Bound with Passion

by Megan Mulry

  “They’re quite lovely, aren’t they?” Khalid whispered with a tender pride. “I do not understand your confining infidel ways. If you love, and provide for the people you love, what is the sin in loving two or more people at once?”

  Trevor shook his head. “I do not believe it is a sin.” He glanced at James and smiled. James nodded once and turned his attention back to the women, as did Trevor.

  Georgie looked awkward and out of place in her dusty riding habit. She wasn’t far from where Trevor and the men sat on the large daybeds behind the screen, but the combination of burbling water and rustling leaves concealed any noise they might make.

  Trevor could tell Georgie was exquisitely vulnerable; he felt his body respond in kind, with every touch and breath of hers. When Khalid’s younger wife, Oni, unbuttoned Georgie’s fitted jacket, slid it off her body, and then removed her shirt to reveal her rigid corset, Trevor gasped when Georgie did.

  How James had ever conjured up this vision of a gentle, sensual seduction, how he knew it was exactly what Georgie needed to finally embrace her entire self, to strike down the walls she had constructed over a lifetime of willful secrecy and self-doubt, Trevor didn’t know, but he would be forever grateful. By allowing these women to glorify her body in its most natural state, Trevor was beginning to believe that Georgie would finally come to see herself in much the same way as he already did: whole. And not just physically whole, but emotionally whole. Complete.

  Ever since they were children together, Georgie had never lacked confidence, but all the confidence in the world meant nothing if Georgie was unable to love all the parts of who she was. Trevor’s heart clenched when he realized what it must be costing her to finally submit to the most fundamental tenderness—and it was an incredible defeat to witness.

  Georgie was beginning to lose all of her bearings, while at the same time experiencing a heightened sense of where she was and what she was feeling—a heightened sense of who she was. Oni’s hands were like silky ropes that coiled around her, soothing her and tempering her as she removed her clothes. Simultaneously, a piercing sexual awareness throbbed at the apex of her thighs, in her heavy breasts, low in her belly, in the tips of her fingers, on her lips, along her spine.

  It wasn’t a sexual attraction to Oni or Ansi, necessarily, but an awakening within herself, a slow, physical arousal that proved in the most elemental way that tenderness and passion, love and lust could all coexist within her. Oni and Ansi’s ministrations communicated without speaking: one did not need to be hard to be strong; one did not need to be alone to be free.

  The sweet gentleness of it all was akin to madness—the soft tracery of Ansi’s fingers trailing up her arms and the warmth of Oni’s breath at her ear as she spoke soft poetry in Arabic, lulling Georgie into the magic of her own physical and spiritual existence. She saw evening stars above her and smelled beautiful oils, and her skin began to spark and tingle all over.

  Georgie started to tremble and her body overtook her mind. She somehow sensed that Trevor and James were close by, watching her protectively from behind those shadowy leaves or one of the mysterious perforated walls. She felt terrified and safe. For the first time in her life, she was absolutely willing to accept whatever came.

  Perhaps she was even willing to accept herself.

  Trevor felt it in his spine when Georgie began to tremble. Ansi was comforting her, stroking her arms and neck with soft passes, saying gentle words in Arabic, which Trevor could not understand. Oni was now kneeling on the tile floor, removing George’s riding boots, one and then the other. After she set them aside, Oni rose on her knees and undid the buttons of Georgie’s riding breeches.

  While Oni worked on the trousers, Ansi began to remove Georgie’s corset. Every layer of clothing was another layer of protection that left Georgie looking desperately exposed.

  Georgie cried out when Ansi had finished with the corset and released her full breasts. Letting her lips trail after her fingertips, Ansi finally took one of Georgie’s nipples into her mouth. Trevor had never seen anything so excruciatingly gentle. And oh God, how he felt for Georgie. How she must crave the whip or cane to save her from that slow, honeyed torture.

  He remembered his own introduction to that kind of tender anguish. When he’d first fallen in love with James, he remembered how desperately he had wanted to slam into James, or to be crashed into by him. Over time, James had taught him what these women were teaching Georgie: that tenderness and intimacy were sometimes far more powerful than even the most violent intercourse.

