by Josie Dennis
She’d thrown back her head and screamed as she came, her pussy clenching his cock tight as he’d held on to his control. She’d had to take him in her mouth afterward and suck him to climax. That was the only place he’d spill his seed.
With his father’s passing two years ago he had much to control, from fortune to future. He was diligent in his handling of his estate, though he went to London only when necessary. This was primarily to call on his solicitors, though he was often dragged to more than one party while there by well-meaning friends as eager to see him married as his sister was.
Regarding estate business and matters of courtship, he allowed he had much to learn. In the area of control, however? He prided himself on his firm grasp of it, in the bedchamber and where his sister was concerned. He would avoid her machinations and take his pleasures elsewhere. God knew that none of the women at the parties would lure him. Not to their bed and not to the altar.
His sister’s excited chatter drifted up from the entry of the rented house.
“Do come on, Catherine,” she called.
A murmured answer followed, in a feminine voice that stroked over his body like a caress. Could that be his sister’s companion? He knew little of her, save that she was a pretty girl of Isabella’s age. Their aunt had said that the girl had little fortune yet carried herself well. Coming from his aunt, that was glowing praise indeed.
Intrigued, he stepped out into the hall and made his way toward the railing. Their aunt’s round form sailed over the tiled floor toward the entry, feathers waving and skirts rustling. His sister came after, tugging on another girl’s gloved hand. He turned his attention to that young woman and froze. My God.
She had midnight-dark hair piled on her head, and a long neck leading his eyes toward her full bosom. She was slight yet curved, with a narrow waist and sweetly rounded bottom. She tilted her head and he glimpsed her face. She was gorgeous. Her face was heart-shaped, her lips full and red as she smiled at his sister. What color were her eyes? God, he wanted to know. She laughed then, a husky sound, and his cock hardened.
He gripped the railing as the girl left with his family. When the door shut behind them, he slowly climbed down the stairs. It was a good thing he hadn’t accompanied the women tonight. All and sundry would surely have caught a glimpse of his throbbing shaft in his breeches.
His blood pounded low as he caught a scent he didn’t recognize. It was sweet and tangy, like orange marmalade. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. There was no question it belonged to his sister’s companion. He was staying in this house with that beguiling creature?
He was in trouble indeed.
* * * *
Catherine was once again in the dim corridor, her pulse racing as she ran through the shadows. Voices called to her, deep, masculine sounds that made her knees weak. She would not falter, however. She would find the men she sought and surrender once more.
The dark-haired man leaned against the wall again, his smile as wicked and beguiling as before. She recognized him in an instant, both his handsome face and lean-muscled figure. It was Henry Tilman, of all men. That handsome man who had approached them in the pump house and touched her hand briefly and repeatedly during their one dance tonight.
“Ah, Catherine,” he said, pulling her to him.
She went willingly, eager for what her dream lover would do to her. He kissed her, his tongue delving into her mouth in a caress she’d never imagined. Oh, his taste! Fresh and clean, like his scent. His hands began to work over her, his touch scorching through her nightdress.
The ribbon holding the garment closed gave easily to his questing fingers. He kissed her here as well, his tongue teasing over her breasts as her nipples begged for equal attention. “Please, Henry,” she murmured.
He smiled again and ran his hands over her legs. Her pussy wept as he stroked her. “Do you want us?” he asked.
Her breath caught. “Us?”
The muscled stranger was again behind her, his fingers tweaking and pinching the nipples Henry had left pert and throbbing. “Us, love,” he said, nibbling on her neck. “Let us show you pleasure.”
Henry came to his knees in front of her, spreading her trembling thighs as he buried his face between her legs. Oh, this was scandalous! Then his tongue touched her swollen flesh and she swiftly changed her opinion. This was heavenly!
Henry licked and sucked at her, driving his tongue deep in her pussy as she struggled to remain upright. The man behind her whispered words of encouragement as he continued to stroke and tease her breasts. She should send them away, demand they take their hands and mouths from her. She could not. Not the other night and not tonight.
“Oh, yes please!” she gasped. “Show me pleasure!”
The man behind her laughed low in his throat as Henry moaned in obvious delight. Reaching up behind her, she clutched the other man’s shoulders and let herself go. Like last night her body flushed hot. Fire licked at her as Henry brought her closer to that mysterious something that she seemed to crave. “Yes, yes, yes!” she cried.
In the next moment she was once more in her bed, one hand on her breast and the other between her legs. Her touch was inadequate, however. She wanted Henry and that mysterious other man to finish what they’d started. To ease this ache deep inside as she suspected only they could.
Today Isabella would no doubt wish to make the rounds again. Surely Henry would be about as well. Catherine’s cheeks flamed as hot as her body. However would she face him, after what she’d longed for him to do? She closed her eyes. Perhaps a vivid imagination was not such a good thing after all.
When she finally rose for the day the sun was bright through her window. She’d managed to sleep after that incredible dream then, though she couldn’t imagine how. Isabella would be in the breakfast room already, so Catherine hurried with her toilette and dress. As a companion she didn’t have the luxury of a maid to attend her, but that was something she was accustomed to. Her hair was thick and long, but she twisted it into a simple style and hurried down to the breakfast room.
