Lyon (23 page)

Discovering the necklace she wore, One paused, then lifted it from her neckline. His twin abandoned his efforts at her back, and for a moment, both scrutinized the beads with more absorption than the simple strand seemed to warrant.

“They were given to me as a child,” she told them, though they hadn't asked. An odd look passed between them at that. But they said nothing and when she tugged, they let the necklace fall back into place.

Like a pair of experienced lady's maids, they proceeded to work in concert, preparing her for whatever they had planned. One unpinned her hair, combed his fingers through it, and then draped it forward over her shoulders. Two was nimble at his duties, but when her bodice slackened as a result, she caught it to her chest. Finding it still snug at the waist, she realized he'd left the hooks secured there, preventing the garment from falling.

She glanced over at Lyon.

“It doesn't seem right,” she whispered. “To do this while he lies there, so unwell.”

A hand lifted her chin, and One turned her back to his own visage, which was a healthier version of the man's on the bed. “Through our taking of you, He will be revived.”

“How exactly will that be accomplished?” she thought to demand. “How will you begin? And why are there two of you?”

One only smiled faintly, then surprised her by moving away. At her back, Two stilled and she felt him watching his brother.

Choosing a bed adjacent to Lyon's, One seated himself on its end with his feet set wide on the floor. In profile, his shaft was almost absurdly huge and as thick as her wrist. Its cap bobbed high beyond his bellybutton, fat as an apple and as florid.

He sat back with both arms locked straight and his hands braced behind him on the mattress. Amber flashed in her direction. “Come.”

Two pressed at the small of her back, and though dubious, she allowed him to urge her closer. But when they were within touching range, he released her. She tensed, assuming a complete disrobing—and more—was imminent.

However, instead of removing her garments or pushing her any farther toward his brother, Two went himself, and knelt there between his legs. Skimming his hands up the seated man's muscular thighs, he brought them to meet at his brother's groin. There, his fingers encircled the root of a cock the same length and girth as Lyon's. Sweeping his tongue over his lips, he tilted it to his mouth.

At the taking, One inhaled a sharp breath. His throat arched and his eyes drifted closed briefly before reopening to watch.

His brother's lips stretched wide to accommodate his crown, and with a back and forth motion, moistened it. A look of intense concentration shaded his face as he then moved downward onto the shaft and took it deeper, then deeper still. When he neared the root, he paused, pulled back, and then angled his throat differently as if the adjustment were necessary in order to complete his task. His arms slipped around his brother's hips to loosely embrace him, as his lips resumed their stroke ever lower until, finally, they nested in soft bristle.

Juliette's fists locked her bodice tight to her chest, and she stared as one spellbound, truly shocked at what she was witnessing. Yet she would not look away. For this was the kind of fleshly pursuit the other girls at Valmont's had often enjoyed. One of the many she'd dreamed of participating in, but had never dared.

Two began unsheathing his prize, his cheeks hollowing as he withdrew up the slickened shaft until only its knob remained hidden within his mouth. Bobbing his head, he allowed the wet O of his lips to massage the crown's pronounced plinth. Then he enveloped the entire length again, and more easily this time. And thus began a mouthing stroke that worked his cheeks like bellows, as he took and took, then surrendered, and began again.

After a moment, his elbow drew back and his hand went between his brother's thighs. He was doing something…taking the weight of his twin's balls and coddling them.

One looked down at the man who ministered to him and lay a hand atop his head, caressing his mussed curls. “Yesss. This is what He likes.”

Then, without looking up, he spoke to her. “Watch, Juliette. And learn. For soon you will do this for my brothers.”

“Oh, God!” Her eyes flew to the ruddy, corpulent rod angling high between the kneeling man's legs. The tip of her tongue slipped out and touched her lips, and she found herself imagining. How would it taste? And how would it ever fit, in her mouth or anywhere else?

At her exclamation, Two relinquished his brother with a popping sound. He swallowed visibly, licking his lips as if in imitation of her. Between One's legs, the cock he'd tended so thoroughly now rose proud and enormous, its apple polished and glistening.

Identical faces turned her way.

“He's ready for you.”

“Come.”

Their low, beguiling voices belonged to Lyon. As did their wicked eyes and tempting smiles and their expansive chests and muscular thighs.

Two caught a fold of her skirt and tugged her nearer. She went. In a fluid movement, he then rocked to his feet and brought her to stand facing his twin.

One sat upright and set his broad palms at the curves of her corseted waist. Closing his knees, he slipped them between hers, then widened them, drawing her closer and forcing her to open for him.

“Lift your skirts for Him,” he wooed softly. “For yourself. We all stand to gain from this.”

Of their own volition, the fingers at her sides slowly curled into the fabric under them. When she started to inch it higher, Two assisted, heaping the bulk of the material to tent his brother's legs and groin. Kneeling behind her then, he lightly palmed the back of her knee with one hand, and slid his other under her bunched skirts and upward along the inside of a stockinged thigh.

Gently, oh, so gently, his fingers introduced themselves high between her legs.

Her knees wobbled and her hands fell to the powerful shoulders of the man before her, who now monitored his twin's effect on her with the careful intensity of a jungle cat eyeing its prey.

At first, only a single finger pad brushed the purse of nether lips. Then, as she began to unfurl for it, two. Deliberately, they opened her and the thickest, longest finger eased inside, testing her readiness. Her passage pulsed on it, once, and she cried out softly.

“Already, your body gushes for Him,” praised the man who touched her so intimately, sounding as pleased as if she'd performed some marvelous trick.

