“Go ahead,” he invited, his legs spread wide and his semihard erection beginning to show itself in an overt manner guaranteed to intimidate many people. Not so Arabella and Serena, he understood with good humor. After a brief, downward scrutiny, Arabella ignored his pose and began to talk.
“Firstly, I will say, yes, we have heard about your reputation, your predilection for less-than-usual practices. We are hypothetically intrigued by what you wish to discuss, if it involves this; however, we feel you should be made aware of a few things regarding our future lives. Ours as in myself and Serena.” She stopped, undecided perhaps how to continue.
“Go on,” he replied levelly. “Elucidate.”
“We noticed your interest in our pinkie linking. You asked us if we knew what that signified in certain circles, and we said we did. Do you know, Your Grace?”
“Of course.” There was a pause as all assessed each other. Eventually, with a lift of his shoulders, he spoke. “My dears, it signifies you are followers of Sappho.” Still neither girl replied. So be it. He decided to risk all, as if on a throw of the dice.
“I do believe”—his tone was sensual, enticing, his intention to seduce evident in every nuance—”that those who pinkie link are more inclined to experiment. You are obviously of that persuasion, else why be here? Although I must confess, I had cause to wonder why two such young, beautiful, vivacious ladies as you have chosen that route through life. For it will be neither easy, nor I fear, pleasant at times.”
He saw their exchanged glances. Not disinterested, he thought. So it was up to him to turn that to his advantage, and furthermore, give his cock the workout it sorely needed.
“Am I correct in my belief that you may be interested in my expressed desire earlier?”
Slowly, both assented. “Nonetheless, Ivo, we need to explain a few things, ask some questions. We require the answers we so desire before we make any commitment to you.” It was Serena who gave their concerns. “For our first, indeed our primary, commitment is to each other. Always. We decided many years ago our interest was in each other and no one else. Not because we did not, how shall I say, wish to understand the mechanics of lying with a man, but because of a man’s predilection to subjugate a female.”
Arabella continued, her eyes shadowed with thoughts perchance not pleasant. “You know our grandfathers were cousins and that their lands abutted each other? Our fathers grew up almost as brothers.”
Ivo bowed his head in understanding. Force-fed the hierarchy of the ton from an early age, he could give chapter and verse on all relationships, close or not.
Serena glanced at Arabella and gave her hand a squeeze of comfort before she took over the narration from her. “It seemed our grandfathers were of the opinion that to beat information into their sons meant that the information stayed with them. Had our mamas given them the chance, our fathers would have followed the same path with us. Neither, perhaps luckily, was blessed with sons of their own. Toward us and our mamas—neither of whom have ever, to our knowledge, expressed a thought of their own—each was rigid, unbending, and generally uncaring. Unneeded and, we felt, unwanted, we were both sent to Miss Miller’s School for Young Ladies in Bath. Our salvation. Here we were lucky enough to share a room and were able to talk freely about our lives and the misery our mamas were put through. Indeed it is our determination never to be subjected to such acts of disinterest.”
Her face clouded, as if the sun had hidden. Ivo noted her blank expression was mirrored by that on the visage of Arabella. An inkling of their childhood began to form in his mind. Were their fathers alive now, he would have taken a vicious delight in dosing them with their own medicine. Would those unhappy early years be enough to mold them to the way they were now? He thought not. “And henceforth?” he prompted.
Serena sighed. “Why is a lack of patience so ingrained in men?” she queried in dulcet tones. Arabella giggled, changing it to a poor imitation of a cough as she noted Ivo’s raised eyebrows. No meek and mild milksops were his lovers-to-be.
“I fear I have no idea why the general ramblings and side tracks usual in the mind of a female should perturb me or any male,” he retorted. “Nonetheless, may I prevail on you to continue?”
She stood and curtsied, mocking him. Minx. There was no graceful subservience there, merely mockery. He had no recourse other than to laugh. “I can see my life will be anything other but dull when we become a three,” he remarked. “I look forward to the challenge.”
