Bradford pushed him down by the shoulders. “I’ve been salivating over your lovely backside for the last hour. What do you think?”
Frederick turned over and rose to his hands and knees. Bradford pressed against him, hips to ass, thighs to thighs. He bent over Frederick, reaching for the bottle. After slathering his cock liberally, he used oily fingers to fondle Frederick’s crease.
“Bradford, what will she think when she watches us?”
He took his cock and pressed it to Frederick’s tight pucker. He moved the tip in a circle, further smearing the oil. A series of short, teasing nudges relaxed Frederick’s muscles and made him eager.
“I think she will witness a show unlike any she has ever seen before.” He thrust, breaching Frederick’s tight band with the widest part of himself. Frederick’s gasp nearly made him shoot his cream. He held himself there, giving Frederick time to accept him as much as to stay his own ejaculation.
“I think she will be as intrigued as we are watching her.” He leaned forward, covering Frederick’s back with his body and letting the motion slide him deep. Frederick breathed out a low moan.
“I think she will see two men who love each other absolutely.” He circled Frederick with his arms and used his lower abdominal muscles to power short, driving thrusts.
Frederick groaned with each inch until Bradford was seated deep. “Bradford, you know what I need. God…best of both worlds.”
Bradford hooked his hands under Frederick’s shoulders to give himself greater control. “All her talk of deepness…” He forced the words out on panting breaths. “Drove me out of my mind.”
“I understand her desire.” Frederick’s breath caught as Bradford gave a sharp buck deeper. “Oh God, I love the force of you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, in truth warning Frederick his ardor tonight was powerful. He used the strength of his arms, legs and torso to thrust into Frederick’s soft center.
“Take me, Bradford. As deep as you need. I love to feel you spend in me.”
Those words sent him over the edge into beautiful oblivion. Hot streams flooded forth, wringing the tension out of him. He felt a unique possessiveness over both his lovers, having branded each with his seed. With Frederick, into a part of him no other person had ever traveled. With Ilsa, filling her womb and possibly taking root. Stealing her from that donkey’s arse of a tailor.
Coupled with these emotions, his climax was so powerful it shook his very core. He collapsed on Frederick’s warm back, blind and boneless.
I am a lucky man, indeed.
Chapter Eight
His Aunt Lucille arrived before lunch on Thursday. True to his conjecture, she complained bitterly about her travels and the discomfort in her bones, the weather and the unbearable condition of the roads out here in the uncivilized country.
But for all her aches and pains, she was perfectly pleasant enough otherwise and took an instant liking to Ilsa. Bradford admired the way the shrewd old widow greeted Frederick like her own grandson. She pinched his cheek and gave Bradford a wink. It wasn’t the first time he’d suspected she knew his nature better than she let on.
Thankfully, she also had a fondness for Maurice, his cook. After a leisurely lunch on the patio on this rare sunny day, they played a game of croquet and then took a ride through the property in Bradford’s canopied surrey. Aunt Lucille, as she insisted Ilsa call her, chattered on ceaselessly, sparing his wife-to-be the discomfort of having to volunteer half-true stories about herself.
In fact, both his aunt and his father accepted her with an unquestioning readiness that both surprised and pleased him. He guessed that after passing his thirty-third birthday unwed, and with a brother who had so far ruined two marriage arrangements, they would do whatever they could to see this wedding took place.
Though it was boringly pleasant, the day dragged on unbearably slowly. If the blasted sun didn’t set faster, he’d go out of his mind. He witnessed a secret whisper pass between Ilsa and Frederick that made her smile and Frederick’s ears turn pink, and it was all Bradford could do to stay the erection that would have made an embarrassing tent in his trousers.
Shortly after dinner, Frederick invented a horseback riding injury that was bothering his back and retired early, leaving Bradford alone with his father in the drawing room.
The earl was drunk on brandy, even if he wouldn’t admit it, and seemed as content as a cat in a basket of yarn. “I’ve a gift for you, Bradford.” He hoisted himself off the settee with the aid of his cane and many groaning noises.