As expected, Isabella was seated within. She smiled up at her. “Catherine!”
“Good morning, Isabella,” Catherine said. “I’m afraid I was a bit of a slugabed this morning.”
“No matter. Help yourself to eggs and ham and join me.”
Catherine filled her plate and settled in the chair across from Isabella. “What are we about this day?”
“Oh, perhaps another trip to the pump house?” Isabella asked with a shrug. “Or perhaps we can convince my brother to take us to one of the tearooms?”
“Your brother has arrived?”
“Yes, and Aunt Beatrice is most relieved that John has joined us here at the house.”
Catherine smiled as she ate her breakfast. Isabella’s aunt was indeed a worrier. With the addition of John Thorne there would be another pair of eyes to keep watch over Isabella. And with a man in the party they would be most welcome guests at any assembly.
“There are few gentlemen in Bath this time of year,” Catherine said, taking up her teacup. “How long will your brother be staying?”
Isabella frowned. “I’m not certain. John can be quite changeable. We’ll just have to enjoy his company while—Oh, good morning, brother!”
“Good morning, sister,” a deep voice returned.
Catherine’s breath left her body in a rush. Why, this man’s voice was much like the one that had whispered such naughty things in her ear last night! Trembling, she set the cup back on its saucer. She dabbed her lips and turned, then drank in the splendid picture of John Thorne.
He was broad shouldered and tall, with a strong countenance. Fair-haired like his sister, he possessed deep hazel eyes that drew her attention. But his mouth! It was as full as Henry Tilman’s and tilted on one side just as deliciously. Her own lips tingled as she wondered what he would taste like.
“Isabella, I take it this is your lovely companion?” he asked.
“John, th
is is Miss Catherine Morris,” Isabella said.
“Miss Morris,” he said with a slight bow. “A pleasure.”
Catherine swallowed. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Thorne.” Her voice sounded weak to her ears.
He stared back at her for a long moment then sauntered over to the sideboard. “What are you ladies about this day?”
Catherine studied his buttocks, shown to advantage in his tan trousers. His shoulders, clad in his rich brown jacket, seemed even wider from this angle. He set his plate, piled high with food, on the table and settled his large form across from her. She watched him eat for a moment, staring at his well-formed mouth as he drank his tea. What would his kisses taste like? True, she’d only had Henry’s kisses in her dreams but not this man’s. Not yet. Would he be as commanding as she imagined? Would he take her in his arms, press her against that sculpted chest she’d felt at her back? Did the hair on his chest match those golden waves on his head?
“…take us to the tearoom. Isn’t that right, Catherine?”
Catherine started then turned to find Isabella gazing at her expectantly. “Pardon?”
Isabella smiled. “Were you living in those fantasies of yours again?”
Catherine’s cheeks flamed. She knew Isabella spoke of her favorite novels, but as she’d just been contemplating her brother’s bare chest she had the grace to dip her head. “What did you ask me, Isabella?”
“I was telling John that he simply must accompany us to one of the tearooms today, as he’d escaped the parties last evening.”
“And I will this evening as well,” he intoned.
His eyes settled on Catherine and she struggled to keep her countenance. “You do not like the parties, Mr. Thorne?”
“Perhaps you can call me John, Miss Morris? You are nearly a member of the family, at least temporarily.”
She glanced at Isabella, who gave her an enthusiastic nod. “As you wish, John,” she said. “And you may call me Catherine.”
He smiled and her heart gave a flip. Why, this was precisely what had happened when she made Henry Tilman’s acquaintance!
“I take it you do like the parties, Catherine? Like my sister here?”
“Catherine doesn’t usually enjoy the parties, I daresay,” Isabella said. “Though last evening she actually permitted a gentleman to lead her about the dance floor.”
“Really, Isabella,” Catherine said softly.
“You do not like to dance?” His eyes sparkled and she saw the gold flecks dancing within. “Perhaps you have not had the chance to be partnered with the right man.”
“Mr. Tilman was a delightful partner, wasn’t he Catherine?”
Catherine blushed again. “I enjoyed our dance.”
“Mr. Tilman?” John asked, leaning toward her. His brows drew together. “Not Frederick Tilman.”
“I do not know that man,” Catherine said. “I spoke of Henry Tilman.”
He seemed to relax a bit. “Ah, Henry. Good sort. Knew him at Cambridge.”
“Who is this Frederick Tilman, brother?” Isabella asked, her eyes alight.
John shook his head. “He’s not for the likes of you,” he said in a clipped tone.
“Ooh, a rake is he?” his sister asked. “And who are you to object to a gentleman with a reputation so similar to yours?”
Catherine stared at his profile as he contemplated his sister’s question. He was a rake, then? She recalled the feel of his phantom hands on her breasts, his fingers relentless on her flesh. She could believe him quite experienced indeed.
“Never mind,” he said. “You will have Catherine believing I make promises I don’t intend to keep.”
His eyes were on her again, and her nipples tightened in her stays. Wriggling in her seat, she tried to quell the pulsing that began in her pussy. Oh, her dreams were exceedingly salacious, but how could she want two men in reality as well?
