DisobediencebyDesign

by Regina Kammer

  “Oh Arthur!” Sophia flung her arms around his neck, tears stinging her eyes.

  He patted her back. “We’ll get through this together.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to bed. This is your house now, Sophie. You do as you like.”

  He kissed her forehead then left her and Joseph alone.

  Joseph drew Sophia against him on the couch. “We haven’t had a proper wedding night you know,” he murmured.

  “I know.” She snuggled more deeply.

  “I think we should do something special.”

  She looked up, coyly biting her lip. “Oh? Like what we used to do?”

  What he had in mind they had never done before. “Something like it.”

  The coyness faded as a wicked gleam flashed in the green of her eyes.

  The door opened. Sophia pulled away, her abandon replaced by decorum.

  Geoffrey walked in with a heavy sigh, catching sight of them on the couch. “Sorry. I suppose Arthur’s gone upstairs.”

  “Come sit.” Joseph tapped the space between him and Sophia.

  “I’m not disturbing you?”

  “No. Tell me about Anna.”

  Geoffrey slumped on the couch. “She’s frightened. Nervous perhaps is a better word. She knows no other life.” He cast a smile at Sophia. “She’s absolutely loyal to you, Sophie.”

  “But what about you and her?” Joseph asked.

  “Ah. There is the class difference.” Geoffrey blew out a breath. “She admires the two of you but feels there’s too much risk to our business if I also upset the social order. It’s one thing for an upstart American to aspire to the ranks of privilege, quite another for a proper English servant to attempt such a move. Servants who marry up are presumed to be parvenus or fallen women. Or both.”

  Joseph wrinkled his brow. “Upstart?”

  Geoffrey casually crossed his long legs, his mouth twitching to a half-smile. “I think she used the word ‘democratic’. She’s quite astute.”

  Joseph chuckled.

  “Which means I remain a celibate man until she’s settled in her heart and mind about us. Otherwise it’s just another scion of the aristocracy abusing his misconstrued rights.” He leaned his head back against the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. “She even suggested I take a lover. Or a mistress.”

  “How scandalous!” Sophia laughed.

  “And why don’t you?” asked Joseph.

  “A mistress is far too expensive and a lover, well, the last time I had a lover she broke my heart.”

  “Oh Geoffrey!” Sophia placed a hand on his shoulder.

  He linked his fingers through hers. “Don’t worry, it’s well past.” He sighed. “Last Season. Celia Perkins, already widowed at the ripe old age of twenty-nine. She ran off with an Austrian graf twenty years her senior. I supposed she likes that sort of thing.”

  Sophia tugged at his fingers, her expression softened with concern. “What about Flora Sheffleigh?”

  “Ah, Flora. Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” He winked at her. “She’s already secretly married and I’ve been her subterfuge. Wealthy Jewish chap. Made his fortune in textiles. The plan is to run off to Paris.”

  “There is one woman you wouldn’t mind taking to your bed,” said Joseph, eying their continued intimacy.

  “Oh bollocks, don’t—”

  Sophia’s eyes widened. “Who?”

  “And now she is married, her innocence is no longer an impediment.”

  “Phillips! That was told to you in drunken confidence!” Geoffrey groaned.

  Joseph laughed. Indeed it was, the night before his wedding.

  “Oh Geoffrey, how shocking! Do tell.”

  He narrowed his eyes at Joseph. “Perhaps I should let her husband do the honors.”

  It took a second for Sophia to catch on. “What?” She tried to release her hold but Geoffrey did not let go.

  “It’s no secret, darling,” he said, stroking her palm. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. I almost had you too. There was that one night when Joseph was up at Lamberton and you and I…” He hummed a moan. “Right here on this very couch.” He let go of her to smooth the velvet upholstery.

  Sophia blushed a most exquisite shade of rose. “Joseph said I should…with you.”

  “Sometimes I regret my honorable streak.”

  “And,” Joseph said, arching an eyebrow, “whom did you think of later that night?”

  The rosy blush crimsoned. “You, love, I thought of you.”

  Geoffrey sighed. “Once again I’ve been bested.”

  “I thought of you too!” she blurted.

  Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth as the two men chortled.

  “At once, darling?” Joseph tormented. “Or one at a time?”

  The blush paled to ivory, her gaping mouth slackened then pinched shut. “More like a melding of the two of you, sometimes you, sometimes Geoffrey.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Sometimes I didn’t know who it was pleasuring me.”

  Her words shot straight to his cock. Damn, she is good. Joseph grinned.

  Geoffrey rubbed her thigh. “Thank you for including me in your fantasy, Sophie. I haven’t shared a woman since Cambridge.”

  Which was the very memory that had sparked their drunken conversation a few nights ago. Frustration in the wake of Anna’s continence had Geoffrey reminiscing about his caterwauling with Arthur during their university days.

  “I don’t think you ever kissed the bride for luck, Peel.”

  Geoffrey cast him a dubious look. “Is that an American custom?”

  “Among some of the Scandinavian settlers of New York, yes.”

  “Ah,” he said with a smirk.

  Geoffrey stood and gazed down at Sophia, a yearning hunger in his eyes, and pulled her to him. Sophia’s slight jerk of reluctance and sidelong glance at Joseph were enlivening, acknowledgment of his precedence. But Geoffrey’s commanding strength quickly eased her into submission until she relaxed in his arms, arching into his palm at her back, pressing into his hips as his other hand cupped her butt and urged her forward. She gripped his collar, holding herself steady, staring up at him. He bent over and kissed her mouth, her neck, dipping to her décolletage. She closed her eyes and exhaled a soft moan. Her cunt would be dripping wet, ready for her seducer’s cock.

  Joseph was rock hard. Another man was ravishing his wife and it was arousing as hell.

  He slid behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist. Geoffrey took the cue, relinquishing his control slightly to allow Joseph’s incursion, following his lead as Joseph crushed her skirts with his thrusting crotch.

  Shit. He was harder than he had ever been in his life. “Let’s continue this upstairs.”

  * * * * *

  One moment Sophia was kissing Geoffrey, his lusty growl reverberating all the way to the desire pooling between her legs, when the heat of her husband’s body permeated her, his respiration, heavy with arousal, filled her ears, his lips, hot and demanding, assaulted her neck. Then before she knew what was happening they were in Joseph’s bedroom, the three of them. Four hands undressed her with care and determination as excited, erratic breaths joined in synchronized rhythms.

  As she stood before him nude and willing, Geoffrey stared reverently, murmuring oaths in praise of her body, touching gingerly, as if not quite certain she was flesh. Joseph had abandoned her to Geoffrey’s lascivious need, undressing slowly on the slipper chair in the corner, watching the scene before him with as much lust in his eyes as if he were a participant, his gaze raking over not just her but Geoffrey. Tall and thin, he appeared lanky when dressed, his clothes only hiding muscles honed by his active sporting life, his endowments sized to match his height.

  Geoffrey lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently, climbing next to her and extending himself alongside. He kissed her languidly while his hand weighed a breast, then gazed intently as his finger drew spirals around the areola, exciting her nipp
le.

  “Magnificent.”

  She smiled. “You’re rather wonderful yourself.”

  He sighed. “This is simply beyond fantasy.” He bent over her and took the hardened peak into his mouth, swirling his tongue, sucking eagerly. He turned his attention to the other breast, his hand sliding over her belly to dally in the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. She closed her eyes to luxuriate in the heat of his mouth, the tickle of his questing finger.

  He returned to the other breast. Then there were two mouths.

  Sophia’s eyes flew open. Two mouths, two tongues, two pairs of lips, each sucking a yearning nipple, throaty growls of satisfaction intensifying the pleasure with vibrations. She closed her eyes again as shivers of pleasure rippled through her, coiling at her clit. A hand reached to stroke between her legs, skillfully taking her to the precipice of climax, holding her steady in agonizing ecstasy, and then freeing her to burst in glorious, wanton release.

  She cried out, bucking up. She opened her eyes to see Geoffrey licking his fingers.

  Geoffrey. He had brought her to orgasm. He had just encountered her body and was already master of it.

