Her Husband’s Lover (20 page)

‘This is for all of us. It won’t work if you back out.’

‘Then you might want to reconsider lying there quite so passively.’

Silly boy didn’t understand at all.
‘Lying still is exactly what I’m going to do. You get to be on top.’

‘What the devil are you trying to prove? You’re a fool if you think you’re really going to convince her you’re some passive little lamb. You’re a fox, Robert. You always have been and, no matter what you think, you’re not going to be happy unless you find yourself a vixen. Emma’s never going to be that.’

He was wrong. Just because Lyle was blind to her charms and the torrent that raged inside her, that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. He’d seen the way she looked at him. He knew it was only a matter of time. I can be patient, he reassured himself. It’ll work out somehow.

‘Work with me, Lyle,’ he growled into his lover’s mouth. ‘Let’s show her how it’s done.’ He squeezed one cheek of Lyle’s arse. To hell with Lyle’s doubts, just because he couldn’t see or at least didn’t appreciate his wife’s sexual self.

Darleston glanced downwards between their bodies to where their erections branded their stomachs and the tip of Lyle’s cock leaked beads of shiny pre-come. Darleston wrapped his hand around the thick shaft. ‘Come up here. Let me give you an incentive.’

Lyle’s grin stretched from ear to ear. ‘Now you’re talking.’ He clambered up the bed until he sat with his knees either side of Darleston’s head, his fingers curled tight around the headboard.

Playfully, Darleston trailed his tongue up Lyle’s inner thigh. He avoided contact with Lyle’s cock, and directed kisses towards his cobs instead, licking, sucking, and drubbing their sensitive surface until Lyle’s hips jerked involuntarily.

‘Yes,’ his lover gasped. ‘Yes. Suck me like that. Oh! Gently … gently.’ Darleston tenderly formed his lips around one of Lyle’s bollocks and sucked. Few men he knew liked this. For most it was too sensitive, or they lacked trust enough to relax and enjoy it, but Lyle found immeasurable joy in the act, something he’d realised the first time he’d stroked him there and caused him to prematurely ejaculate. Lyle had learned a little more control since then, and Darleston knew when to wind things down a notch. On another occasion he might have drawn things out, but it was more important now that Emma witnessed the intense pleasure wrought by their coupling rather than lingering overmuch on the foreplay.

Lyle gave a low wail when Darleston transferred his attention to the smooth stretch of skin behind his cobs. From there it was only a step or two more to his tender opening. He traced the wrinkled whorl, coaxed it over and over with the tip of his thumb. Hell, he knew how sensitive just a persistent caress there could be. However, if a finger was good, then a tongue dabbed against those hundreds of nerve-endings was definitely better.

Emma let out a scandalised gasp. She tried to free her wrist, but Darleston held on tight. No escape. He refused to let her run, or rather he wanted her to witness this. She had to know the truth of him. He was done with hiding. Maybe what he was doing was shocking, but really, was it any more lewd kissing Lyle’s arse than putting his cock there? The latter was what he wholly intended to do once he’d relaxed Lyle enough to make the slide in effortless. This couldn’t be rough and ready. Pain was not what he wanted Emma to behold. The sort of congress that left one tousled and sore would have to be reserved for an occasion when he and Lyle were alone.

Sometimes it felt good to ache and have bruises the morning after.

Right now, though, Lyle was begging him for more with mute little rolls of his hips.
Deeper, delve your tongue a little inside.
He didn’t need to hear the words to know they were Lyle’s desire.
Yes, just there. Now a little … oh, my!
Lyle wrapped a hand around his own cock and began to rapidly masturbate.

Darleston pushed him away and closed a hand over the top of Lyle’s. ‘Easy now. This is for Emma, remember.’ Emma, who lay beside them, her pupils as wide as saucers and with a healthy blush colouring both cheeks and breasts. ‘Are you sure you want to see this?’ he asked.

She croaked, and then cleared her throat. ‘You know that I do.’

‘Even though you know us to be dirty, devilish and obscene?’

To his surprise she laughed. ‘Is that not meant to be the appeal? It would not be half so intriguing if it were acceptable.’

Sometimes the clarity of her self-awareness surprised even him.

‘Is this how men are with one another – you obsess over one another’s pricks and kiss in unspeakable places? It is not how love between husband and wife was described to me. This is altogether more raw.’

