My Lord, Lady, and Gentleman

by Nicola Davidson

  “He’s, ah, very confident.”

  “Masterful.”

  Susanna nodded, but her cheeks must surely be scarlet. “He doesn’t stomp around, or raise his voice, and yet when he says something…makes a suggestion…you just feel compelled to obey. And yet he’s kind, too…”

  An odd tension filled the carriage, and she’d never been more thankful for the distraction of loose cobblestones as the carriage rocked and jostled along the street.

  “You’re attracted to him.”

  An involuntary gasp tore from her throat. Yet even as the blunt statement brought an instinctive denial to the tip of her tongue, her mind mocked her with those earlier depraved thoughts.

  “I would never go to another man’s bed,” Susanna said hotly, guilt sharpening her tone.

  Joseph tilted his head. With the sun setting outside, the approaching murkiness of dusk made him appear especially dark and brooding. The opposite of Clayton in every way. “That isn’t a denial. And I think if I can be honest about my lack of experience, you can be honest about this. It’s not a trick or a trap, Susanna. I just want to know.”

  “He is…he is very handsome,” she mumbled. “I like him.”

  “So you might not be averse to me inquiring about another lesson? Perhaps have him touch you to demonstrate something?”

  To her absolute mortification, she whimpered.

  Shockingly, he chuckled. “I shall consider that endorsement of the idea.”

  “Joseph, I—”

  “Let me say this first,” he said, sitting forward and taking her hand. “I know this is most unusual. Thoroughly unconventional. But I want to make bedding good for you. Really good. I care about your happiness, Susanna, and Clayton is a noted expert. I think a decent chap, too. Trustworthy and obviously not prone to swoons. If he agrees, I could watch him pleasure and take you, learn the best ways to make you come…a man like him, I bet he makes his lovers beg for his mouth and fingers and cock and always satisfies.”

  “It sounds like you admire him a great deal,” she joked weakly, even as her mind whirled at the jaw-dropping nature of the conversation.

  Joseph flushed. “From a purely scientific perspective, of course.”

  “Of course,” Susanna murmured, unable to sit still. How could a man allow another man to bed his wife? And yet there was such a sweet sincerity in Joseph’s eyes. Well, for now at least. Would he still feel the same afterward about her? About their marriage? What if he became jealous? She would hate to cause him pain. Yet if this idea worked, she would be the luckiest woman in London, for her husband would be a magnificent lover. She could indulge her wicked fantasy about Clayton. And if she and Joseph could build a much stronger and more intimate marriage…perhaps he might even reconsider trying for a baby.

  “So what is the verdict, then?” Joseph said lightly, and yet there was an intensity about him. A hopefulness.

  Despite the possible pitfalls, her heart screamed yes.

  “I think…I think perhaps next time he visits, we ask our favorite artist if he would be interested in a little daybed interlude between sketches. With an audience of one.”

  Her husband’s face lit up. “Wonderful.”

  Indeed, it would be.

  Please Lord, let Clayton say yes.

  Chapter 3

  While he could probably stare at Clayton for hours for his stunning good looks alone, watching an artist at work was endlessly fascinating. The study. The stopping and starting and stopping and discarding. The blank gaze and faint scowl as they inwardly pondered an issue only they could see. The triumphant grin when out of nowhere, something magical appeared. Yet while the merchant in him applauded the diligence and perfection-seeking, the prospective voyeur was irritable as hell. He didn’t want to watch Clayton sketching Susanna. He wanted to watch him kiss her. Caress her. Fuck her until she screamed in bliss.

  Leaning back in his music room chair, Joseph drummed his fingers on the wooden arm.

  He truly was a terrible husband, asking for honesty in that carriage ride home from the warehouse when he’d only been partially honest with Susanna himself. But how did a man tell his wife that he wanted to see another man naked, and watch not only to learn, but so he could imagine the tongue and fingers and cock plundering her were instead plundering him?

  If Clayton agreed, sitting here and observing him would be the closest Joseph got to his deepest desire. And that was for the best. In the past, he had exchanged his body for money—without care, without tenderness, without an orgasm—to lovers who all left without a backward glance, and the experience had nearly broken him. But for that to happen with a man he truly craved and actually liked…hell. It was just as well Clayton only bedded women.

