Her Gift - Bundle Pack

by Laurel Bennett

  “Can you take this off?” Charlotte asked, fingering the soft material of her skirt.

  Mary sighed heavily. “Alas, I am not allowed to find pleasure. Unless my master gives it to me.” She brushed Charlotte’s hair from the side of her face. “Perhaps another time, we’ll ask for permission and we can pleasure each other. With our men in the room. Watching.” She nibbled on Charlotte’s lower lip between each word, licking into her, the same way her finger had dipped into the cavern of her heat a moment before.

  “Watching?” Charlotte gasped. She probably sounded like an addled parrot. But she didn’t care.

  She shrugged. “They like to watch.” She looked down at Charlotte’s breasts and cupped one in each firm hand, lifting their small weight to her lips. “These really are perfect, you know,” she said as she sucked one nipple into her mouth. She played about the other with the pad of her thumb, until Charlotte was trembling in her grasp, her head hanging back, her breaths leaving her in gasps. Then she dropped her breasts and began a slow and leisurely lick down toward her curls.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to taste you,” Mary laughed.

  “Down there?” Certainly, that wasn’t what she meant.

  She laughed again, still that silky sound that made Charlotte even wetter.

  Without stopping, Mary parted her folds and looked down at her. Charlotte, for a moment, wanted to hide herself in shame. But then one long finger slid inside her and she licked across that little nub of pleasure. Charlotte nearly leapt from the bed. But then she stilled and watched, her mouth hanging open in surprise. This was what it was all about? This tender, soft touch? It could be like this? She licked faster, and faster, and Charlotte found herself arching to meet her. She reached down and brushed the hair from Mary’s brow with a tender touch.

  “A cock can feel this nice, too.” Mary lifted her head long enough to say, “You needed this.”

  “I did need this.” Tears burned at the backs of her lashes. Tears for all the years she’d lost. Tears for the man who’d sought to please her by giving her this lady. Tears for this woman, who gave so selflessly.

  “Don’t cry,” Mary said, pressing a kiss to Charlotte’s inner thigh. Her thumb took over her tongue’s wicked little movements, and one finger joined the other already inside her. Charlotte pressed back against the gentle invasion. Then Mary crooked a finger, and swept it against some part of her she didn’t know existed.

  “Oh, God,” Charlotte cried. “Please don’t stop,” she begged. Something was taking over her body. Her legs were trembling. Her bottom was arching in rhythm with those searching fingers. Her legs lay open, giving Mary all the access she needed. Then Mary latched onto that little nub of sensation with her mouth, and alternated between licking and suckling gently. And when she found a rhythm between the licking and suckling, waves of pleasure crashed over Charlotte’s body, stealing her very soul from her in that moment. She melted and quivered as she climaxed. As Mary wrung all the pleasure from her body. It was only when Charlotte pulled away, a little too sensitive for more stimulation, that Mary slowed. Then she stopped. She pulled her fingers from Charlotte’s sopping wet sheath, wiped them on the nearby towel and joined Charlotte on the bed.

  Charlotte lay there beside her quivering, weakness seeking into her limbs as her heartbeat slowed to normal. She covered her eyes with her forearm. “I didn’t know it could be like that,” she whispered, her voice cracking on the last. Tears seeped from beneath her arm, she knew. But that was the most beautiful things she’d ever experienced. “Thank you,” she sobbed, rolling toward Mary. Mary let her rest her head on her shoulder, and stroked her hair as she quieted, her sobs becoming gentle hiccups.

  “You’re welcome,” she said quickly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. Then she patted Charlotte’s bare bottom. “We need to get you dressed. Trent will be here momentarily.”

  Charlotte didn’t feel like she could move.

  “Up,” Mary coaxed. Then she got up herself and began to roll a clean pair of stockings over Charlotte’s feet and up her calves. It tickled when she got to her thighs. But she tied the garters in place and rolled her over. She popped Charlotte’s bottom hard enough to sting.

  “Ow,” Charlotte cried. But it hadn’t hurt. She got up and allowed Mary to finish dressing her.

