Lillian barely noted it. Conn demanded all her attention. He cupped the back of her head, tilting her face to his as he took command of another kiss, tongue boldly thrusting against hers. Charles’s body was a warm presence against her back, fingers nimble as they reached around her waist to untie the sash of her robe. The instant it loosened, he parted the robe and slipped his hands inside to palm her breasts. She gasped into Conn’s mouth. He slanted his lips harder against hers, as if demanding his share of her attention. It hardly mattered. She wouldn’t have noticed if the Four Horsemen broke down the door and galloped through the room. Every sense was on these two beautiful, attractive, delicious men and what they did to her.
Charles stripped the robe from her, tugging her arms away from Conn’s neck so he could slide the sleeves down and off. Shaping her waist with his hands, Charles knelt and pressed biting kisses to the curve of her derriere. Lillian jumped a little, the move pressing her even more tightly against Conn’s body. He thrust his hips, teasing her belly with the hard shaft of his cloth-covered cock.
Then, he was gone.
Before she could protest, Charles stood and whirled her into his arms, lowering his lips to hers. Instead of controlling the kiss, as Conn did, Charles let her kiss him as she wished. She sucked his tongue and teased it with taunting touches of her own.
She heard the rustle of fabric behind her but was immediately distracted when Charles moved his hands down her body to cup her mound. One hand on her buttocks, holding her steady, he parted her nether lips and glided his fingers along her wet slit. Lillian tilted her hips and rode his fingers.
Charles tore his mouth free. “That’s it, Lilly, my beauty,” he rasped. “Take what you need from me. Take your pleasure.” His fingers never stilled, rubbing the stiff bud of her clit with relentless skill. When he dipped his head to lick and bite her nipple, she couldn’t hold back. Fingers digging into his coat sleeves, she cried out, helplessly shattering as she felt her own liquid drench his hand. He continued his sensual massage, easing her down from glory with a touch that threatened to arouse as much as it soothed.
When at last he eased his hand away, she gave a lusty sigh of satisfaction. Her eyelids were heavy as she watched his light-brown head at her breast, enjoyed the tug of his mouth on her nipple.
“Delilah.” Conn’s tone was dark, sensual. She looked over her shoulder. He waited, naked, on his knees in the centre of her bed. No supplicant, this. He seemed more like some pagan fertility god wreathed in shadows. The starlight through the glass ceiling glinted on his tawny flesh, kissing the curve of a biceps here, the point of a masculine nipple there. His cock rose long and proud from the tangled nest of dark hair at his groin. His dark blue eyes glittered black in the gloom.
Charles straightened and nuzzled her cheek. “Go to him,” he said.
Anticipation surged in her so strong that, for a moment, she couldn’t move. Both men had said they could share her, but she hadn’t really believed them. As if reading her mind, Charles smiled the secret, wicked smile he reserved just for her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you.”
Lillian walked to the bed. It wasn’t reluctance that slowed her steps. It was pure feminine instinct, the innate knowledge of a temptress. Of a goddess. With Conn’s and Charles’s attention devoted to her, their eyes devouring her, their expressions hungry and lustful, she certainly felt all powerful.
She settled one knee on the bed. Conn held out his hand. “Come to me, Delilah.” The Irish was thick in his voice. The sensual sound of it alone sent pleasure coursing through every part of her body.
She took his hand and allowed him to help her onto the bed. Once there, he kept tugging, pulling her forward until he could lift her up and settle her knees on either side of his. Then he lowered her onto his thrusting shaft, sinking deep inside her with the single thrust. Lillian moaned. Conn growled in pleasure and seized her mouth in a hungry kiss at the same instant he began to thrust in earnest. His strokes were powerful as he held her steady for his invasion. Each jab of his cock sent a jolt of pleasure through her body. She tried to help, bracing herself on his shoulders and pushing down to meet his thrusts.
Conn’s beautiful face was stark with lust, his eyes burning blue sapphires as he stared into her face. Need coiled tighter and tighter in her belly. Lillian closed her eyes and gave herself up to his masterful possession of her pleasure. White lights danced behind her lids, growing brighter and brighter. She knew she cried and whimpered with the pleasure of it, but didn’t care.
