up again an ecstatic smile broke across her face. “Oh yes!” She repeated the actions, pulling off him before rejoicing in that stupendous stretch and fill yet again. Then Edward was pulling back only to thrust harder into her again. She responded with a guttural groan of pleasure. The men worked on her together, building up their strokes and pushes and pulls until they were tuned into a sweet harmony of fucking.
And, like in the forest, Isabella soon found pleasure rising from deep within her, feeding off two cocks moving perfectly. It wouldn’t be long. She started to moan. She couldn’t help it. Sense and reason had left her. Sensation was all.
With a celebratory smack across her right arse cheek which rang out around the room, Edward urged her on. “With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes. Make music for us now, Isabella. Come, come, come on, my beautiful girl. Come hard for us, Is.”
So she did. She came so hard she would have collapsed if she wasn’t impaled on their cocks. Her eyes flew open but she saw nothing. Sound ceased, vision stopped. But she felt. She felt her body fragment and reinvent itself in an instant as pleasure held her and shook ferociously. She was wailing, keening, lost and found.
Fred came next. His cock was squeezed by the spasms of her orgasm and he let go, pumping his seed four, five times deep into her cunt as his own groans mingled with her dying wail.
Edward waited. He still moved in her, staring down as his cock pistoned in and out, so close to that of his best friend. Only after their pleasure had at last faded did he allow himself his own. He gripped the twin peaches of her arse and came slowly, releasing burst upon burst of thick hot cum hard up into her in his own time, letting the waves of rapture engulf him from the tips of his dark hair to his toes. Stupendous.
They slept afterwards, all three of them, in Her Ladyship’s bed—the footman, the valet and the Countess of Atherton.
It was only at three o’clock that Edward shook Frederick awake and ushered them out, leaving Isabella sleeping in heavy, sated contentment.
Chapter Six
Edward let his news go as long as he could. He hadn’t even told Brewer or Fred. She would be the first to know. But eventually he had no choice. He almost told her as they lay in her room one night, their bodies wet with joining. But the pain was too great. Instead he asked to see her in her morning room in the cold light of day when he knew he would be sterner with himself. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and bright. He looked away.
“I’ve got a passage on board the Mauretania, sailing to New York.”
“What?”
“I’m leaving. Next we
ek. I’m going to America.”
There was silence.
“No.”
“Yes, my lady, I am.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not? I’ve had enough of that bastard. I’ve had enough of service.”
“But… What about me?”
He felt his Adam’s apple jolt along his throat. “You’re the Countess of Atherton. You have all this.”
“I don’t want all this. I want…”
“What?”
Isabella didn’t answer. Her face had drained of colour. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow pulls.
“Edward…”
He swallowed, determined. “Come with me.”
Her head darted up in alarm. “What did you say?”
“Come with me. They still have berths, I’ve heard.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not ridiculous. I’m never ridiculous.”
“I can’t. I can’t leave all this.”
“Why not?”
“Because…I have a duty.”
“Don’t give me that. Your only duty is your own happiness. You’re not happy. You’re married to a violent bully who treats you like a dog. You hate the house. You yearn for freedom as much as me, Isabella. Come with me. Come with me to America. Together we can do it all.”
“But…I can’t. You’re…”
“What? A servant? Inferior? In America none of it matters. No one’ll know who we are. We can start again. Reinvent ourselves together.”
Her eyes were damp and she shook her head, a mess of confusion. “I have to stay. I have to. But, Edward…what will I do?”
“There’s Frederick.”
Her face crumpled. “I don’t want Frederick without you. To me, he was always part of you. He’d rather have Violet than me, anyway. I’ve seen them fawning over each other.”
Edward clenched his jaw and spoke, serious and resolute. “Come away with me then, Is.”
She stood quickly then crossed to the window. “Don’t! Think of all I am. I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t? Don’t throw it away, Isabella.”
Isabella spun to him, her face twisted with rage, her words spat out with venomous desolation. “Get out! I’m glad you’re leaving! I’m glad I never have to see your face again, you miserable dog! Get out of my house!”
He stood, fists clenched, jaw working hard. “The ship sails from Southampton at eleven o’clock next Thursday, my lady.” He nodded. “It has been a great pleasure to serve you, Lady Atherton. Goodbye.”
Edward turned, leaving Isabella to slump to the floor, isolated and alone.
* * * *
Edward looked up at the great ship before him, its funnels pouring steam high into the air, billowing out across the sea like the many souls reaching and yearning for a new life.
He should be filled with the bubbling warmth of excitement, but the churning in his stomach was muted. He made his way slowly to the Third Class gangway, jostled this way and that by excitable children and people pushing past him to board the ship. He cursed them, his usual ability to subvert his temper gone.
He heard a distant clock chime a quarter to the hour. The ship sailed in fifteen minutes. He would have to embark or he’d miss his passage.
“All aboard! Calling any final passengers!”
Edward took a last look back along the quay. He did not see the face he sought. Slinging his bag over his shoulder—the bag containing all his worldly possessions—he turned his back on England and all he’d known in it and made his way up the gangway.
The steward, a grim faced man with a large handlebar moustache, took his papers.
“Edward Marham?”
“That’s the one,” he replied.
