Menage After Midnight (3 page)

Sophia claimed his lips again. Her sheath squeezed hot and tight around him. She fit him like a supple kid glove, muscles fluttering around his shaft, goading him to lift and withdraw, to drive into her again. “Yes,” he hissed as he surged forwards, and again her puss seemed to kiss the entirety of his shaft.

“Is this what you wanted, my wicked lady, a big fine prick to fill up your purse?”

“Paris,” she gasped, and reached out to him. She mussed his hair and stroked the curve of his jaw before pushing her fingers into his mouth to suck.

Paris bunched her skirts a little higher. Dammit, he wanted to kiss her, to lie naked with her, and smear every inch of her lily-white skin with teasing love bites. He wanted to raise her to climax with the flick of his tongue. Fill her as surely no other man could.

As it was, the very real reminder of who provided her pleasure on an all too regular basis stood right beside them.

“How do you like her cunt?” Lovich asked.

Paris shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the question. She was simply astonishing. Sophia Lovich had the skills of a courtesan, and not just the typical everyday sort who preyed upon the lonely, but rather one genuinely trained in the arts of pleasure. Who had taught her to clasp a man’s cock like that, to tug on his shaft so as to give maximum pleasure? Brain addled, and balls growing primed and tight, he gave her his full attention for several glorious strokes. Had Lovich taught her that? He made the mistake of meeting the man’s gaze again—a gaze so filled with intent, he found himself captured by it.

Paris trembled as the heat rose off his skin. Desire—pure, hot, sexual intent burned in the inky depths of Lovich’s pupils. He stood with his breeches pushed down around his thighs, stroking his cock so that his thumb flicked back and forth over its plum-hued tip.

“You need to fuck her hard,” Lovich insisted, his words a low husky purr. “She likes it hard and fast. To be held down and ridden.”

Paris had slowed their swiving almost to a stop, his attention still locked upon the motion of Lovich’s wrist. Why it seemed almost as if that touch were a caress upon his own cock, and the joy of the act raced across his body causing dizzy excitement.

“Do, please.” Sophia’s voice dragged him back. Flashes of crimson gave colour to her pretty oval face. Her head was tilted back so that her petulant little chin pointed straight up. Her hips lifted off the bed on each upward thrust so that their bodies met with a percussive slap. He didn’t need to hear an affirmation from her. The truth of Lovich’s statement was already manifold in her expression, and in the way her palms circled over his skin. She dug her nails deep into his flanks and pulled him down onto her, whereupon her breath scorched his ear. “You should let yourself come. The second time will be all the sweeter. You’re too tense and uptight about Alexander. Let yourself relax, and I can rouse you to attention again with my lips.”

Again
—she intended to make this a full night of pleasure. Lovich’s arrival had raised his expectations of things being cut short, but maybe not.

Sophia’s hand continued to work over his flanks, kneading, scratching and goading him to firmer more decisive strokes. One finger tickled the swirl of his anus and set off fireworks all down his back. No woman had ever touched him there, but then even the most willing of romps had never been remotely like Sophia.

He realised she’d wet her finger when she slipped him a fraction of her fingertip. His muscles clamped tight around her. “What are you about?” he hissed at her, still only too aware of her husband watching them.

“Giving you a treat.” She laughed and wriggled the finger a fraction deeper. “No one has touched you here before have they, Paris? It’s a most pleasurable spot for both a man and a woman. I hope a little later you’ll use your tongue and kiss me there.” Shocked, he stiffened, and she withdrew, only for her nails to then bite into his back. What was she saying? That the talk earlier hadn’t been forgotten? That she still wanted to pursue that course, even with her husband present?

Jesus! He had to pull back and out of her just to stop himself coming from the notion.

Still, he couldn’t stand being apart from her for more than the moment it took to give his balls a deft tug. Not when he was already riding this close the edge.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them either side of her head before surging into her again.

“Yes,” she hissed. “More. Paris. More.”

