Room Service

by Summer Cooper

  There were a lot of things that I wanted—for instance, all of the things I’m pretty sure they expected me to say. A quiet office, maybe. A non-stressful few days. People that worked for my company not yelling at each other in the elevator bank. And I opened my mouth, in fact, to say just that.

  “I want you,” was what came out.

  Oh, shit.

  “What?” Dave asked.

  “Which one of us?” Nathaniel asked.

  The two of them actually exchanged a look that was, for once, not tinged with distaste, and I swallowed. They waited. I tried to think of anything to say other than the truth, because I’d finally figured it out. My cheeks were so hot that I thought I might explode.

  But there was no keeping the words back.

  “I want both of you,” I said quietly.

  There was a silence.

  “What?” Dave finally managed.

  “I’ll go.” I picked up my purse, burning with shame and already rehearsing excuses to be out of the office tomorrow. “I’m so sorry, that was so, so—”

  “Intriguing?” Nathaniel suggested softly.

  “I’m sorry, what?” It had to be a joke. Only he wasn’t grinning like it was a joke, and Dave’s eyebrows were raised speculatively. “You have got to be kidding,” I said, a bit desperately.

  “Were you?” Dave asked me. He was at my side a moment later. “Because if what it takes to have you is watching you with him, too…” His eyes darkened with desire, and his breath was coming short. “I don’t think that would be so bad.”

  “Agreed.” Nathaniel’s breath stirred the hair on the back of my neck.

  Chapter Six

  “We can’t actually…”

  “What?” Nathaniel set his lips to her neck, fingers tightening around her hips so she could feel his hardness pressing against her.

  “Oh, my God.” April heard her own voice as if from a distance. Dave was kissing her, his lips as soft as Nathaniel’s and just as possessive. A hand slid up to cup her breast, fingers circling one of the nipples that poked through the thin fabric.

  “Who do you want first?” Dave asked her, drawing back just enough to speak. His hand cupped her cheek and she turned her face into his hand, whimpering as she felt Nathaniel pin her between them.

  “I…” Both of you. The thought gave her a stab of pleasure, and they must have known what she wanted to say, because she heard a low, throaty laugh.

  Nathaniel pulled the zipper of her dress down and she felt the faint touch of cold air on her skin, making her shiver. When she went to step out of her heels, he stopped her with a brief touch.

  “Leave them on.”

  Lingerie shows were for thin girls, April wanted to say—and then it clicked into place, at long last. It didn’t matter. What mattered was what they wanted, the three of them, here in this room. They wanted to see her in her heels and her bra and panties, full breasts and round hips. They wanted to be inside her, both of them, and they found her beautiful.

  Nothing else mattered. They were stripping off their suits, both of them like some GQ magazine spread gone very, very dirty, and April had to force herself not to turn away, blushing. This was something she wanted, and that they wanted. She didn’t have to be modest.

  “Come here.” Nathaniel beckoned her to the bed. He was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen, from well-muscled arms to slim hips and…April blushed. She caught her breath as he knelt to slide her thong down over her hips, and Dave’s hands were at her back, unhooking her bra.

  This time it was Nathaniel who kissed her, his tongue parting her lips and her gasping at the feel of him hard against her. At her back, Dave was kissing her shoulder, her neck, her jaw. She could feel him throbbing against her, his skin warm.

  When Nathaniel lay back on the bed and beckoned, she felt another wave of shyness. She wanted to ride him feel him press up against her, but surely that wasn’t allowed. Surely…

  “Not quite yet.” Dave’s voice held no malice, just promise. Slowly he turned her and laid her back on the bed, parting her thighs and kneeling between them.

  Nathaniel’s fingers turned April’s face to his and his lips had just met hers when Dave’s mouth touched her and she arched, moaning. She would have cried out except for Nathaniel’s mouth on hers, and she heard his groan at the sound of her pleasure, one finger circling a nipple, rolling it as she moaned with need. The fingers withdrew, and thrust again, and then Dave parted her legs further and she felt the touch of his tongue on her.