  “Who chose these clothes?” Charlotte asked.

  “Someone on His Grace’s staff. He probably went directly to your dressmaker to have something new made.” Mary’s eyes met Charlotte’s. “You’re a fortunate woman. He does not take lovers casually, despite his reputation. He sees something in you.”

  “You saw something in me,” Charlotte prompted hesitantly.

  She tweaked her nose. “Because you’re something special to see.”

  When Charlotte was all dressed, she spun to face the looking glass. “Do I look all right for him?”

  “You look beautiful.” Mary bobbed a quick curtsy. “Thank you for letting me serve you tonight, my lady,” she said with a cheeky grin.

  “Have you any idea where he’s taking me?”

  But Mary didn’t answer. Instead, she slipped out the door as though she’d never been there. Only the smile on Charlotte’s face was evidence. A moment later, a knock sounded on the door. “I’m here to dress your hair, miss,” a maid called out. She didn’t enter the room. Perhaps she knew what had been going on in the room. Charlotte hoped not.

  “Enter,” Charlotte called absently. The girl dressed her hair, fluffed her dress and informed her that His Grace was waiting below stairs for her.

  When she opened the door, she went to the top of the stairs, and found His Grace standing at the bottom, glancing at his time piece with a worried expression. “I hope you enjoyed your bath,” he said revealing none of the mirth or scorn she’d expected to see on his face. “And that everything was to your agreement.”

  Heat suffused her face. “It was.”

  He held out his crooked arm.

  “Your Grace,” she began.

  “Trent,” he said with a small smile. “I give you leave to use it.”

  “Where are we going, Trent?”

  “The Duke and Duchess of Charburton are having a gathering.”

  Charlotte tripped over her own slipper. “The duke and duchess?”

  “Yes,” he teased. “Don’t worry. It’s very informal.”

  When arrived at the duke’s manor house, the duke and duchess met the hosts at the door. Her Grace was a regal creature, with her tumbling golden curls piled high atop her head. Her neck arched delicately to reveal naked shoulders and a beautiful dip in her bodice. It wasn’t until she looked directly into the duchess’s eyes that she got the shock of a lifetime. “Your Grace,” Charlotte sputtered. She dropped into a quick curtsy.

  “Call me Mary, dear. We’ll be great friends, I’m certain.” Her eyes sparkled and shone. And Charlotte’s heart flipped over in her chest.

  Trent chuckled lightly from behind her. “Great friends, indeed.”

  Her Gift – The Houseparty

  By Laurel Bennett

  Charlotte Stansbury fretted over the folds of her gown, flattening and pressing it with the palm of her hand, over and over. If she stopped, she would most certainly have to speak to him. Him – that enigma of a man who sat so calmly beside her in the carriage, the Duke of Randallshire. The gentleman -- and she wondered if he could even claim to be a gentleman, despite his title – sat motionless beside her.

  “I sincerely hope you enjoyed your afternoon,” he said casually.

  As though she’d spent the afternoon knitting or enjoying a social circle. He knew perfectly well what she’d been doing, since he planned the assignation. Heat flooded Charlotte’s face. She’d planned for an afternoon tryst with a man known for his prowess in the bedchamber. And she hadn’t gotten that at all. She’d gotten something else. Something wholly unexpected.

  “You don’t know how to thank me, do you?” he asked softly, reaching o
ne gentle hand forward and touching her cheek lightly. “Or are you too embarrassed to make the attempt?”

  Embarrassed. That was an odd choice of words. Oddly appropriate. “I don’t know how to respond,” Charlotte admitted.

  He turned so that her body faced his in the carriage. “A simple thank you will suffice.”

  His knees brushed her skirt, and she didn’t jump in fear of him. She didn’t fear him at all. How odd. “Trent,” she began.

  “I like hearing my name on your lips,” he said, his head dipping dangerously closer to hers. Her heart began a mad thump within her chest. His soft, damp breath brushed her cheek.

  “Do you plan to kiss me?” she whispered back, leaning toward him as though there was an invisible draw between them.