  Ansi finished with the left breast, kissing it gently, swirling her tongue sweetly, never biting or tugging, then did the same to Georgie’s other breast. All the while her fingertips stroked Georgie with delicate, feathery passes. Oni left the room for a few minutes and returned with a tray that held an earthenware basin, several sea sponges, and a selection of colorful glass vials.

  Leading Georgie over to a large stone table that was right in front of where the men were sitting, Ansi guided Georgie into place. She set her down so Georgie lay on her back. Trevor could hear James’s breath had also hitched.

  In that position, she was exactly like every vestal virgin on every pagan altar in every ancient rite. Her chest rose and fell as if she were in the midst of a great battle. Tears streamed down her face, disappearing into her short blonde hair.

  Ansi smoothed her hands all over Georgie’s body with ample amounts of a scented oil. She palmed her legs, massaged her hips, caressed her breasts, and tenderly leaned down near her face to kiss her lightly on the lips. George’s cry rose from somewhere deep and desperate inside her. Her hips jerked up, her body so blatantly certain about what it wanted, and her mind still far behind, crying and confused.

  Then Oni dipped a sponge into the basin and began the ceremonial bath. The scent of lavender and myrrh and other fragrances Trevor didn’t recognize began to waft through the room. Slowly and methodically, the two women dipped the sponges in the warm, scented water and cleansed every inch of Georgie’s body. From her fingertips, along the strong, lean muscles of her arms, then lifting her arms to let the water and the smooth texture of the sponge trail across the sensitive skin under her arms.

  The slab of marble where she lay was long and wide, smooth from many centuries of use. Even with her hands extended above her head, the table still had ample room for Georgie’s long frame. The two Egyptian women continued to wash her, singing a low and beautiful melody, sultry and sensual.

  By this point, Georgie’s sobbing had reached a higher pitch. Her hips were rocking in a desperate imitation of lovemaking, and Trevor leaned forward to get up from his seat and go to her. He couldn’t bear it any longer.

  Before he could stand, James and Khalid each placed one strong hand on either of his shoulders.

  “Not yet,” James whispered. “Wait for her to call out for you.”

  Khalid let go of Trevor’s shoulder, but James pulled Trevor’s face to his and kissed him with deep, passionate thrusts of his tongue. Trevor moaned into the kiss and heard an echoing moan through the grillwork that separated him from Georgie. They were connected even now—she must feel it.

  She must know that he was there watching her—on some deep, primitive level, she must know.

  James finally released his face after leaning in for one last, quick kiss. James stared into his eyes, silently checking to make sure he was well. He nodded. James smiled and released him. When Trevor turned his attention back to Georgie, she was writhing and twisting in desperate pleasure.

  When they had finished bathing Georgie, Ansi set down her sponge and picked up one of the vials. She removed the glass stopper and smelled the contents, then smiled and tipped a bit of the oil onto her fingertip. The fragrance obviously evoked some happy memory, as Ansi’s eyes drifted closed when she brought her fingertip to her own sex. Khalid exhaled as well, obviously recalling the same shared experience.

  Ansi held the vial near Georgie’s nose to get her attention.
Georgie’s eyes flew open and her back arched. Her head began to swing from side to side. Whatever Ansi was whispering to her had cast some sort of invisible spell upon Georgie. The way her wrists and ankles remained against the wet marble, it looked as though invisible shackles were pinning them to the surface. In truth, Georgie was perfectly free to get up and walk away any moment she chose.

  Georgie’s cry pierced the evening air. The sun had set, and Trevor could see the early evening stars beginning to fill the sky above this magical place, this place where Georgie would finally release all of the knots and snares with which she had hindered herself her entire life.

  James held on to Trevor’s hand, both to anchor himself to the moment and to prevent Trevor from crashing through the thin, delicately carved wooden screen that separated them from the woman they loved. Georgie’s suffering was exquisite. James had never realized he could find so much pleasure in someone else’s pain—to actually feel joy while this beautiful creature writhed and struggled only a few feet away.

