ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories)

by Hawke, Jessa

  “I- I will not submit myself to this interrogation!” The man stuttered, backing away from them. Initially, he moved with fair agility until he remembered his leg, and then proceeded to wince. “This is an ambush!”

  “Your war record indicates you wouldn’t know what an ambush was, or any other maneuver.” George mocked, walking slowly towards him. “But you will, I’m quite certain, learn a great deal more about service. I’ve had a word with your commanders, letting them know you are eager for action. They have been most agreeable in making certain you return to your duties abroad immediately, this time in Burma.”

  “Burma?” The man blanched.

  “Yes. I am given to understand you’ll be working in rather hazardous conditions. I wish you well of it. Now leave while you still can.” He demanded.

  Howard looked over to Charlotte, who rolled her eyes. “Well, don’t let me keep you.” She suggested. “You probably have a day or two to try to swindle some other hapless girl. If it’s any consolation, my family are penniless.”

  The man scowled and hobbled away, to the laughter of all three onlookers.

  “Well played, your grace, well played.” The doctor said, enthusiastically shaking the man’s hand. “I think he turned white as a sheet!”

  “I believe all credit is due to Miss Charlotte, doctor.” He said in return. “It was my idea to pack him off, but hers to ‘ambush’ the man, as he put it.”

  “He hunts women in the public eye, I thought it only right to see to it that he be hung up by his heels in public. I am grateful that you were both here to observe and support.”

  “Glad to do it, glad to do it.” The doctor confirmed. “I really must be off. My patients mustn’t be left waiting!”

  Once he had parted from them, the Duke looked to the ground uncomfortably. “I suppose I should go as well. May I accompany you home?” He offered.

  “Actually,” Charlotte said, standing close to him. “I could do with some shaved ice. It is a hot day and I wouldn’t mind the company of a more decent human being.”

  He gladly offered her his arm and she took it. “Mistress Charlotte, it would be a pleasure.”

  “But you must call must just Charlotte.”

  “Just Charlotte? If you insist. And no ‘your grace’ with me, please.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, George.”

  *****

  Summer passed, and by the fall visits between George and Charlotte became frequent and the talk of the town. It was widely expected by many, excepting Charlotte, that he would soon propose to her. It was the natural way of things, and as was common knowledge to all, courtship must fail or succeed, and success lead to marriage.

  What was not so well known was how Charlotte felt about such matters.

  It was during a row on the River Avon, that they tried once again to broach the subject of marriage.

  “Charlotte,” He said as she lay in the boat, her hand trailing in the water as they floated along. “I must speak to you once more about my heart’s desire.”

  “Marriage. I know this song too well, George Mandeville.”

  “I know. You love me, but don’t wish to marry just yet. But when?”

  She looked sad. “I don’t know. You have my heart, you know you do. But to rule over me as a husband does-”

  “I would never do that.” He said. “I view you as a partner, a woman to share my life with. An equal. I know that is not the way most see marriage, but I view it as you do. We’ve discussed this.”

  “How can I be certain?”

  He took her hands in his. “Trust me, dear Charlotte. I will give you cause to regret it. Spend your days with me and we’ll do as you will. I am utterly lost without you, and each day I go home, I find it empty and drab.”

  She considered his proposal seriously. “You would not object if I read? Often, and in great quantities?”

  “I would expect nothing less.”

  “And my friend Frances, she could visit as often as I pleased?”

  He nodded. “Without so much as a moment’s notice.”

  She leaned in and closing her eyes tightly, slowly shook her head. “Ask me.” She whispered so quietly she almost couldn’t be heard.

  “What?”

  “Ask me. Ask quickly, before I change my mind.”

  He cleared his throat, unprepared. “I haven’t a ring, but- I- Charlotte, will you marry me?”

  “Yes.” Then throwing her arms around him with such excitement that they almost overturned the boat, she cried out again, “Yes!”

  ###

  Charlotte felt uncertain looking at the bed. Her wedding day had been a day of supreme excitement and joy. Everything within her was alight with the certainty that she had married the right man, a man who loved her. There had been a great deal of time to get to know one another, to determine if they shared the same interests and outlook on life. Yet, she felt a degree of worry.

  “I have something to confess, dear.” George told her with a smile.

  Oh oh. This couldn’t possibly anything good. “Yes, dear?”

  “Men, at my age are expected to have some experience in these matters. I will tell you in all honesty, this is a new undertaking for me.”

  She was surprised to hear that indeed. The Duke, in his college years, had been rumored to be a ladies man prior to inheriting his current responsibilities.

  “I shouldn’t worry. We’ll figure things out together.” She laughed nervously.

  He put his hands to her cheeks, holding her and gazing into her eyes. “You don’t have to do this tonight, you know. Another night is fine, if you feel any pressure-”

  She silenced him with a kiss, tentative at first, then urgently. Charlotte and George helped one another out of their wedding clothing until they were nearly naked. At the last moment, she felt her nerves betraying her and she almost made him turn around. Desire won out. They slowly began to remove one another’s clothing until they stood naked before each other. She found curiosity overcame her fears and he caressed her. The touch of his skin against hers drove feelings she’d never experienced with a man, and she wanted more.

