by Mari Carr
“Take off her blouse,” Lancelot said, his voice thick with need.
Hugo lifted his head, glancing in Lancelot’s direction. Then he nodded.
Turning his attention back to their lover, Hugo stepped to the side, wrapping one arm around her waist and turning Sylvia’s body until she was facing Lancelot. Reaching around her, Hugo began unfastening her buttons, sharing the experience. Hugo would touch. Lancelot would see.
Hugo slid her blouse over her shoulders, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Then, he unhooked her bra, sliding it from her arms and adding it to the chair.
Sylvia’s gaze remained locked on Lancelot’s face. The beautiful, confident woman didn’t seek to shield her nakedness from him.
Genuine. Open.
Mine.
Lancelot dismissed the last word instantly. He was here under pretense. Lying to her. He should leave and drag Hugo out with him.
But he wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that.
Even if he hadn’t been ordered to remain with her by Lorelei, he wouldn’t be strong enough to resist stealing this night, this time with her, however brief.
Hugo kissed the side of Sylvia’s neck as he cupped her breasts. Lancelot licked his lips as he studied her taut, pink nipples. He wanted to suck them into his mouth, bite them, pinch them.
While Sylvia was all things soft and sweet, the sketch she’d shared with them in the restaurant revealed there was so much more there.
He recalled the rope on her wrist.
“Take her hands in yours,” Lancelot commanded. “Hold them behind her back.”
Once again, Hugo looked at him, saw the same intense need, the same wild desires reflected there, and then, he did as Lancelot said.
Sylvia’s breasts rose and fell more rapidly, her breathing increasing as Hugo held her hands captive. The position thrust her breasts out more fully.
Lancelot was no longer content to merely observe. Crossing to her, he bent over, grasping her breasts. Unlike Hugo, he couldn’t be gentle.
His blood pumped with the unfamiliar need to take her roughly, claim her, mark her.
Her story about the Rutherfords at the sex club, along with the images reflected on her sketch, had fueled the flames of his own desires.
He took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard.
Her gasp of surprise captured Hugo’s attention.
He released Sylvia, then reached around her, gripping Lancelot’s hair in one hand. “Lancelot,” he said, tugging his head back until her nipple popped free.
Lancelot looked up as Sylvia shook her head. “No! Don’t stop. Harder.”
Hugo’s eyes had been narrowed, but after her request, they widened in surprise.
Lancelot gave the other man a smug smile, then returned to her breast. Rather than resume his grip on her wrists, Hugo put his hands to work, one sneaking down Sylvia’s jeans, the other still tangled in Lancelot’s hair.
His tight grip turned Lancelot on. A lot.
While he couldn’t see Hugo’s fingers, he knew when the other man had hit pay dirt because Sylvia began squirming like a fish on a hook, her hips gyrating as she cried out for more.
“God, please.”
“She likes having her clit played with, Lancelot,” Hugo said. “Makes her hot and wet. She’s ready for us. Ready for both of us.”
Lancelot grinned, even though he didn’t give up his hold on her nipple.
The serious Frenchman liked to talk dirty.
Lancelot turned his attention to her second breast, nipping the distended flesh with his teeth as Hugo continued to stroke her clit. “Take off her pants.”
Hugo’s hand slid free from the waistband, unfastening her jeans fully and slipping them over her hips, taking her panties off at the same time.
Lancelot rose, standing in front of her, Hugo still at her back. Sylvia shivered, even though the temperature in the room had risen to a tropical heat. The air was thick with need, silent except for her excited, shallow breaths and soft moans each time one of them touched her.
“Bed,” Lancelot said, even as he waged a small internal war. He was content to stand here, kissing and touching, praying the morning never came. At the same time, it felt as if he was in physical pain, one that would only be cured when he drove his hard cock deep into her soft, wet body.
Sylvia moved toward her bed without comment. Her haste told Lancelot she was in the same overwrought condition.
