“It was beautiful,” Mr. Markham said. “You were beautiful.”
“Every man in that restaurant was adjusting himself as we walked out, and I think even some of the women were fanning themselves,” Silas added. “The dull ones will buy the story of a fit, but any person who’s been properly fucked before will know exactly what they were looking at. And they will love it.”
A door opened. We were finally to our ro
om. “Am I invited in?” Silas asked.
Mr. Markham glanced down at me. “Do you need to sleep? Or do you want more?”
I would always want more. When it came to Mr. Markham, I would always need more.
“I don’t need to sleep,” I whispered, and Silas stepped in and closed the door.
Mr. Markham eased me into a chair, then went to ensure that the door was locked. Despite the fierce totality of the climax I’d just had, the fire low in my belly slowly rekindled as I witnessed those two men shrugging off their jackets and unknotting their cravats as they walked toward my chair. Mr. Markham knelt before me, his shirt now open at the throat, showing his rapidly thrumming pulse.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, and he gently tugged off my silk heels, kissing each foot as it was freed. “You learned very well today. You learned to trust me with your desire, no matter how far I pushed. It’s time for your reward. What would you like?”
I looked down at him as he peered up at me through dark eyelashes, his high forehead tilted back in supplication. He was so virile, so male, and seeing him kneeling in front of me sent as much desire spiking through my body as seeing him dominate me. It reminded me that he was more vulnerable than I was, that he was ceding something powerful and precious to me by making me his wife. He may tease me for a few hours out of the day, but his soul was mine to have for the rest of our years.
Perhaps he saw this realization in my eyes, because he laid his head against my knee in a gesture of humility and submission. I stroked through his hair, the thick, dark waves of it, and after a few moments, I used a finger to raise his face up, past my own and to the ceiling.
The long, corded arch of his throat was exposed, and I bent down and kissed it, feeling his restraint and repressed strength as I turned my kiss into a firm, sharp bite. He trembled and his hands twitched around my feet, but he remained still and passive for me, even as the unconscious shifting of his hips told me that his arousal was becoming unbearable. I held my teeth there for several seconds, loving the feel of his wild pulse, the smell of sun and greenery that always clung to him.
I pulled away with one last flick of my tongue dancing across his Adam’s apple, and sat up again, looking down at him like a queen might look down upon a subject.
“Wildcat,” he said raggedly, “let me reward you.”
Silas had been watching silently this whole time, maintaining a respectful distance as Mr. Markham and I completed our exchange of power, but now he came forward and knelt before me as well. Two pairs of eyes—one pair fern green and the other pair bright blue—gazed up at me with a heady combination of lust and devotion.
“Undress me,” I finally said. “I want to feel you both on my skin.”
They both leapt to obey, helping me out of the chair, fingers digging into buttons and ties, and I sighed against the warmth of their movements, sighing again as I was divested of my clothes. Silas nimbly unfastened my corset, and my sighs turned into a sudden intake of breath as the cool air finally brushed against my aching nipples and swollen breasts.
Silas brushed his lips around the crescent swells, kissing in a spiral until his mouth was sucking hot and wet on a furled peak. My back arched and my hand went to Silas’ head, holding him fast where he was. I felt and heard his low chuckle at my eagerness, and then he reached down, his hands sliding past the heart shape of my ass and then hoisting me up so that my legs were around his waist, his mouth affixed to my breast the entire time.
As he walked me over to the bed, I marveled at how different his body felt from Mr. Markham’s. Silas was just as tall, just as toned, but there was something urbane and smooth about him, about his entire bearing, as if he charmed his way through life rather than growled through it like Mr. Markham did. Even his hands under my ass felt polished and refined. And as he laved my nipple with his talented tongue and as I began—more or less unconsciously—grinding my cleft against his stone-hard cock, one got the sense that Silas was never far away from a wide grin or a loud laugh. Joy and mirth—they suffused him, like an affable light.
Mr. Markham was correct earlier today. What Silas did with us, with the others, that was playing, a game for the wealthy and bored to idle away their time. When Mr. Markham and I were alone together, it was something else entirely—something unique and deep and hallowed.
Which wasn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy the playing.
Silas walked us over to the bed, and my eyes met Mr. Markham’s over Silas’ shoulder. He had shucked his shirt, so I could see the planes and furrows of his flat stomach and the way his torso tapered into narrow hips, a defined line of muscle making an emphatic V leading to his groin.
His eyes moved down, seeing my pelvis flush against Silas’, and his jaw set. In an instant, he was next to us, and there was palpable jealousy in the way he plucked me from his friend’s grasp and laid me across the bed. But his stiffness and labored breathing confirmed what he had told me before dinner, that the jealousy was only fuel for his desire, and so I felt no guilt about reaching for both of them and pulling them both down on top of me, both men all muscle and limbs and roving hands.
Mr. Markham’s mouth met mine first, a hard kiss that felt more like a branding. His hand cupped the back of my head, and he parted my lips with his own, sliding his tongue against mine, licking past my teeth and deep into my mouth. I was panting when he broke away, heat flushing up my belly and up my neck, and his eyes glittered triumphantly.
Meanwhile, Silas had been tracing circles on the taut skin of my stomach, looping ever wider loops around my navel. “I’d like to follow this blush down to its source, Julian,” he said. “That is, if you permit it.” There was nothing but brotherly amusement in his voice, as if his friend’s jealousy was an adorable quirk that he’d long since grown used to.
Mr. Markham’s mouth twitched and a rare smile creased his face. He kissed my neck and then my shoulder. “Am I being selfish with you?” he murmured into my collarbone.
“Yes,” I whispered. “And I love it.”
Silas pressed his palm to my sternum and then ran his hand down to the swell in between my legs. “He should be selfish with you. You are quite delicious, and the moment the shepherd looks away, you can be guaranteed that a wolf will be there to snatch you up.” He lowered his head and dragged his teeth along one nipple to underscore his point. Mr. Markham was kissing my neck now, and once again there were two different hands caressing my folds, drawing lines in the crease where my thighs joined my body.
“But I promise,” and Silas looked at me with mock solemnity, “that you can trust me not to breach Julian’s trust too much. At the very least, I won’t fight back if he decides to hurl me to the floor in an envious rage.”
A quiet laugh rippled through the three of us, and Silas shed the faux-serious face immediately, grinning widely. Mr. Markham lifted his head and our eyes met and I knew that Silas was right. Intrinsic trust was strung between them, and now it was strung between me as well, and tonight would only bring pleasure, not discomfort, to the man Silas and I both loved.
