Charles was dead. He had to be. He was dead, and this was heaven. Nothing else explained why Lady Madeline Blaire was standing naked in the middle of Warren’s cabin, holding a pair of French letters, saying ‘show me.’
Warren was closer, damn the man. And he didn’t hesitate. He never hesitated to take what he wanted, did he not just say as much? As soon as that chemise hit the floor, he had her in his arms, his massive hands splaying wide across her perfect skin, memorizing her proportions.
She panted and whimpered and made all the perfect sounds that had Charles’s cock twitching in his breeches. She seemed just as ravenous as Warren, her hands moving over his chest, his shoulders, into his long, walnut brown hair.
Warren cupped her breasts. They were barely enough for a handful, but Charles didn’t care. He’d never really been attracted to breasts before. But seeing her breasts in Warren’s hands was making him ache with the need to touch, to taste. He crossed the room, stepping next to them just as Warren broke their kiss, dropping his mouth down to claim one. He sucked on her tit until she was quivering, her back arching into him.
“Oh god—don’t stop,” she panted. “Charles—”
With his name on her lips, he was undone. He dropped his pride to the floor, letting it shatter like glass. Then he was pressing forward, claiming her mouth while Warren teased her nipples.
“Need you both,” she murmured. “Need to feel what you share.”
“I know,” he groaned, loving the way she tasted—so sweet and pure, so delicate. “God, I know. I need you both too. Need to see you with him. Need to know what this could be.”
And then the words of the duke rushed through him, nearly taking his breath away. More. Charles wanted to explore the possibility of more with Madeline and Warren. He wanted them both, more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
But this was reckless and dangerous. Warren was too impulsive to put a stop to this, and Madeline too naïve. It fell to Charles to be the voice of reason, the arbiter of caution. A lady’s honor was at stake, not to mention his position in the community and Warren’s livelihood. If word ever got out, if she was seen coming here…
So why couldn’t he stop kissing her?
Warren pulled his mouth from her tit, his height dwarfing them as he joined their kiss. It was messy and strange and perfect. Warren pulled back, his chest heaving. “Taste her, Charles. Tease her nipples while I ready her cunt.”
He groaned again, his self-control nearly unraveling at the look of open need in Madeline’s eyes. He’d never touched a woman’s cunt before. He knew the general theory of what happened and where everything was supposed to go, but he was glad to have Warren here to lead them.
Madeline dug her fingers through his curls, pulling his head down towards her breasts and he was a lamb happy to be led. Her breasts swelled high and tight, her pink nipples rosy and wet from Warren’s attention. He used his hands first, touching them both, weighing them.
She shivered as he smoothed his thumbs over her nipples.
“How does it feel?” he murmured.
“So good,” she replied on a breath. “Like nothing I’ve ever—nothing compares. It feels like my body is on fire. Kiss them, Charles. Need your lips on me too.”
He dropped his mouth, sucking her pointed tip into his mouth. Her skin was so velvety smooth. She arched into him, and he sucked harder.
“Oh, god—yes—please, Warren,” she whimpered.
Charles pulled back, eager to watch as Warren slid his hand between her legs.
Her whole body spasmed, and she clung to them both, parting her legs to make room for him.
“You’re so goddamn wet. So lovely,” Warren growled. “Are you going to be this wet for us every time?”
“Yes,” she panted. “I can’t get myself there—ah—I’ve tried. I—the last three nights, I’ve tried, and it’s not the same,” she stammered. “I want you, Warren. Need you.” She kissed him again, lavishing him with her tongue before pulling away and dragging Charles closer.
Christ, this woman was every dream he never knew he had. She was fearless. “Madeline, tell us what you want,” he begged, needing to know how far this could go.
“I want all of it,” she said on a breath. “I want to see your cocks. They go inside me, right? They go between my legs? I want them in. Please, god, put them in me. Need to feel it—need to know—I’m going mad with the not knowing.”
Both men were groaning now, sharing a look of wonder mixed with apprehension.
Charles gave Warren a pleading look. He couldn’t possibly make this decision for them. He needed Warren to take the lead.
Warren nodded, turning his attention back to Madeline. “Right, lovely. Here’s how it will be. You’ll take Charles first. I’ll show him what to do. We’ll make it good for you both, I swear.”
“But I want you too,” she whined.
