by Josie Dennis
A smile teasing his lips, he returned to the bedchamber.
Chapter 5
“Oh, Stephen!”
Emmy could hardly withstand another moment of Stephen’s exquisite attentions. After the explosive orgasm Gabriel had given her she’d been breathless, nearly incoherent as she’d come back to herself. Her hands pinned above her head, her legs held open, she’d been forced to surrender. It had been pure bliss.
The cravat gone—so that was what Stephen had wanted to do last time—now Stephen kept up their particular brand of torture, licking and nibbling on her aching breasts as his fingers teased her pussy. He came so close to her clit, so close to dipping a finger deep within her, when he’d pull back again and again.
“Oh, cease this torture!” she gasped, her now-freed hands pulling at his thick hair.
Stephen kissed her lips, a grin on his handsome face. “Ah, tonight’s lesson is patience.” He glanced over toward the dressing room and she followed his gaze. Gabriel stood there, a short riding crop in his hands. “That looks perfect for the task, Switch.”
Her heart began to pound, but not in fear. What was Gabriel going to do to her with that crop? He smacked it against his left hand, the leather making a soft sound. It didn’t appear to cause him pain, in fact he closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose before exhaling slowly.
He opened those gorgeous blue eyes again and regarded her. “Are you ready for your next lesson, Emmy?”
Heat suffused her body and her pussy clenched. “Oh, yes.”
“Turn her over, Stephen.”
She blinked rapidly, confused and intrigued at once.
“On your knees, love,” Stephen said, grabbing her hips and flipping her onto her belly. He tugged her upward, her bottom high as her face was pressed into the linens.
“No.” Gabriel stepped closer. “Up on your hands, Emmy. On all fours, as it were.”
She did so. Oh, this was indeed better. She felt more in control supporting herself on the bed. Stephen came close up behind her, his cock moving over her bottom to thrust slowly between her cheeks. He felt hot and heavy and her recently-pleased pussy pulled tight with want. He shifted in the next moment, beneath her now and stroking up against her aching flesh. An interesting possibility occurred to her. “Oh, Stephen! Will you enter me from behind?”
He chuckled. “Our girl is in dire need of discipline, Switch.”
She turned her head, flicking her hair back from her face. Gabriel studied her for a long moment then he set the crop down on the bedstand and began to remove his breeches. There was that big beautiful shaft of his, thick and long. She licked her lips, earning a growl from Gabriel. It was gratifying to see he was as affected as she.
Stephen moaned as well, his movements increasing in speed until she was wriggling in frustration.
“What are you waiting for?” she cried.
Gabriel grabbed up the crop and before she could guess what he was about it came down on her right buttock. “Oh!”
Stephen’s hand smoothed over her flesh, though she was more surprised than hurt. “You are at our mercy this evening, our dear Emmy. I can’t take my pleasure, and therefore you can’t either, until Gabriel is satisfied.”
Gabriel nodded then climbed on the bed. Stephen grabbed her hips again and for a heart-stopping moment she believed he would at last enter her. Instead he tugged her back toward the foot of the bed to allow Gabriel room at the head.
“You’re in a bad way there, Switch,” Stephen said.
Gabriel nodded, settling down on his knees. “My balls are aching. It is a good thing I don’t have to wait for satisfaction. I daresay it will take all of my inner discipline to withstand the mere thought.”
He kept his legs parted, as if loath to set his private parts on the linens. His… balls were pulled up tight and he leaned back to grasp the headboard behind him. His cock was very close to her face, tempting in a way she would never have imagined before their liaison began.
“The mere thought of what?” she asked, licking her lips.
He groaned, twitching slightly. “The mere thought of your mouth on my cock, Emmy.”
She gasped. “But I know nothing of such matters!”
“Don’t you?” Stephen moved his hand between her legs now, teasing her clit with his strong fingers. “Just think of what I did the other night, love.” He pinched her, causing a rush of juices to her flesh. “Of what Gabriel did to you tonight.”
