The Moonlight Mistress

by Victoria Janssen

  “You’re not joking.”

  “No.”

  “Definitely not,” Gabriel said, finding his voice.

  Slowly, Crispin grinned. “I’ll be buggered.”

  Hailey grinned back. “I’d give it a try, but I’d need one of those wooden cocks first.”

  “Maybe some other time,” Crispin said. “It’s odd but, you know, you don’t seem like a woman to me.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “No, you—” Crispin grinned again, then sobered. “It’s still all right with you? I mean, with me being—”

  Hailey smiled, a gentler smile than Gabriel was used to. Then she leaned forward, braced her hand on Crispin’s shoulder and gently kissed him on the mouth. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

  When she drew back, Crispin was smiling sweetly, too, a smile that pierced Gabriel to the heart. “Hmm. That felt all right, but I’m not sure yet. Maybe you could—”

  Gabriel had begun to feel left out, and the longer he sat alone, the more he craved contact. “There’s a nice warm bed right here,” he said.

  Crispin and Hailey—Isobel—exchanged a look. Each pushed one of his shoulders. Startled, he didn’t resist, and landed on his back on the coverlet. Isobel—no, Bob—said, “We should help him get his clothes off. Daglish, you distract him.”

  Crispin stripped off his uniform tunic and tossed it on the chair. Loosening his tie, he crawled onto the bed, then bent over Gabriel, removed his spectacles and kissed him deeply, wet and hungry and tasting of brandy.

  Distantly, Gabriel felt Bob’s fingers at his waist, unbuttoning his braces from his trousers. He jerked when her fingers brushed his cock while unfastening his fly. Crispin pinned his shoulders and kissed him again before moving on to biting his neck.

  He tried to help Bob by lifting up, but didn’t manage very well because his arms had tightly wrapped around Crispin’s torso and he couldn’t concentrate on anything but broad, sleek muscles shifting beneath his hands. He would have pulled himself inside of Crispin’s strong body if he could. As soon as his trousers and drawers were off, he hooked one bare leg over Crispin’s and tumbled him onto his side.

  Crispin’s shirt was still tucked in; Gabriel couldn’t get his hand onto skin that way. Frustrated, he growled, and Crispin rolled him onto his back. “The tie’s not de rigueur,” he commented, working at the knot, while Gabriel traced fingers over his belly; the muscles trembled, just a little, which mollified him.

  Bob reached around Crispin and deftly undid his tie, as well, whipping it off with a flourish. Gabriel watched her fingers travel down Crispin’s chest, swiftly unbuttoning, until her hands collided with his at Crispin’s waist.

  He grabbed her fingers and gently squeezed. “Who gets to undress you?”

  “Oh, we’ll manage,” she said. She moved their joined hands down, over the bulge in Crispin’s trousers. Crispin gasped and closed his eyes.

  “You’ll manage all sorts of things if you keep that up,” he said breathlessly.

  Gabriel gave Bob’s hands, and Crispin’s cock, a hard squeeze, craving that pressure all over his own body. Inside his body. He looked up into Crispin’s face. The skin around his mouth was reddened from Gabriel’s mustache. “Are you willing? To try all sorts of things?”

  “What sorts of things?” Crispin asked.

  “I know you like being fucked,” Gabriel said. “Would you be willing to fuck me?”

  “I’ve never done it,” Crispin said in a rush, then looked down and returned to unbuttoning Gabriel’s shirt.

  Bob had Crispin’s braces off his shoulders. Gabriel slipped his hands beneath the open lapels of Crispin’s shirt and soothingly rubbed his chest. When Bob finished unbuttoning Crispin’s fly, he slid his hands lower and rubbed there, too. “Do you want to?”

  “I might hurt you,” he said softly, still focused on Gabriel’s shirt, though his hands had stopped moving.

  “I’ll let you know,” Gabriel said. “Will you? I want both of you.”

  The tone of his voice must have given him away, because Crispin leaned down and kissed him sweetly. “If that’s what you want. The tin’s not empty.” He looked over his shoulder. “You’ve got too many clothes on, Bob.”

  Gabriel agreed. She hadn’t even removed her tunic yet.

  Bob stripped efficiently, at least as far down as her drawers and chest wrappings. Then she stopped, Crispin’s fingers just brushing her arm. He said, “You should come up here with us.”