  Charlotte let him recline her onto the bed. As they kissed, he started to enter her, but involuntarily winced. He saw it.

  “Are you okay? Is all well?”

  “I think… I think I need some time still.”

  “I see. Of course! Whatever you need.” He sounded disappointed as he withdrew.

  “Well- don’t stop entirely. I mean I need a little more time before you… do that precisely.”

  “How so?”

  She thought about it and smiled in response. Deciding to lead by example, she reached down and took him in her hand, pulling and stroking his shaft. He answered by kissing her hard on the mouth and slowly running his hand along her outer lips. As they touched, he felt her growing wetter.

  “Should we try again?” He whispered. “When you’re certain.”

  “One more thing.” Charlotte guided his head to her breasts, where he began to kiss and gently suck her nipples. She found herself feeling equally more relaxed and uninhibited as their love-making progressed.

  When she felt ready, she put his rod where she wanted him and they met again. Though they had to move slowly, they steadily began to rise in excitement and pleasure. As she felt her enjoyment peak, she looked into his eyes. For a moment they connected, then both gave in to release.

  Her nervousness now a forgotten thing of the past, they lay naked beneath the covers afterwards, holding each other. She wrapped herself around his side, stroking his chest, as he kept an arm around her shoulder and caressed her cheek.

  “I did not think to find love. Not real, true love such as this.” Charlotte mused. “I was certain I would be a lonely spinster.”

  “You? I could never imagine so horrible a fate.” He chuckled.

  “Being alone is not so bad. I think it is character-building.” She said. “One has a chance to know oneself and what one wants. I don’t kno
w… I feared I might eventually have to marry solely for security and companionship.”

  “I hope to give you both.” He noted.

  “That is welcome, but love is what I most want. You will always love, won’t you?”

  “That is a promise I shall keep.” He assured her with a kiss.

  *****

  “Adam, George, and Clara!” The young woman on the lawn was calling out to three little children, all of whom were running around with complete abandon. “Lunch will be served, and you really must clean up now.”

  “Just a little longer, please?” The girl pleaded. The woman shook her head firmly, and he and the others grudgingly gave up their play.

  “Clara you are the eldest. Set a good example for the twins.” The woman suggested with a smile. She kissed each child as they climbed up the stairs to the wide porch. “We are guests of your grandparents and I expect good behavior.”

  “Yes, mother.” Each chimed.

  As the children went into the grand old country estate house, a young man with a well-trimmed blond mustache and whiskers stepped out onto the porch. “Matilda, there you are. The servants told me you’d be here.”

  “Bringing in the children, Bernard. How’s mother?”

  He pet her hand. “The physicians in this part of the country are quite excellent. You needn’t have married a doctor yourself to be assured of your mother’s health.”

  “I know. Mother has always had a warm place in her heart for medical men, though, and I suppose it has rubbed off upon me. You do think she’s well?”

  He nodded, with as much reassurance as his training could muster. “Come see for yourself! For a woman of 65 to be in such robust health is a wonder indeed. And your father… that I should live to be 70 and be so hale!”

  “We are a long-lived family.” She admitted. “Let’s go in.”

  They found Charlotte and George Mandeville, the Duke and Duchess of Dorset, in the library. The older couple set down their books as their daughter and son-in-lawn entered, George getting on his feet to hug Matilda. “How wonderful to see you!” He proclaimed. “Your mother was just consulting with this London physician of yours and as you can see, she is perfectly fine.”

  Charlotte was reclining on a comfortable couch, but sat up to demonstrate she was no invalid. Dressed elegantly and perhaps a touch behind the emerging fashions of the 1860’s, she retained her beauty with what, to her daughter, appeared to be an effortlessness she must hav been born with.

  “I’m perfectly fine.” Charlotte repeated, despite a small cough. “My heart was never better. Unlike poor Frances’.” She gave a sad shake of her head, looking at the book she’d set down. “Poor thing. This was her final publication. I shall miss reading her works.”

  “Perhaps you should take up the pen, mother?” Matilda suggested, but Charlotte waved the suggestion away.

  “No, no. Better to consume than to produce. I fear I’d be a dreadful novelist.”

  “But you’ve seen so much of the world!” Matilda reminded her mother, taking a seat beside her. The men claimed seats as well, listening in. “Egypt, Rome, Brazil, Zanzibar, Australia…”

  “Yes, we did see much.” Charlotte admitted, recalling her lifetime of travels with George. “We never made it to China, though. I would have liked to have seen Beijing.”

  “I can’t imagine the things you’ve lived through.” Matilda prodded. “How I would love to read your accounts from your imagination.”

