His Wicked Ways

by Jaide Fox

  He released her after a moment, moving down her body to her breasts and teasing them as Nick had. She roused herself when Nick leaned down to kiss her, realizing that she'd taken pleasure but not given it, kissing him back even as she reached down and began to caress Darcy with her hands.

  When Darcy moved away, she broke the kiss and turned to him. Coming up on her hands and knees, she kissed his throat, dragging a trail of kisses downward, over his male breasts, down his belly, until she reached his cock. Grasping it, she studied it a moment and placed her mouth over the rounded tip, tasting him experimentally. He jerked, tensed, groaned as she sucked the head and, realizing that it gave him as much pleasure as it did her, she took him into her mouth.

  Nick's hand skated down her back and over her buttocks. He tugged at her legs, urging her to part them and she shifted to accommodate him. Her belly tightened, spasmed with pleasure as his mouth covered her nether lips and he began to tease her, plunging his tongue into her passage in a curling, twisting rhythm that made her pulse pound madly. Renewed desire filled her like flash fire and, as it rapidly escalated, she caressed Darcy's cock with more hunger, sucking on him harder, thrusting his cock in and out of her mouth more quickly until he began to move restlessly beneath her, clutching and releasing her head, as if he couldn't decide whether to push her away or hold her tightly to him.

  The tease of Nick's mouth and tongue brought her body rapidly to the crest once more. Still, her culmination caught her unaware. She gasped, groaned around Darcy's cock even as she thrust her hips back toward Nick, arching her back in entreaty.

  Before the last echoes had died, Nick positioned himself behind her, caught her hips and thrust inside, burying himself deeply in her wetness. She hesitated in her ministrations. Catching the rhythm he set as he pumped into her, she began to move Darcy's cock in and out of her mouth in the same rhythm.

  Darcy tensed suddenly, letting out a harsh gasp, gripping her head and trying to push her away. Bronte was beyond anything by that point, however, but focusing upon her own gathering passions as her body instantly began to climb toward culmination again. Mindless with her own impending release, she held him tightly in her mouth, resisting his efforts to push her away, sucking him harder, undulating her tongue against him faster and faster. Abruptly, his cock jerked in her mouth and his hot seed shot down her throat. It surprised her, but before she could decide whether to release him or not, her body seized in a hard climax. She groaned, sucking him harder until his cock ceased to spasm. Nick uttered a harsh growl, caught her hips as she released her hold on Darcy at last and slammed into her in quick, hard thrusts as he found his own surcease.

  Weak in the aftermath, the three of them collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs on the bed, gasping for breath.

  "That was the most wonderfully decadent experience I've ever had in my life,” Bronte murmured finally, skating a hand down the chests on either side of her and toying with the nest of hair that surrounded their cocks.

  Nick rolled on his side, facing her. “I think, if we put our minds to it, we can probably come up with something equal, or surpassing it in wickedness. What do you think, Darcy?"

  "Don't ask me to think right now,” Darcy said with an effort.

  Bronte chuckled and rolled over to look at him. “I did it right?” she asked tentatively.

  He cracked an eye and looked up at her. “Darlin', I thought you were going to kill me."

  "Oh. I didn't do it right?"

  He lifted an arm with an effort and dragged her down for a kiss. “I've never felt anything more ‘right’ in my life."

  Relieved, she lay down once more, wrapping an arm around him. Nick settled behind her, draping an arm and leg over her.

  Sighing contentedly, Bronte drifted to sleep.

  She woke when she felt them move away from her and sat up, watching them dress.

  Noticing her at last, Nick shoved his foot into his boot and strode toward her, leaning down to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Stay put. We're going topside for a bit. I'll have the cabin boy bring you a bath before dinner."

  Subsiding, Bronte pulled the covers over herself and lay back, watching them contentedly until they departed.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The cabin boy appeared just as Bronte was drifting to sleep once more, dragging a tub into the room. Groggily, she sat up, clutching the sheets to her. “Pardon me, Lady—” He stopped, obviously confused as well as disconcerted to find her lying in the bed. “Are you Mrs. Cain? Or Mrs. St. James?"

  "I'm Lady—” Bronte broke off, biting her lip. In truth, she wasn't a ‘lady’ at all, not that she felt particularly mournful over it. She wasn't even entitled to the title since she was no longer an English citizen. “You can call me Bronte."

  He bobbed his head and left again. When he'd finished filling the tub, he bowed. “Will there be anything else, Lady Bronte?"

  She shook her head.

  "Cook said to tell you dinner would be ready in twenty minutes and he wasn't taking responsibility for ruined food if you weren't ready to eat."

  Bronte chuckled. “I'll be quick."

  She was still in the tub when Nick and Darcy returned a few minutes later, tapped at the door and then entered. She jumped but relaxed when she saw it was them, settling back and watching as they brought in a table and chairs. When they'd ceased fanning the door and sprawled in the chairs to watch her, she climbed from the tub and took the linen toweling, ignoring them as she dried herself.