‘Who the devil described lovemaking to you?’ Lyle asked. His hot hands pressed tight against Darleston’s torso as he shimmied backwards so that he straddled Darleston’s waist again.

Emma sniffed. She coyly dipped her gaze. ‘Aunt Maude. It was just before we were wed. She sought to prepare me, as I hadn’t a mother to instruct me in those facets of a relationship.’

Lyle groaned. ‘No instruction at all would have been better than advice from that grimalkin. I’ll warrant she told you to lie stiff as a board.’

‘She said that I should put out the lights, close my eyes and that it would probably be best if I lay on my stomach so as not to encourage kissing. Also that such a position would enable you to perform your duties without being distracted by other sins.’

Lyle’s brows shot up his forehead. ‘Other sins?’

Still smiling, Emma shook her head. ‘She didn’t elaborate, only intimated that you might be swayed from what God intended if my breasts were in any way presented.’

‘The woman’s a genius.’ Darleston chuckled into the pillow. ‘Don’t you agree, Lyle? Emma’s breasts are very distracting. I’m distracted by them right now.’ He let his gaze wander over Emma’s bosom. Sometime soon he was going to enjoy becoming lost in their voluptuous curves. ‘Of course –’ he switched his attention back to Lyle ‘– clearly she doesn’t know you very well or she’d never have suggested Emma present you with her arse.’

Lyle’s back stiffened.

Beside him, Emma pushed herself up on one arm. ‘You mean that he might have … Why – why would a man do that to a woman? I understand that it’s the only way for you two, but it’s entirely unnecessary in a marriage, surely. Isn’t it?’ She cast her gaze back and forth between them.

‘Nothing that gives pleasure is ever unnecessary. You might find it unexpectedly good,’ Darleston said.

‘I wouldn’t have,’ Lyle murmured. ‘I won’t. Women’s bottoms hold no interest for me.’

Darleston groaned and poked him in the stomach. ‘I swear you don’t have a single natural urge.’

‘Which is just as well for you, or this arrangement wouldn’t work, and I wouldn’t be about to do this.’ Lyle chose that moment to pinch Darleston’s nipples so hard, he actually squealed in surprise. However, the rush of blood running back into his abused nipples brought with it a fresh wave of arousal. Lyle’s hand splayed over his chest. The globes of Lyle’s bottom rubbed up against Darleston’s bucking cock. Yet Lyle’s gaze was not on him but on his wife. ‘Why don’t you help me, Emma? Really, what’s the difference between holding his hand and his cock? It’s all touch, isn’t it? You know that thing you don’t do?’

‘Lyle!’ Darleston hissed. This was not the time to begin a squabble, or start exhibiting jealousy. ‘Emma.’ He spoke soothingly, or at least as softly as he was able while grasping the thought of her hot little hand wrapped around his cock, guiding him into Lyle’s hole.

‘I can’t. You know it. Don’t ask it of me.’

The same objection she’d made before and would no doubt make again. Well, he didn’t accept it. Her pulse was racing and her limbs trembling, and he didn’t believe it was due to fright. Emma was excited. Emma wanted to touch. Her only real fear was about how he’d react.

‘Do it,’ Darleston urged. ‘Guide me home.’

‘Yes, do,’ Lyle added. ‘Be honest. I know what’s in your heart, Emma. I can see it every time you look upon him. So acknowledge it. Accept it. Do it.’ He fell forward, grabbed Darleston’s wrists and tore him away from Emma. Hands pinned either side of Darleston’s head, Lyle looked down at him with a feral grin upon his face. ‘I’ll hold him still, so it’s all down to you, Emma. Rob’s not going anywhere, and we’re not going to fuck unless you help. Either way, I hereby absolutely revoke any permission I may have given him to touch you.’

Darleston bared his teeth.
Why the dirty little …

Emma’s fist closed uncertainly around his cock.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, only that it wasn’t that. Blood surged. Physical need roared in his ears. Her grip was feather-light, the span of her fingers not wide enough to encompass his girth.

‘What now?’ she asked. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Guide him to me,’ Lyle instructed. A fine line of perspiration hung above his top lip. He closed his eyes as Emma joined them.