He pulled his face away, cupping her jaw to hold her still. “You’ll have me, make no mistake. But I’m much larger than Charles, and we don’t want to hurt you. Charles goes first.”
She nodded, taking a few shallow breaths.
Warren let out a breath too, glancing around. “Right, let me just…lets get organized here. Help Charles get undressed.”
Charles waited, eyes wide, as Madeline turned to him. This is when he stopped it. This was the moment he sent her home. A gentleman wouldn’t let this go any farther. Christ, a respectable curate would never even be in this position at all!
Was everything Uncle Selby said true? He was a wild starling, spirited and free. He was passion and fire, longing and desire. That was the true Charles. Warren saw it. He’d always been able to coax it out of him, challenging him to climb higher in trees, race faster on horses. He secretly loved the thrill of taking risks, of standing on the edge of precipice and daring to lean forward. That was freedom. That was living.
But Charles spent his days play-acting, filling the role of a man of the Church. Buttoned up, respectable, wholly responsible. That was the Charles Bray the world saw. A man of quiet opinions and perfect manners who made pretty, uncomplicated sermons.
Madeline was right, Charles lived in a cage of his own making—duty to family, responsibility to profession, loyalty to his oaths. Warren had always been his secret key. Only Warren could unlock the door and step inside the cage for a while, forcing Charles to rattle against the bars.
Now this beautiful, young woman stood naked in his arms, and for the first time in his life, he couldn’t even feel the bars. Her every look and touch were dissolving them. His heart raced—was this excitement or panic? He couldn’t tell. After living for so long inside his cage, it felt impossible to be without it.
“Do you want me, Charles?” Madeline murmured, her crystalline gaze full of so much fragile hope.
He groaned again, dragging a hand through his curls. He had to remember that she lived her life in a cage too. But unlike Charles, who typically found the bars of his cage a comfort, she was trying to break free. She’d come to them in the dark of night, heart in hand, daring to make them this proposition. This posh, unmarried lady was naked in a groundskeeper’s cabin with two men, offering up her virtue in the name of exploring their shared sexual chemistry, all for the sake of proving a point that Charles ought to set all his emotional baggage aside and marry her.
It was madness.
It was ruinous for all of them.
So why wasn’t that stopping him? Why were his hands smoothing down her naked arms? Why was he pulling her closer?
Are you so broken that you’re willing to break her too?
“Charles,” she said again, hope now flickering in her eyes like a sputtering candle. “Could any small part of you ever learn to want me?”
Christ.
His resolve was in tattered shreds. A proper gentleman would have escorted her home the moment she arrived on Warren’s threshold. A better man would walk away now, leaving most of her impeachable honor intact. Apparently, Charles was no gentleman, or even the better man. He was the desperate man. The craven man. The starving man. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. “Yes, you wildcat. I want you so much, I feel like I’ll die if I leave this room.”
She sagged against him with clear relief, and he let his hands trail down her back to cup the small globes of her arse. Pressed together as they were, there was no way she couldn’t feel the evidence of his own arousal. It was achingly hard in his breeches.
“Is that…can I touch it?” she murmured, lifting her head off his chest.
Why not? He was already going to hell. He nodded, taking her hand with his and rubbing her palm along his shaft from root to tip. He stifled his groan, biting his bottom lip as she did it again on her own.
“I want to see it,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen one before…except in paintings and sculptures. I drew one once, modeling it after a sketchbook sample. But when my mother found it, she burned the book, and my sketch.”
He chuckled, loving how she prattled when she was nervous. “Well, I can’t guarantee this one is a work of art…”
“It is,” Warren called from across the room. “You’ll love it, Madeline. Have no fear of that.”
“Show me,” she murmured, her gaze trailing down his chest.
Taking a deep breath, Charles nodded. There was only ever one way this night was going to end. The sooner he let go of the notion of honor, the sooner he would know her taste on his tongue.
They began, Madeline flashing him a nervous smile. He’d already shed his coat when he and Warren sat down to tea, but he still wore his vest. That was the first to go. Then he worked the knot of his cravat, untying the fabric and unwinding it from his neck. He handed it to Madeline, and she set it aside.
“Men’s clothes always look so complicated. So many layers. More than we are ever afforded, heaven knows,” she murmured, helping him with the small buttons of his shirt.