  She sent the two of them an irritated glance. “Are you going to help me dress for dinner?"

  Darcy grinned at her. “I was thinking you could wear that."

  "The towel?"

  "No."

  Bronte gaped at him in outrage. “Nothing?"

  Nick got to his feet and opened one of her trunks. Rummaging through it, he unearthed a robe and held it up. She looked at him doubtfully. “A robe?"

  A slow smile curled his lips. “There's not much point in dressing when we'll be taking it off again."

  Heat curled in her belly. Shivering, Bronte slipped her arms into the robe, securing the belt at the waist. “You intend to keep me naked throughout the entire crossing?” she asked, torn between amusement and irritation.

  "We have a lot of lost time to make up for,” Darcy explained, mock serious.

  "And it will be a long, otherwise boring voyage,” Nick said pensively.

  Bronte uttered a disbelieving laugh. “And I'm supposed to be the entertainment?"

  Nick slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her close. “Mmm. We'll entertain you, too."

  * * * *

  When Bronte awoke, she discovered without a great deal of surprise that she was alone in the cabin. They had established a habit in the past week and a half since they'd been at sea of disappearing up on deck for much of the day and leaving her to her own devises.

  She didn't particularly mind. They were attentive enough—more than attentive enough when they spent their evenings and nights with her. Between the two of them she'd been too sore even to consider leaving the cabin after the first few days. Truthfully, she'd been too exhausted to do much besides sleep.

  She'd grown accustomed, however, and even though she didn't feel as if she required their constant attention, even though she was quite content to have time to herself, she wasn't content to remain in the cabin.

  Rising, she dug through her trunks until she'd found something that looked simple enough that she could dress herself without assistance and moved to the washstand and bathed. The corset presented problems, but she tied it as snugly as she could and pulled the gown over her head. After struggling with the lacing down the back for a time, she ran her fingers over it, decided it was good enough and sat down on the bed to comb her hair and arrange it.

  There was no mirror in the room. She could do nothing more than check what she could see and feel, but she finally decided that she was dressed acceptably and left the cabin. The sun dazzled her as she reached the
deck and she paused, shielding her eyes. When her vision had cleared, she saw Nick striding toward her. He stopped as he reached her, looked her over critically and grasped her arm, hauling her back down the stairs and to the cabin without a word.

  Bronte was too surprised even to protest. She'd recovered, however, by the time Nick closed the door firmly behind them to glare at him. He grasped her jaw, giving her a quelling glance. “Unorthodox our relationship may be, my love, but make no mistake. You are mine and I will not have other men gaping at you. If you'd told me you wanted to go topside for a stroll, I would've helped you dress and escorted you."

  Bronte was still gasping in surprise when he released his grasp on her cheeks, caught her shoulders and turned her away from him. Loosening her ties, he spread the gown and reworked the ties of her corset, binding it snugly. When he was satisfied, he adjusted her bodice and sleeves and tied her gown once more.

  He turned her once more, surveyed her critically and nodded. “The hair will have to do. Arranging that is beyond me."

  His gaze met hers. Seeing the quizzical look in her eyes, he smiled faintly, flicking an affectionate finger over her cheek. “You will have to grow accustomed, you know."

  "Will I?"

  "You will.” He pulled her close, tucking her head against his shoulder. “In my heart and mind, you are my wife."

  Warmth suffused Bronte, but she bit her lip as a touch of uneasiness moved over her as well. “And Darcy?” she asked tentatively. To her surprise and relief, he chuckled.

  "In his, too."

  "You are ... comfortable with that?"

  His arms tightened. “Will it surprise you if I say yes?"

  "I think it would."

  He sighed. “I didn't think I would be. I do love you, you see, and I am as jealous and possessive as any other man. Strangely enough, Darcy and I are more like two halves of a whole, though. I don't know how, or why, or even when that came about ... probably when we were still youngsters, but that is the way of it. And after a bit of adjustment we came to the realization that we would far prefer to share you than not to have you at all."

  Kissing her briefly, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and escorted her to topside once more. Darcy joined them as they strolled around the deck, tucking her other hand in the crook of his arm. After a couple of circuits of the ship, they stopped by the railing and stared out at the vast sea that surrounded them.

  "Where are we going?” Bronte asked, suddenly realizing that she hadn't even asked. She'd assumed she was going home, but then she had thought to begin with that she'd booked passage home.

  "Virginia first. I sent a agent to purchase land, but I've no notion until I speak with him what he's come up with. I've a mind to try my hand as a planter and give over the running of the shipping business to Darcy. He's far better at it than I am. Hopefully he's found something near a promising port town.

  "I suppose we could stay at your place until the house is built."