“If we become a three,” Arabella retorted. “May we continue, Your Grace? Or wish you for us to digress further?”
Ivo bowed his head. “I await your pleasure, my dears. In more than this situation.” He watched as Arabella successfully struggled to control her ready remark. Instead, she subjected him to what could only be described as a glacial stare, something her blue eyes excelled at.
“Then, Your Grace, I will continue. Once we were at Miss Miller’s we found ourselves able to share confidences to a greater degree. Found just how negligent our fathers had been in our upbringing, our education of our world. Seeing how our mamas lived, we had both decided the married state was not for us. Neither of us was prepared to be subservient to any man. Neither of us knew there was any alternative.
“Now? Well, now, Your Grace, we may perchance be encouraged to think differently.” She was silent. He saw the private glance that passed between them and felt unaccountably left out, like he was missing something important. That, he determined, was something he could and would change.
“So,” Serena took up seamlessly, “we were sharing a room, confiding in each other, and very sure where we did not want our destiny to be, equally as unsure as to where it resided. One day, I was requested to wait in the library for an unexpected visit from my father. Waiting for what seemed like eons, I came upon a little-read tome. I read it, assimilated it, and thought it may be for me; however, I did not feel able to share my learnings for an age.
“My father, in his usual bombastic manner, informed me my god-mama had died and left me a considerable fortune. On his advice it was not to be available to me until I was five and twenty. Subsequently, I learned Arabella had her fortune with the same proviso attached. It was not until a particularly vicious thunderstorm which occasioned us to hide under the same bedcovers did I disclose all I had read on that dismal day of endless waiting.”
Arabella giggled. “There was one particularly violent clap of thunder that elicited a shriek from me, whereupon I almost clambered into her lap. Imagine how I felt on perceiving how enjoyable that was.”
“As did I,” solicited Serena. “On sharing my discoveries from that dusty tome, we decided to follow Sappho, see where our destinies lay. We left school, came out, and, er—shall we say—made sure we caught the eye of no male on the hunt. Of any age or capability. So here we are. Two wallflowers, not wilting but flourishing.”
He laughed deeply, loudly. If he had his way, that flourishing would be done under his aegis, and no one else’s.
“As you say. Until now.”
Arabella nodded her agreement. “You may or may not realize, Ivo, but Serry and I, we share the same birthdate. As Serena disclosed, our father’s both chose not to allow us access to our fortunes until we reached the age of five and twenty or upon our marriage, whichever was the earlier. For those reasons already disclosed, neither of us is inclined to marry, for marriage between two women will never be accepted.
“We knew from an early age we were destined to be spinsters, on the shelf, and then old maids. Happy, in love, loved, and fulfilled. Albeit spinsters. Tomorrow, we visit our respective solicitors, conveniently with chambers adjacent to each other. Sign any necessary papers and remove to our newly-purchased townhouse or perchance our country estate. Be happily shunned by the ton and start the rest of our lives together.”
“With me.” He was adamant. “Else why let me see you pinkie link?”
“By accident?” Serena offered.
He scoffed. “N
o, my dears, by design. Of that I am sure. So tomorrow, after you visit your solicitors, perhaps I may see at least your townhouse. See if it is suitable for what I have in mind. What have I said that so entrances you?” he queried, for they both broke into peals of laughter.
“Oh, Ivo.” Arabella giggled, looking much younger than her years, her long, brunette ringlets dancing as she did so. “You may not approve of the house or our taste in décor. Nevertheless, I feel you will approve of its situation.” She paused.
Serena, her opposite with corn-colored hair straight and pinned closely to her head, continued flawlessly, “It backs on to here. The only thing between our establishments is the mews.”
Chapter Two
“Ah. You have purchased Clerrow’s house? I was given to understand it was acquired by a Mr. Woodson. A solicitor? Whose?”
“Mine,” Arabella spoke. “On my behalf. Well, I should say, on our behalf. For we will be unconventional, and with luck, after the morrow will not receive invitations to those dratted ton events. But we will be elegant. We will lead our lives as we think fit, which includes a box at the opera, which may or may not include you. We may be avant-garde, but we will be unconventional women in the way we choose.”
