take it as slow as you need.”
“Or as fast as you want,” Colin added with a low laugh.
The coach lurched to a halt in front of the inn, and Grace’s stomach lurched with it. This was it. No going back now.
The driver opened the door, and Colin stepped out first, extending his hand to help her down to the cobbled walk. Atticus followed, instructing the driver to have their valises sent up to their room. If the driver thought it odd the three of them would have only one room, he did not let on.
While Colin secured their lodgings, Grace stood on shaky legs next to Atticus, barely registering her surroundings. At last, Colin turned and nodded toward the staircase that led up to the bedchambers. Grace and Atticus followed him at a discreet distance. While their personal driver might be inured to their proclivities, the regular denizens of the hamlet of Gretna Green might not be so forgiving.
Colin made it easy for them to find the room by leaving the door open. At the end of the narrow corridor, the chamber was clean, spacious, and warm due to the fire blazing in the hearth. Not that they were likely to need the heat it provided. She fancied they would generate more than enough of their own on the bed which, though larger than she was accustomed to, would nonetheless be a tight fit for the three of them.
“Ready for your wedding night, Lady Fitzgerald?” Colin asked, extending his hand.
Trembling, she slipped her palm inside his and nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
She heard Atticus close the door as Colin pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth, capturing her lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. She opened her mouth to the onslaught, the banked embers of desire within her flaring to life as his tongue swept inside. By the time he broke the kiss, any hesitation she’d felt had been reduced to so much ash.
Colin and Atticus undressed her quickly and efficiently, and then, while she lay in the center of the bed watching them, disrobed themselves.
Their bodies were still a marvel to her. Where Colin was all long and lean muscle tightly corded and drawn over a loose, lanky frame, Atticus was broad and thick, his musculature and bone structure heavier and sturdier in appearance. Their cocks, to her delight, followed the overall layout of their bodies, Colin’s long, Atticus’s thick. As with everything else about the two men, she couldn’t have chosen which she liked better. She wanted them both—to touch, to taste, to fill her body.
When they were both nude, they stretched out on the bed alongside her, Colin on her left, Atticus on her right.
Colin cupped the breast nearest him in his hand and flicked his thumb across her nipple. “I think we should begin with something familiar, don’t you, Atticus? To ease our nerves.”
They were nervous? The thought made her smile. They must have done this many times before, while she was a pure novice.
“I agree,” Atticus said, sliding a hand down over her abdomen, “but I think it is my turn to taste this delightful pussy.”
“Fair enough.” Colin brushed his lips against her cheek and whispered in her ear, “Open your legs, darling.”
As Atticus got to his knees, Grace parted her thighs. He settled between them, hooking her legs over his shoulders. She quivered with anticipation of the touch of his mouth, but before he obliged her, he parted her damp, swollen flesh and brushed his thumb over the pulsing core of her desire.
“Such a lovely, juicy clitoris,” he murmured, his tone almost reverent. “No wonder you’re so responsive, sweetheart.”
His thumbs spread her nether lips, exposing her tender, aching core to the sweeping caress of his tongue. Her hips rose involuntarily to meet his mouth, to deepen the contact she so desperately craved. When at last he stroked her purpose, she realized the way he’d stretched her folds intensified the sensation, bringing her almost immediately to the brink of climax.
“Don’t come yet, sweetheart,” Colin
“Or as fast as you want,” Colin added with a low laugh.
The coach lurched to a halt in front of the inn, and Grace’s stomach lurched with it. This was it. No going back now.
The driver opened the door, and Colin stepped out first, extending his hand to help her down to the cobbled walk. Atticus followed, instructing the driver to have their valises sent up to their room. If the driver thought it odd the three of them would have only one room, he did not let on.
While Colin secured their lodgings, Grace stood on shaky legs next to Atticus, barely registering her surroundings. At last, Colin turned and nodded toward the staircase that led up to the bedchambers. Grace and Atticus followed him at a discreet distance. While their personal driver might be inured to their proclivities, the regular denizens of the hamlet of Gretna Green might not be so forgiving.
Colin made it easy for them to find the room by leaving the door open. At the end of the narrow corridor, the chamber was clean, spacious, and warm due to the fire blazing in the hearth. Not that they were likely to need the heat it provided. She fancied they would generate more than enough of their own on the bed which, though larger than she was accustomed to, would nonetheless be a tight fit for the three of them.
“Ready for your wedding night, Lady Fitzgerald?” Colin asked, extending his hand.
Trembling, she slipped her palm inside his and nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
She heard Atticus close the door as Colin pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth, capturing her lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. She opened her mouth to the onslaught, the banked embers of desire within her flaring to life as his tongue swept inside. By the time he broke the kiss, any hesitation she’d felt had been reduced to so much ash.
Colin and Atticus undressed her quickly and efficiently, and then, while she lay in the center of the bed watching them, disrobed themselves.
Their bodies were still a marvel to her. Where Colin was all long and lean muscle tightly corded and drawn over a loose, lanky frame, Atticus was broad and thick, his musculature and bone structure heavier and sturdier in appearance. Their cocks, to her delight, followed the overall layout of their bodies, Colin’s long, Atticus’s thick. As with everything else about the two men, she couldn’t have chosen which she liked better. She wanted them both—to touch, to taste, to fill her body.
When they were both nude, they stretched out on the bed alongside her, Colin on her left, Atticus on her right.
Colin cupped the breast nearest him in his hand and flicked his thumb across her nipple. “I think we should begin with something familiar, don’t you, Atticus? To ease our nerves.”
They were nervous? The thought made her smile. They must have done this many times before, while she was a pure novice.
“I agree,” Atticus said, sliding a hand down over her abdomen, “but I think it is my turn to taste this delightful pussy.”
“Fair enough.” Colin brushed his lips against her cheek and whispered in her ear, “Open your legs, darling.”
As Atticus got to his knees, Grace parted her thighs. He settled between them, hooking her legs over his shoulders. She quivered with anticipation of the touch of his mouth, but before he obliged her, he parted her damp, swollen flesh and brushed his thumb over the pulsing core of her desire.
“Such a lovely, juicy clitoris,” he murmured, his tone almost reverent. “No wonder you’re so responsive, sweetheart.”
His thumbs spread her nether lips, exposing her tender, aching core to the sweeping caress of his tongue. Her hips rose involuntarily to meet his mouth, to deepen the contact she so desperately craved. When at last he stroked her purpose, she realized the way he’d stretched her folds intensified the sensation, bringing her almost immediately to the brink of climax.
“Don’t come yet, sweetheart,” Colin
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