  He was gone within an instant. She immediately felt the loss of him. But then the tip of his index finger started a slow slide across the exposed skin of her bodice. “Tell me how it felt to kiss Mary,” he prompted. A ghost of a grin played around his lips. “Stop worrying about how society would view your afternoon. Worry about how I view it, instead.” He took her hand and pressed it against his cock, which formed a taut tent beneath his trousers.

  Charlotte didn’t pull her hand back. He didn’t pressure her to touch him. He just let her hand linger there. She tested the length of him with her fingertips, and a sharp hiss left his lips.

  “All I can think about is what you did with Mary,” he said with a wide grin. “I’m dying to know more.”

  “Why did you do it?” Charlotte asked. He’d arranged for her to have an afternoon with a lady, a seductress, a beautiful vision of a woman with a giving nature and a wicked tongue. “Mary says you find out what a lady needs and then you provide it.”

  He looked slightly chagrined. “Mary talks too much.”

  “I don’t understand it. My appointment was with you. Not with Mary.” She took a deep breath and then continued, though the very thought of the conversation hurt her heart beyond measure. “Do you not find me attractive? If you didn’t want to be with me, you could have just said so.”

  “Does it feel as though I don’t find you attractive?” he drawled as he took her hand and forced her grip around his cock. He groaned aloud when she tested the girth of him, and laid his head back on the squabs, regarding her from beneath lowered lashes.

  “Then why?” she asked again.

  They’d flirted for weeks. She’d still been in her widow’s weeds, continuing her mourning for an appropriate amount of time, but the moment she’d replaced the grey with a dress of color, he’d asked her to dance at a formal ball. It had surprised her, to say the least. He was the Duke of Randallshire, for heaven’s sake. What on earth might he want with a widow of her age and standing?

  “Why me?” she asked again.

  His gaze searched her face. “You do not see what I see. And that is owed to your late husband, horrid man that he was. I am taking it upon myself to right his wrongs.”

  Charlotte sat back against the leather seat. “He did you a wrong, didn’t he?”

  “No, but in my research, I discovered that he did you a wrong.”

  More than one, but that was her cross to bear. Not his. “Why?” she couldn’t help but ask. Why me? Why now? Why give me a gift of a day with Mary? She wanted to ask all these things and more.

  He ignored her question. “Make me a happy man and tell me about your time with Mary,” he said. He lifted her hand from his cock, and laid it in her lap.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “What would make you think that?” He smiled a wicked smile at her.

  Her gaze shifted from his mouth to his cock, and she arched a brow.

  “I like to prolong the pleasure,” he said, his voice a silky crawl up her skin.

  “How did you meet Mary?”

  “I went to Cambridge with her husband.” He folded his hands in his lap.

  “Her husband?”

  “She calls him her master, but it’s really a little game they play. She has him wrapped around her finger. He follows her about like a spaniel, drooling all over her skirts.”

  Charlotte inhaled heavily. “If he loves her so much, why on earth would he let her come to me? Let her do the intimate things she did with me.” Her skin heated and her nipples tightened at the mere thought of Mary’s fingertips trailing over her goose-flesh. At the memory of her mouth kissing all of her private places. At the recollection of Mary making her come. “She made me climax,” she blurted. Then she buried her face in her cupped hands in shame.

  Trent chuckled from beside her. “I had a feeling that’s how events would transpire. She’s a clever lady. With a wicked mouth.”

  “You’ve availed yourself of it?” She didn’t want to ask the question. But it erupted like a teakettle when it began to blow steam.

  “Do you want the answer to that question?”

  “How odd. She gave me the same response.”

  Before they could get any farther into the conversation, the carriage rolled to a stop and the footman lowered the step, then opened the door to let Trent descend. He held a hand out to her. “Fair warning, good lady,” he said from outside the door. “If you step one foot inside the duke and duchess’s home, your life may change forever.”

  Change? Goodness, she could use some change. She reached her hand toward his and he took it in his strong grip, gave it a gentle squeeze and helped her from the carriage.