He laughed, working the buttons at his wrists. She stepped forward, pressing her lips to the open “v” at his chest and he groaned, his cock twitching with need. Desperate to feel her skin against his, he shrugged his braces off his shoulders and tugged his shirt loose from his breeches, pulling it off over his head.
She stepped back, eyes wide as she took him in. He wanted to feel self-conscious, but her gaze was wholly disarming. She was appreciating him, her lips quirking into a little smile.
“He’s beautiful, no?” Warren called.
“No,” she breathed. “I mean—yes—no. Yes, you are,” she added with a blush, raising her hands to smooth them over his chest. His skin pebbled at her touch. Her hands were so soft compared to Warren’s. “Can I kiss you here?” she murmured, clearly relaxing a little now that she had her hands on him again.
“Kiss me anywhere.”
She brushed her hands across his chest, peppering him with soft kisses. “You smell good. Like books, leather and parchment…and something citrus.”
He stilled, surprised she could sense so much. “It’s lemons. Molly makes a lemon lavender soap.”
She kissed him again, stepping close enough that her breasts brushed against him. He groaned, digging his fingers in her hair. Tipping her head back, he kissed her again, fighting a shiver as her hands fanned down his stomach and landed at the top of his breeches.
“Give yourself to me, Charles,” she murmured, her lips brushing his. “‘Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all, withhold no atom’s atom or I die.’”
He groaned. The wildcat was quoting Keats while naked in his arms. He was utterly, and irrevocably lost to her.
“Bring her over here, Charles.”
Warren’s voice brought him back to himself. He blinked, glancing over his shoulder to see that Warren had stripped the narrow bed, making a sort of makeshift pallet on the floor before the hearth. There was certainly more room for them all on the floor.
He took her hand, leading her forward. She dropped to her knees on the blankets, inching forward to kiss Warren. Charles got to watch her back arch, that pert little arse facing him as she drank of Warren’s lips.
Warren broke the kiss, giving her face a gentle stroke. “Lie on your back, lovely. We’re going to show Charles how to make you come.”
She nodded, flipping onto her bottom, her hands splayed on the dark blankets. The fire crackled and popped, dancing across her features, making her look like an ethereal goddess, a Venus come to life. Her golden curls tumbled around her.
“Charles, come,” Warren directed.
Charles was already dropping to his knees at the edge of the blankets, heart in his throat.
Warren held his gaze. “Do you want to watch me first, or do you want to taste her for yourself?”
Christ, both options had their appeal, but Charles felt too starved, too needy. “Taste. Tell me what to do.”
“Spread your legs, lovely,” Warren murmured, laying on his side next to her, still fully clothed. “Show our Charles that perfect cunt. Yours is the first he’s ever seen.” He brushed his large fingers down her chest, between her breasts, to her stomach. “You will ruin him for all other women. Such is your power over us.”
Her heart raced at his words. Charles could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She whimpered as Warren hooked a hand around her knee, opening her wide. The lips of her sex parted, and Charles saw his first glimpse of her pretty pink center. It glistened and he knew he had to taste.
“Take your time,” Warren directed, voice low. “Use your tongue, your lips. Suck on her until she’s writhing in my hold.”
Charles dropped forward with a groan, loving the way she trembled with anticipation, held captive by Warren’s firm hands. Warren’s other hand brushed the curls off her forehead. He kissed her brow, murmuring to her things that had her shivering in his hold.
But Charles was too distracted to pay attention. He crawled between her legs, peppering her flushed skin with eager kisses, teasing with his tongue as he got closer to her heat. Lord help him, he could feel it. She was so wet, so warm. He didn’t bother with using his fingers first. He let his mouth lead the way, licking a firm swipe through her wetness.
“Ahh—” she cried out, jerking in Warren’s hold.
He did it again. And again. Each time savoring her tangy taste, claiming each quivering sound. His cock protested at being so unceremoniously pressed into the floor. But he had to wait. Her pleasure must come first.
Warren let her leg go. Parting her folds with two thick fingers, he exposed what was hidden under her thatch of soft golden curls. “Feel here,” he murmured. “Use your fingers and your tongue and learn this spot. Her bud is the key to unlocking her pleasure.”
She whimpered again as Charles teased with his tongue, flicking against that little bud until she was shaking. “Charles, please,” she panted.
