Her Husband’s Lover (27 page)

‘What, you expect me to lie in the open with my cock hanging out and accept whatever it is you’ve got planned? Why are you doing this?’ Couldn’t the silly fool see that different was good? He didn’t want the same thing from Lyle as he did from Emma. Hell, all the restraint he had to employ when dealing with Emma would likely give him a hernia if it carried on much longer. Yes, they’d done the dreaded deed – and didn’t that notion make him smile – but he was under no illusions about that being anything other than the first hurdle in a long, long steeplechase. That, more than anything, was why he didn’t need to be duplicating the experience with Lyle.

‘I’m doing it,’ Lyle laughed, ‘because it excites me. Now keep still, Robert. Be good, or else I’ll have to tie you up.’

* * *

Tie him up. Tie him up
. Lord damn it, if he had some rope he’d have done it. As it was, he just had to make do with ordering Darleston to lie still. If he could manage it for Emma, he could damn well attempt it for him. Although Lyle conceded that he intended to be far more taxing with him than Emma would ever be. Unlike his wife, he had no time for tentative caresses, but then he wasn’t expecting to be bitten at any moment, or rather the prospect of being bitten didn’t frighten him. Rather, he was excited by the possibility of pushing Robert past his boundaries so that he threw Lyle down and reversed their positions. If he were fastened securely enough, blindfolded perhaps – he wondered if even Emma’s touch might be enough to bring him off.

No – he wasn’t going to think of her right now. Lyle banished her to the recesses of his brain. He intended this moment to be entirely about the here and now. Situations were changing. There were no certainties about tomorrow, about their future with Emma or the outcome of whatever trouble Lady Darleston intended to cause, but for this moment Darleston belonged entirely to him. He wanted to remember that and he intended to make it a memory worth remembering.

After arranging Robert’s hands on either side of his head, and squeezing his wrists tight enough that the sensation of restraints surely lingered, Lyle sat back on his haunches. ‘Remember, you’re not to move.’

Darleston eyed him cagily, but did as instructed. That is, all of him apart from his cock, which nodded enthusiastically.

Lyle palmed the eager length and started rhythmically stroking. He played particular attention to the underside of the rose-hued helm, which he knew Darleston found particularly sensitive.

As his lover’s breathing quickened, his features scrunched into an ever more impressive frown. Judging by the stiffness of his cock, it wasn’t from lack of pleasure, rather the war presumably raging in Darleston’s head. His stomach muscles rippled and clenched with the strain of holding himself still. His hips dipped, ready to roll with the motion of Lyle’s fist, only to abruptly lock still.

‘Fuck!’ Darleston’s explosive gasp punctuated the balmy night air like a thunderclap. ‘How long do you expect me to keep this up? I’ve a wife back at the house intent upon my torture. You don’t have to best her in order to win my affections.’

‘Your wife’s presence never crossed my mind. I know exactly what you think of her. And you’ll keep this up until I say otherwise.’ Lyle palmed his own cock and worked the pair of them in tandem. He had this all planned out in his head. It’s all he’d thought of since Emma’s absentminded confession. He knew what came next, and exactly how damn good it would feel.

Lord, he didn’t want to share Robert with Emma, but he’d do it. It was for the best of reasons, although knowing that did little to ease his apprehensions.

It’d been easy while Emma’s no-touch policy had remained in place, but now that things had progressed way beyond that … Oh, hell, he didn’t know. He only knew that he had to prove something to himself with this, but what that was …

He concentrated his focus back upon Darleston’s body. Beads of his dew hung like silvery pearls from the tip of his cock. Lyle caught them upon his thumb and swirled them around Darleston’s glans. He pushed both their pricks together and worked them as one, until finally, when he knew Darleston was almost ready to throw off his invisible bonds, Lyle turned around so that he perched over Darleston’s cock, facing his toes.

Somehow he envisaged this as how Emma had imagined taking his lover, squatting over him and slowly lowering herself down onto his upright prick, probably while he was restrained or, more likely, sleeping. Although he defied any man to sleep through someone toying with his cock. And he didn’t mean to think of Emma.

Lyle slowly lowered himself over Darleston’s cock. He guided the helm into place against his arse, and then slowly sank down. Slowly – yes! Because Emma would take things slowly until her maidenhead was torn asunder and she was able to take her lover properly to the root.