It was going to be quick. Dear God was it going to be quick, but he could no more stop his hips from working than he could stop the sun rising.
Harder—
he couldn’t hold on.
Faster—
pleasure raced along his shaft, and tightened like a cordon around his balls.
Harder and faster—
Sophia meeting him stroke for stroke, and fighting a little against the strength of his grip around her wrists.

She was beautiful and she was perfect. “Mmm, come on,” he coaxed her, wanting her body to react to the pleasure at the same time as his. But his hips were already moving of their own volition. He came with a great shuddering release, crying out as her quim continued to milk him long after his world fractured and slowly began to reassemble.

“I’m sorry.” He gulped. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly of me.”

Sophia laughed, and worked free one of her wrists so that she could muss his hair. “I told you that you needed to come. You’re far more relaxed now. The second will be all the better for it. Perhaps the best one yet.”

With her he could actually believe that. Normally, the second was a god-awful chore.

Paris reached down and circled her clit with his thumb. It was taut and ripe as a berry, peeping out from its protective hood eager for some attention She whimpered at the touch, looked up at him and then at her husband.

“Let me suck you, dearest.” Sophia twisted beneath Paris, so that although their bodies remained locked, she lay first upon her side and then upon her stomach. She led Paris up the bed a little way until she knelt perfectly aligned with Lovich’s loins, whereupon she raised her head and took her husband’s cock full into her delicate mouth.

Damn him to hell for it, but watching her pink lips stretch around Lovich’s cock tore a strangled gasp of appreciation from Paris’s throat. When he’d accepted her invitation, he’d never for a moment anticipated this was where it would lead. Yes, he’d wanted her, but he’d imagined her largely unskilled and ill content, her apparently blissful marriage surely nothing more than the sham so many others were. But seeing her now, this was one marriage that was surely built upon mutual contentment, which made it doubly odd that he should be here at all.

“Paris,” she moaned, taking a moment to catch a breath. “Where are you, my lover? Come, stroke me. Join us.”

Since his loins were already pressed as close to hers as it was possible to get, it took no leap of intelligence to add it all up. She wasn’t inviting his touch but rather entreating him to join her in pleasuring her husband. The talk of sodomy—huh, well, it all made sense now, sort of. Actually the concept wound knots inside his guts. Of course, he could revolt, flee the chamber and risk future ridicule and maybe damage to his purse, or he could be realistic about who and what he was and exactly how much he really wanted to stay here with Sophia.

It wasn’t as if he found Lovich repulsive by any means. He’d been drawn to his company in other ways in the past. The man exuded easy confidence and had a keen political mind. He also possessed a solid muscular frame that spoke of natural strength. Lovich was no weakling squire come to town to prance about in the latest silks but a man naturally accustomed to hard toil and leading by example. One surely prepared to strip and wield a scythe if the need arose to get the crops in fast.

Yes, there was definitely something majestic about Alexander Lovich, from the diamond of hair upon his chest, to the wiry bush around the base of his cock. The cock his wife was so contentedly sucking… and yet Paris balked at turning that admiration into something more appreciative.

He didn’t want Lovich like he wanted the man’s wife.

“Sophia, we mustn’t forget our guest.”

Abruptly, she relinquished her husband and turned again to Paris, dipping her head down towards his groin.

He had grown soft in the minutes following his release, but the moment her lips hovered over his staff a familiar sense of arousal tugged once again at his loins. Her touch there was only fleeting, before she reached up to stroke his cheek. Paris held her hand to his face, wanting her, despite a head full of reservations. “What did you really entice me here for?”

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered, evidently reading the fear that pervaded his thoughts. “We invited you here only for companionship. How far things progress is entirely up to you.”

“Progress?”

Sophia’s gaze flicked rapidly over to Alexander and back. “My love and I, we want… Well, we desire someone to share.”

“Let us not be too coy about it, Sophie,” Alexander interjected. He climbed up onto the bed beside them. “I’m sure Paris understands well enough what we want. The question here is really only whether he is game.”

“Why me?”