  “Right,” said Clayton abruptly, as he set down his sketchbook and rolled his shoulders. “I think I have enough for today. Susanna, you were magnificent at holding those poses, but I know you must be feeling a little stiff by now. I think I’ll need perhaps one more sketch session, and to know how you wish to be portrayed in the painting.”

  “That is, um, wonderful,” said Susanna as she sat up and shuffled forward to dangle her legs over the end of the daybed, her little breasts bouncing with the movement, and obviously catching the artist’s attention.

  “Clayton,” Joseph said, and the other man jerked slightly before turning to him, a wary smile on his face.

  “Yes?”

  He took a deep, calming breath. If he butchered this, he would never forgive himself. “There is another matter Susanna and I wanted to discuss with you, if you aren’t in a hurry to get away. A delicate matter.”

  “I have no pressing engagements,” said Clayton, his gaze curious. “Go on.”

  “The other day in this room…you helped my wife and I connect in a way that we hadn’t managed before in our marriage. An enjoyable way.”

  “Very enjoyable,” said Susanna, her cheeks pink.

  The artist grinned as he crouched to put his sketchbook, pencils, and charcoal into his satchel. “It did look, and sound, like a quite excellent orgasm. I was proud of you both.”

  Joseph tried not to blush at the praise and failed utterly. “Well, we wondered…if you might consider helping us again.”

  “Help you how, exactly?”

  Unable to remain seated, Joseph rose to his feet and clasped his hands together. “As you know, I need instruction. To learn how to be a better husband when it comes to marital relations. I don’t wish to bed another woman to gain experience. But if I could perhaps…observe you and Susanna. Together…”

  Clayton rocked back on his heels. “Just so I’m clear, you’re saying you want to watch me fuck your wife to improve your own techniques?”

  “Yes,” he replied, forcing himself to hold the other man’s startled gaze.

  “Is that what you want, Susanna?”

  She nodded quickly. “It is. Very much. I, um, admire you a great deal.”

  There was a long moment of silence, so long that Joseph began to despair of getting an affirmative answer. Perhaps they’d been wrong. Perhaps the previous interlude had meant nothing at all, and their artist was only interested in his painting commission.

  And then Clayton unbuttoned his waistcoat and shrugged it off, before tossing it down on the floor beside his already-discarded jacket. Even more promising, a bulge began to tent the front of his trousers. “So. How do you want it, darling? Slow and gentle? Hard and rough? My cock is entirely at your service.”

  “Huzzah!” said Susanna as she beamed and clapped her hands, and they laughed.

  Much like before, the awkwardness soon eased, despite the circumstances that would cause horrified squawks and dramatic swoons within the ton. In truth, he’d barely suppressed his own cheer. Because in a short while he would be watching a master at work. And he would know at last the broadness of Clayton’s naked chest, the curve of his ass, the length and girth of his cock.

  Swallowing hard as his own cock throbbed in anticipation, Joseph gestu
red to his chair. “Should I sit here again?”

  Clayton shook his head as he kicked away his shoes and peeled off his stockings. “No. If you wish to learn, you need a prime viewing spot. I suggest you take the top corner of the daybed.”

  “I agree,” said Susanna, absorbed in watching their guest undress.

  “Before we begin, is there anything you don’t want, my lady? Just tell me. I won’t be offended if you’d prefer no kissing or whatnot. Although I will need to ensure you are wet enough to take me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Susanna squirmed on the daybed, and then hoisted herself back so she sat in the middle. “Oh no. I want everything.”

  Laughing, Joseph leaned forward to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “My, my. Aren’t we greedy.”

  “Very greedy,” she replied, gazing back at him with such gratitude and tenderness he almost couldn’t breathe. And yet his cock grew even harder.

  The sound of more fabric rustling distracted them both, and they turned to see Clayton removing his linen shirt to reveal strong shoulders and a leanly muscled and surprisingly hairless chest. A mouthwatering sight by itself, but now the other man was unfastening his trousers.