  “What is the oil?” James asked in a low whisper.

  “It’s a very powerful camphor —” Khalid’s quiet explanation about its highly arousing effect was interrupted by another shriek from Georgie. Ansi had traced the oil around Georgie’s nipples and lips and had then passed the maroon glass vial to Oni, who waited for Ansi’s signal to apply it to Georgie’s pussy.

  “No!” Georgie cried.

  Ansi smiled and spoke in soothing Arabic.

  “She’s asking Georgie to confess,” Khalid translated softly, “to declare her love for you.”

  James watched as Georgie fought it, as she fought those invisible restraints at her wrists and her ankles, as she fought a lifetime of repressing her own complex desires, of trying to parse them instead of weave them together.

  Ansi continued speaking to her in that soothing, persistent way.

  “No!” Georgie cried out again.

  “Now,” Khalid whispered, “Ansi is telling her she will never be free until she is free of her stubbornness.”

  Babbling in rapid Arabic, Georgie was obviously pleading with Ansi, trying to negotiate some way out of her fate. Ansi merely shook her head and smiled at Georgie, then looked down toward Oni and motioned for her to proceed.

  Georgie’s wail sounded like some ancient cry, a desperate plea to the vacant, soulless universe. James watched her back arch and her neck tense, her fists ball above her head, her arms and legs stretching tight. She held on like that as Oni continued applying the devilish oil, and James watched, proud, as Georgie rode wave after wave of pain and pleasure, her face beginning to take on an almost trancelike quality.

  James now recognized the word that Ansi was repeating over and over. Confess confess confess.

  When Oni was satisfied with the amount of oil she had applied to Georgie’s sex, she handed the glass vial back to Ansi without taking her attention away from Georgie’s swollen pussy. The beautiful young woman smiled as she leaned in and let her tongue pass gently over Georgie’s clit.

  The dam broke.

  “Trevor! James! Bahebbuku!”

  “She says she loves you,” Khalid whispered.

  Georgie’s body was rigid with pleasure—her hands flexing open, her breasts heavy and full, her thighs quivering—unable to hold back her crushing release. Oni worked her mouth against Georgie’s pussy with an endless sweep of those tender kisses and licks, driving her higher and higher toward ecstasy until she exploded with it.

  Ansi leaned down and kissed Georgie on the lips. James would never forget that kiss: Georgie starving, desperate for it, for that connection to humanity she had denied herself for so long. Eventually, Ansi pulled away slowly from the kiss, caressing Georgie’s forehead and smoothing her hair away from her face. Georgie’s eyes were glassy and beautiful, glowing in the starlight as James watched the tension in her body subside.

  Oni finished licking Georgie’s pussy, and then she too moved to the top end of the table. She stood across from Ansi, also smoothing George’s neck and shoulders to help her calm.

  Khalid spoke softly, jarring James from his complete absorption with Georgie and her explosive release. “I believe I’m going to take my wives to my private chamber now,” Khalid said. “I will leave you both to enjoy the baths at your leisure with your wife.” Khalid imitated a trilling bird song, and his wives looked at one another and smiled.

  Georgie was far from having recovered her faculties and barely noticed when the two women helped her move—groggy and dreamlike—over to one of the satin beds alongside the far wall. They pulled a silk sheet over her, and each of them kissed her on the lips.

  James watched the women turn to leave, and then he and Trevor got up to follow Khalid. His wives had already passed through another door when Khalid opened a secret door in the carved grillwork screen. He gestured for James and Trevor to enter the baths and smiled, but he did not join them. “Enjoy.”

  Khalid pulled the door shut behind them, and Trevor and James began removing their clothes immediately. Once they were undressed—both of them hard and eager to be with Georgie and one another—they crossed the stone floor and approached the daybed where she lay.

  Georgie’s face was blissful. Without turning to see them, she said, “James and Trevor?” The words came out on a sigh of relief as she rolled to face them. “Is it really you?” Her beautiful amber eyes fluttered slightly, but her words were surprisingly clear. “I wanted you so desperately. Could you hear me? You were all I wanted.” Her voice was dreamy and far away, but no less honest for it.