  For the first time since Gabriel had known her, she looked uncertain. “You want to help me get this off?” she asked.

  After a glance at Gabriel, Crispin sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here.” He set to work. Bob watched his hands, her own loose at her sides.

  Gabriel took the opportunity to sit up, strip his shirt over his head, and reach to the head of the bed where he found the tin of salve. He sat behind Crispin and put his arms around him, resting his chin on Crispin’s shoulder, watching him unwrap Bob’s chest.

  When the bindings were gone, she rubbed her nipples with her palms. “Bit sore,” she confessed.

  Crispin touched the red marks above and below, but shied away from her breasts. His hands went to her waist. “These, too?”

  “Go on,” she said. After Crispin had shoved her drawers down, she stepped tidily out of them, and forward. “You still all right, Daglish?”

  “It’s Crispin,” he remarked absently, studying her with interest. “May I touch—”

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “I guess Meyer’ll take care of that.”

  “No, I want to, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Gabriel said, “I will want my turn later.” He turned his head and kissed Crispin’s neck, then used his chin to dig into his shoulder while he passed his hands over the soft fur of Crispin’s chest. From the side of his vision, he saw Crispin’s hands tentatively cupping Bob’s breasts and testing their weight in his hands. The sight aroused him. The allure of the forbidden? The piquancy of trying something for the first time? Or—he flushed, thinking this was probably true, though embarrassing—did he just like to watch?

  “They’re soft like…” don’t know what.” Crispin rubbed his palms over her nipples. “Does that feel good? I’m not hurting you, am I?” After a moment, he grinned. “No, I guess I’m not hurting you.”

  She grinned back. “You’ve got the hang of it already.” She rested one hand on his curls. “Maybe a bit harder. Or you could suck on them. If you wanted.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Crispin said earnestly. Suppressing laughter, Gabriel nuzzled the back of his neck while Crispin did just that, his head bumping into Bob’s hands, her fingers stroking through his hair as well as Crispin’s. After a while, Crispin drew back and touched Bob’s flushed cheek. “You do like that. It doesn’t matter that it’s me.”

  She tunneled her fingers through his curls. “I like that it’s you. You’re a good fellow. You even share your nut-milk choc.”

  “I’m guessing Gabriel will make a better job of it.” He twisted his neck, so his lips brushed Gabriel’s cheek. “You’re being awfully patient.”

  “Just enjoying the show.” And, he realized, he was also a bit relieved that the two of them hadn’t demonstrated overwhelming passion for one another. He wasn’t ready to share his partners quite that much, not yet. Gabriel squeezed Crispin’s waist. “Bob, why don’t you join us. I think Crispin should have a demonstration of what you like. Ladies first, and all that.”

  Crispin took Bob’s head in his lap while Gabriel kissed first her mouth, then her breasts, then, after she kicked him firmly in the calf, her cunt. When Gabriel dared a glance now and then, Crispin was watching him, his cheeks flushed, his eyes hot. Crispin stroked Bob’s hair tenderly from her forehead, traced the shape of her lips and smoothed his hands over her shoulders. After Gabriel had licked and suckled her into climax, Crispin eased free. Before snuggling behind Gabriel, he kissed her mouth
.

  Spooned between the two of them, Gabriel closed his eyes, luxuriating in the hot press of skin all over his. Knots in his shoulders, ones he hadn’t even noticed, loosened. He nuzzled into the velvety softness that hid at the base of Bob’s neck while his hands toyed with her nipples; her hands lazily guided his in the pressure she wanted. Crispin had one leg thrown over Gabriel’s hip, one hand stroking his ribs and the other teasing the very top of the cleft between his buttocks. Gabriel could feel Crispin’s cock hardening against him. If he shifted even slightly, his own cock rubbed against the feathery hair at the base of Bob’s spine. He pressed his lips to Bob’s ear. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Do you forgive me? You did a good job today.”

  She turned her face so his lips brushed her cheek. He could see her smile. “Couple more fucks like that and I suppose I could forgive you.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Gabriel closed his eyes, luxuriating.

  After a time, Crispin said, “This is lovely. But a bit awkward if we move too much.”

  Bob said, “Maybe I could help you. With that tin. I want to see how it works.”