A hand left her waist and dipped under the front fall of her skirts and she knew from One's expression that he'd found himself. His thighs went wider between hers, bringing her lower. And then he was poised at her gate, his bulbous tip taking the place of his twin's fingers.

Her virgin lips bussed his crown and parted in hesitant welcome, anointing him with her body's passionate cream. A feral growl welled from him at this initial taste of her, and another's hands held her for him as he worked his crest along her furrow, back and forth, nestling higher into her slick notch with each pass and sending hot waves of sensation spiraling up her channel.

She glanced over at Lyon, lying so still.

One's other hand left her waist and caught her cheek, bringing her gaze back to his. Then, softly, he whispered, “Are you ready for Him?”

She took a quick, indrawn breath.

Then hands—she knew not whose—came under her ruched skirts, grasping her hips and thighs and guiding her in the way of accommodating him. Amber seared her as that tumid apple, still wet from his brother's mouth, commenced its invasion.

Her slit gaped and expanded, valiantly trying to hood him.

“That's good, Juliette, so good,” said twin voices that were Lyon's, and yet not.

She grimaced, leaning closer to the chest before her to tilt herself away from imminent impalement, “I'm not sure I can—”

But her lover's hands adjusted her over him in some way, and then miraculously her private flesh gulped and his knob ducked inside her.

Four groans—each a blend of pleasure and pain—infused the air in ardent harmony.

At the sound from the adjacent bed, Juliette looked toward Lyon again and saw he'd changed position and was now turned on his side facing them.

“Lyon?”

But there was no reply, and his eyes remained closed.

“The rest will follow more easily,” said the man before her, drawing her eyes back to his.

“I'll hold you to that,” she said, then gasped as his cock recommenced its ingress.

Petting her hair and caressing her shoulders and back, Two whispered soft encouragements to her as his twin tunneled steadily deeper and deeper still, until it seemed he would never finish coming inside her.

Her body struggled to accept the fullness, and she cupped his neck so her fingertips met at his nape. “It's too much.”

“Relax,” soothed the other man from behind her. His hands went under her skirts again, curving over the bones of her hips to alter her position a second time on his twin in the same way he'd earlier angled his own mouth on him.

“You were made for Him,” One murmured, and his thumb came between their bellies to brush the swollen bud at the front of her stretched slit.

Four male hands then began to lift and lower her in a rolling motion that slicked her up and then inched her down an unforgiving, persistent intruder. Something was different now. With each stroke, her clit dragged against the masculine pole and sparked with sensation.

And still she took more. Began to want more. Crave more.

Her legs tightened around his, helping her to move on him as he sought harbor in her throaty embrace. “Almost there,” their voices coaxed.

And then, at her soft cry, he sank home and her nether lips were planting a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his groin. Incredibly, she had taken all of him. She rested her forehead on his chin, wanting to push him away, but trying to grow accustomed to him in the hope things would later improve.

His hand curved at her neck and his lips turned to her ear, his breath fresh as he spoke. “You were not virgin.”

“What?” Her head jerked back, so she could search his eyes. She'd felt no tear, no rip of her membrane.

“There was blood on your thighs,” Two confirmed. “Before he came into you. Virgin's blood.” He rubbed her shoulders, trying to console her. But there was no way to fix this.

She looked over at Lyon, who slept on, oblivious. Was it her imagination or did his complexion appear somewhat healthier now? “You swore this wouldn't happen!” she raged to the room at large.

Then she hit the chest before her with the flats of both hands and tried to wrest herself from the lap that supported her. Under her dress, One's grip tightened, keeping him safely lodged inside her. She winced and pushed his hand away from her right hip.

Two nudged her skirt aside and found the purpled bruise there. “You fell?” he asked. “In the woods?”

She shrugged and gave an irritated nod. “Yes, what of it? Let me go.”

One's eyes met his brother's over her shoulder. “You fell in a manner that was too jarring for your delicate membrane to withstand,” he told her. “It was not I who took it from you, but a prior accident.”

Her struggles faltered as she remembered how her abdomen had cramped after the Cossack had assaulted her.
Mon Dieu!
How unfair! Even though he hadn't succeeded at physically raping her, she'd apparently lost her virginity to the Russian after all.

The notion that she was no long pure reverberated in her mind, panicking her. Though she certainly hadn't consciously planned to ever return to Valmont, it was somehow frightening to have that exit so firmly cut off. She could not let him find her again. Not now that her body's circumstances were so altered. He'd consider it a betrayal and would punish her—see her imprisoned or dead. No, she could no longer think of going back, but instead would only look forward. Regardless of who was at fault, she had to accept that she was changed.

Upon that thought, a great weight left her and she realized her uppermost emotion was that of simple, profound relief. No longer would she have to fret over that fragile, feminine commodity. No longer would she have to guard it so strenuously.

She was open.

She shifted her hips. Wide open.

The stoic member residing within her keep twitched in response, eager and ready. The man she straddled had been watching her, waiting, and now correctly read her willingness to continue on with him. The last moorings at the waist of her dress slipped free and her gown was taken from her and tossed away, leaving only the meager coverings of chemise and corset.

With a hand at her lower spine to keep them wed, One maneuvered himself farther onto the mattress until the backs of his knees met its edge and her calves rested fully upon the linens at either side of him. Lying back, he took her with him and her palms braced themselves in the lee of his arms.

His broad hands took her hips and began sensuously rocking her, teaching her throat to ride his impalement in a lusty stroke similar to that he had previously enjoyed from his brother. Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders, its ends dusting his torso as she studiously followed his every instruction.