She licked her lips again, bending toward Gabriel to flick her tongue over the head of his cock. “You taste salty. Interesting.”
He retrieved the honey pot and drizzled some over the head. “Salt and sweet, now?” he asked, his voice as thick as the honey.
She licked him again. “Mmm.”
He flinched. “God save me.”
“Suck him, Emmy,” Stephen said.
Excitement was clear in his voice and she realized he derived pleasure from watching her with Gabriel. Closing her mouth over the broad head of Gabriel’s cock, she began to suck. He let out a long moan, which Stephen echoed. Stephen thrust with more force, the burst of dark delight distracting her from Gabriel’s glorious display. His cock fell out of her mouth and she began to move her bottom at Stephen.
“No,” Gabriel said, slapping her bottom with the crop once more. “Focus on me, love.”
How could she not? Taking him in her mouth again, she began to move over him. Sucking and licking and devouring every inch of his delectable flesh. Honey and salt and Gabriel. He began to thrust up into her mouth and she glanced up at him. His eyes were closed, the crop dangling from his fingers as his throat worked. She’d seen him take his pleasure the other evening, but she’d been too far out of her mind with her own at the time to truly appreciate the sight. Now, with her own needs on hold she could relish all the emotions playing across his handsome face. Pain and passion and lust. She sucked harder still.
“Emmy!” he shouted, grabbing tightly to the headboard as he moved faster.
“Come, Gabriel,” Stephen said, brushing the head of his cock against her pussy’s opening. “That’s it. Come in her mouth.”
She felt her own passions rising again as Stephen slowly entered her. His restraint was both admirable and frustrating, but she held herself still. She didn’t want Gabriel to use the crop again. It was a matter of pride, after all.
Moaning herself, she nibbled up and down on his shaft until he bucked sharply. “In your mouth, Emmy,” he growled. “All of me. Now.”
She complied, taking him in once more. He began to throb, flexing and thrusting at the back of her throat as his remarkable taste filled her mouth. He cried out as he climaxed, arching off the bed as she swallowed his amazing cream.
Stephen thrust faster then, holding tight to her hips as he drove deep. “Now it’s our turn, Emmy,” he whispered. “At last.”
She rocked back toward him as sensations flooded her. Gabriel must have picked up the crop again, which now stroked tantalizingly over her back, her breasts. He reached further, flicking the popper over her clit with surprising accuracy. The friction he caused sent her tumbling over the edge as she convulsed around Stephen’s cock. He shouted as Gabriel had moments before, burying himself to the hilt.
Gabriel cupped her face and kissed her, deep and sweet and lingering.
Stephen’s lips trailed over her back. “There’s a good girl. I daresay that crop will become a welcome addition to our lessons. What do you say, Switch?”
Gabriel’s eyes sparkled at her. “Indeed.”
* * * *
The day of the picnic dawned bright and Emmy dressed with care. It was nearly a week since the remarkable time in Gabriel’s bedchamber and she found herself replaying the night in her mind at odd times. Those two licks of the crop against her bottom caused no lingering pain or marks, to her relief. That meant that she could look forward to Gabriel employing that particular device again.
Setting aside her lascivious intentions she nodded as he
r maid finished with her hair. It was upswept and graceful, cunning curls framing her face and trailing over the nape of her neck. Her dress was a delightful confection of summery blush, the coloring heightening the flush on her cheeks and bosom. She would need a fichu today, lest everyone see her desire etched across her breasts. Desire for the two of them. Her mind still boggled over that particular fact.
Yes, Gabriel would find a docile wife to wed, most likely before the year was out. And Stephen would surely find Surrey exceedingly dull and take his fine self from all and sundry once again. She wouldn’t think of how her heart would break when they were separated from her, when they were with two faceless, nameless women whose futures would be tied to her own dear favored gentlemen. Or of herself, stuck in Surrey to watch Gabriel from a distance and pine for Stephen as well.
“Bother,” she grumbled as her good mood threatened a hasty departure.
Donning a large straw bonnet trimmed in ribbons to match her pretty dress, she went belowstairs to await the carriage.