Hugo, however, seemed more in control of himself. Or…was he suddenly hesitant?
Lancelot glanced at the other man’s face, struggling to understand what he was seeing there. There was no mistaking Hugo’s desire. He wanted to be here, but something was holding him back.
“Hugo,” Lancelot murmured, capturing his friend’s attention. Hugo’s gaze shifted toward him, and then he took in a deep breath.
That was when Lancelot realized Hugo was waging an internal battle as well. Between what he wanted…and what he should take. They were coming to her bed with secrets.
Lancelot understood that, just as he accepted the fact that he wanted her beyond all reason.
“Are you coming?” Sylvia asked softly from the bed. She’d climbed on the mattress, her back resting against the headboard. There was no shyness, though Lancelot couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she seemed almost innocent. Despite the confidences they’d shared during the drive about past lovers, there was something ethereal about her, some delicateness that made him want to protect her, even though the only danger in the room at the moment was them.
Hugo moved first, stripping off his shirt and pants as he faced her. She lifted her chin slightly when he was completely nude and for a moment, she appeared almost regal, a queen studying her loyal subject. Hugo was erect, his cock thick and ready. Hugo wrapped his hand around it, slowly stroking himself as he looked at Sylvia. She watched him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
Lancelot was fascinated by the interchange, by the fact so much was being said between the three of them with few to no words.
Hugo didn’t approach the bed, and it occurred to Lancelot that perhaps the other man was waiting for Sylvia’s permission.
Her gaze slipped from Hugo to him, then back again. “Hugo,” she said, her voice strong and sure. “I want you.”
Whatever invisible chain had held Hugo in place slipped free. He walked to the bed, placed one knee next to her, then used a strong grip on her ankle to pull her from a seated position to her back in one fluid motion.
Hugo looked over his shoulder at Lancelot, who shook his head. “You first.”
It was one thing to take a woman to bed with another man, but it would become something entirely different if he shed his clothing and climbed onto that bed as well. Lancelot wanted to do that, wanted it more than his next breath, but there were too many things rattling around in his head and, until they cleared, it was better to observe.
No, he thought. There weren’t things clouding his vision. There was one thing. His desire for both of them. Sylvia and Hugo.
Lancelot had never lain with another man, never even considered such a thing. Even when he pledged his life to the Masters’ Admiralty, understanding there was a chance he would be wed to another man, he’d imagined that would only involve sharing their woman—their wife.
That wasn’t what he wanted here.
Tonight, he wanted to claim more than one lover.
Hugo lay down next to Sylvia and she twisted to face him, the two of them side by side on the large bed, kissing, stroking, exploring. A deep groan from the bed drew Lancelot’s attention to Sylvia’s hands, and he watched as she gripped Hugo’s cock firmly, drawing her hand along the hard flesh until she reached the head. Her fingertips found the pre-come there and she slid it around his slit as Hugo’s eyes closed, his expression one of absolute bliss.
Lancelot stepped closer to them, standing at the foot of the bed. He was still dressed. He was as aware of that as his lovers were, Hugo and Sylvia both sending curious
glances his direction.
A strange sensation came over Lancelot. While he wasn’t in the bed, he felt as if he held the reins, as if everything that would happen in this room was under his control. An alpha by nature, he wondered if that was why he’d always eschewed the concept of a male lover. Had his struggles been based on sharing control rather than sharing his body?
Hugo’s hand covered Sylvia’s on his dick, tightening their combined grip, but not seeking to speed her strokes, even though Lancelot could tell that was what he wanted…needed.
“Sylvia,” Lancelot murmured, lifting his chin to draw her attention to the pained lines etched by Hugo’s eyes that revealed how much more their lover needed.
Sylvia was astute, attentive, a quick study. Her hand began moving faster, her motions rougher, more demanding.
Hugo’s hand slipped from hers, moving between her parted legs, teasing her clit before he slid two fingers inside her.
“That’s right,” Lancelot whispered. “Make each other crazy with need.”