  Yes. God, yes. Show me.

  Time seemed to crawl as Clayton attended to the buttons, and pushed down his trousers. But finally, his long and fully erect cock was revealed, springing from a wiry nest of darker golden hair.

  Susanna gasped, and Joseph barely held in his own moan at the thought of caressing that length and taking it in his mouth. How exquisite the ache and burn would be as his ass was owned with rough, oil-slick thrusts. But no. He couldn’t have that. Just the next best thing: watching his wife get plundered.

  “You are exceedingly good for my ego, my lady,” said Clayton, as he knelt on the daybed. Then he cupped Susanna’s face and kissed her, his mouth moving expertly over hers, teasing, coaxing her to relax and open up until he could dart his tongue between her lips. Lazily, effortlessly, as though he could kiss all day. And yet when Susanna’s lips were plump and dark pink, he trailed a path down her neck, languidly lapping, occasionally nipping, making her pant as his mouth danced over her collarbone and the tops of her breasts.

  Hell. Master didn’t begin to describe his skill.

  “Are you watching closely, Joseph?” said Clayton as he cupped Susanna’s breasts and stroked the taut peaks with his thumbs. “I’m going to lick these pretty nipples now. Suck them. Scrape my teeth over them. Until they are so sensitive, she cannot bear it.”

  “Yes. Please,” begged Susanna, her sigh turning into a choked whimper as Clayton bent her over his arm so he could circle and circle her right nipple with his tongue before lashing the tip.

  Enthralled by the eroticism, Joseph observed the way the other man lapped and bit and suckled Susanna’s lovely large nipples until they were thick and almost wine-colored, and she moaned helplessly. As he settled her down on the daybed, tucked cushions behind her head, and slid a hand between her legs to tease her swollen clitoris.

  But he yearned to do so much more than watch. To touch and be touched. Fuck and be fucked.

  By both of them.

  Only in Clayton’s wildest fantasies had he imagined this: Susanna Fenton naked in his arms, moaning as he pleasured her, intoxicating him with the scent of her spicy wetness.

  For a gentleman who had been thrown out of Divinity school three times, it seemed far too great a miracle. But somehow he’d been granted more than that, for Joseph Fenton also sat almost within arm’s reach, his jet gaze glittering, his cheeks flushed, and that huge bulge between his legs prominent against his trousers. For an artist who prided himself on seeing beneath the surface, the baron and baroness had surprised him. Excitingly so. When they’d said nothing on his arrival, or while he sketched, he’d thought the last interlude had been dismissed as a momentary lapse in propriety, to be forgotten like it never happened.

  Yet here they were. And damn it all, he felt like Joseph’s avid gaze wasn’t always concentrated on Susanna. But there was only one way to discover if that was nothing but wishful thinking: to be bold and reckless in true Clayton Irving fashion, and push the other man further.

  Decision made, Clayton paused his finger’s shallow thrusting in and out of Susanna’s dripping cunt.

  She lifted her head, her temples glistening with perspiration, and eyes wide with alarm. “Please don’t stop!”

  “Unfortunately, we have a problem, darling,” he said slowly. “And I don’t think I can continue until it has been attended to.”

  “Problem? What p-problem?”

  He gestured toward Joseph’s tented trousers. “Your poor husband is in terrible discomfort. Look.”

  She turned her head and gasped. “Oh dear.”

  Joseph rubbed his jaw. “I’m fine. Really. Do continue. I…Susanna needs more.”

  “I think not,” said Clayton ruthlessly, emboldened by that erection, and a most interesting slip of the tongue. “There will be no cock strangulation on my watch. Or further desecration of perfect tailoring. Unfasten your trousers.”

  The baron shuddered, but his hands went to the waistband of the garment. Uncertainty swirled in those fathomless dark eyes, and Clayton willed him to obey. Finally he did, undoing the buttons so the front flap fell down and his engorged cock sprang free. Shorter than Clayton’s own, but thicker, and surrounded by wiry black curls.

  “Joseph,” said Susanna breathlessly.