Slowly, slowly, he took more of Darleston’s prick. It whitened his knuckles to keep the pace so slow, but … ‘Ah, yes!’ Finally, he hilted. Beneath him, Darleston gave an appreciative jerk, accompanied by a blissful sigh, but he otherwise kept still. He didn’t roll his hips. He didn’t clasp Lyle’s waist and hammer him back home when he lifted.

Slip and slide. Up and down, Darleston’s cock filled him.

It stung so much to find he’d tupped Emma.

He’d known all along it would happen, but he’d really expected to be part of it. The anticipation, what the three of them had shared, had led him to expect it to happen while he was present. He’d sit back and watch Darleston swive his wife, after he’d helped to arouse him. He’d look Emma in the eyes as she took his lover into her body, accepting him in a way she’d never accept him or any other man.

‘Damn it, Lyle! I can’t take much more. Turn around, will you?’

Momentarily ignoring Darleston’s plea, Lyle continued to take his pleasure at his own pace. Only when he felt the tremors running through Darleston’s tensed limbs did he turn around to face him.

‘Come here.’ Darleston’s silver eyes shone like the moonlight. ‘Kiss me. Take whatever it is you need.’

He wasn’t really sure what he needed, or what he was trying to achieve, but he could no longer resist the satisfaction to be had from Darleston’s kiss. Their lips only just brushed at first, butterfly-light and full of promise. He couldn’t bear it to remain like this, so sweet it bordered on chaste. His need was already ramped up too high. Darleston’s prick filled his bottom to distraction. He needed more, but was reluctant to relinquish the control he’d usurped.

‘Let me move, Lyle. Give me the word and I’ll give you what you need. You know I can.’

Maybe
.

Darleston’s lips were soft and smooth. Heat radiated from his body, taunted him with the promise of further warmth if only he’d give in. He held off though, maintained a ribbon of resistance, until his whole body throbbed from the strain. With a sigh of surrender he parted his lips to accept the press of Darleston’s tongue, which only proved how little the light mussing of their lips they’d previously shared resembled a true kiss. This explosive show of passion was a far bolder demonstration of their love. Kissing Darleston, he was lost in the tangling of tongues and the ache of his need, which in turn drove the rise and fall of his hips.

Eventually he had to break away in order to catch his breath. Darleston’s mouth remained open, slack from their shared kisses. Lyle pushed his curled fingers into it, then changed his mind and fed him his thumb to suck instead. The quick pulls against his flesh felt like a direct assault on his cock.

He couldn’t do this any longer. He needed more. ‘Move,’ he ordered Darleston.

‘Thank God!’ Darleston’s husky tones rumbled up his throat from deep in his chest. Lyle felt the vibration right through his body. It fired up his nerves and set his cock tingling with delight.

Yes! Oh, yes!
That was better. Sod the slow, one-sided burn he’d been intent upon. This was infinitely better. ‘Hell, Rob! Give it to me.’

Darleston let out a brusque laugh. ‘Give it to you. I’ll give it to you all right.’ He flipped them over, so that Lyle found himself abruptly looking skywards, the cold earth against his back. Only for a moment though, then Darleston loomed over and filled him. Why he’d held off from doing this, he didn’t know. The throb of Rob’s cock in his arse filled him in a way that caressed him inside and out and drove him wild. Fever gripped him tight. He sobbed against Darleston’s shoulder, meeting his thrusts and welcoming the demanding pace. There were no thoughts to distract him, only the buzz of sensation in his brain. All that mattered was togetherness and his trajectory towards the stars.

Darleston hooked Lyle’s legs up over his shoulders and changed the angle of his thrusts so that the blunt head of his cock hit a patch of raw nerves inside Lyle’s body, which in turn set him panting with shock. That pressure, that touch, was both too intense and impossible to resist.

Inarticulate moans escaped his throat. He basked in the moment. The sensation tore through his body leaving him buzzing all over, while a blazing pulse throbbed inside his bottom. Darleston’s cock pierced him like a shaft of light that pushed right though his body and seemed to fill him right to the tip of his own erection.

He was going to come, or have an apoplexy, or quite possibly both.

A burst of light stole his vision, and then darkness surrounded him like a shroud. His seed jetted over his chest, soiling his clothing. Lyle didn’t care. Every cell in his body was screaming in ecstasy.

‘Rob!’ he gasped as the darkness peeled back. It was suddenly all too raw. He couldn’t take any more motion, though remnants of his seed continued to ooze from his tip.