The first moments were always some of the most intense. Lyle sank down onto him slowly, squeezing him, encompassing him, while shredding what remained of Darleston’s nerves. He wanted fast, not this excruciating slowness. But then he understood. Emma’s hand still remained around the base of his cock. It was as if, now that she’d gained her nerve, she couldn’t let go again; but he could not achieve full penetration with her holding him. Instead, he was locked into a rhythm of shallow thrusts, good but not quite good enough. ‘Emma, you need to let go now.’

She withdrew as though she’d been scalded and sat looking at her hand, rubbing her fingertips.

‘Forget her a moment, will you?’ Lyle hissed into his ear. ‘Fuck me.’

Yes
. Fucking, swiving this gorgeous man was exactly what he needed. He did so, picking up the pace until they were both lathered in sweat.

Sweet mercy!
He’d succeeded in getting Emma to touch him. Correction – they’d both played their parts. What’s more, Lyle understood. He realised now that they could make this work for the three of them. They all had unique roles, and if Lyle and Emma didn’t desire one another in quite the same way as he desired them both, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all.

Nothing mattered, because he was going to come.

It hurt. But in such a good way.

Lyle locked them together in a kiss as Darleston bucked into him, coming into the tight confines of Lyle’s impossibly lovely arse.

For all her bravery, Emma still woke alone the next morning. Admittedly, in a room and a bed that were not hers, and surrounded by rumpled sheets, but that only served to make the situation more terrifying. They’d left her, slipped away while she slept. The abandonment hit her more acutely as she dressed. She’d reached out to them last night. Fought against every demon she possessed, in order to try and win a place in their hearts – only for this: to wake as she did every morning.

Isolated.

Alone.

God damn them. Couldn’t they see that she wanted sustenance beyond the thud of her own heartbeat? Touching Darleston and feeling his incredible heat melt into her bones had changed things in infinitesimal ways. Maybe not for them, but for her. Definitely.

She’d changed.

She wanted their love. Well, Darleston’s love … and maybe Lyle’s blessing. She thought he’d given her that last night when he’d deliberately held Darleston down and invited her to coax his lover. Though perhaps she ought to address the question directly.

Lyle had always taken lovers, but she’d never had cause to. Until now. Would he really share Darleston with her?

Emma left the Winter Room, closing the door quietly behind her. As she walked, her mind fluttered back to how the men had been last night. She’d watched them cuddle after they’d made love, sticky with sweat and with their brows pressed together, excluding everything else. She had no doubt that they loved one another. The way they communicated without the need to speak told her that. No, the real question was whether there was room in that bond for her. Perhaps the only way for her to really find out would be to do something genuinely daring for a change.

She would kiss Darleston.

If that didn’t win his attention, then nothing in old England would.

‘What are you smirking for?’ Amelia emerged from her room. Given the flouncing she’d done the night before, she’d dressed rather conservatively this morning in a becoming pink gown that buttoned to her neck and bore a delicate lace yoke. Sprigs of apple-green embroidery covered the skirt.

‘You look nice today,’ Emma said.

Her compliment met with a shrug. ‘This old thing? You’ve seen it a dozen times. Um, would you like help with your hair?’

Emma shook her head. ‘You know I don’t care to be fussed over.’

‘I know it, only you seemed to have fashioned a bird’s nest rather than a chignon.’

In fact she had not brushed her hair at all. It was as it had been when she’d awakened.

Amelia squinted at her. ‘Why are you still dressed for dinner? You wore that gown last night. It’s hopelessly rum … pled.’ Enlightenment seemed to dawn, whereupon her frown gave way to astonishment. ‘You didn’t!’ Amelia glanced down the corridor in the direction from which Emma had come. ‘You did, didn’t you? With him! And you say that I’m a strumpet. Does Lyle know what you’re about?’ Tears trickled down her sister’s face. ‘Good Lord, Emma, you don’t care for me at all. How could you think of ruining my chances like this? How many of them have you enticed to your bed this week? Just because you and Lyle are unhappy doesn’t mean you have to steal suitors from me.’

Emma’s jaw dropped, her mouth falling open in outrage. ‘How dare you suggest –? We’re not unhappy. You’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Whatever it is you think you know, I swear that you’re perfectly mistaken.’

‘And you believe me a fool. I ought to tell Father.’

Tell Mr Hill what precisely? That Amelia suspected Emma of being a hopeless bawd? She had no evidence beyond a crumpled gown and unpinned hair. There were thousands of reasons why Emma might have been coming down the corridor from that direction. Well, a few at least.