  Charlotte rubbed her chin, thinking about it. “It does seem a pity that with Frances’ passing there’s no one left to write my favorite style of novel. Perhaps it is my charge to carry on the torch. But would you mind dear?”

  George shook his head. “Not at all! I think it would be splendid. And you really shouldn’t even be asking me. Do as pleases you, my dear, as always.”

  She smiled, seemingly satisfied with her decision. “Than I shall. It will aggravate Catherine to no end, as she is the only family left that it might scandalize.”

  Matilda chuckled over the image of her overweight Aunt Catherine huffing in indignance at learning her sister was an author. “That it may well do.” She conceded, knowing it would strengthen her mother’s resolve.

  “As your doctor, I recommend it.” Bernard agreed.

  “Then it’s settled.” Charlotte pronounced. “I’ll write a story set in Zanzibar, I believe. A romance, or a mystery. Or perhaps both. Such a tale could be invigorating to write.”

  The matter decided, the four adults went to the dining room. George helped his wife to get there, and though she insisted she was fine, she didn’t object too greatly. It was clear the couple were still affectionate, even after 40 years of marriage.

  The children were already seated at the table, and Charlotte exclaimed when she saw them. “My darlings! Look at how well behaved you all are.” The moment they spied her, they leapt from their seats and rushed to hug her, immediately giving up their attempts at politeness. No one chastised them.

  When they were all seated, soup was brought out and served to all. Over the meal, Charlotte looked out at the faces of her loved ones. She could scarcely believe her good fortune. If her health was flicking- not fading, but giving the first few warning signs of advancing age- she had been blessed with nothing but happiness and contentment.

  “So few others are as fortunate.” She murmured, and her husband looked up, overhearing her talking to herself.

  “What was that?”

  Charlotte reached across the table to hold his hand. “I was just recalling how fortunate I am to have all of you here around me. Our lives are so short and at times, painful. But if we are able to find love and good family, it does make living so much more worthwhile.”

  “Amen to that, Mother.” Matilda agreed.

  *****

  Alone at last, Charlotte reached for her first piece of paper and set it before her. The blank white sheet stared up at her, frustrating her creativity. She’d been a life-long lover of literature, but had so rarely experienced the art from this side of the effort.

  “Well,” she sighed, smiling at the idea she had in mind for her first novel. “Here we go.”

  THE END

  The Duke’s Possession

  “Oh Margaret, how can I marry him?” Ania asked. “I’d just die!”

  The duchess-to-to be sat with her slender hands in her lap and wrung them together in worry. A fine crinkle of lines marred her otherwise porcelain forehead and her voice had raised several pitches. Her honey-haired sister sat beside her on the brocade loveseat in the sitting room, rubbing a hand along her back, an honest, if pitiful attempt at soothing.

  “Maybe Nicholas is not as bad as you think he is,” Margaret said, concern creasing her voice.

  Nicholas Connols was in fact, at that very moment, parting a delectable blonde’s nether regions expertly with his tongue. The girl squealed beneath his practiced ministrations and bucked her lovely young hips up to the sky, urging him to lap faster. As he felt her legs close around his head and the softness parting at the touch of his mouth, he made a mental note to leave the madam an extra-large tip for the girl; she truly was a find in this particular house, which had long been one of Nicholas’s favorites. Usually, he took two or three girls at once, since it had become a more frequent occurrence that he found himself a trifle bored with the ladies offered, but this particular little dish was promised to be particularly responsive, and she had lived up to the hype and had surpassed it. As he drank in the gasps from her mouth and she shuddered into his, he felt that unpleasant old restlessness creep deep into his bones. The girl sat up, a wave of golden hair curling down her back and wrapped herself in the bed sheet, looking over her shoulder in a practiced maneuver. He leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder, not because he was particularly enjoying the simpering little look she was giving him, but rather because he valued her time and her skills in the bedroom. Her eyes widened with surprise as she accepted the kiss, and for a moment, Nicholas thought he
felt a moment of tenderness, which was quickly replaced as the girl’s skilled hands began to inch up his thigh, showing her to be every inch the professional she was. He sighed deeply in his throat and succumbed listlessly to her ministrations, diving under the cover with the blonde even as he dove headfirst into a familiar old boredom.

  “They say that he visits the Gelded Pigeon at least three times a week and has several regulars there,” Ania grouched, biting her lip. “Oh, why couldn’t he have been the one who was denounced, rather than Brent?”

  “Because Lady Connols’ dalliance happened before Brent’s birthday and not Nicholas’s,” answered Margaret, rather impishly, Ania thought. She was referring to Ania’s old betrothed, of course, Brent Connols, who had recently been denounced as Duke Connols, heir to the Connols fortune. It had turned out, rather sordidly, that Lord Connols’ wife had engaged in some rather indiscreet relations with a visiting member of the Foreign Service and that Brent Connols was not the legitimate heir of his supposed father’s estate. A fact that had only recently come out to his bride-to-be, Ania Cromwell.