  “We heard you, love,” James said, reaching out to touch the edge of her lips. She grabbed his hand and began kissing the tip of each finger, then his palm and his wrist.

  “And you came for me . . . ” Her voice was filled with blessed gratitude. No more questioning or skepticism of the joy which had fallen in her path, thought James.

  “We will always come for you, Georgie.” Trevor’s voice was thick with emotion. “Please say you will stay with us, really stay.”

  She moved onto her side to make room for both men on the wide bed. Trevor climbed over her and stretched out against her back, with the pillows against the wall behind him. James faced her, naked and aroused. All three of them were pressed against each other, melding into one another.

  “We don’t want to imprison you, Georgie. We want to love you.” James leaned in and kissed her lips. Trevor’s fingers were there, touching both James and Georgie. “Can you see that now? Can you feel it?”

  Her eyes gleamed, and a few tears had left streaks down her cheek. “I can feel it now,” she whispered on a choked breath. “I can feel everything. I can feel how much I love you. Can you feel it?” She twisted to face Trevor, to include him in her declaration. “I love you. I believe we have always loved each other.”

  Trevor kissed her temple. “Yes, my love, I believe we always have. And you will return to England with us?”

  “I will go wherever you are,” she whispered, as if in awe of her own words. “It all feels so obvious now, doesn’t it?” She looked back at James with wide, curious eyes. “So obvious how much I love you?”

  “Yes, love. It seems very obvious now,” James agreed, kissing the turn of her cheek and the edge of her jaw.

  “But I hope we will return to this place as well.” She stretched and reached behind her to rest her hand at the back of Trevor’s neck. “Don’t you, darling?” She turned her head slightly so Trevor could see she was addressing him. “Don’t you want to return to this magical place that freed me, freed my soul?” She kissed Trevor, then turned and kissed James again, while her hips pushed back against Trevor with burgeoning need.

  “Yes, my love,” Trevor whispered close to her ear, where James could also hear. “We will always come back to visit the wonderful place that finally set you free. We will go anywhere we please. Together.”

  September 1811

  Mayfield House, Derbyshire

  Georgiana, Lady Mayson sto
od in the dim corridor and tried to catch her breath. She’d been in any number of scrapes over the course of the past year—contending with an unexpected marriage that landed her not one, but two husbands; falling in love against her will, against her reason, and even against her character.

  She smiled and took another deep breath, forcing herself to calm after running from the main house. If she had survived the wicked sorcery of Khalid’s two wives, she could certainly handle a bit of intimacy between the two beasts in the room behind her.

  She pushed open the stable door and saw Cyrus and Bathsheba rearing back and preparing to attack each other in the wide central section of the building.

  “That is quite enough!” Georgie called out. Her voice settled them down somewhat, but they both stamped their feet and laid their ears back as flat as they could to show the extent of their displeasure. “I see you,” Georgie added more calmly.

  Three grooms were hovering near the far wall, obviously terrified of the large, unpredictable Arabian horses. Bathsheba’s eyes went wide and white, and Georgie watched in amazement as the mare’s stomach rolled and turned, as if an earthquake were preparing to take place inside her huge belly.

  “We cannot wait any longer for Lord Mayson’s return,” Georgie explained. “You there.” She pointed at the new youngster who’d just started working at Mayfield. “Go find Mr. Rushford—I believe he’s down at the Sackett cottage—and tell him the foal is about to come and I’ll need his help.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” The boy sidled past Bathsheba and Cyrus, then broke into a fast run when he was clear of them.

  “What’s to be done about Cyrus, Lady Mayson?” the head groom asked. “None of us can even touch him without a ruckus.”

  She turned to look at the big brute. He lifted his long black head and stared down at her, as if to say he would not be doing her bidding anytime soon. He only answered to one master now, and that was Trevor. “I know, I know,” she said to him in a soothing tone, slipping him a bit of apple she’d pilfered from the pie Mrs. Daley was making in the kitchen. “He’s coming back soon. We all miss him.”