His words spurred them on, both of them giving and taking as much as they could. Sylvia broke first, shoving on Hugo’s shoulder until he fell to his back. She straddled him, using her grip on his dick to guide him home. She dropped down, taking him inside in one hard, fast stroke.
Hugo’s hands encompassed her waist, though Lancelot couldn’t tell if he intended to stop her or drive her on.
Once more, Hugo merely held her, let her take him as she wanted.
Sylvia held back nothing, using her hands on Hugo’s chest to aid her movements, riding him like an equestrian at full gallop.
Hugo’s hands slid along her sides to her bouncing breasts, cupping them, using his grip to draw her down, until they could kiss. Sylvia’s motions slowed with the change in position.
“Belle,” Hugo murmured.
Lancelot remained where he was, Sylvia’s full, firm ass so close he only had to reach out to stroke her. He could see her opening, see Hugo’s thick cock sliding in and out. He wanted to touch them…there. Feel their union, make his own mark.
Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he gave in to his desire, running his fingers along the crack of her ass until he could feel where the two of them were joined. They were hot, sticky with arousal.
Sylvia and Hugo both stilled with the first glancing touch of his fingers.
“Don’t stop,” he said, his voice deep, commanding.
Sylvia responded immediately, moving up and down once more as Lancelot ran his fingers over every part of both of them.
Hugo remained still a moment longer, and Lancelot felt rather than saw the other man’s tension. He’d never been with another man, either. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but there was something in the way Hugo held himself that told Lancelot this was uncharted territory for both of them.
Interesting.
Lancelot would have expected Hugo to have more experience in this area, as a legacy member of the Masters’ Admiralty. After all, he’d grown up with three parents.
He continued to touch them, amazed when he sensed them both getting close. The two people in this bed were essentially strangers, yet he felt closer to them than anyone outside his family.
Then Lancelot realized something the other two hadn’t seemed to. “No condom.”
Sylvia continued moving, but this time, Hugo didn’t merely use his hands to touch. He gripped her waist, halting her.
“Sylvia,” Hugo said.
Lancelot could only see Hugo’s face from his position on the bed.
“It’s okay,” she said. “There’s no danger of pregnancy. As for the other,” she paused, and Lancelot could imagine her face flushing sweetly, “well, let’s just say this is the first time I’ve slept with someone who wasn’t wearing a condom.”
Hugo smiled. “I’m clean.”
Then he and Sylvia turned toward Lancelot. “I’m clean, too.”
That settled, Sylvia shook off Hugo’s grip, her rhythm faster this time. She was clearly impatient to reach the pinnacle.
Lancelot shifted from his place behind her, standing next to the bed so he could see both of them better.
Hugo reached up, pulling Sylvia’s face down to his, kissing her for the briefest moment before both of them fell over. Then Hugo wrapped her up in his embrace as she trembled, her orgasm shaking her petite frame.
Lancelot’s arousal had been on simmer throughout Hugo and Sylvia’s lovemaking, but his patience faltered in the face of their repletion, their closeness.
Watching them had been a sexy distraction from his own physical needs. And it had driven his own arousal sky-high. He started taking off his clothing.
Sylvia lay on top of Hugo, her eyes closed until she heard him unzipping his jeans. Hugo had been looking at him all along, definite interest in his expression. Lancelot couldn’t fault him for that. He’d checked out Hugo’s package immediately. Male pride forcing him to make sure he measured up.
Once he was naked, Hugo gently disengaged from Sylvia, placing her on her back as he rose from the bed.
Lancelot started to tell him to stay, but Hugo spoke first. “My turn to watch.”
The very reason Lancelot had remained away from them was because he’d needed time to sort out his unexpected desires. Clearly Hugo needed more time, too.
He nodded, then climbed onto the bed. Sylvia was sitting up, her arms reaching for him. She was in for a surprise if she thought that he, like Hugo, would be content letting her take the lead.