Conn whispered dark praise in her ear, telling her what a sweet cunny she had, how tight she held him, how she needed what he was doing to her, and he would pleasure her until she couldn’t take one. More. Stroke.
She sank her nails into his skin, holding tight as she quaked and shivered against him. He was in her to the hilt, the raw sensation of his pubic hair and the hard, round spheres inside their soft sac rubbing intimately against her sensitized flesh inflaming her even more. She ground herself against his loins, brazenly rubbed her diamond-tipped breasts against his chest as she wallowed in the pleasure he gave her.
The lights behind her eyelids burst in an explosion of color, and Lillian screamed in ecstasy. A lifetime passed while she fought to breathe, to do anything more than love what he did to her.
When she could, she realized Conn was still hard inside her. A fine tremor wracked his body, yet his hands were tender as he caressed her back with long, gliding strokes of his palms. He kissed her eyelids, her cheekbones, nipped at her lips. “Are you ready?”
At first, she thought he spoke to her. Ready for what?
Then Charles said, voice a shade unsteady, “I’m ready.”
Conn’s hands left her back and guided her loosened arms to tighten around his neck. Charles, bare skin hot against her back, moved in behind her. He touched the globes of her bottom, massaging them in strong palms. The sensation was strange, to have one man caress her while another was hard as steel inside her. Then Charles’s thumb pressed against the tiny rosette of her anus. A thrill of expectation zinged through her. She tensed and gave a sobbing cry.
Charles soothed her with a soft sound. “Don’t be afraid. Conn and I want to be with you like this, together, but I’ll stop if it hurts you.”
“No,” she whispered. “Not afraid.” It was all she could manage.
Conn groaned and dropped his forehead against hers. “No, Charlie, she’s not afraid,” he said. “She likes it. Loves it. She just clenched me so hard it almost made me spurt. Hurry, man.”
Reassured, Charles pressed his thumb harder against Lillian’s anus. Both she and Conn moaned as one, he in reaction to her reaction. Restlessly, his fingers kneaded her waist and thighs. Lillian began to press excited little kisses on his jaw and neck, sucking and nibbling his flesh. Without conscious thought, she began to rock in his lap, a slow ride on his cock and back against Charles’s gentle probing as he tested her tiny hole, widening her, preparing her. She felt it when he exchanged his thumb for his finger, then two. All the while, Conn’s cock pulsed like a second heartbeat inside her, heightening the sensation of Charles’s anal play.
Finally, he pulled out his fingers and replaced them with the head of his cock. She was already so wet, they had prepared her so well, that Charles only needed her own moisture to ease his way. He pushed the tip of his cock against her, hard, then harder, until he surged past the ring of muscle. He gave her a moment to accustom herself to the feel of him. He was so careful. So sweet. She didn’t know if she wanted to ask him to take his time so she could feel every inch of his beautiful cock, or tell him to take her hard, now, NOW! Oh, but what he was doing felt so delicious she couldn’t think. Easing back slightly, Charles pushed ahead a fraction of an inch, then another, and another, until at last his belly touched her bottom.
Lillian had never felt so surrounded.
Conn’s furred chest touched her erect nipples, making them furl so tight they almost hurt. His muscled abdomen pressed ag
ainst her softer belly. Strong thighs supported her weight as if it were nothing.
Behind her, Charles’s lean form pressed into her from shoulder to bottom to thighs. She kept one hand on Conn’s neck, but couldn’t resist reaching back to feel Charles’s sleek skin. She touched his thigh, followed it to where his hip curved into her bottom leaving no space between them. Tracing the round globe of his rear cheek, she stretched back until she could follow the dip down between his legs, where she could just, barely, touch the downy soft skin surrounding two tightly drawn spheres. He sucked in a breath and ran his hands restlessly along the length of her thighs, where they tightened around Conn. Charles settled his face against the curve of her neck and breathed deeply, as if memorizing her scent.
“God, you feel good, Lilly,” he said. His hands moved from her thighs and up her body to tease the edge of her breasts, where they weren’t crushed against Conn’s chest.