“Sophia finds you charming and not unattractive, and I confess to sharing a similar disposition. I’m sure you can appreciate it was also imperative that we embarked upon this adventure with someone capable of great discretion. I know what you are, Sir. What you do.”

“Then you know too that I have no interest in men.”

“Interest is irrelevant. It’s the overall balance of things that’s important. You don’t object, I think, to Sophie’s caress.

“No, indeed.”

Alexander took a moment to divest himself of breeches, stockings and boots. “This arrangement cannot be about money, you understand. I will not pay you to swive my wife. In thirty-five years I’ve never paid for sex, and nor do I intend to change that tonight. You must do this merely because you are willing, and desirous of our touch.”

For Sophia, he would do anything. Recompense hadn’t crossed his thoughts.

“I believe your sister is in need of a good sponsor,” Lovich continued.

“What of it?”

“Dally here and mayhap a windfall might provide for her need.”

Paris gave a mirthful snort. Curse Lovich for pinpointing his one weakness. He’d sell his body and soul for Persephone’s pleasure, had done the former many times over. If he’d had only himself to support, then a simpler, impoverished life in the countryside would have sufficed, but his sister deserved so much better.

“How is that not payment for my willingness to sin?”

“The gift would be to her, not to you. The help of a friend is not recompense for any favour.”

“And Sophia is to watch?” Paris asked.

Lovich’s smile broadened until it entirely engulfed his face. “To participate. You must forgive us for using her as bait to lure you here, but it was never our intention to deny you the pleasures originally offered, only to offer additional delights too.”

“Please, Paris, say yes that you will stay.” Sophia smiled up at him. The fan of lace at her elbow swept across his bared thighs as she moved to join her hand with her husband’s against his stomach. “Will you let us love you together?”

Not waiting for his answer, she crawled closer, and her lips met with the skin of his stomach. From there she trailed her tongue upwards, seeking out a nipple upon which to feast.

Paris stiffened as Lovich wrapped his large palm around his cock. His touch couldn’t have been more different from Sophia’s. Where hers was gentle, his was firm and a little rough. Yet Paris's body cared not for any difference it seemed, for blood pumped into his loins leaving him just as stiff as if he’d never come.

Sophia shoved him onto his back and climbed astride him, knees planted either side of his ears. “You work marvels with that tongue, won’t you work a few more.”

“A moment, Sophie,” Lovich insisted, tugging at the sleeve of her gown. “Let’s remove a few of these layers else you’ll smother Mr Ashcroft with your skirts.”

She stood, towering over him while he lay prone, and Lovich unlaced her from her gown and all the layers of concealed nonsense she sported beneath. The last thing to come off was her shift, which Lovich cast onto the floor leaving her gloriously naked. She was everything Paris had imagined: the tiny waist, the wide flaring hips and that plump soft bottom. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

She fell on him at once, returning to her knees astride his head, so that the scent of her body surrounded him as he worked his tongue, dipping into her heat, circling and coaxing the precious bead that was the source of a woman’s pleasure.

For the most part, Alexander seemed content to watch. He sat on his haunches, sometimes playing with his wife’s voluptuous breasts. Only when he vanished from sight did Paris feel any pangs of terror.

And yet, what was so very terrible about a soft mouth wrapped around his shaft? He sighed as the sucking grew firm. Dear Lord, the man knew just exactly how to curl his tongue around the head so as to give maximum pleasure. Each whisper-light flick over the slitted eye made him jerk right off the bed, but not content with that torment, Alexander Lovich turned his attention to Paris’s balls, licking, rolling their delicate surface over his tongue, teasing them gently. Then when Paris was sure he couldn’t tolerate a moment more, the attention shifted, not back to his cock, but to the pouting little opening Sophia had already proved was the source of bountiful pleasure. The very tip of Alexander’s tongue dabbed against the furl of muscle, wetting, preparing him. Hell, this could hardly be real, only he’d never dreamed anything so magnificently rude before. Always things were simple, he and Sophia entwined as couples often were. He wanted to be with her again like that right now.