“Here is her center,” Warren added, slipping his fingers down until he pressed them inside her.
“Oh, please,” she begged, arching into his touch.
But he quickly pulled his fingers out. “Tease her until you feel her clenching around your fingers. Make her come, Charles. You’re not putting your cock in her until she comes on your tongue.”
Charles set to work, learning her. He pushed her other leg wide, spearing he with his tongue until he felt her clenching. Fuck, what a sight to look up her body, over the little dip of her stomach, to see Warren’s mouth latched onto her nipple, helping Charles drive her to the edge.
Charles pressed forward, sinking inside her with two fingers as he licked at that sensitive bud. Her channel was wet and warm and tight. He groaned, imagining how good it would feel wrapped around his cock.
“Oh god, I can feel it,” she panted, her core clenching around his stroking fingers. “I’m going to come. I’m—ahh—”
Charles shoved a third finger in, sucking on that bud until she screamed. Warren swallowed her cries and she writhed between them. Charles watched, eyes open wide, as Madeline came apart beneath him.
He sat back on a gasping breath, pulling his fingers from her fluttering sex.
“Let me taste,” Warren ordered, grabbing Charles by the wrist. He sank down, wrapping his lips around all three of Charles’s soaking wet fingers, dragging Madeline’s essence into his mouth with a hungry groan. If Charles had to wait much longer to touch his cock, he was going to die.
Warren let him go, flashing him a satisfied smile. “Well?”
Charles was at a loss, eyes wide. “That was…”
“Just wait,” he teased. “Get your breeches off. You’re going to fuck her properly. Our sweet girl is desperate for our cocks.”
Madeline sagged beneath them, her legs limp as she caught her breath. But still she nodded, reaching out to stroke Warren’s face. “More,” she breathed. “I want more.”
Charles didn’t hesitate. The time for that passed the moment he chose to leave his uncle’s house. Rising to his knees, he quickly worked the fall of his breeches, opening them until he could slide the breeches down his hips.
His cock sprung free, hard and ready, and he fought the sudden urge to shrink back. Warren and Madeline were both looking at him, unveiled hunger in their eyes. He stood, feeling powerful under their gazes, and slid his breeches down his legs. His wool stockings were the last to go, and then he was standing naked as a babe before them.
“Get back down here,” Warren muttered. “You’re not posing for a portrait.”
With a blushing grin, he dropped back to his knees, crawling forward.
Madeline still had her eyes on his cock. “Will it fit do you think?” she murmured, glancing up at Warren.
He chuckled. “Oh, he’ll fit just fine. You were made to take us. You’ll make him a nice home between your legs.” He handed a letter out to Charles. “Put this on.”
Charles fumbled with the packet, trying to open it, when Warren said, “Wait. Lovely, do you want to taste him first?”
“Can I do that?” she asked, eyes wide.
Warren smiled. “Oh, yes. Take him in your mouth like this.”
Surprising them both, Warren leaned forward, wrapping his mouth around Charles’s cock, sinking around him to the hilt.
“Oh—fucking Christ—” Charles panted, gripping tight to Warren’s hair. Warren rarely ever took him to mouth. Charles wasn’t ready for the heat, the wetness.
Warren pulled back, giving his tip a teasing flick with his tongue as he sat back, dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Try it,” he directed at Madeline.
Madeline scooted forward, gazing up at him so innocently through her golden lashes as her warm breath fanned over the tip of his aching cock.
“Oh, Jesus,” he muttered, watching her tongue flick out to tease him.
She pulled back and a pearl of come glistened on his tip.
“Taste him, Madeline. Charles is aching for you,” Warren ordered.
She opened her mouth wider, her sweet, pink lips wrapping around his shaft. She whimpered, sliding along his length, quickly popping off again. “It’s so odd,” she murmured. “So unlike anything I’ve ever done before.”
“But do you like it?” Charles found himself saying.
She glanced up again, those blue eyes deep pools of honesty. “I like anything that brings you both pleasure. For that is the point of physical love, is it not?”
“Aye, it is,” Warren agreed, kissing her brow. “We will make a vow here and now. We each will only do what brings the others pleasure. There is nothing that cannot be shared between us, so long as pleasure is the outcome. Agreed?”
She nodded. “Agreed.”
They both glanced up at Charles, waiting for him.
Slowly, he nodded too. “Agreed.”