He clapped his hands, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness of his breeches as his cock, interested beyond belief at mere talk, strained to be noticed. It seemed its activities gained it the recognition it sought, as both girls glanced at the general area and smiled. Not blushed, he noted, but smiled. “Bravo. So?”
“So, Ivo.” There was a saucy smile on Arabella’s face, matched by the one on Serena’s, as they both faced him, seemingly now wide-awake. “Just what is making your breeches stand up so?”
Minx. In fact, minxes. Plural. They knew much more than any well-bred young lady should.
“My cock. Desirous of attention. Preferably inside one of you.” He looked to see their reaction. No maiden modesty there. Yet another look exchanged between them. He wished he could interpret the meaning. He had a lot to learn, he mused, and was sure considerable enjoyment would prevail as he did so.
“We need to try before we buy. Or, in this case, see before we agree.” Serena laughed audaciously. “Lud, I am a poet. So, Ivo, the choice is yours: Do we see this excitable appendage? Touch? Perchance taste? For we have no need of its uses unless we so decide.”
This was something they had discussed at length before they decided to take it upon themselves to speak to him in such an unconventional manner. Perfectly happy until that evening, his request had reawakened ideas both had discussed and discarded many years earlier. However, neither chose to agree or admit to anything that may spoil their future life without due consideration. Seeing what could be on offer not only filled those criteria, but as Bella had so succinctly put to Serena, “If we choose to go no further, we will be in the envious position of perusing a man’s protuberance in all its supposed glory.”
“Bella?” He turned for her response, his hands already poised to open the placket on his breeches.
“Oh, Ivo, I am in agreement. We hear about this part of a male and are told it is something we as ladies of the ton have no necessity to bother with, for it will only disturb us when it has a yearning to procreate.” She wrinkled her nose. “Such a waste if it can only bring us delights we have never felt a need for. Therefore, we need to know what, where, and how we will be involved with your cock. We need to see how, without us, it serves you.”
They intended to make him work for their cooperation, then? He liked the idea. He had to come or explode, so why not come with them watching? He began to open his breeches, and then had a sudden thought.
“Did you come here alone? No maids?”
“Suki and Rena are with us. They are in your study. They are the only two we trust and will both be accompanying us in our new lives. Like us, they also follow Sappho.”
“It is all right, Ivo,” Serena interposed. “Your valet kindly gave them food and drink and a coverlet each. He even stoked the fire up.”
Good. So now he could stoke his own personal fire.
Slowly, very deliberately, he lay back in his chair, spread his legs wider to a position he knew would guarantee them a full view of him and his actions, even if they chose not to leave their seats. Smiling to himself, he opened the placket, behind which his cock pulsated, eager to be free of its confines.
“My goodness.”
“Oh, now look at him.”
“What happens now?”
“You say that is disposed to fit into us?”
Two pairs of eager and interested eyes gazed in impatient awe as his cock sprang free. Hard, throbbing, and demanding attention, its knob purple, its veins standing out along its length.
“Now,” he drawled as he took it in his hand and slowly began to caress it. “In the absence of a body to bury itself in, or a pair of lips willing to suck on it and pull it into a warm, wet mouth, it receives firsthand attention. In this case, from my hands, unless either of you wishes to offer your help?”
No shock, he noted with pleasure, but interest, although they both shook their heads, seemingly regretfully.
“Not this time, Ivo. Take this as your audition. Perchance, I should say, our audition?” Bella smirked. “For if we do not like what we see or do not react as you think we should, there will be no reason to continue.”
Convoluted reasoning, but he would accept it for now, because he needed to come. By his own hand, if nothing else was available.
Fuck, he had forgotten one important thing. “Bella, hand me a napkin, please. At once.”
The tone of his voice had her scurrying to do as his bidding. Jumping up, she hurried to a side table and retrieved a linen square deposited there. Passing it to him, her hand seemed to move toward his cock. Then it stopped.
