Ménage a Must

by Renee Michaels

  Jaw clenched, he gritted out, “I hope I can depend on your discretion.”

  Molly sank in a shallow curtsy. “You can, my lord, but if I may be so bold as to ask for something in return…?”

  The Earl of Glenhaven’s face tightened with haughty disdain. He reached into his vest pocket and removed a coin.

  Molly shook her head. “All I ask is that you don’t judge the young mistress by her stepmother’s behaviour.”

  A pained expression flashed across the earl’s face. “Not easily accomplished.”

  “You have more in common than you realise.” Molly laughed.

  They were both straining under the heavy yoke their families burdened them with. With a little nudge in the right direction, they might come to terms and she’d be free.

  She gave the earl a sunny smile. “All you have to do, milord, is make your wishes known. Good servants will see to your needs.” Even when you aren’t aware of them, Molly thought to herself. She gave him another sketchy curtsy and walked towards the servants’ entrance.

  The housekeeper met her at the door. She appeared to be stifling a laugh. “Miss Calder was wondering what happened to you.”

  “I was sidetracked, ma’am.”

  “Yes, you would be. Those two rascals are very good at turning young women into feather-brained ninnies. Now, if you’ll follow me…”

  She took off down a long corridor. Her full skirts billowed like sails as she moved at a fast clip over the polished tiles. Molly followed in her wake with the images of Logan and Graeme lingering in her head.

  Chapter Three

  Molly tucked an errant curl into the chignon at the back of her head. Her shoes pinched, she needed a good wash-up, and she’d taken another wrong turn. She truly believed whoever had designed the benighted maze of passages had meant to confound unsuspecting visitors to discourage them from making a return visit to the estate.

  Molly spied the banister marking the staircase that would take her down to the kitchens. Her last task for the day was to take Annabelle’s delicate undergarments to the laundress.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she paused when she saw Logan murmuring into the ear of a blushing housemaid.

  When he caught sight of her, an unrepentant grin spread across his face. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “And I can see how well you’ve been passing the time.” If she expected him to look abashed at her dry retort, she was doomed for disappointment.

  Logan chucked the girl under her chin. “I can’t resist bringing a blush or two to Phoebe’s cheeks.”

  “I don’t believe half what he says.” Even though she had declared her scepticism, Phoebe studied Logan with speculative wonder.

  “Hmmph.” Molly descended the last few steps and tried to slip past Logan. He rested his hand on the newel and shifted his body to block her way.

  “What’s your hurry?”

  The muscles in Molly’s shoulders ached from fatigue. All she wanted to do was fall into her cot.

  “I’ve been up for seventeen hours and tomorrow morning will come too quickly for my liking.”

  Phoebe held out her had. “I can take care of that for you.”

  “They’re delicates.”

  “Don’t you worry none, miss. Sal’s a dab hand at washing smalls.” Phoebe relieved Molly of the sack, shot her a conspiratorial grin, and left her alone with Logan.

  “Come with me, I have a surprise for you.” The persuasiveness in his tone and the temptation of doing something that would break up the drudgery of her long day had her resolve weakening.

  “It’s late, and I can’t be seen leaving the house with you.”

  “I promise you won’t regret coming with me.” Logan pulled her down a short corridor, plucked a cloak off a hook on the wall, draped it over her shoulders, and drew the hood over her head. “Now no one will know exactly who’s leaving the manor house.” He pulled her out of doors.

  There was a decided nip in the air, and Molly clutched the enveloping folds to ward off the chill.

  “You can’t be that naïve. Every move we make is noticed.”

  “No one can deny you a bit of fresh air, you’ve been run off your feet fetching and carrying since you got here.”

  “I must be mad,” she muttered as she allowed Logan to lead her away from the safety of the house. They stuck to the shadows and traversed a winding walkway, picked their way through a copse of trees towards a beam of light cutting through the darkness.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Graeme’s place. A treat awaits you there.” He led her towards a tiny cottage on the edge of what appeared to be the home forest.

  “I can’t stay long. I will be missed. Bess, Mrs Calder’s maid, is as good as a watchdog.”