  As they walked up the stone staircase to the front of the manor house, Charlotte plucked at her gown and fretted with her hair. “Stop that,” Trent warned. “You look beautiful.”

  Her belly dropped down toward her toes. Who would have thought a compliment would hit her like a team of runaway horses? “Thank you,” Charlotte croaked.

  She stopped in front of the duke and duchess and waited for an introduction. The duchess was a regal creature, with her tumbling golden curls piled high atop her head. Her neck arched delicately to reveal naked shoulders and a beautiful dip in her bodice. It wasn’t until Charlotte looked directly into the duchess’s eyes that she got the shock of a lifetime. “Your Grace,” she sputtered. Charlotte dropped into a quick curtsy.

  “Call me Mary, dear. We’ll be great friends, I’m certain.” Her eyes sparkled and shone. And Charlotte’s heart nearly leapt from her chest.

  Trent chuckled lightly from behind her. “Great friends, indeed.” He took Charlotte’s arm and led her into the home.

  Mary was the duchess. The woman she’d been led to believe was a maid was a duchess. A duchess had looked up at her from between her thighs that very afternoon, her pretty blue eyes blinking as she’d brought Charlotte to a passionate release.

  “Breathe, my darling,” Trent murmured in her ear.

  “You should have told me,” she hissed back at him. “She’s a duchess, for God’s sake.”

  “She’s a woman,” he said with a shrug. “And she wasn’t always a lady. She was an actress, once upon a time. Then she captivated my good friend, Charles, and the rest is history.” Trent bent so that his head was close to the side of her neck, and let his next words move over her skin like a caress. “I find myself horrendously jealous that she has tasted you and I have not.” He lightly kissed the side of her neck and Charlotte shuddered with the pleasure of it. “She has rubbed your nipples on her tongue. And she has kissed her way down your body.”

  “Stop it,” Charlotte warned. Her thighs were growing wet from her body’s delicious reaction to his words. “It’s scandalous.”

  “As are we, my darling,” he said with a chuckle.

  They rounded the corner and walked into a room. Charlotte stopped in her tracks. On the settee rested a man who wore proper evening clothes. And at his feet sat a woman who wore nothing. Charlotte turned to walk back in the direction they’d come. But Trent’s hand around her waist stopped her. He drew her into a secluded corner.

  “There are some rules. First names only, while we’re here,” he said. “No titles. No family
crests. No rules of the peerage. Everyone here is in a committed relationship with their significant other. If not, they are not permitted to enter.”

  “Are we in a committed relationship?” she asked.

  “The day you agreed to come to my bed, it became a committed relationship.” He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “Everyone here is sworn to secrecy. And well-screened before admittance. So, any activity in which we partake will remain a secret, if that has you concerned.”

  “We are expected to partake?” she began. Then she hissed, “Of others?”

  He shrugged. “I choose to partake of you. If you choose to partake of others, we can discuss it. But, truth be told, I prefer to keep you for myself.” His brow rose at what must have been her shocked expression. “Have I surprised you?”

  With the naked people? With the house party? With the gift of Mary, who’d brought her to climax? With any of this? “A little,” she finally squeaked.

  “There’s a club we all frequent called Decadence. It’s like this.” He gestured to those around him. “But on a much grander scale. When you’re ready, I’ll take you there. This is merely a small sampling of what Decadence offers.”

  Just then, a couple came through the door and joined the others on the settee. The four of them talked as though the woman on her knees was not naked, once the man gave her permission to do so. “This is surreal,” Charlotte breathed.

  Then Mary walked into the room and approached Charlotte with a large smile. “Are you terribly angry at me?” she asked.

  Angry? Shocked out of her stockings would be more like it.

  “She’s having trouble finding the appropriate words,” Trent said with a chuckle.

  The duke walked up behind them all and said loudly. “The word would be thank you. Thank you for the loan of my wife for the afternoon.” He grinned broadly. Then continued when Charlotte’s tongue refused to work. “You’re welcome.” He laughed and clapped Trent on the shoulder. “Take a seat,” he offered.