Conn seemed to take his friend’s words as a signal. He moved, thrusting his hips and pushing his cock inside her passage in short, hungry jabs. After a moment, Charles followed his lead. With Lillian straddling Conn’s lap, Charles had more room to maneuver, more leeway to pull out and plunge back in. Soon, they found a rhythm that worked for both of them, and began thrusting in earnest tandem.
Lillian struggled to keep her hand on Charles’s thrusting buttocks and hold tight to Conn’s neck, willing captive as they moved against her, inside her. She gasped at the burn of sensation. Anal sex was a special thrill for her, but only when aroused to the point that she could ignore the discomfort. Conn and Charles had taken care of that, and more.
In no time, it seemed as if the three lovers could sense each other’s motions before they happened. Lillian leaned into Conn a bit to give Charles more leverage. Charles held her hips, to increase the sensation of her clit rubbing intimately with each of Conn’s shallower thrusts. Conn gripped her thighs and eased them wider so both he and Charles could plunder even more of her.
Conn bared his teeth, an expression of pure pleasure tightening his features as a growl rolled up from his chest. He lost the rhythm he’d found with Charles. She felt his erection jerk and the hot spurt of his semen.
As Conn came, Charles lurched into Lillian. He grunted and groaned his own release, grinding his hips against her.
The feel of the two men spurting inside her was too much. Lillian’s arm tightened convulsively around Conn’s neck, her thighs clasping his in an unbreakable hold. Her other hand tightened on Charles’s buttock, trying to urge him deeper into her shuddering rear hold. Her head fell back against his shoulder as the force of the most powerful release she’d ever experienced took over her body. Her inner muscles clenched around Conn’s cock in her cunny and Charles’s in her bottom. They moaned in pleasure. “Yes,” Conn hissed. “Again!” She felt it as her release, unbelievably, prolonged theirs.
Long moments later, Charles slumped against her back. The tension humming through Conn’s body eased, and he, too, went almost boneless. The three of them panted for breath. Lillian felt hot and giddy and exhausted all at once. Finally, heart pounding, she said, “Oh, my.”
Conn laughed. It was the first time she’d heard more than a chuckle from him. It was a wonderful sound. “Oh my?” he asked, and laughed again.
Charles joined him, then Lillian. “I guess I should say, ‘Oh, my, you virile gods of female pleasure. I am so honored!’”
“You’re welcome,” Charles said. She felt a little pang of regret when he sat up and his sated cock slid from her body. He gathered her in his arms, and she lost Conn’s softening penis, too. She didn’t feel very sorry, though, since they were occupied with pulling down the covers and settling the three of them in her bed, one man on either side. It was a close fit, but they managed.
Briefly, Charles left the bed. When he returned from the attached bathing chamber, he held a damp cloth. Lillian sighed with pleasure when he began to cleanse between her thighs. Conn traced lazy patterns on her belly, not seeming the least perturbed.
They did it naturally, without discussion, as if there was nowhere they’d rather be than right here with her.
Being Conn and Charles, they tussled a bit, Conn grumbling that Charles was hogging the covers, but they soon settled down. Again without speaking their plans aloud, they arranged Lillian to their satisfaction, bottom nestled against Conn’s belly, cheek pressed to Charles’s shoulder.
Exhausted, satisfied to her fingertips, Lillian smiled to herself. How could she have had qualms about this? It was heaven.
* * * *
“He’s not there, sir,” the man reported. “His gear isn’t there either, just a bedroll on his cot. The men he’s assigned to bunk with say he usually doesn’t stay in their tent. They assumed he was knocking boots with a little laundress or one of Northrup’s girls.”
Devereaux frowned. “Organize a group to search the camp, Smitty. I want Murchison found, and now.”
Smitty had been with Devereaux since the beginning of the project. First a farmer, then a soldier, he was the sort who did what needed doing, no questions asked. Now was no different. He nodded curtly and left the tent Devereaux used as an office. Devereaux took his timepiece from his pocket. It was late. Mrs. Cabot’s guests were long since abed, and so was the lady herself. The bustle of the swanky dinner and then the socializing that followed prevented him from reporting the latest development to Mrs. Cabot. Now, it would have to wait until morning.