  “She retired half an hour ago and bedded down at the far side of the attics.”

  The heavy wooden door to the entrance of the thatch-roofed lodge opened and Graeme stood in the doorway. His white teeth flashed in the gloom.

  “You got her.”

  “Aye, barely, and she’s of a mind to return to the house in no time at all,” Logan informed him.

  “Ah well, we’ll have to do our best to dissuade her, won’t we?” Graeme stepped aside and Logan placed his hand in the small of her back to usher her indoors.

  The tidy room she stepped into, which served as both dining room and kitchen, was filled with guns, fishing rods and the paraphernalia a gamekeeper would have to have. A cheerful fire danced in the soot-blackened grate. Molly let out an elated gasp. A zinc tub with whorls of steam rising out of it rested before the fireside.

  A bath.

  Molly shrugged the cloak off her shoulders, and walked over to trail her fingers through the heated water.

  Bliss in a tub.

  Molly shot the men a look of gratitude. She’d never received a finer or more considerate gift.

  “Is this for my comfort or a means to get me out of my clothes faster?”

  Graeme gave her a cheeky wink. “It never crossed my mind,” he lied blithely as he picked up a kettle off the hob and added its boiling contents to the bathtub.

  Molly’s sultry laugh filled the quiet room. “I’d better get undressed if I am going to take full advantage of this unexpected boon.” She removed her cuffs and collar. Molly undid the fastenings on her bodice. A slight smile curved her lips as she saw the men’s eyes darken with desire as she exposed the full mounds of her breasts above the low neckline of her chemise.

  “Allow us to give you a hand.” Logan sank to his knees, unlaced her half-boots and slipped them off. He reached up under her skirts, untied her garters, and rolled her stockings down her legs. All the while, he stared up into her eyes, his gaze filled with a lusty gleam. He lifted her leg and dropped a kiss on her dimpled ankle.

  Graeme pressed his mouth to the side of her neck and Molly slanted her head to one side to give him better access to the sensitive flesh coming alive under his lips. He peeled her uniform off her shoulders and let it slide to the floor. He untied her petticoats to leave her standing in her chemise, corset and drawers. Logan rose and clasped her waist with his big working-man’s hands and pulled her against his body, hardened by the hours he spent in the saddle.

  Graeme loosed her stays and her tits spilled into Logan’s hands. He caught her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He pinched, not to hurt her, but hard enough to ignite the banked needs inside her.

  Molly’s breath caught in her throat, and she relished the sharp nip on the taut buds. She cupped their groins, moaned with anticipation when the two men pressed the straining bulges against her palms. She wouldn’t be disappointed—what she held in her hands would satisfy even the greatest of appetites.

  “Christ, you’re a wild filly, aren’t you? I can’t wait to mount you.” Logan lowered his head and drew the crest of her breast into his mouth.

  Graeme finished undressing her and eased his callused hands over her back. Molly trembled under the combined heat
and weight of her prospective lovers’ hands on her skin.

  The men caressed all the sweet spots she was aware of and a few more they’d awakened. Logan stroked the underside of her breasts, splayed his wide hand over her stomach, circled her navel with a fingertip, and pressed the hard ridge of his knuckles against the damp cleft between her thighs. At the same time, Graeme kissed her nape, the spot between her shoulder blades, and lapped his way down her spine. She arched backwards as he cradled the full cheeks of her buttocks and slipped his fingers between them.

  Inundated by sensation, her knees buckled. Molly grabbed onto Logan’s shoulders to keep herself upright. The taut need for release coiled in her belly like a tightly wound spring. “Now. Take me now.” She hooked her thigh over Logan’s hip, and wedged her derrière on Graeme’s crotch.

  “Steady, lass, no need to be racing to the finish line when the ride will be so much sweeter at a canter,” Graeme murmured in her ear. He slid one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders, lifted her, and lowered her into the steamy water. “You have half an hour. After that we’ll be coming for you.”

  “But if you could shorten the waiting, I for one would appreciate it,” Logan requested, his voice hoarse, as though he were under a great deal of strain.