“Now, Emmy,” her father wheedled from his place at the bottom of the stairs. “Must you leave me today?”
“Mr. Kingley’s picnic is this afternoon, Father.” She pulled on thin kid gloves and fluffed out her skirt. “You’ve known of the event for several days now. We’ve discussed it.” She looked over at Mrs. Waltham, standing ever diligently nearby. “If you would like to join us it would take but a few minutes to see you settled in the carriage with me.”
“Certainly, Mr. Woodson,” Mrs. Waltham said.
“A picnic? Bah!”
She gave a nod, grateful that her father wouldn’t be able to observe her with Gabriel and Stephen. He’d been sharp in his day, and though he seemed vague and disconnected at times she still saw that shrewdness in his eyes often enough. He must never guess what mischief she’d been about.
“I shall return before dark,” she promised, bending to kiss his cheek. “Perhaps the Abbey’s cook will have made berry tarts, Father. Do you think I can convince her to give me some for you?”
He smiled up at her. “You, my dear, could charm anyone into anything. Berry tarts do sound quite good.”
At the sound of wheels on the drive, she bade him and Mrs. Waltham farewell again and climbed aboard the carriage.
When she arrived at Dunwell Abbey she refrained from indulging in the memory of what had transpired when last she was here. Instead she joined the folks gathered at the back of the estate. Glancing down at the sprawling grounds toward the lake, she saw all was nearly in readiness. Tents were up, tables set with linens and chairs set about. It was elegant, comfortable, and everything to be expected at a gentleman’s picnic. Able staff moved about, carting baskets and trays of food, bottles of wine and pitchers of lemonade. As she looked about for the handsome host she heard her friend Harriet call out to her.
Waving madly, Harriet joined her. “Oh, Miss Woodson! Isn’t it all just so lovely? I daresay the Markhams are thrilled to be included.”
“Ga—Mr. Kingley invited Mr. Markham and his sisters?”
“Yes. He is a most generous landlord, I daresay.”
“Truly.” Emmy thought about this development. Harriet was still pining for the gentleman farmer, then. There had to be someone else about to divert her attentions. She glimpsed a familiar golden head and her heart leapt. Stephen.
“There you are,” he said, bowing gallantly. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Miss Woodson, you are breathtaking this afternoon.” He turned to Harriet. “Hello, Miss Stoat. Are you looking forward to the festivities? Mr. Kingley has put out quite a spread.”
“Oh, yes,” Harriet gushed. Her eyes lingered on Stephen’s fine figure for a moment too long in Emmy’s opinion. “Will you play the games?”
“Games?” He tilted a glance in Emmy’s direction. “Will there be rules? Goodness knows how some of us balk at rules.”
Emmy flushed hot as she recalled his and Gabriel’s titillating rules. “One must strive to do one’s best.”
Stephen laughed. “Ah, here is our esteemed host.”
Once again Emmy’s heart flipped. My, Gabriel looked delicious today. Outfitted as a proper gentlemen, of course.
He caught Stephen’s gaze before bowing in Emmy and Harriet’s direction. “Good afternoon, ladies. I am so glad you were able to attend.”
Emmy could scarcely form words with the two of them before her. When last she’d been in their company… Shaking her head, she smiled at Gabriel. “I daresay this picnic is all anyone in Highbury has spoken of for weeks now.”
He tipped his head in that condescending way he had, though she now found it quite charming. “That is gratifying, I suppose.” He turned to Stephen. “Good to see you, Churchill.”
Stephen schooled his expression but she saw the mirth dancing in his eyes. “Good to be here, Kingley.”
Gabriel then went off to supervise the preparations beneath the tents. Stephen leaned toward Emmy. “I daresay Kingley is quite stiff today.”
Once more she flushed hot. She was spared having to make any sort of comment when Harriet babbled something about the day and the sunshine and the company. Stephen offered an elbow to each of them and the three joined the throng teeming on the shore of the lake.