“The tearooms, brother?” Isabella pressed again.
Catherine held her breath as she waited for his answer. She was torn between wanting to remain in his company and hoping to hide in her little room until this madness passed.
“I would be delighted,” he answered at last.
Isabella clapped her hands in delight. “Capital!”
He ran his gaze over Catherine, his lips parted. His cheeks reddened a bit, and she fancied he had the same thoughts that swirled in her own head. She chided her imagination.
Better to keep him and Henry to her dreams.
Chapter 3
Henry strolled toward the pump house, keeping his steps even. He’d had a devil of a time trying to get to sleep last night, unable to get Catherine’s sweet, tangy scent out of his mind. Their one dance was enough to confirm his suspicions. Her hand, so soft and delicate in his. Her body moving gracefully through the predetermined steps. Her smile the one time she’d raised those gorgeous eyes to his face. She was the one woman he’d been searching for. The one woman with whom he could finally begin to live.
Life at Norrington Abbey was quite dull, but he’d never found it truly confining until recently. Lately, his father had begun to spend more time at the abbey rather than visiting his well-connected friends. Henry knew the general relied on his skill with the running of the place, but his constant derision was beginning to wear on him.
He would one day take up the living left vacant when one of his cousins died, but until then he was truly stuck at the abbey. He might lack the fortitude that his father and brother reportedly possessed, but spending time at the abbey with only his father’s cold company made him feel lonely and miserable. He wanted more and, remarkable as it seemed, Catherine was apparently a big part of that.
This morning Frederick had spelled out in detail how he’d passed the previous night. He’d spent it with two girls with less-than-stellar prospects. Henry had managed to hide his shock. Two women at the same time? He’d been intrigued by the image his brother’s words elicited nevertheless. Imagine having one girl on his cock while another rode his tongue to climax? In a flash the image shifted, to just one particular girl stretched out over his body, her rosebud mouth eagerly sucking his cock while she rubbed her sweet, wet pussy in his face. Would she taste as delectable as her scent?
He caught a glimpse of Catherine’s slender figure up ahead, entering the nearest tearoom across the street. She was with Miss Thorne, who was once again talking animatedly. He squinted as he spied the tall gentleman accompanying the young women. There was something familiar about him. It struck him in the next moment. John Thorne. He’d known the man had a sister but he hadn’t put the two together before now.
“Blast,” he grumbled to himself.
John’s reputation at Cambridge rivaled Frederick’s to be sure. He had to learn just how long the man would be staying under the same roof as Catherine. Surely the temptation she posed would be too great for a man of his appetites. Steeling himself for a polite and probing confrontation, he doffed his hat and entered the tearoom.
“Mr. Tilman!” he heard Miss Thorne call. “Catherine, it’s Mr. Tilman!”
Henry smiled, the expression becoming more comfortable as his gaze settled on Catherine. She looked a picture in her blue dress. Her dark tresses were arranged in a simple style, yet they shone in the sunlight streaming through the windows. He bowed. “Miss Thorne. Miss Morris. What a delight to find you here.”
John Thorne cleared his throat. “Tilman.”
Henry nodded to him. “Thorne.”
“Is your brother not with you?” Miss Thorne asked.
“Sister,” Thorne said, a warning in his voice.
She waved a hand. “Catherine and I would love it if you joined us, Mr. Tilman.”
Henry looked to Catherine, whose eyes were running over him in a fashion that caused his cock to twitch to life. He knew he didn’t cut as dashing a figure as their escort, but by the speculation in her blue eyes he didn’t think she found him lacking. As for John Thorne, that man sat far too close to Catherine in his opin
ion.
“I would be delighted,” Henry said, taking the vacant chair on Catherine’s other side.
He caught the glint of something in Thorne’s eyes, a predatory possession. Well, he’d seen Catherine first! At least, he thought he had.
“How long have you been in Bath, Thorne?” he asked.
The man leaned back in his chair, his arm nearly touching Catherine’s as a result. “Only arrived yesterday.”
Henry felt himself relax a bit. “And will you be accompanying the ladies to the functions?”
Thorne smiled, turning toward Catherine fully. “What do you say, Miss Morris? Should I serve as escort?”
Catherine’s mouth was an O of surprise. “I…Isabella, what do you think?”
Evidently, she was unused to such direct communication in company. That was a pity, for Henry had found her a most interesting girl when they’d spoken last evening. A bit fanciful perhaps as she spoke of her beloved novels, but that did not detract from her appeal.
“I daresay we will be unable to go anywhere without his escort,” Miss Thorne answered.
John preened, and Catherine’s eyes were glued to him now. “It is my duty to see to Isabella’s and Catherine’s welfare while here with them.”
“Catherine,” is it? Henry knew he had a true rival now. If he didn’t press his suit he would no doubt soon read the banns for their nuptials. He scoffed to himself. John Thorne could not have marriage on his mind.
“I thought to invite you for a ride tomorrow, Miss Morris,” Henry said. “I daresay you haven’t been out of town much since your arrival?”
“Hardly,” Miss Thorne said.
“I say,” John Thorne put in. “Are you fond of an open carriage, Catherine?”