  Graeme nodded in agreement. “Thirty minutes, lovey, and not a second more.” He handed her a bar of hand-milled soap, rich with the scent of French lavender. She lifted a brow in question.

  He gave her a sly smile. “Don’t ask. Enjoy.” He gripped Logan by the arm and pulled him from the room.

  Up to her neck in water, Molly watched them leave. Still aroused, but knowing fulfilment was only half an hour away, she began her ablutions and went over several erotic scenarios in her imaginative mind.

  Chapter Four

  Molly soaped her arms, torso and legs. She rinsed out the rag and washed between her legs. Her body hummed in response to each swipe as she cleansed herself. The nubby material slid over her sensitised clitoris and a sharp delicious bliss pooled in her groin. Tremors racked her body as a small orgasm raced through her.

  She’d always been swift to arouse and even quicker to attain her release. Molly jammed two of her fingers deep inside her passage, to cleanse and to stroke the flesh there to keep her arousal at this apex.

  She wouldn’t keep the men waiting any longer. Clean and refreshed by her bath, excited by what was to come, she stood up in the tub. Molly looked around for something to dry herself with, but didn’t see anything handy.

  “Ah, Graeme?” she called out and he stepped into the room with only a towel wrapped around his hips. A sparse dusting of hair covered his chest and muscular legs. The cloth tented at his groin and she sent him a smirk.

  “Trying to preserve your modesty?”

  “I didn’t want to astound you with my attributes.” He wiggled his heavy brows at her, a false leer on his face.

  “I’ve lost the ability to be shocked. The only thing I fear is being disappointed.” She fixed her attention on his groin. “And somehow I don’t believe I will be.”

  Graeme chuckled as he approached her with a length of towelling draped over his hands. He gripped her waist, lifted her from the bathtub and dried her briskly. “I thought you’d soak in the hot water as long as possible.”

  “Should I have lingered in the tub?”

  He grunted, the sound somewhere between denial and relief. “Hell no. If it wouldn’t seem unmanly, I’d whimper with gratitude.”

  Molly undid the knot at his waist and allowed the inconsequential barrier to fall. She took hold of his bulky shaft, slid her hand down the rigid length and fondled his man-sac.

  “Then let the pleasuring begin. Logan,” he called. His voice rasped out like a plane over wood. At Graeme’s summons, Logan entered the room, shirtless and bootless, the top two of his breeches buttons undone.

  Logan handed Molly a goblet, and she took a tentative sip. The sweet wine slid over her tongue.

  “Where did you come by this?”

  “Don’t ask.” At the simultaneous and identical response, her brows shot up.

  She sent them a shaming glance. “You could both lose your posts for helping yourselves to the contents of his lordship’s wine cellar.”

  Logan offered her another drink. “For all you know, Glenhaven left the bottle here. We couldn’t offer you a tankard of brown ale on this special occasion.”

  She took a deeper draught, and let the alcohol heat her blood. “Shall we retire to your sleeping quarters?”

  “Now why would we do anything so humdrum?” Logan pulled a small vial from his pocket, poured a good dollop of its contents on his hand, and warmed the fluid by rubbing his palms together. He smoothed his hand over her shoulders and her arms.

  Graeme’s hands slid down her back. The calluses on his palms added another layer of sensation to his caresses. They fondled her until she writhed, frantic with need, willing to do anything to ease the bundle of desire her body had become.

  She fully expected them to lead her to the nearest bed. Instead they spun her around, lifted her, and perched her on the edge of an age-polished oak table. Graeme pushed her legs apart and knelt to press a fervent kiss on her plump mons. He blew a stream of his heated breath through the downy pelt shielding her womanhood. Each strand shifted to heighten her arousal.

  Graeme peeled back her folds with his thumbs and covered her cleft with his mouth. He flattened the surface of his tongue on the part of her he’d exposed and worked the spear of muscle over her with skilful, greedy laps. Molly slung her legs over his shoulders and clamped his head between her thighs. He knew just the right rhythm to sweep his tongue over her, long and slow, until her soft cries escalated into a wail.