“Father, it isn’t necessary—”
“Pshaw. Give an old man his few remaining pleasures.”
Bradford chuckled. “If I must.”
“All I ask in return is that you name your firstborn Ernickle, after my grandfather’s favorite horse.”
Egad. What a horrible name. Ilsa would faint at the mere suggestion.
“Good heavens, Bradford. Your sense of humor hasn’t improved over the years.”
He laughed with relief. “Oddly enough, you’re not the first person to tell me that as of late.”
“Oddly nothing, you never could tell a joke.” The earl settled into the chair again with the envelope and a small metal box he’d set on the mantle after lunch. “I know you’ve done quite well for yourself with the shipyard, and your investments.”
“Better than you could imagine. All I need as a wedding gift is your promise to be present at each of our children’s birthdays until they are as old as I am.”
His father burst out laughing. “Perhaps you do have a sense of humor, after all.”
“You’ll probably outlive us all.”
“Ah, dear boy, never speculate on such a thing. It might come true and then where would you be?”
“True enough.” Bradford sipped his brandy. “Still, I need no gift. I’d prefer to see you throw prudence to the wind and do something outrageous and fun. Didn’t you always want to buy a luxury sailboat and take to the sea?”
“Bah. I’m too old for that.”
“Buy yourself a crew to go with it and allow yourself to be pampered beyond all reason. And a big, flapping tricorn to wear as you shout orders like a pirate.”
The earl chuckled. “While it sounds like a fantastic idea, at my age I prefer to stay close to my family, especially now that you’ve found a delightful bride and will soon have little scamps running about. You know that I count myself as having only one son—”
“Father.”
“Now, now, allow me this moment of sentiment.” He held up his hand. “Bradford, ever since you were a sprite, you’ve had an exceptional amount of charm while your brother was a bully, and if I dare speak badly about my own flesh and blood, an incurable brat. I also don’t need to remind you that I wouldn’t be here this moment, nor would I have enjoyed my last twenty years, if it weren’t for you.”
Bradford wanted to interrupt, but he knew his father wouldn’t be convinced out of this belief.
“I’ve been thinking much lately about how I can most positively affect your future, and the future of your brother, so that things go as smoothly as possible for everyone after I am gone. I had already decided to begin doling out my assets, and your announcement to marry only solidified my choice.”
“Then all the more reason for you to spend most of it on yourself.”
His father dismissed the notion with another “Bah”. He handed over the envelope, which Bradford hesitantly accepted. “As I said, there is little I want that I don’t already have. That is the deed to the manor house in Leeds, including the racehorses, and the rights to Venta and Abigail’s.”
“The glass and carriage works?” Venta was an Italian glassworks he’d inherited from his own father, and Abigail’s was the carriage works he’d bought out of failings and renamed after his wife. The gift of both factories his father prized was enough to make Bradford’s eyes grow moist.
“Don’t worry, I’ve good men overseeing both. You’ll need
to give them little thought. Send a man from Hawthorne’s to keep a close eye on the books and you’ll discourage any indiscretions.”
“It’s a very generous gift, Father.”
“I’ve arranged for your brother to receive the house in Italy and the trading company. He’ll need to show some gumption there, or he’ll lose it. I’m assuming he will, so I’ll continue his allowance, of course.”
Bradford held back the snort itching to fight its way out of him. He hadn’t needed an allowance since he was twenty. But his father was being generous and had opened his heart, so disgust was the last emotion Bradford should reveal right now.
“You’ve always been a good father.”
“Perhaps too good. If I’d been more stern, maybe he would have learned more respect.” The earl took a deep breath. “The box contains your mother’s jewelry. A few cheap pieces I’ve held for Nolan. I’d give him more if I didn’t think they’d end up with strumpets, or sold.”
Bradford opened the box. In it was a strand of pearls he knew were worth a small fortune, and matching droplet earrings. Among several beautiful pieces was a stunning emerald brooch his father had given his mother for their twentieth anniversary. He picked up her diamond wedding ring and held it to the light.
