by S. K. Yule
“Only women named Lucy.” But his murmur became a groan as she scraped her nails down his back. He circled her neck with one hand, pushing her against the door. “You can’t begin to imagine how much I want you on your knees right now with my cock buried between your plump, warm lips. I can imagine the velvety softness of your tongue dancing over me.”
Before she could respond, he took her mouth in a demanding kiss. He nipped her bottom lip, and when she yelped, he pushed his tongue in, tangling it with her own. His taste, wonderful, wild and sinful, heated her blood to boiling. He pulled his mouth from hers and she suppressed a cry of denial.
His words vibrated low and raspy. “You taste better than you smell.” Somehow her hands had come up around his neck, and he groaned when her nails dug into his bare skin. “Punishing me?”
“No. I just liked the compliment.” His skin burned under her fingers.
“Mmm. Not a compliment, just the truth.” He nibbled on her neck some more. When her nails dug into his flesh again, he pushed his fingers into her hair and tightened them around the tendrils. He pulled back until the top of her head rested against the door behind her, and she stared up at the dark ceiling.
She moaned, and he insinuated one thigh between her legs, settled it firmly against the place aching most to be touched, and tiny electrical currents raced through her body. He took her mouth in another mind-shattering, demanding kiss and wrapped his free arm around her lower back, encouraging her to ride his thigh. The fabric of her gown rubbed against her, the pressure and motion causing delicious friction on her core.
“That’s it. Ride me.” His mouth left hers, and he rested his forehead against the door beside her. “When you come I want you to scream my name.”
“Courtenay!” she moaned softly
“Yes. Just like that. But louder.” His body pressed hot against hers.
“Please. Stop.” She couldn’t take much more. She was right at the precipice of orgasm.
He continued to urge her on as if he hadn’t heard her plea, and she yearned to ride out the building storm to its end.
“Stop!” She was surprised when she instantly found herself freed. He stepped away from her, and she nearly fell to the ground, her rubbery knees barely able to hold her up.
“Are you fucking playing with me?”
“I’m not the one who initiated this little scene.” She could barely catch her breath, and her heart thumped wildly. “I doubt I’m the one who’s playing.” He and his friends were, with their silly wager, but knowing what she did, so was she. With fire. If she wasn’t careful, this man would consume her.
If she wasn’t careful, all three of them would consume her. Each of them fascinated her in his own way, for even though Courtenay was crude, dominant, and demanding, he’d not hurt her in the slightest, and she sensed he wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t consent to. Whatever he liked to pretend, he’d proved himself a man with morals and a sense of right and wrong.
She could fall in love with him, just as she could with Weston and Talbot. Perhaps she already was a little, with all three of them. Nothing Lucy had ever been told, no novel she’d ever read, however wildly romantic, had prepared her for such a dilemma.
All the worse, since her objective was to find a husband to secure her estate. If Bernard discovered any of what she’d been up to with The Trio, he’d use it against her. He’d turn it into such a scandal no one would marry her.
“I have to go.” She opened the door and slipped out, leaving Courtenay in the library.
Chapter Eight
Lucy found many of her guests gathered at the tall windows. Joining the nearest group, she saw the moon had disappeared, but in the lights of the lanterns that had been placed along the drive for the guests’ benefit she saw branches whipping in gusts of wind, some limbs bending to nearly touch the ground. Rain slanted through the lantern light. “A storm is blowing in,” Beatrice informed her. “Where were you? The Warrens and FitzJohns looked for you to say goodbye, but said they didn’t dare delay.”
Lightning briefly showed the whole stretch of lawn and drive. The thunder came only a few seconds later. Soon the full storm would be upon them. Lucy ignored Beatrice’s curiosity. She sighed. “It looks as if my party will end much sooner than I’d hoped.”
“I hope not.” To her surprise, Beatrice’s regret sounded genuine. But even as she turned away, presumably in search of her fiancé, another of the guests approached for a hurried farewell.
