Arthur’s entire body vibrated with sudden energy as though MIGS had managed to infect him with a million nanobots. His buttocks tightened involuntarily at the memory of the tail filling him. He was still a little sore, a sweet reminder of how it’d felt to prance as the stallion for her.
How much more had Cole’s ass hurt after he’d plowed him so roughly?
Fisting his hands, Arthur fought to remain still, to avoid the ceaseless pull of her desire. His cock complained at the tight constraint his trousers had suddenly become. I don’t want to hurt anyone, let alone the man who brought me to her.
“Would you like that, pet?” she whispered in Cole’s ear, loudly enough for Arthur to hear but low, making him strain and lean closer. “Or is he too much brute for you?”
“God, yes,” Cole ground out. He rose up enough to turn and look at Arthur with a coltish smile that made him want to fist a hand in his hair and smash his lips beneath his. “I’d love for him to do it again. Anytime he wants. As hard as he wants. And if he takes me while I’m inside you, I’ll probably die in your arms in a detonation so violent the Queen’s Ravens will come to investigate for fear someone’s trying to assassinate her.”
Arthur was moving toward the bed before he realized it. Shaken, he paused in the act of unbuttoning his trousers, unsure of his ability to control himself. He’d hoped that time in the ring would curb the rougher edge of violence in his lust, but his body temperature rose to scalding. No one had touched him, and he was already as viciously aroused as she’d had him in the ring.
Every stinging mark from her crop blazed like fire in his skin, inflaming him more.
“There’s oil in the drawer.” Her voice caught on a husky little moan that made his fingers leap into action once more. “Pour some in my hand and I’ll prepare him for you.”
His fingers trembled so badly that he spilled a lake on her palm. Evidently she didn’t mind, and neither did Cole, who trembled as she poured some of the oil down his crack. Her greased hand came back to slip inside Arthur’s trousers. It was all he could do to strip the rest of his clothes while she held him in a tight, firm grip, a promise of what was to come.
Until Cole groaned, Arthur didn’t realize she’d been teasing him with her other hand.
“You’re not going to come too quickly, are you, pet?” With a low, teasing chuckle, she swirled and prodded, spreading the oil deeper. “Arthur’s not even inside you yet and you feel like you’re ready to burst.”
“I won’t come until you do, Violet. I’ll hold it or die trying. But hurry, please, I beg you!”
Arthur climbed onto the bed, as awkward and nervous as a virgin on his wedding night. So many limbs… He wasn’t even sure where and how to kneel. As soon as Cole felt the mattress dip, he groaned and arched his back, lifting those tempting buttocks. The sight of Cole moving above her nearly made him spill his seed then and there. She pulled her thighs higher toward Cole’s shoulders, giving Arthur an unimpeded path straight to Cole’s arse.
Hesitantly, Arthur laid his palm on that sleek curve. Part of him wanted to simply grip the man’s hips and plunge to the hilt like he’d done that first time. Mindless, savage, lost in lust. But Cole deserved better this time. They all did. If I’m going to marry her and join their relationship permanently, then I need to know him as well as I know her. I have to control myself.
He smoothed his hand up Cole’s back, tracing the shape of his spine. He quivered beneath Arthur’s hand, so responsive and receptive. Cole didn’t thrust—he simply lay on top of her and waited to see what Arthur would do. She didn’t direct him either, as though she wanted him to simply feel and act on those feelings.
She made no protest when Arthur stroked her calf and thigh. With one hand on her and the other on Cole, he marveled at the differences. She was soft and silk, Cole was lean and hard. Arthur pressed closer, leaning down over them both. He’d never felt so much muscle beneath him before. She was certainly a strong woman in more ways than one, but having a man between them made her curves all the more feminine.
“Am I doing this right?”
Cole groaned again, making her laugh. “Judging by the sounds you’re drawing from him, I’d say yes.”
“No,” Cole growled. “You’re not going fast enough. I’m going to die before…”
Gritting his teeth, Arthur pushed inside enough that Cole’s words turned into a strangled groan. “Better?”