The search for Murchison moved beyond the tents into the woods, where they finally had some luck. Some of the men stumbled across a cold firepit. A more intensive search uncovered stashed saddlebags with two changes of clothes, shaving gear and a tin of chaw. Clods of dung, a feed sack and conspicuously cropped grass and shrubbery showed where a horse had been hobbled. Devereaux, when he arrived at Smitty’s summons, looked the Spartan campsite over and came to the conclusion that one of the missing horses wasn’t missing at all. His suspicions about Murchison crystallized. He thanked his lucky stars Salome Northrup chose to involve herself.
Then he issued new orders and settled in to wait.
Murchison rode in just before dawn.
The horse sensed them first. Used to the scent of men, it wasn’t unduly alarmed, but its curious whicker as it approached Devereaux’s hidden men alerted Murchison. He jerked on the reins, brutally pulling the animal’s head around as he kicked its ribs. Startled, the horse half-reared, dancing in fear and pain as its rider urged it to run. Smitty leapt from behind a tree to grab at the bridle. Before he could touch it, Murchison lashed out with one heavy boot, the nervous horse’s bulk adding impetus to the blow. Smitty grunted as air left his chest in a whoosh.
“Murchison!” Devereaux stepped from cover and faced the man on the horse. The early morning sunlight, just beginning to streak through the trees on pale ribbons of light, glinted off the gun he held steady in his hand. “Get off the horse. Now!”
Without hesitation, Murchison pulled a revolver from the holster at his hip. He attempted to level it on Devereaux, but the horse, further unsettled by the sudden appearance of more than half a dozen men on all sides and Murchison’s desperate sawing on the reins, had had enough. Squealing, it reared up, forelegs thrashing the air. Murchison, fighting to keep control of the gun and reins and hold his seat on the panicking horse, was thrown forward in the saddle.
Smitty, a grim look on his face despite his wheezing attempts to regain his air, reached for the bridle again just as Murchison forced the horse back on all fours. This time, he turned his gun on the man at the horse’s head.
“No!” Devereaux lurched forward, the sound of the double-blast muffled in the tight confines of the makeshift camp. Smitty reeled back, a sheet of blood seeming to instantly cover a too-white face. But Murchison wasn’t unscathed. Slumping on the horse’s back, he cursed blackly. Thick blood ran over the fingers of the hand he held tight against his side, where Devereaux’s ball had struck.
With a shout of anger, Devere
aux grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt and tore him from the saddle. Murchison landed on the loamy ground with a cry of pain, a grimace twisting his features. The horse, eyes rolling wildly, began to buck. Men on all sides ducked and dodged the flying hooves. Devereaux stood his ground, meaty hand fisted in Murchison’s shirt in case the wounded man was fool enough to try to get away. The horse abruptly stopped bucking. With a final equine scream, it tore away through the trees, sending men leaping for fresh cover as it crashed heedlessly over brush and saplings in its frenzy to escape.
Devereaux felt Murchison move beneath his hand. Furiously, he shoved the man to the ground, kicked him over to his stomach, ignoring both the cry of pain and flurry of renewed cursing. “Shut the fuck up,” he said. Gesturing with his chin, he ordered some of his men to take charge of the prisoner. “Make sure he’s not going to bleed out before the hanging,” he said. Then he went to Smitty’s side.
Two other men had eased the young man to his back. The sight of Smitty’s blood-streaked face and ashen features made Devereaux shake his head. Murchison had been too close to miss when he pulled the trigger.
Then, one of the men leaning over Smitty’s still form let out a whistle and said wonderingly, “Lucky bastard.”
Devereaux crouched on his haunches. “What is it?”
Grinning, the man tilted Smitty’s head down so Devereaux could see. A bloody furrow made a new part in Smitty’s dark brown hair, a glint of white bone barely visible in the morning sunlight. “I think it just grazed him. That’s what all the blood’s from. He’s still breathing, still warm.” He met Devereaux’s eyes. “We’ll need the doc to look at him for sure, but I think he might be all right.”
Devereaux let out a relieved breath. “Then you two get him to Ritchards as fast as you can.” Nodding, the men carefully hoisted Smitty up, sharing his weight, and started back to camp.
Devereaux watched Murchison with cold eyes.
The Railroad Baroness Page 16