  Gabriel snorted a laugh into her hair. “Perhaps I should hire out for demonstrations.”

  “Your idea,” Bob pointed out. She extracted herself from his embrace and clambered over him, with a great deal of unnecessary fondling that made him laugh again. “Show me how it’s done, Crispin.” Firmly, she patted Gabriel’s arse. “Don’t worry, sir. We’ll take proper care of you.”

  Bob had never imagined she’d be naked with Crispin Daglish, much less having his hands guide hers over Gabriel Meyer’s naked back while Gabriel made soft noises of pleasure, for once not trying to direct the action. It didn’t feel so much like sex to her as it might have with someone else. This was more relaxed, more like playing. She liked it. It felt lovely and safe, a feeling that was in all too short supply in recent days. She asked, “Do you always have to do this first?”

  “No, I just like to touch him,” Crispin said, sharing a sideways grin with her. She could tell that he did; his cock was nearly up to his belly with interest. She wouldn’t mind getting her hands on it, or her mouth, but she supposed she ought to let him save it for Gabriel; he’d like that a lot better.

  She slipped her hands from under Crispin’s and pressed the heels of her hands along Gabriel’s spine, all the way up to his neck, before wiggling her fingers into his fine blond hair and scratching his scalp. “Mmm,” he said. “You could keep on doing that.”

  She ran her fingers over his ears, dipping inside, then tugging on his lobes. “What about that demonstration?” she asked. She squirmed until she faced Crispin, who straddled Gabriel’s legs.

  He said, sounding doubtful, “You really want to see?”

  “Sure.” She was desperately curious to know what could be so wonderful that it caused men to risk prison.

  “Most people wouldn’t want to see. They’d rather not know.”

  “You like it,” she pointed out.

  Crispin flushed all the way to his hairline and he looked away, shy as a boy. His voice muffled by the bedding, Gabriel noted, “You could be fucking me right now.”

  Taking pity on Crispin’s nervousness, Bob said, “Give me the tin.” Once she’d opened it, she gathered thick salve on her fingers and dropped the tin on the bed. “Hold out your hands.”

  Crispin grinned shakily and extended his hands to her, palms up. “Use a lot,” he said.

  She rubbed his hands between hers to warm them. His hands were tense, so she squeezed and manipulated them a bit as she applied the salve, as she might do for her own hands after a long day’s sewing. Crispin looked both startled and grateful for the extra attention, and she felt a rush of affection for him. She leaned forward and rubbed her cheek against his. “That good?”

  He nodded, briefly kissed her, and without further comment, set to work. It wasn’t, Bob reflected, much different than she’d experienced with her first lover, except it was the other side of course, and she thought it was taking longer. That seemed to be more Crispin worrying about hurting Gabriel than anything really necessary, given how Gabriel made pleased sounds and pushed up against Crispin’s twisting fingers.

  After a while, she asked if she could try. Her smaller fingers eased in without any trouble; Meyer’s muscles gripped her snugly, and for a moment she almost forgot what she was doing, as she imagined tightening her cunt on his cock in the same way. She remembered what she was about and stroked upward, feeling for the smoother spot Crispin told her to find. Everything felt tight and hot and smooth to her, or at least she thought it did, until his skin texture changed under the pad of her index finger and Gabriel stiffened and groaned deeply.

  She wanted to do that again. And again, while he writhed at her touch; her eyes were glazing over, she liked it so much. Lord, that probably made her a sodomite, too. She rubbed the spot once more, gently, and licked her lips when Gabriel made the same sound, only more pitifully this time, since she hadn’t given him as much as he wanted. She said a bit shakily, “Could he come like that?”

  “Like a grenade,” Crispin said hoarsely, while Gabriel made a noise between a curse and a laugh.

  “You’d better fuck him right now, then,” she said, reluctantly exchanging places. She wiped her hands on a bit of sheet. “What’s the best way?”