“Better,” she purred, arching beneath them. Somehow she managed to reach around Cole and grab a handful of Arthur’s backside, hauling him closer.
Cole sounded like he was dying. “Please, Violet, don’t let him stop!”
She leaned up and kissed Cole, and then pulled his head to one side so she could see Arthur over his shoulder. At the beckoning look in her eyes, he bent down lower over Cole’s back, bracing on his hands so he didn’t crush them both. She kissed him, too, sucking on his tongue until he thrust deeper, fighting through Cole’s body to get closer to her.
Shuddering, Cole pushed back against him, taking him to the hilt on a low whimper that made sweat bead on Arthur’s brow. Control. Slow. I’m a man not an animal. “Am I hurting you too much?”
“Never,” Cole panted. “I love it.”
She dug her nails into Arthur’s buttocks, drawing his attention to her face. “I want to hear him scream.”
Involuntarily, he jerked back enough to make Cole writhe beneath him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Arthur stared down at her, his stomach quivering so hard he was sure Cole must feel it. His hands clenched on the bedding, his blood thumping a frantic cadence in his head. It’d be so easy to rock and thrust and slam himself over and over, lost in the heat in her eyes. But he held on to the last corner of sanity, afraid he’d lose himself for all time.
“Where’s my stallion, Arthur? Where’s the man who fucked me senseless in the dirt today? That’s who we want in this bed, this and every night. We want you, the full you, burning with unbridled need for us.” She reached up and grabbed enough of his hair to force him back down so she could lick his ear. “Fuck Cole, and through him, fuck me too.”
Something snapped in his head. With just a few dirty words, she’d managed to slip off the bridle and muzzle he’d slapped on himself. Wildfire poured through him, igniting with his desire to create the very detonation that Cole had threatened. Rearing back, he shoved himself deep with a guttural roar.
Cole’s back bowed on a ragged cry, involuntarily driving him deeper into her. Arthur thrust again, again, unable to stop, mesmerized by the way they both squirmed and cried beneath his thrusts. He wasn’t inside her, but he could feel her through Cole, could feel Cole surging into her with his every thrust. I truly am fucking them both.
And the sounds that Cole made… Alone, Arthur might have hesitated, afraid the man was in pain, but he trusted her to stop him if he was too rough. She’d already managed to stand up to him alone and keep the stallion in line. For once in his life, he simply let go and thrust as hard and deep as he could, not caring about his size, how heavy he might be, whether he was giving pain.
They want me, this way, exactly as I am.
He didn’t remember climaxing, not exactly. It was more like falling, an endless tumble from a height so great that it didn’t matter how long he fell. It was going to kill him, so he might as well enjoy the journey. Somehow he ended on his side by a sweaty and disheveled Cole, who nuzzled into him like a warm kitten. In a haze, he felt the bed dip, heard the splashing of water, and then felt her cool hand on his brow. She cleaned them both. The high and mighty Duchess, wiping her men.
Here, he held no title, no command. He was still her stallion whether she wielded the whip or not. She’d broken him to her will and he’d die trying to please her. She’d already given him the impossible.
She gave me the ability to be myself.
He felt like crying again, like that first night in the stable with Cole. But this time, it was tears of such
heart-soaring emotion that joy and love failed to describe it. She slipped into bed behind him and stroked his hair while making some low sweet murmur in his ear. He had no idea what she said. He couldn’t understand the words. He didn’t need words.
She held him. He held Cole. And they drifted into peaceful slumber together.
Chapter Nineteen
Dressed in full regimental regalia, Lady Blackmyre knelt with her new husband before Queen Majel. She tapped them both on the shoulder with a heavy ceremonial blade. “Lady Blackmyre, Lord Wellington, rise and lead us to victory as Field Marshals of my Britannian Army.”
Taking Arthur’s hand in hers, Violet stood. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Long live the Queen!”
The wedding party roared with approval. So many people had attended despite the hasty arrangements that the doors were flung open and the crowd spilled out around the small building. The Wellesleys had even arranged for the modest event to be broadcasted across Londonium. Violet allowed it, if only to make Arthur happy by attempting to get along with his grandmother.
