It’s Beginning to Look a lot Like Scandal: 3 Steamy Christmas Historical Romances

by Reid, Stacy

  “That’s right,” Marcellus crooned against her neck. “Max can feel how tight your ass is clamping my cock. He feels the pleasure I feel from hearing you cry out in rapture. He can feel that I am buried balls-deep in you. He can feel the craving in me that is urging me to fuck you forever, and I can feel the urge in him telling me to take you harder.”

  Maxwell roared as his seed shot from him and splashed against his belly. She screamed under the hot tide of her rising orgasm and splintered. Marcellus groaned and began thrusting in her harder until his orgasm swept him under. He rolled with her to lie on his back so she splayed on him. She did not have the energy to whimper when Maxwell lifted her off him. He gently cleaned between her legs and buttocks with a damp cloth, kissing and soothing her the entire time.

  Marcellus rose and poured amber liquid into a glass. She admired the power in his body as he came over to the bedding. He sank down beside her and raised the glass to her lips. She swallowed, loving the sweet taste that exploded in her veins.

  They arranged her between them, both kissing her shoulders, her lips, gentling her from the explosive passion. The gentle pleasure flared, and she whimpered when heat rekindled to fire.

  “Again?” she panted.

  They surrounded her, enclosing her in their delicious warmth and strength. A deep vulnerability sliced through her, yet she also felt protected. She knew they would sacrifice all to make her happy, but they also had the power to crush her hopes and dreams, and that was what terrified her.

  “Do you want us to stop?” Marcellus asked.

  “No,” she breathed, unable to even understand how they could hunger for each other so soon.

  Desire boiled in her veins as four hands roamed her body, teasing and caressing her. They roused her desire higher as they positioned her in Maxwell’s lap. He leaned against the foot of the sofa, and she reached around his shoulders and gripped the edges.

  “Look at me, my darling,” Maxwell crooned.

  She held his gaze as he slid inside of her swollen folds to the hilt. His hands ran over her thighs to cup her cheeks. She wetted her lips as she felt Marcellus pressing against her rear entrance. He burrowed into her, slowly sinking himself to his balls. Emily felt full, stretched, poised on the knife edge of pleasure-pain. Marcellus snaked his hands around her stomach, stroked her clitoris, and pleasure won.

  They began moving with powerful thrusts inside her. Maxwell started thrusting in counterpoint to Marcellus buried inside her ass. She cried out as bliss seared her nerve endings. Perspiration soaked her hair and ran in rivulets down her back as they both took her for what seemed like hours. She knew it could not possibly be so, but she was lost in a haze of hedonistic eroticism. Male groans echoed through the room. Hot, sweet waves of ecstasy poured over her and into her. She tightened on their surging thicknesses, feeling her release gathering, building in heat and strength, until she jerked in their hold, screaming as it overtook her. She was stretched, filled, pleasured as she had never thought possible. She mindlessly chanted their names as she was engulfed by wave upon wave of shuddering release.

  Marcellus held liquid fire in his arms. Emmeline tightened on him, rippling around his cock as he invaded her ass. She was screaming beneath him, in a mix of agony and bliss as he seated himself to the hilt over and over. Destructive pleasure swept through him as twin sensations swirled and owned him. He felt the combined high from the both of them fucking her, possessing her, loving her. He could feel the silken tightness of her cunt as it gripped Max, and Marcellus knew Max could feel the sensations of her ass choking the orgasm from his cock.

  Marcellus buried his face in her shoulder as he rode her. Her nipples were tight rosy buds and her breasts jiggled with their thrusts, and Max captured one of her berry nipples and sucked fiercely. She cried out in wanton lust, begging for more. She flexed around Max, milking and burning him with desire. It was as if lighting speared them both at the same time. It slammed into them, devastating them with ecstasy and binding them tighter.

  “I love you, Emmeline,” Marcellus groaned into her throat and was rewarded when she cried her love for him.

  Passion burned them bright and delicious until they were left spent, curled together in a sweating heap, breathing heavily. They soothed her with soft kisses, easing her, whispering words of love. They lay together like that for a while, silent, the sounds of the howling winds in the night soothing. They cleaned her gently and understood her sleepy, tired gaze as she watched them.