  She had forgotten which way was up. All she could feel was Dave’s fingers sliding into her, how slick she was for him, for both of them, and his tongue was sliding in and out of her until she could no longer control the moans she was making. When he slid all of his fingers into her, she jerked her hips against him. She wanted more. She needed more.

  She was straddling Nathaniel a moment later, gasping as she hesitated. She could feel him pressing against her, hard and ready, and she wanted nothing more than to sink onto his cock. But could she really do this?

  It was Dave at her back, his hands on her hips, who persuaded her. He guided her down and she gasped with pleasure. Nathaniel’s groan was her answer from the bed. He pressed up, sheathing himself in her entirely, and his eyes drifted closed.

  “Dear God,” he whispered. His voice was hoarse. “You’re so tight.”

  Any reply she might have made was lost in a cry of pleasure as Dave’s fingers found her clit. She was riding Nathaniel’s cock, whimpering, desperate for more as she moved her hips desperately against Dave’s touch. His other hand turned her face to his and she could feel him rock hard against her back. More. She needed more. Her pace increased until Nathaniel’s hands stopped her forcibly, holding her away as he gasped for breath.

  “I’m going to…you're going to make me come.”

  “Isn’t that what you want?” April’s breath came in a little sound of need. She wanted him back inside her.

  “Not yet.” His eyes were wicked. “You wanted us both, remember?”

  “But I…” When she realized what he meant, her cheeks flamed. “Oh, my God. I’ve never, uh…”

  “We’ll take it slow.” Nathaniel had found some lube on one of the side tables, and he raised an eyebrow at Dave. “Classy, huh?”

  Nathaniel laughed, but when April sank onto his cock, his laugh trailed off in a deep, shuddering breath.

  “Dammit, woman, you are going to drive me insane.”

  “Maybe.” April grinned as she moved slowly, so slowly, rising and falling on his cock. She looked over her shoulder as Dave’s hand stroked slowly, leisurely, along his cock. He was watching them with half-closed eyes, pleasure in his gaze.

  When he pressed her forward gently, April felt her breath come short with nerves.

  “Kiss me,” Nathaniel whispered. “Relax.”

  “Relax. Right.” April set her lips on his, feeling her tension melt away at the soft pressure. She was just forgetting her fear when she felt Dave’s fingers at her ass, circling, pressing lightly. She drew in her breath.

  “Just a finger,” Dave said softly. It pressed harder, just a little, just enough, and she moaned. Was it Nathaniel inside of her, or the feel of Dave’s fingers, or both? She was awash in sensation, she could feel Nathaniel beginning to move again and she hardly had the presence of mind to rock her hips against his.

  The finger slid inside her, in and out, and her moans were stifled against Nathaniel’s mouth. One finger, then two, stretching her in a way she had never even imagined. April whimpered, feeling her hips begin to move in a silent plea for more. Dave’s low laugh was her only answer. A third finger penetrated her, and now there was the touch of pain, but he held still, easing into her as she rocked her hips against him.

  When he entered her, she cried out. Nathaniel’s cock moving in her, muscles clenched slick and wet around him and his hard chest against her, his tongue in her mouth, and Dave sliding slowly into her from behind. She wanted m
ore, more, and it was never going to be enough.

  She could feel her orgasm coming, building, so deep she was almost frightened.

  “I’m going to…I’m going to…”

  “Yes,” Nathaniel whispered against her mouth. “Give yourself up to it. Come on, April. I want to feel you.”

  “Oh, my God.” And then her world exploded and April was coming harder than she ever had before, gasping their names, feeling them both shudder as they came with her.

  It seemed like a very long time before she came back to reality.

  “Oh, my God,” she repeated quietly.

  “Champagne?” Nathaniel suggested, his voice low and amused. “And then…perhaps more?”

  “Mmm.” April wriggled her hips, delightfully sore. “I’m up for it. Dave?”