Lucy had lived near the River Avon all her life and knew their alarm was justified. It was a broad river, and already high from recent rains. If the rain continued, the road to town would likely become impassable. At any rate, tomorrow’s planned activities were off, unless her guests fancied morning swimming competitions on the lawn. Keeping her sharp disappointment to a few gracious words, she bid goodbye to the guests who preferred braving the stormy night to risking the flooding that might follow.
Her disappointment deepened as one by one, her old gentlemen made their excuses and left. Lightning forked in the sky as she watched the lights of the carriages retreating, and the thunder rumbled louder.
The entire party had been for nothing.
It was well past midnight. Whatever she felt, she must put on a polite face and see to the comfort of those who were staying.
“Roberta,” she asked as the girl went by. “Between the weekend guests who left and those who only intended to stay the evening but don’t want to go out in the storm, how are we doing for room?”
“Seven rooms are made up for guests, or could be.” Moving closer, she frowned. “That won’t be enough.”
Beatrice had announced her intention to stay, as had her fiancé. Among the others who were to remain overnight, Lucy saw Lord Hayward. And, to her surprise, The Trio had not gone. She took quick stock of couples versus single people. “You’re right. We’re two rooms short.”
“Three, my lady.”
“Beatrice and Viscount Carrington are not yet married.”
Roberta’s brows drew down. “Everybody knows they already sleep together,” she muttered sullenly.
Lucy stared at her. Was Roberta jealous? Not over the ordinary Carrington, surely. At the very idea, her glance strayed to The Trio of Trouble. Compared with such magnificent male glory, Beatrice’s and Roberta’s preferences were absurd. “Where Beatrice and Carrington sleep is their own business, but we can hardly acknowledge that openly.”
“What about them?” Roberta nodded slightly toward Weston, Talbot and Courtenay.
Lucy frowned in thought. Those three signaled more danger than Roberta knew. It could mean only one thing. The bet was still on. She smiled as she realized how to keep them all at bay.
At bay, and deliciously hungry?
“Nobody invited them,” she answered. “As there’s only one room left, they’ll have to share it.”
“The bed in the green room is big, and there’s a day couch. I’ll have the maid see to the extra linens.”
Lucy nodded approval. Looking forward immensely to her next move, she strolled down the long room toward them. “Not afraid of a little lightning?” she dared them with a smile.
“We’re on horseback. You wouldn’t want us to get drenched, would you?” Talbot returned her smile, and her dare.
That depended, she thought. In rainwater, or sweat? But she answered coolly, “I wouldn’t wish for any of you to melt. A maid will show you upstairs shortly. I regret that all three of you will have to make do with one room. As you know, I ended up with a few more guests than I expected.”
All three ignored the reprimand, but all had the good grace to accept the obstacle she’d thrown in the way of their wager. Then Talbot spoiled it. “I hope the guest rooms aren’t in some remote wing of the house. I could never find my way.”
To where? Her room? If that was what each of them hoped, then the competitiveness of the other two was probably a better guard than any she could have devised. Laughing lightly,
she wished them a good night and made her way upstairs to bed.
Since Roberta was tending to the guests’ arrangements, Lucy undressed with a maid’s help, dismissed the girl, and went to the dresser. She divested herself of the last layer of undergarments, her brassiere—the latest rage, though she wondered if it would ever really replace the corset—and lacy cotton pantaloons. She stood nude in front of the mirror.
For now, she’d foiled The Trio, but she couldn’t deny her reasons. They had nothing to do with innocence or propriety. Her blood was up, and she thrilled to the game. She was still not sure how they’d done it, but those three had tapped into her darkest desires and brought them to the surface.
Was this the freedom men wanted to keep for themselves, she wondered, dizzy with the headiness of new understanding. The power to take what one wanted without fear? The courage to risk disapproving whispers, since the whisperers were only sanctimonious, or envious, and posed no real threat to one’s way of life?
Lucy sighed. If she were a widow with full control over her own fortunes, such courage would be possible. Even married to an elderly, unaware nonentity, she might achieve something close, though at the cost of deceiving some poor old codger.