  “There now,” said Clayton, trying to keep his voice even when desire was surging through his entire body and hardening his cock to the point of pain. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

  “Yes,” Joseph whispered, taking that impressive column of flesh in his palm and stroking it once, twice as he briefly met Clayton’s gaze. Not posturing, but tentatively offering.

  His heart pounded with chaotic hope. Under the current and utterly revolting law of the land, such shy and cautious gestures were all men like them could do with someone new. And while he immediately understood the gesture for what it was, he still had to be careful. Joseph was obviously skittish. Perhaps he’d had a bad experience in the past? Hell, Susanna might not even know of her husband’s attraction to men as well as women. And that fact was Joseph’s alone to share.

  Clayton smiled. “I think your cock could feel better still, my lord. Shuffle forward so your wife can give it a kiss.”

  Pleasingly, both Fentons made soft, involuntary sounds of arousal. To lead them both, Clayton leaned down and trailed the back of two fingers against Susanna’s damp nether curls. “If you do so, I would be delighted to continue here.”

  She whimpered and blinked up at her husband. “Please, Joseph. Let me kiss your cock.”

  The baron nodded and removed his shoes, stocking, and trousers, before kneeling beside her face.

  “Good,” said Clayton as calmly as he could, considering his own cock was on the verge of spurting like a damned geyser. “Now, my lady, wrap your hand around it. I know it’s big, and you have delicate hands, but try your best. That’s the way. Give his cock a gentle squeeze, and lick the tip a few times. Then take it into your mouth.”

  Joseph moaned. In reward for Susanna’s obedience, Clayton pushed two fingers deep inside her, curling them to caress that slightly rough spot that ignited a lady’s pleasure, and she gave a muted wail.

  “Excellent,” he crooned. “You are doing splendidly. Can you swallow his cock a little more? Ah, I knew you could, clever kitten. Don’t be shy now, show his lordship how well you can suck him.”

  Bloody hell he liked to torture himself. Much like the first time she had disrobed, watching Susanna propped up on satin cushions and inexpertly yet enthusiastically sucking Joseph’s cock as the baron sighed and panted was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. If he didn’t get inside her tight, hot cunt immediately, he would lose his mind.

  Withdrawing his fingers, Clayton stroked her inner thigh reassuringly, before spreading them wide. “I need to fuck you now, Susanna.
Are you ready for me?”

  Susanna paused to nod her consent, and relieved beyond measure, he fisted his hugely distended cock before leaning down to coat it in her fragrant slickness. Then he knelt between her legs, and slowly, so slowly, began to penetrate her.

  “Yes,” Joseph hissed, as he tweaked his wife’s swollen, claret-colored nipples. “Does it feel good, Susie? To have us both inside you?”

  She gave a guttural cry, and more hot juices bathed Clayton’s cock.

  “I think her ladyship is rather enjoying herself,” he said, fighting the desire to thrust brutally hard, and instead languidly advancing and retreating to allow her to grow used to his length. “But you mustn’t spill in her mouth, Joseph. We are going to come together all over those sweet little breasts. Understand?”

  The baron shuddered, his eyes glittering. “I understand. I’m…I’m not sure how much longer I can last. Feels so damned good…”

  “You’ll come when I say you can.”

  As if his words had sparked a fire, Susanna’s hips bucked, and she dug her heels into the sapphire satin-covered daybed in an attempt to lift and grind herself against him. All he could smell was the heady spice of her wetness, all he could hear was the perfect melody of two cocks enjoying a slick welcome, and grunts and moans and sighs of pleasure. Yet he was losing the battle to prolong this luscious ménage, and Joseph’s fists were clenched on either side of his exquisite firm ass as Susanna eagerly lapped and sucked his cock, her hand fluttering around the base.

  Shoving his hands under her backside to limit her movement, Clayton began to thrust deep, changing his angle so every penetration ground right against her clitoris. Faster and faster, harder and harder, he pounded her pulsing cunt, until she arched and screamed, the sound thankfully muffled by Joseph’s cock.

  “Now,” he snarled, and the two men withdrew from their warm, wet caverns to spurt rope after rope of pearly seed on Susanna’s breasts, eventually collapsing either side of her on the daybed, struggling to catch their breath.