  “Oh, hell yes.” Dave’s fingers parted her pussy and slid inside. “But first, champagne. Good call, Bryan.”

  April laughed. She had a feeling that the rest of this visit was going to be a lot more fun than she’d expected.

  The End

  Part II

  Being Desired

  Historical Romance

  About the Book

  Carla Debenham wants the one thing an early 20th century woman can’t have; freedom. To gain a better life she marries Henry Debenham, but her life is soon even more of a nightmare. To escape that nightmare she has a one night stand; hoping a child, the one thing Henry wants from her, will free her from his attentions. That decision changes her life forever.

  Henry’s death, a betrayal from an unsuspected source, and her pregnancy leave Carla with little choice but to marry the true father of her child. Though Samuel claims to love Carla she resents the fact that her freedom has once again been taken from her so quickly. The difficult birth of her child leaves her gravely ill and the consequences of that birth leave Carla and Samuel in a position to face their future in a totally new fashion. If Carla learns the truth, however, it could spell disaster and the betrayal of Carla’s trust could be more than their relationship can stand. Can Carla finally gain her freedom or does marriage bring with it a different kind of freedom, a freedom that only tragedy could make Carla understand?

  Chapter Seven

  Carla Debenham placed a gentle, elegantly slim hand on her burgeoning stomach and tried to calm the child kicking her from within. The music pouring out of the gramophone did not have its normal soothing effect on the child and the kicking was becoming painful. The baby seemed to respond to its mother’s touch finally and settled down just below her ribs. Rolling on her divan slightly, to ease the burden of the child’s new position, Carla rested her head on the pillow there and thought about her life up to this point. The memories were not happy ones, but that was the life of a woman whose husband had married her only to produce heirs in 1900 Yorkshire. Happiness was not something she should expect.

  Carla’s husband, Henry, chose Carla because she apparently looked like a “good brood mare.”Henry chose a bride from a social gathering of eligible young ladies of the manufacturing elite, the same social strata from which he came. He could have chosen a titled bride, a bride with land or a dowry, but he chose one that looked promising as a producer of children instead. She wasn’t the pale, blonde English rose he wanted, but she would do, despite being 18 years old; two years older than he expected, and dark-haired. She did have the requisite blues eyes Henry wanted, and that was close enough for him. Henry did not believe in love, only the power of capitalism, and the only emotion he ever showed; was anger, a smug gloating, or sometimes an awkward happiness that showed through when his business was doing exceedingly well. Otherwise he was dour, glum, and often brooding. His appearance also left much to be desired as he was portly with a florid face, unkempt hair, and often had a smell of unwashed body polluting the air around him.

  Carla had accepted Henry’s offer of marriage because she needed stability. She was the fifth daughter of a steel magnate, but her father passed away, leaving her mother to care for nine young children. Carla, being the youngest, had watched as her family’s fortune’s plummeted and her elder siblings married to attain a better standing in the world. Her mother did not manage the company well; even with a solicitor and advisers there to help her, and Carla’s only choice was to also marry. As the daughter of a virtually bankrupt steel production family, Carla did not have many options in suitors. Henry was the only one that asked for her hand in marriage, and though the man was dour, twenty years older than her and unappealing in every way, Carla agreed to his offer in the hope of securing her future.

  Henry made no bones about his need for children, not that he actually liked children, but they were heirs and he needed heirs. He had no time for a wife and would twice monthly perform his marital duties to ensure the production of an heir. The marriage had not produced a child 18 months after their wedding, and Henry, being a man who lacked knowledge about science, blamed Carla for their lack of children and soon began muttering about divorce.

  Henry’s temper had also become blacker as the time passed without a child being produced. Carla could do nothing to please him, though she tried, and he drank more each night. He’d begun to come to Carla’s room at night and the things he’d do, alluding to advice he’d received from various sources, demeaned and humiliated Carla. Then he’d begun a campaign of beatings, thinking Carla was wilfully defying his wish for children.