  They curved her between them, contented to lie like that, feeling the echoes of each other’s joy and contentment.

  “Do you think it will always be like this?” she murmured.

  “I damn well hope not,” Max grunted. “That nearly killed me.”

  She laughed, chortling with delight, and suddenly Marcellus knew they were complete. He was not sure if she realized it. She had smiled, even chuckled sometimes, but this was the first time she had laughed outright since the start of the war.

  “You will marry me, Emmeline,” he commanded.

  She snorted, and Max grinned.

  Marcellus knew she loved them because she wouldn’t have been with both of them otherwise, yet he tensed.

  “Relax, you ass, she is teasing,” Max said, laughing.

  She twisted on Marcellus’s chest and stared into his eyes. Her green cat eyes glowed, and he slowly relaxed.

  “With your penchant for ordering, Marcellus, I must be insane to even contemplate it. I should marry Maxwell. He will allow me more leeway.”

  “Hey! I will not,” Max blustered.

  Marcellus captured her lips in a slow kiss, humbled by how much he loved her. “You will marry me so that our son may be titled,” he murmured.

  “Hmm.” She sank into his kiss.

  “Emmeline?” he growled, needing to hear her affirmation.

  She laughed, and he could see the awareness dawn in her eyes of the feminine power she held over them.

  “I will think about it.”

  She shrieked as Max started to tickle her underarm. “You fiend. Stop.” Her laughter pulsed, strong and jubilant, stealing into his heart. He could feel the echoes of Max’s love and obvious joy in her happiness.

  “Yes, yes,” she conceded, shouting with laughter. “I will marry Marcellus.” She ended on a soft note, the delight and wonder evident in her tone.

  Life would change for them all, Marcellus conceded. They both had her love, this woman they adored. She was willing to accept the pleasures they could give her, the lifestyle they would lead, and the love they had for her. He would marry her, and he and Maxwell would ensure she was always cherished and loved. This woman of their heart.

  * * *

  Christmas Eve

  Merriment danced on the air. Christmas, its feel, and scent were everywhere. The violin strings of “Silent Night” filtered through the crowd, its rendition so beautiful and poignant Emily’s throat tightened.

  It seemed as if the entire village had turned out for the ball. Chatter and joyous laughter had been pealing through Willow Lake’s manor and grounds for hours. Fresh-cut red and white roses scattered about with hundreds of small decorative lights, which cast an ethereal glow on the snow and lake. The place felt enchanted.

  The dinner itself had been splendid. Mrs. Bough, the head cook, and their staff had outdone themselves in the preparation of the meal. It had been months since many of the villagers had eaten meat. The duchess had ensured the dinner was a veritable feast. There were several platters of roasted rib of Hereford beef, roasted Yorkshire turkey, roasted joints of pork, cured smoked salmon, trout, Yorkshire pudding, and plum pudding served with nutmeg custard. Everyone had been delighted, and the meal itself had been informal and filled with gaiety. There had been no reservation as the villagers mixed with the gentry and their families, and the duke and his family. Now almost everyone was ice skating or dancing in the ballroom. Some had retired to the card areas, but everyone was entertained in some manner.

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nbsp; “You look ravishing,” Marcellus murmured at her nape. “Happy.”

  Emily laughed and leaned into his chest. She did feel happy, blessed. Between him and Maxwell, she felt like a rare treasure.

  “I love seeing everyone so cheerful. I feel as if we are healing.”

  He pressed a fleeting kiss along her neck, and she shivered.

  “We are, Emmeline. We are.”

  “Are you ready?” Maxwell asked as he came up to her left.

  “Oh yes,” she said with a laugh.

  Marcellus stepped to her right, and each held one of her hands. A thrill surged through her as they skated onto the frozen lake. The feel of being between them roused the most curious hunger and exhilaration inside of her. Her and Marcellus’s wedding was set for the last day in January. A winter wedding to be held at Willow Lake. She wanted nothing more in this world than to belong to him so completely. She had thought she would feel a bit separated from Maxwell, being married to Marcellus. But their past week of interactions made her realize her fear had been unwarranted. They both owned her heart and soul, and she knew she possessed theirs as well.