“Go on,” he encouraged. “Touch if you so desire. Both of you. I promise you my self-control is enough not to come all over you, unless at your request.” Their eyes flashed with definite interest, he noted. He wondered if the interest would be as high when he introduced them to the activities he had become partial to when living in China, India, and other faraway places, for introduce them to such delights he would. He dragged his mind back from loving two women at once, watching them love each other, the sex alfresco, other such erotic delights, and the toys he could show them and use with them, to the matter in hand.
Slowly Bella knelt in front of him, curls falling forward to obscure her face as she reached out and tentatively put her hand on the side of his cock. He held himself rigidly in check, that first, gentle, tentative step toward their future almost his undoing.
“Oh, Serry. Feel.” She gasped. “It is rock, covered in silk or velvet. And this will fit into us? I fear it is not possible.”
He laughed, deep and rich. “Oh, my dears, I assure you both, it will fit in more than one place, without a doubt. We will have enjoyment and fulfillment as we find out how and why and where. I vow it will take nothing from your love of each other, merely add to it.”
Serena obliged her friend by coming forward and cupping his cock in her hands. Her blonde hair, held in tight confinement, could not block his view of her amazement as she held his weight in her soft hand. Again he tightly held his emotions under control. When had he ever felt such an overwhelming desire to come so immediately, with such violence as to cover them all with the result?
“Oh, my,” she breathed. “Rock-hard velvet indeed. You say, Ivo, this will fit anywhere?”
“Anywhere,” he affirmed, her naivety pleasing him. “I can fill your cunt, your arse, your mouth. It will be your choice.” He paused. “Sometimes.”
He could see the idea appealed, although, regretfully it seemed neither were prepared to do more than that solitary touch. Yet. He sighed. Ah, well, he would show them how a man in the throes of passion could satisfy himself. Deliberately, he looked at each in turn.
“Look well, my dears,” he advised them. “I am going to come. Soon, hard, and loud.
Remember, one day you will do the same. At first with each other, and I will watch. And then together. All of us.”
“You think, Your Grace, we have not touched each other, kissed each other, and experienced, oh, such feelings that we drank them to ensure silence?” Bella smirked.
He felt his breath hitch. Deliberately, he returned his hand to his cock, the pictures in his mind increasing his arousal. He threw back his head and heard their indrawn breaths, and fisted himself.
“Tell us, Ivo.” Bella’s voice was hoarse. “How does it feel to touch yourself?”
“In the absence of someone else,” he said frankly, his voice own unsteady. “More than adequate. Now, unless you help, my dears, I must help myself. I must come.”
“Come?”
“Come. Ejaculate. Spill my seed. Fucking come, ladies, now. Aahh!” He was rubbing himself hard as he spoke. “Now!” His hand clenched as he came, hard and fast, cum spilling over his hand and chest. Luckily the late-remembered napkin was perfectly positioned.
He heard the emotional, aroused sighs of both Bella and Serry. As his breath returned to normal, he looked them in the eye. Both were now kneeling in front of him, eye-to-cock level. Damn, he wished he wasn’t spent. He wanted to do it all again, just to see their growing awareness.
“Are you uncomfortable? Irritable? Excited? Wet with desire and wishing to fuck yourselves or each other?” he queried, and waited for their nods. “Well, my dears, you only have yourselves to blame. I and my body were ready to share with you. You chose not to avail yourselves of this. Your loss.” He looked at them from under his lashes.
They were not browbeaten. To be honest, he would have been disappointed if they had been.
“So you say, Ivo,” Serena retorted. She held Serena’s hand as they helped each other to their feet. “But we need to be sure, for we may agree that your cock responded magnificently to your ministration, but we need to know if it will be so disposed toward us. Tonight was not the time to discover this; therefore, after our drive in the park on the morrow, we would like to invite you to share…” She paused. “Lunch and the afternoon with us. Help us celebrate our new home, and, er, whatever.”
Wallflowers Don't Wilt Page 2