  Logan pushed her upper body flat on the table, captured her mouth with his to silence her. He trailed his lips over the tense tendons in her neck, nibbled, and murmured the sweetest of nothings in her ear. He squeezed and moulded her breasts, plucked the tips, before he abandoned her neck to feast on the rosy buds. They grew tight, crinkled and moist from his suckling.

  Molly wrapped her arms around Logan’s head and arched her back off the table to press more of her tit into the hot cavern that enveloped her pleasure spot. With teeth and tongues, they worked her into a mindless frenzy.

  Graeme rose to his feet to stare down at her above Logan’s head, his face harsh, breath agitated. “I can’t wait any longer or I’ll spill my juices like a green boy about to get a taste of his first woman.”

  He fitted the swollen crown between the damp wings of her pussy, rubbed it over her pearl, and dipped into her core. She winced as his cock stretched her to the point of an exquisite painfulness.

  Molly gripped Graeme where he’d lodged himself into her. She wanted more, but there were things she must consider even though her mind was clouded by passion. Her unctuous fluids coated her hand, her fleshy tissue throbbed under her fingertips. She stroked the bulky rod. Graeme grimaced. His big body jerked above her.

  “You must withdraw before you release your seed. I don’t want to be in the family way.”

  Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself out with a grunt.

  She tried to pull him back with her heels on his butt. “No, I need… My request was just a precaution.”

  Graeme ginned down at her. “Greedy lass.” He held out his hand and Logan slapped a metal container into his palm.

  Ahhh, French letters. Her country boys were more sophisticated than she’d thought. He removed a sheath from the tin, rolled it over his impressive cock and tied the ribbon at the base to secure it.

  Logan stepped away from her to give them room. Graeme braced his arms on either side of her head, thrust into her. With each thrust he sank deeper, spreading her wider, filling her more.

  When she felt he’d shoved the entire length of his shaft into her snug passage, he rammed a few more inches into her. The thick base of his member wedged tightly into her sheath. She imagined for an insane moment that he’d never
be able to withdraw. However, he did, and fucked her at tit-jiggling pace. Molly grabbed onto his arms and locked her ankles in the small of Graeme’s back. Every plunge pushed them closer and closer to the blissful plateau they strove to reach.

  Logan stood by them, working his hand over his staff, watching with an unabashed hunger. Molly held her hand out to him, palm up, and he slid his lance into her hand with a groan rife with gratitude. Logan’s cock was not as bulky as Graeme’s but no less impressive. Molly curled her fingers around his cock and swiped her thumb over the satiny head.

  “If you come nearer I’ll do more than play with your pride and joy,” Molly promised with a kittenish flick of her tongue over her upper lip, and pulled him closer.

  “Now, darling, aren’t you the soul of kindness to ease my suffering?” Lithe and eager, he scrambled up on the table, and brushed his cock over her lips.

  Molly swirled her tongue over the salty knob. She relaxed her throat and allowed him to sink deep. She fisted the lower half of him to prevent herself from gagging.

  Logan thrust and she suckled. Graeme pounded into her and she heaved up her hips to meet his.

  One man above, one man below, caught between the dual sources of ecstasy, Molly surrendered to the bliss.

  Logan growled in his throat. “It’s too good.” The first spurt of his jism hit the back of her throat and she swallowed with a delicate greed. He shuddered and sank his cock as far into her mouth as he could. He came, his body bucking like an unbroken horse.

  Graeme’s bellow followed. His hips moved in short uncoordinated jerks. He slumped down on her, and buried his face between her breasts.

  “Well, lass, do you still want to rush back?” Graeme mumbled, his flaccid cock still planted in her. He slid his hand up her leg in a caress intended to arouse.

  Molly threaded her fingers through his sweat-dampened curls. “Well, that depends on what else you have in store for me.”

  “He may not have kept anything in reserve. But I still have a yen for another taste of you.” Logan bent down and fused his mouth to hers, the musky taste of his fluids playing over her taste buds.