Chapter 6
Gabriel watched as Stephen escorted Emmy and Miss Stoat to the shore of the lake and settled beside her on a spread blanket. He said something in Emmy’s ear, at which her smooth cheeks flushed a pink to rival her gorgeous dress. It was nearly the color her skin turned at the moment of climax, though she couldn’t have known that when she chose it. Her naiveté was only more appealing to him now that he knew she possessed an enthusiasm he hadn’t dared hope for. That afternoon in his bedchamber had been incredible.
Stephen slowly teasing her from behind while she sucked him so hard he was nearly turned inside out by his climax, crying out her release in the next moment as Stephen finally gave her what she craved. He’d relived the scene often since, spoken of it with Stephen over port and cigars, and now they were certain she would take to more from the hidden cupboard in his dressing room. Perhaps the straps next.
“Wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Kingley?”
He focused on the elderly lady before him, Mrs. Phillips. She was doddering and dear and a veritable chatterbox. Her round face was flush, her eyes bright, as she awaited his answer.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Phillips. What did you ask me?”
“Nothing important, I am sure,” she rushed out.
She was a nervous thing, seemingly more so since her husband’s passing two years ago. He knew she didn’t have any family left in Highbury, and made it a point that she be included in any event in the village or its environs. Emmy teased him endlessly for his attention toward her, never quite seeing past the tip of her pert little nose to notice that the lady didn’t ask for any of it.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” he said.
She twisted a handkerchief in her hands, her brow furrowed. “I was just saying that Mr. Churchill and Miss Woodson make a lovely couple.”
Gabriel glanced over to see Emmy and Stephen, tilting his head. “Yes, they look quite handsome together. I daresay they are not a couple, however.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to presume!”
She began to flutter again and he grabbed hold of her hands. “I know, Mrs. Phillips. Just an observation on my part as well.”
Relief filled her eyes and she nodded vigorously. Trundling off to join the others, she seemed to be her old self again.
Stephen and Emmy a couple? The notion was not far from what he and his friend envisioned, truly. Emmy belonged to both of them now, however. A threesome, though all in Highbury would be beyond scandalized should that fact ever come to light.
Gabriel did indeed have a reputation. He would trade on that to keep any scandal from touching either Stephen or Emmy once their arrangement was permanent. And permanent it would be. He loved Emmy. He loved Stephen. He would no
t spend his life without both of them in it.
* * * *
Food was served, wine drunk, and after nearly two hours the party was waning. Stephen watched as Gabriel busied himself with the myriad of tasks burdening a landowner and once more thanked God for his father’s continued health. He himself had his aunt’s estate in York, though he preferred to leave it in his steward’s hands. As to his father’s lands, he had no interest.
He looked over Gabriel’s estate, what he could see from his vantage point, and reasoned that if this was his he’d have a care for it as well. The land made Gabriel what he was as much as his genealogy. He loved and respected Gabriel for both sides of his personality. The stoic and methodical fellow hid the light and playful side Stephen knew was an important part of him. He guessed that was what drew Emmy and vexed her. When Gabriel had swatted her lovely behind that last time… God, his cock twitched at the memory.
He glanced over at Emmy and found her looking exceedingly bored. She’d removed her bonnet and gloves, and absently toyed with the curls framing her face. Miss Stoat was going on about something or other and Mrs. Phillips had joined them at some point when he’d gone to speak with his father and stepmother.
Gabriel joined them at last, relief clear on his face as he settled down on the blanket. “I trust everyone is enjoying themselves?”
“Quite!” Miss Stoat enthused. “Don’t you say so, Mrs. Phillips?”
“Yes, the breeze through the trees and the birds twittering, the pleasant buzz of conversation… I daresay I have never had such an enjoyable afternoon!”
“The breeze and the trees,” Emmy muttered. “I daresay with the way you prattle on you could hear none save yourself.”
Their little party grew silent and Stephen watched as a darkness flooded Gabriel’s brow. “Miss Woodson.”
Emmy looked startled at her own utterance but seemed to be unable to make any sort of reply. A speechless Emmy? That alone was worth this moment of excruciating silence.