“Says here you were valet to the Earl of Atherton.”
“Tha’s right.”
“Good position. Why’d you want to leave all that behind?”
“Everyone’s entitled to a change, aren’t they?”
The steward shrugged and jerked his head over his shoulder to let him on. Edward stepped into the doorway.
“Edward!”
He spun around to the familiar voice. Running up the gangway was the Countess of Atherton. His heart leapt into his mouth.
“Edward! Wait. I’m coming! I’m coming with you.”
She raced up. He took a few stunned steps towards her, his limbs barely functioning in his delirious shock. “Isabella! Bloody hell, Is! What the hell d’ya think yer doin’?”
“Starting again, you fool, just like you said.”
The steward called sternly, “Ma’am, the ship is about to sail. We need to close up. Are you travelling with us?”
“Yes. Wait a moment, please.” She fumbled for some papers and handed them over triumphantly. Edward could not take his eyes off her. She was beaming in reflection of his elation, her face open and warm and giving, more beautiful than he had ever seen her.
“These are for First Class, ma’am. You can’t board here. But the First Class gangway will be closed now. I need to shut this one as it is.”
“Well, then I’ll come on here, of course.”
“You can’t do that, ma’am. This is Third Class.”
“Then I’ll be Third Class. Just let me on, for heaven’s sake! I’ve got my tickets!”
The steward sighed and glanced at the papers. “Very well…my lady. Now, please hurry.”
Gripping her hand tight and laughing with uncontainable joy, Edward pulled her onto the ship and raced up staircases and ladders and across decks until he reached the stern. They stared out over the rail.
“You’re mad, d’you know that? You’re bloody mad!”
“Maybe. But at least I’m with you.”
“What the hell are you doin’? Did you tell the Earl? What did he say?”
“He’s in London for a week. I left him a note.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ll be halfway across the Atlantic by the time he finds out.”
“But…it’s going to be tough, Is. I’m starting from scratch. It’s going to be hard enough for me, let alone you as well.”
“I know. But I’m with you. And you are all I want. And anyway, in the meantime…” She reached into a large bag she was carrying and pulled out a handful of necklaces and bracelets, all encrusted with diamonds, rubies and sapphires. “This may help a little.”
“You little minx. God, I love you.”
Her eyes sparked. “What did you say?”
Edward swallowed hard. “You heard me. I love you.”
She curled her arms around his neck. “Well, how desperately convenient, because it just so happens that I love you too.”
And as the ship moved away from the dock to begin its passage to America, Edward bent his head to Isabella and kissed her.
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
A Lady for Two
Nan Cormargue
Excerpt
Chapter One
At first, Lise thought it must be her husband, inexplicably home early from his intended fortnight in town. She blew a blonde curl off her forehead, straining her eyes to see through the gloom outside. The tall figure coming up the drive looked just like his, although all features and costume were lost in the growing dimness of approaching twilight. But then she saw the faint stutter in the figure’s stride and knew that it couldn’t be Charles.
Damn it, she thought, another visitor. And a rude one at that. The hour for paying social calls was long past.
Balancing her weight on her knees and only one hand, she waved the other behind her until it hit sweating male flesh.
“Finish quickly,” she commanded, pushing her fingers between her legs to help things along. He could never be trusted to think of her pussy when he was pleasuring his cock. “Someone’s coming to visit.”
The steady rhythm that was her favourite trait about her husband’s young valet was soon broken as he struggled to finish. He was like that, easily flustered, which was why they onl
y fucked when Charles was out of the house. However much she tried to lure him with a quick tumble in an empty bedchamber, he always demurred. It was one of the things she liked about him, his stiffness that bordered on rigidity in front of others, and his eager willingness to fuck her from behind in private. She enjoyed looking out of the window at the other servants going about their daily chores while he was screwing her.
She looked at her reflection in the window glass, her smooth forehead creased over her wide green eyes, as she tried to think of who the stranger could be. Unannounced visitors often meant bad news, but with a well-run household and a wealthy husband who was very careful of his own safety, she doubted it would be that today.
Whoever the stranger was, he must be shown true Hessell hospitality. Charles would expect it of her. If the stranger had come from far, she would be expected to feed him.
Supper had already been eaten. She hoped that Cook had left some of the roast chicken instead of gobbling it up herself, as she was wont to do. Charles swore that Cook ate more than the two of them combined.
Lise turned her head away from the window, not wanting whoever it was to find her hanging out of it, staring at him, the valet’s pale face sweating over her arse cheeks. Even if it had been her husband, she would not have done anything different. She had cut it close before. Fortunately, she and Charles did not have the type of marriage where she would be expected to meet him in the front hall upon his arrival. Really, she thought, no one seemed to have that sort of marriage, least of all her friends and neighbours, although the prospect of love within marriage was realised often enough in novels.
Her husband would say she read too many novels. He was a typical out of doors gentleman. He only read serious tomes on horticulture to improve his farms and occasionally a book on history to widen his mind. Aside from that, he eschewed words and indoor pursuits. At supper parties, he bored their guests to yawns with his schemes to replace his innumerable fields of barley with wheat and rye, convinced that this was a cure to the agricultural depression that had hit England since the end of the war.