  He moved over her, separating her legs with his knees, positioning his prick at her entrance, slipping it through her slickness, moaning his eagerness. He glanced up at Joseph, who sat at the head of the bed, propped up by pillows, gripping his rampant cock. He nodded his assent.

  And then Geoffrey pushed inside her.

  “Oh God!” he gasped, repeating the oath as he thrust in and pulled out, groaning breathlessly when she clenched and released to his rhythm. “It’s been too long,” he murmured. “Darling Sophie, you feel so good, so very, very good.”

  Sophia cupped his face with her hands and kissed his lips tenderly, encouragingly, working her hips below. She was the master now.

  Geoffrey increased his rhythm, his eyes boring into her, glazing over, beginning the slide into joyous oblivion.

  Joseph sidled up and reached his hand between Sophia’s legs. He grabbed Geoffrey’s cock when he pulled out.

  Geoffrey yelped.

  “Switch,” Joseph commanded. “You on bottom.”

  Geoffrey eyed Joseph for a moment before smiling. “Yes.” He rolled onto his back, pulling Sophia on top to straddle him. She wriggled until his prick nestled in the slick folds of her sex.

  Joseph retrieved something from his nightstand. “Lift up, Sophie.”

  She positioned herself on her hands and knees. From behind, Joseph massaged her clit, expertly taking her to the point of luscious delirium before sliding through her slit to draw the sticky wetness to the crinkled hole of her arse.

  Oh God yes.

  She poked her butt out in invitation. One finger breached the tightness then another, moving in and out gently, slowly. He stopped for a moment only to return to his ministrations with a cool, creamy substance.

  “Cold cream,” he murmured. “Better than butter.”

  Excitement shot through her.

  “Remember to relax, love.” Joseph’s gentle words were laden with arousal. His prick nudged her behind.

  And then he pushed in, tenderly but resolutely, the pain exquisite. Sophia gasped, tried to relax. Geoffrey touched her cheek, comforting her, an expression of wonder on his face. She held his gaze as Joseph continued to work his way inside, teasing her clit with his fingers.

  Geoffrey gaped. “Christ, I could spend just watching you.”

  A sharp pinch sent her lurching forward with a clipped cry. Now fully embedded inside her, Joseph held his position as she relaxed around him. A moment later he commenced a slow, sensual rhythm.

  “Geoffrey,” he said, “it’s your turn.”

  Geoffrey grinned and grabbed his cock. “Sophie, lower yourself onto me.”

  “But Joseph is still inside me.”

  “That’s the point,” he chuckled.

  Such a notion was unbelievable. Joseph stilled as Sophia spread her legs to let Geoffrey guide himself. He pushed in with a groan, his hands gripping her waist, holding her steady.

  “My God, it’s so tight,” he breathed.

  Her head spun at the double invasion, every nerve sparked, setting off a riot of sensation, pleasure, pain, hunger, satisfaction. Her breath staggered, her heart raced as she was swept into a whirlwind of orgiastic delight. She grabbed Geoffrey’s hands at her waist and wailed in ecstasy.

  Geoffrey beamed at her, wide-eyed.

  Joseph resumed his movements, spurring Geoffrey to begin.

  Incredibly the men moved inside her at once, inciting a new wave of sensuality to rise within, goaded by Joseph’s attention to her clit and nipples. She pulsated around Geoffrey’s every stroke, her breaths puffed with the exertions of all three.

  Beneath her Geoffrey lolled on the pillow, his gaze dreamy, his hands pawing frantically at whatever part of her he could reach. Behind her Joseph moved steadily, determinedly, his ragged exhales filling her ears, his hands forgetting her as he raced to his own culmination.

  Geoffrey emitted a low, guttural grunt. “Oh God—I can’t—”

  He bucked up, piercing her to the core, emptying himself with a loud, unwavering growl. He crashed down onto the mattress, trying to catch his breath, still embedded inside her.

  Joseph drove into Sophia with more determination, lost in his own need. Geoffrey watched, his expression one of utter fascination, then held her gaze, stroking her clit resolutely, willing her to the brink. Still hard, he thrust deeper. She clenched around him forcefully, slumping forward, her body powerless to the onslaught of lust controlling her, taking her once again on a journey to sensual oblivion, racing to the end with Joseph.