He reached for her as well. Sylvia had obviously expected him to clasp hands with her—because her eyes widened when he grasped her wrists and used his hold to push her to her back in the center of the bed. He shifted until he held them with one hand above her head, his other skimming along the side of her neck, down the valley between her breasts, over her soft stomach.
Sylvia struggled slightly, trying to free her hands. “I want to touch you.”
He shook his head. “Not tonight, Sylvia. If there was more time for us…I know what I want from you. And it has to be now.”
He released her hands briefly so that he could grip her hips and flip her to her stomach. “Hands and knees. That pretty ass of yours has been taunting me.”
Sylvia moved into his requested position without question or hesitation. Every move she made continued to prove what he already knew. She would be a willing submissive.
Lancelot gave her a quick, hard slap on the ass—just one. Just because he could.
She jerked in surprise, but didn’t cry out or complain.
Hugo, however, was a different story. He placed a hand on Lancelot’s shoulder.
Lancelot turned, his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t stand in the way of your pleasures.”
Hugo’s hand fell away, even as he said, “Don’t hurt her.”
Sylvia answered before Lancelot could. “He didn’t hurt me. I like it. I’ve been spanked before.”
Lancelot didn’t move to continue the spanking. He was hard and hurting.
He bent over Sylvia, his chest flat against her back, his outstretched arms next to hers. His cock lay nestled between her legs, the heat of her pussy surrounding it.
“Tell me how you want it.”
Sylvia looked toward Hugo, then back at him. “I want it hard,” she said, her words more breath than sound. “Fast, hard, deep.”
Three words had never sounded more inviting.
Lancelot straightened, took his cock in his hand, and guided it home. He recalled the way Sylvia had taken Hugo inside in one quick thrust.
Tucking the head of his dick inside, he held on to her hips and he plunged inside. She was wet with arousal and Hugo’s come and more than ready for him.
“God,” she cried out, when he retreated without pause, slamming to the hilt once more. Part of him expected Hugo to step in, to attempt to play protector once more, but the other man held back, watching them the same way Lancelot had earlier.
It appeared they were both voyeurs at heart.
Lancelot thrust inside her, over and over, giving her exactly what she wanted…because it was what he wanted as well.
Her back arched and she came with a scream after a few minutes. Lancelot’s fingers tightened their grip and his chest burned with the need to follow her. He couldn’t give way this quickly.
Her pussy muscles clenched around his cock. His jaw hurt from gritting his teeth and he squeezed his eyes closed, foolishly thinking he could hold on a little longer if he didn’t allow himself to see her sexy body.
It didn’t help. Even with his eyes closed, he could imagine her ass bumping against his stomach, the arch of her back as he filled her with his thick, hard flesh.
“Fook.” His tone revealed his pain. His pleasure.
Her shudders began to subside and for the briefest of moments, Lancelot regained control, managed to ward off the imminent climax.
His eyes flew open, his control shattered, when Hugo reached out and cupped Lancelot’s balls.
Their gazes connected for a split second before Lancelot’s world exploded into white-hot light. He came harder than a freight train, pushing Sylvia with him, her second orgasm taking her by surprise.
“Oh my God!” she called out, her arms no longer able to hold her up. She fell facedown on the bed. He followed her down, his weight supported by his elbows as he attempted not to crush her.
Hugo’s hand fell away, though Lancelot swore he could still feel it.
He slid to Sylvia’s side as Hugo climbed back onto the bed, claiming her left. She flopped like a rag doll until she was on her back, then she reached out, clasping her hands with theirs.
“That was…amazing.”
Hugo smiled and kissed her on the cheek, and it looked as if he agreed wholeheartedly with her description. But his mask fell. Only for a moment. Long enough for Lancelot to realize Hugo felt the same way he did.
Because instead of feeling replete, feeling complete, the only emotion Lancelot could summon now was regret. Not because they’d come to her bed—God, he’d never regret that.
But because they’d had the opportunity to explore a true ménage.
And they’d wasted it.