Instead, none of that courage was possible. Men threatened women with consequences they would never accept themselves, then disparaged them for timidity. Here she stood alone in her room, while three tempting men were shut into another with nothing but a few yards of hallway between them. When would she ever have such a chance again, and she herself had thrown it away by setting them on guard against one another.
Unless….
She drew in a deep breath. Just how competitive were these three lords? What if she put the wager on an entirely new footing?
The chance might never come again.
“Very well, gentlemen,” she murmured. “Let’s see whose courage is really the greatest.”
From her drawer she took not her plain white, cotton nightgown, but her pale pink silk one with lace at the neckline. Its near transparency was a little naughty. The fabric glided smoothly over her heated body. She pulled the pins from her hair, letting it fall to its waist length, and brushed the dark locks until they shone. She was about to embark upon the most erotic experience of her life, or else making its biggest mistake.
She dabbed lightly scented rose perfume on her wrists and behind her ears, wondering if she would really go through with this crazy plan.
If she didn’t, she’d regret it until the day she died.
Lucy peeked out the bedroom door into the darkness. She heard no sound but the rain pelting the roof. Before she could have second thoughts, she tiptoed down the long hallway to the door that led into The Trio’s room.
Before turning the knob, she closed her eyes, taking deep, calming breaths. It turned easily, not locked. Cracking the door open she saw the bedside lamp dimly lit, a jacket thrown over a chair, a pair of shoes overturned on the floor. And three pairs of eyes staring at her intently.
Chapter Nine
She stared back at the three men. Courtenay lounged in a chair beside the window while Weston leaned back against a pillow and Talbot lolled across the foot of the bed. Her entrance had interrupted some discussion among them. All three were bare from the waist up. All three were breathtaking, Weston lean and graceful, Talbot compact and golden, Courtenay as powerful as a panther. Lucy swallowed hard.
She was no untried girl, but neither was she an experienced prostitute. She had never seduced a man, much less three at once. Yet, if she refused this wager she’d made with herself, if she lost courage, she might as well give up and marry any man who would not run Levegne Manor into the ground. If she won, the prize might be short-lived, but she’d leave this room having experienced what most women only dreamed about.
“Welcome to our room,” Weston said smoothly.
Yet they had not expected her, she could see in the quick glance that had shot between them. Their surprise gave her the advantage. She straightened to her full height. “It has come to my attention that a certain wager has been made.”
Weston’s and Talbot’s jaws gaped open. Courtenay scowled, attempting to cover his discomfiture, but before any could speak Lucy raised a haughty brow at them.
“I have decided it is time for me to choose the winner,” she told them. Winner was a little misleading, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Just like that?” Courtenay growled, as if some huge advantage had been taken from him.
Arrogant, she thought. Yet the masculinity of his confidence brought a warm tingle to the tips of her nipples. Talbot’s eyes moved, and she knew their hardening tips were visible beneath the pink silk.
“No,” she answered. “Not just like that. How can I decide unless I sample the goods? That is,” she added, thoroughly enjoying their bewilderment, “if you three gentlemen have no objection?”
“Bloody hell!” Weston rubbed a long-fingered hand over his face, then stopped, as if afraid to wipe away a dream.
“You have got to be joking,” Talbot burst out.
Courtenay settled back in his chair, silent. She saw the hint of a glitter in his eyes.
Giddy excitement leapt and pirouetted through her. She crooked her index finger at him. “Would you come here, please?”
With horses, she knew, prevail upon the most dominant one and the others would follow suit. The male creatures before her were no less magnificent than stallions, no less vital and, she hoped, just as instinctive.
Courtenay stood. His hesitation was fractional before he swaggered toward her. Her heart’s thumping echoed loudly in her ears. Her mouth went dry. Yet she stood her ground, refusing to lean back as his impressive frame loomed over her. He did not stop until his toes nearly touched her own. Her fingers twitched, begging the freedom to wander his body. His breath warmed and tickled her cheek.