Wellington actually dabbed at her eyes and beamed with approval. Never mind that she’d threatened to refuse the marriage until Majel’s bribes were revealed. Now House Wellington’s continuation was assured, and Arthur had accomplished something no other man had done in generations.
He held the highest military command in the formidable Britannian Army.
Queen Majel held out the traditional ceremonial baton tipped in gold that the Field Marshal always carried. Suddenly queasy, Violet tried to decide how best to proceed without alienating the most powerful lady in the known universe while not dishonoring her newly minted, extremely proud husband.
When Majel shifted to point the golden tip at Arthur, Violet fought to keep her shoulders stiff instead of drooping with relief. “Lord Wellington, I hear that you will be taking position at the Iberian front, while Lady Blackmyre supports you from HMS Dreadnought. Therefore I believe it only fitting for you to bear the baton into war.”
Arthur bowed low and accepted the baton. “I’m honored, Your Majesty. We shall win Iberia for you by the end of the year.”
“I’ll hold you to your husband’s promise, Blackmyre.”
Violet lifted her chin and tucked her hand around Arthur’s arm. “The sooner we sail, the sooner Iberia is yours, Your Majesty.”
Majel smiled, sending chills down Violet’s spine. “Your ship awaits. Your honeymoon will be a fortnight on a warship.”
“No more than a week, Your Majesty,” Arthur’s voice rang in the chapel. “We’ll break every record getting to Iberia.”
“Indeed.” Violet tightened her grip on his arm, whether to hold him back from saying something alarmingly stupid…or herself, she wasn’t sure. “The sooner we reach the front, the sooner we’ll be home.”
“Excellent. I expect a full report as soon as you arrive. As for the extraction we discussed, I believe we ought to wait until you return.”
Violet wasn’t thrilled with the idea of those nanobots living in her body for months, though she couldn’t deny that she felt incredible, even beyond the healing of her ravaged lungs. Her knee hardly pained her at all. It might be her imagination, but even the decade-old scar on her face seemed less prominent.
“One never knows what manner of weapons the Francians may throw at us,” Queen Majel continued. “You might need the additional help. Dottham.”
Dottie took a step forward to stand beside her best friend.
“I expect you to be next.”
“Oh, dear, Your Majesty, I have no military knowledge whatsoever, but if Lady Blackmyre has need of me, I’ll set sail with her this very day.”
“That’s not what I meant, Dottham.” The Queen tried for severity but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her. “Your head’s on the chopping block next. Or should I say leg? If they’re winning me Iberia by the end of the year, then the least you can do is shackle yourself to a suitable husband. Your House needs an heir.”
Dottie’s hand fumbled out and latched on to Violet’s arm for support, but her voice was stoically resigned. “I’ll do my best, Your Majesty.”
The crowd dispersed with the Queen’s departure. Wellington kissed Arthur’s cheek and shook Violet’s hand, while Violet congratulated herself on not sucker punching the old hag. Garrett pounded his brother on the back and tried to steal a kiss from his bride. Violet tipped her mouth aside and allowed a puppy kiss on the cheek, although Arthur scowled mightily.
She smoothed her hand up Arthur’s chest to his neckcloth. Beneath the tight linen wrapped about his neck, she could feel the slight ridge of the chain he wore, a matching twin to Cole’s collar. “After last night, I didn’t think you’d ever be jealous again.”
“I’m not jealous, merely discouraging my silly brother from embarrassing himself.”
Cole waited for them at the door. “Our trunks have been sent ahead to the ship.”
“Thank you, Cole.” Smiling at him, she took his hand and tucked him on her other side. They walked down the path, lined on either side by Blackmyre staff. Somber Mr. Chumlee shocked her by stepping out and hauling her into a bear hug. “We’ll return home before you know it, Mr. Chumlee.”
“I know, Your Grace.” He sniffed, and for such a reserved man, he might as well have burst into dramatic tears. “Blackmyre shall be kept in perfect working order, ready for your rapid return, and I’ll have Caesar waiting for you in his stall as soon as he’s recovered. I have utmost faith in your ability to kick that miserable Francian monarch’s motley crew all the way back to Parisii.”