“I noticed you hadn’t given her a ring. It would please me if she wore your mother’s.”
“It will please her, too. She’s been lonely since her sister and father passed and longs for family ties. Your munificent acceptance means a great deal to her.” Bradford closed the box. “Ilsa is a…prudent woman. She hasn’t always been wealthy. I’ll give these to her over time, so as not to overwhelm her.”
“Does she know all about your frips and foibles?” His father put it politely. Does she know you like to diddle your man friend?
“She does,” he answered simply.
“She’s a lovely woman and I’m so pleased she can tolerate you.” His father grinned. “I’m happy to see she gets along well with Frederick, as well.”
“They became fast friends.”
“And he’ll continue to live here, as well?”
Bradford nodded. “He will.” He knew his father was merely curious, and didn’t find fault with the arrangement. After all these years, it wasn’t time to start now.
“Friends, family, a beautiful bride…you’re a lucky man, Bradford.” His father echoed the very thoughts he’d had the night before.
He smiled. “I truly am.”
* * * * *
“Well there you are.” Frederick set his book on his lap. “Did the old man finally fall asleep in his brandy?”
Bradford frowned. “Believe me, I’ve had one foot itching toward the door all night.” He crossed the room, noting Frederick was again adorned in full bedclothes, even his slippers. He sat on the center of the bed, reading by candlelight. “Where is Ilsa?”
“In her room, I would suppose. I saw no reason to bring her in when I didn’t know how soon you’d retire.” He grinned. “I might have mounted her, unable to rein in my ardor.”
Bradford frowned again, but this time it was tainted with a smile. “You would steal my turn?”
Frederick chuckled. “Fear not, soon we’ll all be sleeping in this bed, rutting each other to exhaustion.”
He undressed quickly. “You think so?” He’d become so enamored with her this past week, he honestly didn’t know what he’d do if she chose not to stay.
“I do. Can you not see it in her eyes?”
Bradford turned to him questioningly while working the buttons of his shirt.
“The fear is gone,” Frederick supplied.
He was right. She smiled more often now and that haunted look had left her eyes. Instead he saw laugh lines and twinkles. Bradford turned back to the mirror. Twinkles, for goodness sakes. When did he start using words like that?
Since lovely Ilsa had brought the delight of femininity into their lives. He headed to the water closet to brush his teeth. “Well, go and get her,” he said as he strode across the room. Frederick jumped off the bed wearing a wide grin and tore down the bedcovers.
When Bradford came back into the room Ilsa was sitting in the chair on the far side of the bed. Frederick sat on the edge of the bed.
“She didn’t!” Ilsa laughed and her joyful gaze slid over to him. Now he understood why words like “twinkle” were on his mind.
“Bradford doesn’t believe me either, but I swear it’s true. She fondled my thigh under the table.”
He groaned. “Frederick, not this story again.” He’d been trying to convince him Aunt Lucille had been sneaking inappropriate touches since the day they’d met.
Frederick gave him a look. “Tell me you’ve noticed how your aunt always manages to seat herself beside me. Tonight she nearly brought that mousy little cousin of hers to tears when she ordered the chit to sit across the table next to you so she could take the seat beside me.” He imitated her, pointing his finger domineeringly. “Rebecca! Youuh, sit over theayah.”
“Perhaps you like it. I did notice your chair was a bit askew, closer to hers than Ilsa’s.”
Ilsa chuckled. “You two.” Her breasts bounced deliciously and her nipples poked rigid bumps in the glossy golden fabric of the silk robe. Bradford made a mental note to order her an assortment, one in every color made.
“I suppose we all have our reasons for wanting the evening over and done with, myself most of all.” He was acting like a fresh schoolboy and it felt wonderful.
She chuckled again. “Are you certain? It is quite late and it’s been a trying day for you, Bradford.”
“I’m quite certain.” He sidled over to her and Ilsa stood to receive him. He slid his palms over the slippery fabric. “After watching you last night, I would die if I had to wait another day to feel you myself.”