  It had been a week since their mutual loving in the library, and she had been with both Marcellus and Maxwell several times since, but always separately. She yearned to be with them both again at the same time. She hungered for it. She had questioned how they would exist together as a family until she had taken a tour of Rosemead Park, the estate they would all live at after her wedding. The palatial grounds and the one-hundred-room manor had taken her breath with its ageless beauty. Their chambers had been specially designed, and peace and joy had stolen into her heart when she realized she would not have to sleep away from either Maxwell or Marcellus.

  “What causes such a radiant smile on your face?” Maxwell teased as he twirled with her, leading her on the ice with exquisite form and control.

  She felt graceful, elegant, and free as she glided with them on the ice, passing several parties. “I am thinking of our wedding night. How beautiful it will be. The pleasures I will have from both of your cocks inside me.”

  She laughed when both Maxwell and Marcellus stumbled, losing their graceful forms. How she delighted in teasing them.

  Marcellus skated impossibly close to her, brushing his fingers against the underside of her breast. She felt his caress through her winter jacket, and a shiver glided up her spine and beaded her nipples.

  “Is that so?” he murmured close to her ear.

  “Mmm, hmm,” she answered with a throaty chuckle. “Though from how you and Max have been ogling me the entire day, I can sense I won’t have to wait until our wedding night.”

  “Hell,” Maxwell growled.

  Emily chuckled. She had known tonight they would all make love together again. She could feel the lust, the intensity vibrating from them and entwining around her. She twisted on the ice, watching her loves, her heart bursting with joy. “I love you, Maxwell, and I love you, Marcellus.”

  Maxwell raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her fingers. “And I adore you, Emily.”

  Then Marcellus twirled her in his arms and claimed her lips in a fleeting tender kiss. “I love you, Emmeline, now and always.”

  Now and always. She felt safe. Protected. Loved. And as Emily teased and laughed for the night with her loves, she realized Christmas wishes do indeed come true.

  * * *

  Thank you for reading It’s Beginning to Look a lot Like Scandal!

  I hope you enjoyed the journey to happy ever after in these three steamy Christmas Historical Romances. Reviews are Gold to Authors, for they are a very important part of reaching readers, and I do hope you will consider leaving an honest review on Amazon adding to my rainbow. It does not have to be lengthy, a simple sentence or two will do. Just know that I will appreciate your efforts sincerely.

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  Acknowledgments

  I thank God every day for my family, friends, and my writing. A special thank you to my husband. I love you so hard! Without your encouragement and steadfast support I would not be living my dream of being an author. You encourage me to dream and are always steadfast in your wonderful support. You read all my drafts, offer such amazing insight and encouragement. Thank you for designing my fabulous cover! Thank you for reminding me I am a warrior when I wanted to give up on so many things.

  Thank you, Giselle Marks for being so wonderful and supportive always. You are a great critique partner and friend. Readers, thank you for giving me a chance and reading my book! I hope you enjoyed and would consider leaving a review. Thank you!

  About Stacy

  USA Today Bestselling author Stacy Reid writes sensual Historical and Paranormal Romances and is the published author of over twenty books. Her debut novella The Duke’s Shotgun Wedding was a 2015 HOLT Award of Merit recipient in the Romance Novella category, and her bestselling Wedded by Scandal series is recommended as Top picks at Night Owl Reviews, Fresh Fiction Reviews, and The Romance Reviews.

  Stacy lives a lot in the worlds she creates and actively speaks to her characters (aloud). She has a warrior way “Never give up on dreams!” When she’s not writing, Stacy spends a copious amount of time binge-watching series like The Walking Dead, Altered Carbon, Rise of the Phoenixes, Ten Miles of Peach Blosson, and playing video games with her love. She also has a weakness for ice cream and will have it as her main course.

  Stacy is represented by Jill Marsal at Marsal Lyon Literary Agency.

  She is always happy to hear from readers and would love to connect with you via my Website, Facebook, and Twitter. To be the first to hear about her new releases, get cover reveals, and excerpts you won’t find anywhere else, sign up for her newsletter, or join her over at Historical Hellions, her fan group!