“Bonaparte won’t know what hit her.” She squeezed him again and laughed. “After we return home, I’m filling the stable with the fastest racehorses I can find. Caesar will be so happy with all his new mares he won’t know where to begin.”
“To help in your search, we packed your tack and riding equipment and had them sent to the Dreadnought.” With a perfectly straight face, Mr. Chumlee added, “You won’t want your riding skills to grow rusty from disuse.”
Arthur’s ears turned red and even Cole had the grace to look abashed, though he flashed a dimpled grin at the butler. Dottie laughed so hard that Violet had to catch her and keep her from sprawling on her back. “I’m sure I’ll have the chance to use my whip a time or two.”
Dottie choked. “You never know when you’ll stumble across a naughty pony.”
About the Author
Joely always has her nose buried in a book, especially one with mythology, fairy tales and romance. She, her husband and their three monsters live in Missouri. By day, she’s a computer programmer with a Masters of Science degree in Mathematics. When night falls, she bespells the monsters so she can write. Read more about her current projects on her website, www.joelysueburkhart.com.
Look for these titles by Joely Sue Burkhart
Now Available:
A Jane Austen Space Opera
Lady Doctor Wyre
The Connaghers
Dear Sir, I’m Yours
Hurt Me So Good
Yours to Take
All fire and gunpowder need is a stray spark…
Yours to Take
© 2012 Joely Sue Burkhart
The Connaghers, Book 3
The day one of her old clients gunned down a cop, former defense attorney Vicki Connagher lost everything—her passion for justice, and her lover, Detective Elias Reyes. The dead cop’s partner.
Even though she’s following her dream to start her own fashion line, it’s tough with heartache as her only companion. Until she brings Jesse, a wandering street artist, in from a freak Texas snowstorm. His submissive flirting brings out dominant tendencies she never knew she possessed, yet she hesitates to let him take her as far and as hard as she wants to go.
Some homeless junkie in Vicki’s house? Not on Elias’s watch. Pride kept him away, but as long as Jesse is staying in Vicki’s downstairs shop, he’s staying with Vicki. On the couch, but it’s a start.
As the days go by, the three work out an uneasy alliance. But Vicki’s joy at having Elias back in her life is tempered with a growing desire to have it all. Elias in her bed, and Jesse under her command. The only question remaining is if her tough alpha cop is willing to embrace all that she is…
Warning: Explicit sex, BDSM, a tough alpha cop, a reluctant Domme, and a smoldering submissive street artist willing to do anything to belong to her.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Yours to Take:
“You make me quiver every time I see you. You’re one hell of a woman, Vicki Connagher. I’m glad you and your brother beat that punk up. I’m glad you’re a strong, powerful woman who’s willing to go up against anyone and anything to make sure the law is followed. You were one hell of an attorney, and if I were ever on the wrong side of the law, there’s no one else in the world I’d want defending me.”
Cupping her cheek, Elias kissed her so tenderly her eyes burned again. Tenderness from him—or her—was as rare as her phone calls to Mama in the last few years.
Jesse sat up, a sheepish look on his face. He scooted away and began to stand up, but she turned and reached for his hand. “Where are you going?”
“It’s late. I ought to leave you two alone.”
“Not without a kiss goodnight.” Elias’s voice sounded normal, but when she searched his face, she noted that his jaw was tight. “I might be a mean son of a bitch, but I’m not cruel. We did a lot of tormenting and play today. He’s going to need a little more from you than a peck on the cheek.”
“Are you sure?”
“I need to see how I’m going to feel when I see you touching him.” He ran his hand through his hair and ground his teeth. “I’ll be honest, Vik. It’s going to be damned hard for me to watch. But we need to start somewhere.”
Jesse slipped off the couch and moved over to kneel in front of her. The sight of him waiting on his knees made her heart thud heavy and hard. Her pulse jumped, her blood hot and sweet, rushing through her veins. The light in his eyes was intoxicating. Touching him, even her fingers stroking his cheeks, increased that feeling of rising desire.
Her Grace's Stable: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 2 Page 16