  Desperate and knowing the torment would stop if she produced a child, Carla knew she had to do something, anything, to get pregnant. Carla suspected the fault did not lie within her own body and started to look around for someone discreet, above reproach, and who Henry would not suspect had cuckolded him. Carla decided that the only man suitable for the job was her husband’s best friend, Samuel.

  Samuel was the only man that Carla would ever have an opportunity to sleep with, she quickly figured out. He often stayed overnight at the house, after going out with Henry for the evening, he was known to be a rake with the ladies, and he’d often eyed her with a look that Carla did not quite understand but knew to be mixed with lust. She did not want to break her marriage vows, but desperation had set in and Samuel appeared to be the only available option.

  Samuel had never made an untoward advance at Carla, but she suspected if the man was inebriated she stood a better chance at seducing him, for that is what she was going to have to do. Carla knew Samuel was a lifelong friend of Henry’s and knew that he would never make an advance towards her, so she waited until the men came back after a long night out. She could tell they were both very drunk by the loud, boisterous singing that Henry only allowed himself when he was drunk; otherwise he’d never partake in such an activity.

  She heard the men going to their rooms and waited until she knew Henry was asleep. She then quietly crept to Henry’s room and listened at the door. She heard loud snores coming from the room and knew Henry was asleep. Samuel’s door also revealed snoring so she crept in quietly, removed her dressing gown, and climbed into bed with the man. She used some of the techniques Henry had insisted she do to him to arouse Samuel, performed the deed, and quietly left the room, hoping that was all it would take. Samuel, for his part, barely seemed conscious throughout the process and had made no mention of it since. She would, however, catch him looking at her in a knowing way sometimes and that worried her. She’d hoped he’d passed out once it was all done and forgotten the incident, but she was not certain of that at all. Samuel seemed too interested in what was happening with her and the baby for Carla’s comfort.

  Carla was startled from her miserable trip down memory lane when a knock came at the door. Lulled by the music, the hand she used to soothe her baby, and her reverie, the sound startled Carla and she jumped to her feet, looking at the door in surprise. Telling herself she was silly she walked to the door to find her husband’s valet at the door.

  “Yes, Wilson, what can I do for you?”

  “Madam, your husband has taken ill and I believe we should call a doctor for him. He’
s most pained.” Wilson spoke with a bland, disinterested tone that belied the seriousness of the matter. If her husband was calling for a doctor, he was truly ill.

  “Oh? Well, yes, call for the doctor at once, Wilson. I’ll go to him now to see if I can comfort him in some way.” Carla may not care overmuch for her husband, but she respected his position as her husband. His well-being was in her interest and that of her child’s; her existence depended on his, after all.

  “I’ll send someone at once, madam. Do you need anything else from me in the meantime?” Wilson asked.

  “No, that is all.” Carla gathered her skirts and walked down the hall to her husband’s room. The room reeked of old body odour, alcoholic sweat, and decay. The maids cleaned the room daily but somehow the smell persisted. Carla suspected it came from Henry himself and no amount of cleaning would get it out of the mattress, the walls, or the furniture. It was just there, a permanent reminder of Henry’s presence after all of these years.

  Carla saw Henry on his hands and knees in his bed, bed-gown hiked up around his hips and a large red stain marring the pristine whiteness of the bed sheet beneath him. Henry was bleeding from somewhere but he refused to tell Carla where the blood came from. The doctor soon arrived, a short, bald, man filled with self-importance that quickly ushered Carla out of the room, telling her a woman in her delicate condition should not be in the sickroom.

  Carla paced within her own bed chamber, wondering what exactly was happening. She heard a cry from the hall and quickly left the room to see her mother-in-law, Beatrice Debenham, on the floor sobbing as the doctor tried to get her up and regain her dignity. The little man seemed to have no idea how to speak to women and Carla marched over, hoping to comfort the woman who had coldly rejected her from the moment Carla met her. She did not care for Beatrice either, but felt it her duty to care for the woman the best she could.