  But she needed something to take her over the edge.

  She pleaded to Geoffrey with her eyes.

  He reached for a nipple, twisting it cruelly, sending a shock wave of delicious pain to meld with the pleasure below. She came with a howl, every muscle straining in orgasm, compelling Joseph to join her.

  She collapsed on top of Geoffrey, breathless.

  Joseph chuckled with relief. “That was magnificent.” He pulled free and drew her to lie alongside him. “Perhaps a somewhat unique wedding night, my wife,” he murmured, kissing her cheek.

  Geoffrey laughed. “Wonderfully unexpected and thoroughly enjoyable.” He kissed Sophia on the other cheek.

  She lay between the two men, sated and amazed, marveling at a husband who would permit such a pleasure for his wife.

  Already everything about their marriage was unique.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The drawing room at Arthur’s house droned with the grumbles and growls of more than twenty men. Wittering scurried about, making sure each had what he required—tea, coffee, something stronger—repeatedly explaining that the windows were closed on the August afternoon to maintain absolute privacy. Joseph slumped in the corner near the door, acutely aware not one man would meet his gaze and trying like hell to maintain his composure.

  Repercussions from his marriage to Sophia did not take long but were of an entirely unexpected nature. He was adamant Sophia’s reputation not be besmirched. “I’ll take the blame,” he had told Arthur and Geoffrey.

  “We’re in this together, Joseph,” Arthur reminded him. “Each and every one of us.”

  “I’m surprised it took all of three days before Thuxton sent a note requesting clarification on the matter,” Geoffrey said. “But what Royston lacks in funds he makes up for in societal connections.”

  Arthur had insisted they immediately call a meeting of current investors and invite important parties of interest. They needed to ascertain what had been said about whom and lay any and all rumors to rest.

  With a chime of his silver spoon against his porcelain teacup, Arthur called the room to order. “Gentlemen, gentlemen.” He waved his hands to suggest they take their seats. “Now it has come to my attention that there have been rumors of impropriety surrounding Harwell and Company, involving our engineer, Mr. Phillips, and
my sister.”

  “Impropriety, Petersham? Well that’s putting it mildly.” The Earl of Thuxton remained standing, his normally casual air replaced by a rectitude at odds with his personal notoriety. But vast sums of money were at stake.

  “How’s that, my lord?” Arthur asked.

  “I dare say abduction and violence on the lady’s person can hardly be called ‘impropriety’.”

  Joseph met Arthur’s gaze with a raised brow. The gossip was worse than they had imagined.

  “Can you elaborate on these rumors of abduction and violence, my lord?”

  Somehow Arthur was able to maintain his calm. Joseph just wanted to lash out at every damn one of them.

  “Does that man have to be present, Petersham?”

  Thuxton nodded in Joseph’s direction. The icy stares of a dozen men sent a chill up Joseph’s spine.

  “Since Mr. Phillips is the one accused of such crimes I think it best he hear the accusations directly, my lord.” A faint tremor had invaded Arthur’s reserve.

  “Very well.” Thuxton returned his attention to Arthur. “It is said he carried off the Lady Sophia and had his way with her.”

  The oppressive silence that followed was only slightly marred by Leonard Prescott’s cough. “As a fallen woman she was forced to marry him,” he said.

  “Rumor has it she is expecting his child,” added Harland Moseby.

  “And from whom did you hear this, gentlemen?” Arthur had regained his cool.

  “The Duke of Royston,” said Thuxton. “He claims he heard it from Lady Richmond.”

  The silence became an eerie buzzing in Joseph’s ears.

  “Royston said you and Mr. Phillips have been at odds since the death of Lady Henrietta,” Thuxton continued. “That the rape of Lady Sophia was the only way a fellow of low birth knew how to gain leverage in such a situation.”

  The buzzing swelled to a roar, drowning out the murmurs and exclamations of incredulity whirring around him.

  Geoffrey clamored for quiet in the room. “Gentlemen, please. We asked you all here so we could clear up these preposterous rumors.”

  “Preposterous, Peel? The Lady Sophia has been missing from her home for weeks.”