“Well…” Ilsa teased. “If you’re sure.”
Frederick rose and bounced on the balls of his feet. “I have just the idea in mind to make this exciting. You do remember, I get to pick the position.”
“How could I forget your infernal rules?” He couldn’t bring himself to step away from Ilsa. He rubbed his hands over her backside, loving the way her flesh quivered under his roaming fingers. He rubbed his pelvis against her, swaying with his hips.
“Ah yes, the rules.” Her voice was light. “What would you have us do, Frederick?”
She breathed in a long, dreamy breath when he pushed her robe off her shoulders. It slipped over her body and dropped to the floor. He lifted a hand to one breast and teased the nipple. Distracted as he was, he only half heard Frederick say, “Standing up.”
Bradford gave him a look. What was he up to? “Standing up?”
“Why not? You and I take each other standing up all the time.”
“Frederick, you’re being gauche.” He didn’t know why, but it embarrassed him to hear Frederick talk about their sexual adventures with Ilsa. They still didn’t know how she would react to seeing them together. With a heavy heart, he realized these challenges might come to an abrupt halt before they ever got the chance to attempt to share her.
Frederick dropped to the floor and lay on his back. He pulled his arms out of the sleeves so they were trapped in the bodice of his nightshirt. “Standing up,” he repeated. “Over me. I’m completely restrained here, so you know I’ll not lose my willpower and break the rules by fondling either of you.”
“I don’t think this would be appropriate.” Bradford was now thoroughly worried Ilsa would bolt in fear.
“We did agree to the rules, Bradford.” She spoke softly. “You chose our position last night, shouldn’t Frederick be allowed freedom in his choice, as well?”
Bradford lifted her chin with a finger. “Truly, you don’t mind?”
“Why should I? He’s had his face between my legs, as have you. It’s not as though he hasn’t seen me intimately already.”
Bradford had his robe off in a flash. Truly, he didn’t care. He needed to bury himself inside her, everything
else be damned.
“You’re a good sport, Ilsa,” Frederick said. “Adventurous. I like that.”
Bradford grinned. He had to admit, he did too.
She stepped over him and looked down. Bradford moved up behind her and slid his hands over her bare hips.
“Oh my,” Frederick said with awe. “Excellent.”
“This won’t do,” she said. “Frederick, I’m afraid I’m going to step on you.”
“The pain shall be worth it.”
“Please, can’t we move to the bed instead?”
Without waiting for his approval, she climbed onto the bed and aimed her pretty ass at Bradford. Her cunt was ruby red, like a grapefruit, and already glistening with arousal.
“Think of how much closer you’ll be.”
“Bloody brilliant idea.” Frederick maneuvered to his feet, arms still trapped in his bed shirt, and crawled onto the bed. Ilsa moved aside to let him flop down in the middle, head toward the footboard. She straddled him and gazed back at Bradford.
He was dumbstruck. “You’re serious.”
Frederick blasted an irritated sigh through his nostrils. “Bradford, stop arguing and get over here.”
“I’m not arguing.” He mounted the bed and positioned himself behind Ilsa. His apprehension climbed. Now the three of them were on the bed together, and he worried she would collapse in fear. “But I must ask again, Ilsa. You’re truly comfortable with this?”
She combed her long hair away from her back. “Well, I am a bit tender from last night. Perhaps if you used the oil it would be more comfortable.”
It wasn’t exactly what he meant, but he stumbled over himself to get to the small bottle on the bedside table. “Oh, of course, why certainly. Whatever pleases you, my dear.”
“It’s all rather wicked, don’t you think? Frederick can see everything.”
“There was much I saw last night, as well.” He slathered oil over his agonized cock. “For instance, after witnessing Frederick’s tenderness, I realize I am remiss in my ministrations. I understand there is more to making love than simply mounting you and rutting away. You need a soft touch. Had I not been stoked to near madness all day, I would be in a position to bestow lengthy tenderness as well.”
Saving Lady Ilsa Page 12