  Gabriel and Crispin finally settled on Crispin’s standing and Gabriel facedown on the bed, his legs hanging over the side. This left room for Bob to hold Gabriel in her lap, as Crispin had done with her earlier. This felt good, too. She was in the mood to be the one holding, instead of being held. Especially once Crispin gripped Gabriel’s hips and got started, and Gabriel made more delicious groans into her thigh, his fingers clenching at her helplessly while a haze of sweat and sex rose around them. She held him as tightly as she could, her fingers digging into his muscles, and stared while Crispin’s nervous incredulity faded into absorption, then into such single-minded intensity that she wanted to grab him and sink her teeth into him. His stocky frame was beautiful in motion, his powerful shoulders and upper arms and pecs, even his belly flexing with each push from his muscular arse, each thrust ending in a twist as if to shove himself harder inside, deeper inside.

  Each impact flung Gabriel’s weight into her and throbbed inside her cunt, like she was the one getting fucked. It was more than enough to keep her hungry and wet. She felt as if she was right in the middle of a sexy dream, all this show just for her eyes. Maybe it could really be just for her. Hoarsely, she said, “Stop.”

  Crispin made a strangled sound and slammed his hips into Gabriel, holding there for a long moment. “Why?”

  “I want you to,” she said, licking her lips.

  “Fucking get on with it!” Gabriel growled.

  “Pull out a bit,” she whispered, and Crispin did as she asked, his face twisted with agonized pleasure. Her belly contracted at the sight. She’d done that.

  Gabriel groaned. “Don’t stop.”

  “Do it slow,” she said, the words falling out of her mouth as if they traveled straight from her cunt. “Make him feel it. Every inch.”

  Gabriel’s startled cursing strangled into moans and uncontrolled twitching as Crispin slowly, slowly entered him, and just as slowly withdrew. Crispin cursed steadily, too, his eyes fixed on hers, his pupils wide and black as the Thames at night. She could barely breathe for lust. When she felt Gabriel’s muscles tremoring beneath her hands, she murmured, “Fuck him hard,” then a bit louder, “faster.”

  A few thrusts and Crispin was jerking uncontrollably, coming so hard she could almost see the contractions rippling through his body. He collapsed onto Gabriel’s back and gasped for breath, his weight shoving her deeper into the mattress.

  Gabriel’s hands dug painfully into her. “I want to fuck you,” he said. “Isobel, please. I need you right now.”

  She licked her lips. “Turn over,” she said. “You all right, Crispin?”

  He grunted and helped shove Ga
briel’s legs onto the bed before collapsing up near his shoulder. He looked dazed and satisfied, a little smile playing around his lips. Bob gave him a quick kiss before she responded to Gabriel’s urgent hands and voice, mounting him in one long slide that made both of them moan.

  Gabriel’s pale cheekbones blazed with blood. His hair was dark with sweat, even his mustache, and his eyes seemed huge, his pupils almost hiding their blue irises. She rocked back and forth on his cock, gently, and stroked his chest with her hands. She wasn’t calming him, not really. He opened his mouth a couple of times, but nothing came out; in the end he licked his lips and panted, staring into her face, his hot, callused hands like manacles on her wrists.

  When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she rocked harder, rubbing her clit against him with each forward motion, and squeezing him with her inner muscles, until she swore she could feel him swelling even more with each clench.

  “More,” he said.

  “Not yet.”

  Crispin was petting Gabriel’s hair, watching his face more than he watched her. It was a strange kind of intimacy, each of them in their own world but also together, all focused on the same end, all of them wanting to touch someone and not to be alone, and to reach that place where for a few moments nothing else mattered.

  She rode Gabriel harder, keeping him inside her and bending low enough that her nipples brushed against his chest. They were so sensitive it was almost agony, while at the same time it felt as if electric shocks were shooting all over her body. She closed her eyes, searching for climax. Gabriel grabbed her, his forearms sliding in the sweat on her back, his neck arching to touch his head to hers. She could hear him moaning softly, rhythmically, or maybe it was her, or both of them. He squeezed her with his arms and his hips jerked; she shot abruptly to a higher level of agonized passion, crying out with it, but she was wound too tight, and couldn’t make herself come.

  She felt Crispin’s arm wrap around her hips and then his hand, big and square, nudging between her body and Gabriel’s, finding where they were joined. His thumb slid over her swollen clit, and she ground down on his hand, just the extra bit of friction she needed to fall over the edge. She trembled helplessly in wave after wave of orgasm until she had to pull loose of Gabriel’s cock, her cunt too tender to bear any more pleasure.