Thank the Lord, Darleston seemed to understand. He withdrew and used his own hand to finish off. His climax added to the mess upon Lyle’s clothes. Heaven knows what his valet would make of the stains.

Darleston rolled onto his back on the grass beside Lyle. They remained in companionable silence for several minutes, just watching wispy grey clouds drift across the heavens.

‘It’ll work.’ Darleston’s soft murmur broke the silence.

‘Maybe. I guess we’ll find out.’ Maybe the gamble would pay off and existing as a threesome would make them stronger, maybe it’d descend into an unholy mess; either way, he knew he was in it for the distance. ‘Why is Lucy here? You never really said.’

Darleston sat up, got to his feet and straightened his clothing. ‘She’s claims she’s with child.’

As he climbed the stairs to the servants’ quarters, Darleston thought how fortunate it was that the Hills housed their guests’ servants apart from their employers, in attic quarters that were also separate from the household servants’. Finding an opportunity to accost Lucy’s maid would have been infinitely harder if she’d been sharing her mistress’s room, not least because he had no intention of setting foot anywhere near his wife’s boudoir. As it was, he had to navigate the winding, slant-ceilinged attic passages with a single paltry candle to light the route.

Despite Lyle’s instructions, he found the layout disorientating. In the servants’ domain there were no pictures or pieces of furniture to use as landmarks. What was underfoot yielded no help either, since it was all pitted, badly laid floorboards, which groaned so much at each footfall that it seemed pointless to attempt stealth. Right, right, left and then fourth door along on the left, just past a narrow window that looked out over the woodland, or at least it apparently did if you could boost yourself high enough off the floor to see outside. He didn’t bother to check. Dear God, he was glad he hadn’t been born a servant.

Outside the appropriate door, Darleston took a moment to compose himself. At first, his gentle knock prompted no response. A more solid rap resulted in hurried scurrying about within, and then finally, the door cracked open an inch.

‘Milord!’ Panic filled Sally’s blue eyes and she dropped a hasty curtsy, although she took care to keep the door between them. He doubted it was out of modesty. He’d seen Sally Scott in her nightrail on countless occasions and once or twice naked in his wife’s bed.

‘I require a word.’

Fear smudged darker streaks through the cornflower-blue of her irises. ‘Yes, milord. Of course.’ She dug her teeth into her blood-flushed lips, but made no move to allow him within.

‘You may send your lover out before I come in.’ Darleston folded his arms across his chest. ‘I’ve no mind to be overheard.’

Immediately she stepped back from the door, bobbing up and down in acquiescence. Darleston followed her in. The room, which was under the eaves, had a pitched ceiling that required him to bend uncomfortably in order to avoid knocking his head. It possessed plain whitewashed walls, a simple straw-stuffed mattress on a short iron frame, and a squat cupboard that held a washing bowl and jug. Sally’s clothes hung from a hook upon the back of the door. Spartan and unappealing, it was exactly what he expected of a maid’s room, except the pair of man’s trews poking out from beneath the coverlet.

‘Leave,’ he repeated.

Sally turned to the bed. ‘You heard him. Time to go.’

Darleston averted his gaze as a squat, sturdy male emerged from beneath the bed frame with the tails of his shirt tucked around his privates as if to disguise their obviously aroused state. ‘I won’t keep her long,’ Darleston remarked as the man hastily pulled on his breeches. ‘Not that you should be in here. What’s your name?’ He waited for the man to provide it, which, having been indoctrinated through years of household service, he naturally did.

‘Cobbs, milord.’

‘Aye, well, Cobbs, you won’t remark upon my presence and I won’t speak of yours. You’re Mr Aiken’s man, correct?’

‘I am, milord. You won’t hear a peep out of me. Ain’t none of my business what the quality do of a night.’

‘Very true. You may leave.’

Cobbs gave a sharp nod and scuttled out of the door. Darleston toed it shut behind him. The moment he turned back to Sally, she flicked open the ribbon fastening of her nightrail and swooned onto the lumpy bed in a pose of virginal surrender. Darleston paused a moment, holding back a burst of laughter. Sally was bonny in a simple earthy way, wide-hipped and big-thighed, softer by far than the bed on which she lay. He had no doubt she could provide a soul with endless pleasure, but he had no more desire to sample her voluptuous curves than he did to fuck his wife. ‘That’s not what I’m here for.’