  Bronte frowned thoughtfully and finally smiled wryly. “I'm not so sure that would be a very good idea. Americans are a lot different than Englishmen, but they are as easily scandalized ... perhaps even more so."

  Darcy shrugged. “One of us could pose as your brother and the other your husband and there would be no reason for anyone to think anything of it."

  "An excellent suggestion,” Nick said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I shall be the husband. You can be the brother."

  "Now wait just a damned minute,” Darcy snapped angrily. “Why do I have to be the brother?"

  "Because you have a touch of red in your hair. I do not."

  "What's that got to do with it? I don't look like her brother!"

  "You're saying I do?"

  Bronte glanced from one to the other and started laughing. “Neither of you look as if you could be my brother, and what's more, I've been living there for years. They know I don't have a brother."

  "That's that, then. We'll have to find rooms until the house is done ... in another town. It would be best anyway if we found something close to the plantation."

  "Yes,” Darcy said, “but one of us is still going to have to pose as a relative or things could get very uncomfortable. It's not that I care that much about socializing, mind you, but I won't have the locals snickering about my wife."

  "Our wife,” Nick reminded him, all traces of amusement gone.

  "That's what I meant,” Darcy retorted.

  "That's not what you said."

  Bronte rolled her eyes. “I'm not your wife or yours,” she said tartly. “I told you I didn't want to get married again. I'll not tie either of you to me, for I'd as soon not have you growing dissatisfied when we have no children."

  Darcy and Nick eyed her speculatively for several moments. “We'll cross that bridge when, and if, we come to it,” Nick said.

  "We won't. We'll cross it now."

  "It's settled then."

  "It is?” Bronte said blankly, wondering if she'd missed something.

  "Yes. I'll have the captain perform the ceremony, grease his fist and threaten his life if he ‘remembers’ the names when he's in his cups,” Nick said.

  "Good idea,” Darcy agreed. “Better yet, I'll put him on one of the long hauls and make sure he doesn't hit port for a while."

  "Now?"

  Darcy shrugged. “There's no time like the present."

  Nick nodded. “I'll meet the two of you in the cabin.” His eyes narrowed speculatively. “The emerald, I think. I like the green on her."

  "What are you talking about?” Bronte demanded.

  "Never mind,” Darcy said soothingly, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and leading her toward the gangway. “I'll explain when we get to the cabin."

  Bronte tugged at her hand. “Darcy!"

  He gave her a warning look. “You don't want me to carry you down, do you?"

  She subsided. “You wouldn't!” she said doubtfully.

  "Ah, but I would, darlin’ and likely spank that luscious backside of yours for putting me to the effort."

  She was still arguing with Darcy when Nick tapped at the door a few minutes later and entered. His eyes narrowed when he saw that Bronte was clutching the front of her gown, resisting Darcy's efforts to remove it. Striding toward her, he caught her hands in his. “What's this all about?"

  "I don't want to get married. It wouldn't be legal anyway, would it?"

  "If you think so, then why argue?"

  "Because.... “She looked at Nick helplessly. “It wouldn't be right to tie you to me, Nick. Eventually, you will want children. You'll come to resent me. I would far rather we simply lived together and then, if you find someone else you would be free to wed."

  He caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. “We have compromised for you, Bronte. You will do this for us,” he said sternly.

  Put that way, it seemed completely unreasonable of her to object. After a moment, she nodded. “If you're certain it's what you want?"

  "We're sure."

  Bronte stood quietly while they helped her to dress in the emerald gown Nick had chosen for her, too terrified to speak, or even to think. Partly, it was because she had a very bad feeling that this would be breaking the laws of pretty much every country in the world. Even those that allowed for multiple partners only allowed for more than one wife, not more than one husband. Primarily, however, her fear was rooted in her first marriage. She knew it wasn't the same. She trusted Nick and Darcy, loved them, knew that they would take care of her as they always had. In the back of her mind, however, the horror of her first marriage still held sway.

  The captain looked the three of them over as if he was staring at a group of lunatics when he was allowed inside, or, more accurately, as if he strongly suspected the three of them were too inebriated to realize what they'd demanded of him. Shrugging, he performed the ceremony ... awkwardly, since he wasn't accustomed to addressing two grooms. When he'd finished by announcing his authority to legally perform marriages, h
e concluded with the customary, “You may kiss the bride ... uh ... both of you."

  The three of them butted heads and drew back, rubbing their foreheads. Sighing irritably, Nick produced a coin. “Heads or tails?"

  "Heads,” Darcy said promptly, watching the proceedings suspiciously.

  Nick flipped the coin, showed Darcy the results and pulled Bronte into his arms for a lingering kiss, handing Darcy the coin.

  "Damn it to hell, Nick! This is that trick coin!"

  Nick began to chuckle and finally pulled away from Bronte, grinning at Darcy unrepentantly. “You knew I still had it. You should have called tails."

  The End

  * * *

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