her skin prickle deliciously. Corwin ran his hands up her thighs, lifting first one leg, then the other, and wrapping them around his waist so he could move into the embrace of her thighs.
“Yes,” she groaned, rubbing his hips with her thighs’ sensitive inner flesh. “Yes, now!”
“Yes, now,” said Darius.
Obedient to her, to them both, Corwin thrust deep inside her. She gasped with the pleasure of it, instinctively reaching out with hands and spirit to caress him. Darius’s masterful hands on her breasts and the wicked caress of his hard cock against her cheek urged her on, opening her spirit yet further. The bright fire flowed from her to Corwin. Their heartbeats surrounded her, capturing her with their rhythm, as Corwin thrust again, and again.
Darius lowered her head down onto the pillows, which freed Miranda to grip Corwin’s thighs with her hands and force him down into her, harder and deeper. She felt Darius move beside her. He captured her right hand and wrapped her fingers firmly around the thick, velvet heat of his shaft. Delight assailed her as Darius made her hand move on him in time with Corwin’s thrusts, using her shamelessly for his pleasure even as she drank in the pleasure that flowed from them both. She opened herself wide so she could return that ecstasy, that nameless strength, to them both.
Miranda rocked her hips, again and again, drawing Corwin’s cock into her until it could go no deeper, digging the fingers of her left hand into his ass. She pumped Darius’s swelling cock furiously, loving the sensation of his hand holding hers as she did. It was too good. She could not contain the fire, the delight, anymore, and her climax rolled over her, delirium and delight, fire and passion, sending her into spasm after spasm.
Corwin cried out and she had just enough control left to raise her bucking hips to meet his as his climax racked him. Then Darius thrust into her palm, his wordless lion’s roar washing over them all and his seed spilling hot over their hands.
Five
Lady Viola Thayer surveyed her ballroom. It was far enough into the morning that the older guests and married couples had retired, with or without their legally allowed partners. The younger and the unattached remained. They flirted, gossiped and enjoyed the freedom of the dance floor while their chaperones drowsed in the corners or drank strong tea at the refreshment table.
With a minor exception, it had been a most satisfactory evening. Most satisfactory. Already, Viola had identified four men and two women with influential positions or considerable fortunes who were ripe for temptation and seduction. She would be able to work on them over the course of the summer. By the time the haut ton reassembled in London for the next season, they would be firmly in her pocket.
Viola smiled and waved her ostrich-feather fan to hide it. Now, where has my lord Thayer gotten himself off to?
A strolling tour of the ballroom—with frequent stops to chat with her well-content and somewhat drunken guests—did not turn him up. Neither did perusal of the card room, or the smoking room.
Which leaves only one possibility.
Lady Thayer left her company. At this late stage of the party, no one would remark, or indeed even care, if their hostess absented herself. She headed to the hushed library and closed the door softly before crossing to the hearth. Her nimble fingers traced the decorations on the mantel until they found the correct plaster rose and pressed. A section of wall swung back, revealing a dusty passage beyond.
In most Mayfair houses the supposed “secret” passages were simply servants’ hallways, allowing maids and butlers to discreetly exit a room before their masters entered it.
In the Thayer’s town house, however, there was a genuinely secret stair, and it went down deep, below the kitchens and past the wine cellar. Beyond where a scream or any other fuss could be heard by the people above. They’d modeled it
“Yes,” she groaned, rubbing his hips with her thighs’ sensitive inner flesh. “Yes, now!”
“Yes, now,” said Darius.
Obedient to her, to them both, Corwin thrust deep inside her. She gasped with the pleasure of it, instinctively reaching out with hands and spirit to caress him. Darius’s masterful hands on her breasts and the wicked caress of his hard cock against her cheek urged her on, opening her spirit yet further. The bright fire flowed from her to Corwin. Their heartbeats surrounded her, capturing her with their rhythm, as Corwin thrust again, and again.
Darius lowered her head down onto the pillows, which freed Miranda to grip Corwin’s thighs with her hands and force him down into her, harder and deeper. She felt Darius move beside her. He captured her right hand and wrapped her fingers firmly around the thick, velvet heat of his shaft. Delight assailed her as Darius made her hand move on him in time with Corwin’s thrusts, using her shamelessly for his pleasure even as she drank in the pleasure that flowed from them both. She opened herself wide so she could return that ecstasy, that nameless strength, to them both.
Miranda rocked her hips, again and again, drawing Corwin’s cock into her until it could go no deeper, digging the fingers of her left hand into his ass. She pumped Darius’s swelling cock furiously, loving the sensation of his hand holding hers as she did. It was too good. She could not contain the fire, the delight, anymore, and her climax rolled over her, delirium and delight, fire and passion, sending her into spasm after spasm.
Corwin cried out and she had just enough control left to raise her bucking hips to meet his as his climax racked him. Then Darius thrust into her palm, his wordless lion’s roar washing over them all and his seed spilling hot over their hands.
Five
Lady Viola Thayer surveyed her ballroom. It was far enough into the morning that the older guests and married couples had retired, with or without their legally allowed partners. The younger and the unattached remained. They flirted, gossiped and enjoyed the freedom of the dance floor while their chaperones drowsed in the corners or drank strong tea at the refreshment table.
With a minor exception, it had been a most satisfactory evening. Most satisfactory. Already, Viola had identified four men and two women with influential positions or considerable fortunes who were ripe for temptation and seduction. She would be able to work on them over the course of the summer. By the time the haut ton reassembled in London for the next season, they would be firmly in her pocket.
Viola smiled and waved her ostrich-feather fan to hide it. Now, where has my lord Thayer gotten himself off to?
A strolling tour of the ballroom—with frequent stops to chat with her well-content and somewhat drunken guests—did not turn him up. Neither did perusal of the card room, or the smoking room.
Which leaves only one possibility.
Lady Thayer left her company. At this late stage of the party, no one would remark, or indeed even care, if their hostess absented herself. She headed to the hushed library and closed the door softly before crossing to the hearth. Her nimble fingers traced the decorations on the mantel until they found the correct plaster rose and pressed. A section of wall swung back, revealing a dusty passage beyond.
In most Mayfair houses the supposed “secret” passages were simply servants’ hallways, allowing maids and butlers to discreetly exit a room before their masters entered it.
In the Thayer’s town house, however, there was a genuinely secret stair, and it went down deep, below the kitchens and past the wine cellar. Beyond where a scream or any other fuss could be heard by the people above. They’d modeled it
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