“I’m here. Now what?” His voice rasped low.
“Now, this.” She reached out, touched his chest and let her fingertips trail through the crisp hairs sprinkled thickly down the middle.
His eyes widened before narrowing on her. He’d called her bluff and seemed surprised she didn’t back down. “You play a very dangerous game, my lady.”
“Possibly.” She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “I hope you haven’t changed your mind about wanting to hear me scream your name.” She kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth.
Before she could comprehend what was happening, she was spun and shoved face first against the door. Courtenay hadn’t hurt her, but he was firm. Her cheek pressed the cool surface, and his hands pinned her forearms to the wood on either side of her head. She was glad this was the most secluded room and that the house had thick walls. Briefly she wondered what Beatrice would think if she could see her now.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you think you can safely tease me because Kendall and Paul are here, you’re mistaken. I’ll fuck you right against this door in front of them.” His hot breath sent shivers down her spine.
There was a sound behind them, and Courtenay’s head whipped around. “Don’t you two even think about it.”
“We won’t stand here and let you manhandle the lady.” Weston’s voice was calm and deadly soft.
“I’m with Kendall.” Talbot’s voice was laced with concern. “After all, if she’s punishing us, wouldn’t you say we deserve it?”
Lucy struggled for a semblance of self control. “Let me go.”
She wasn’t entirely surprised when Courtenay released her. He’d done the same when she demanded it in the library. She turned to face a bare and very broad back. Looking around it, she met Weston’s eyes. “He wasn’t hurting me.” And Talbot’s. “Does your outrageous behavior this evening deserve punishment? Or reward?”
She reached around Courtenay. The action brought her breasts in contact with his bare back, and the thin silk of her nightgown was the only barrier between them. His warmth radiated through her body and her
nipples went rock hard. Putting her cheek to his smooth skin, she ran her hands along his chest, tracing each muscle with her fingertips. Gradually she skimmed lower.
She circled the rim of his navel, and her fingers danced over each indentation of muscle forming his flat stomach. She teased him, dipping just below the waistband of his trousers, retreating, then dipping again. The way he tensed each time she delved closer to his shaft gave her proof that, unmoving as he was, he was not unaffected by her touch. Finally, his breathing quickened. She slipped inside his trousers and grasped him.
His hiss sent lightening through her veins, brighter than the flares outside the window. Power over such a dominant male was a dizzy pleasure, and she savored it eagerly. He was hard as steel, soft as velvet, and the long vein that ran along his length pulsed against her hand. Gently she leaned to him and kissed his back.
“I’d like to taste you,” she whispered, giving him a light squeeze so he was in no doubt of where exactly she was talking about. “Will you let me do that?”
He turned and took her mouth in a bruising, knee-buckling kiss. He tasted wild and exotic, like evergreens, or high mountain streams. His fingers tightened around her upper arms and pulled her to him tightly while his mouth ravished hers. His thick tongue tangled with hers, coaxing pleasure from every cell of her being with infinite ease. There was no teasing, no playful approach to his kiss, merely a demand to submit and a promise to possess. The ease with which he dragged sensations from her made her moan. Her nipples cried out for his caress, and her inner muscles clenched in anticipation of swallowing his shaft. He released her, and she cried out in protest of the sudden loss.
“I told you I want your mouth on my cock.” His words were low, laced with passion.
She took his hand and guided him to the bed past where Weston and Talbot stood speechless. If she’d worried that her attentions to Courtenay might make them feel excluded, she saw she’d been mistaken. Excitement and confusion warred in their expressions, but they watched avidly. When she reached the edge of the mattress, she undid Courtenay’s trousers and let them slide down his toned legs. A new wave of heat singed her body at the sight. He was a very big man–everywhere. His thick erection jutted out from a nest of black hair and pointed slightly upward. She licked her lips and he grunted in response. She pulled her nightgown over her head and heard indrawn breaths as she exposed her nude body to all three men.