Regency Rogues Omnibus (95 page)

“Run to you,” he tried to say to the generosity of spirit that showed the true depth of her affection for him. Her hand stroked his shaft once with her small fingers tight. Or her lust for him, he amended, as he watched her gaze transfix on the steeple of his engorged offering to her. He knew she felt more than simple lust for him, however, it thrilled him the way she showed her uninhibited desire for his wooden prick, with its head already wet, leaking seed for her.

Her hand stroked to the rim, then the head, then the wetness. His hips lifted with his eyes squinting as she leaned closer, her breath on his lips. “I know nothing but I want you, Bry, always want you.”

Her lips pressed to his and this time their tongues collided, sliding and curling against each other. Their kiss was torrid and she broke it, going to her knees, as close between his knees as she could get with his britches in the way. “I remember you once said, ‘my lips around your cock for a week please’.”

“Kit, love, you dinna have to... Ah. Oh,
Christ
, lass,” he groaned. His hands gripped on Kit’s shoulders thinking to stop her, but unable to. Bonny idiot, he thought, as if he could think to do anything but groan in bliss with Kit’s lips wrapped around the head of his greedy prick. He was bewitched by the sight of Kit’s full lips stained black, stretched over his thickness. She sucked hard around the rim several times making his gut tighten as his hand cupped her breast, squeezing the fullness. “Sweet baby, you do that so good,” he groaned.

His prick head popped out of Kit’s sucking mouth. “I do?” Her wonder was compounded with his slit bouncing against her bottom lip, while the smoldering blue of her eyes looked at him incredulously.

No talking now,
his prick shouted as he barely managed to say with a voice strained to explosion, “Aye, lass, tis amazing.” Come on! Come on, his prick yelled, pounding for the attention back.

“I-I. No one ever...”

Kit fumbled her words and the realization flashed through Brymore’s mind at her vulnerably, even as his prick shouted for her lips back. His voice was hoarse with high sexual tension. “I’d say it is just because tis your lips, Kit sweet. But ye know tis more, you really feel it. It is in your hand, pounding for you.”

Her returning little smile was beautiful with belief and her sultry intentions. He had one curse for her husband slashed through his mind, who he knew had done this to her, made her insecure, The next second it was gone with the feel of Kit’s lips sliding over the head of his cock. His prick did not cheer this time, but his heart did.

“Mm. Mm.” Kit filled her mouth with Brynmore’s healthy male organ. The feel of it and the intimacy stoked flames in her sex. With all trepidations gone over her skill, she was free. Free to play and enjoy and savor. She found by surprise that the freedom brought new pleasures. Holding her man’s cock in her mouth was a treasure — his increasing groans the ultimate goal. Her sex palpitated with each new wet suctioning of her mouth and she tasted the girth that would enter her soon, deep into her core.

Brynmore’s heat and musk filled her with passion. Some of the thrill was the timing. Would they be caught? Did they care? More than that was the amazement that Brynmore would want to do this now. Throw away caution for their cause, just to be with her, just the two of them, just for their love.

“Sweet Kit, oh God, yes. Ah, Christ. That is
so
good... beyond pleasure.”

Kit smiled through her fervor, her lips unable to lift as they pumped over Brynmore’s wide organ ... but ... her heart did. And her heat.

Sounds of pleasure gurgled from her throat as her lips smacked wetly up and down the shaft of Brynmore’s cock. His hand clutched in her hair and at times he pushed, unable to stop his forceful response. She loved those moments, the times when she could feel the effect she had on him.

Then, his Scottish burr broke the momentum, as he rumbled. “Ye have to stop, sweet Kit, or I will come.”

She wanted that, she realized, but together they wanted more this time. Yet she promised herself she would have it in the future and the joy was the surety that it could be many times, if she let it. They could have hours, days, weeks and years.

“Bry,” she gasped as she lifted her mouth from the fiery heat of his cock, letting it slide from her wet and flushed lips. He tugged her to him, groping her to straddle him, but then he stopped, as she was poised over him.

“Just a bit,” he called hoarsely.

His lips sucked over her nipple and his fingertips touched her slit. The touch of his fingers to her slit banged a sharp ache through her sex. Then, he touched the heart of that ache and she hissed in pleasure. His fingers smudged over her clitoris.

“Oh! Oh! Mm! Bry! Oh, yes!” Her buttocks rolled as his teeth nibbled her nipple point and she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“So hot,” he uttered.

Kit felt him separating the lips of her sex, exposing her clitoris more, then rubbing it with increased vigor. Her cries were short, rapid, and shrill as her hips bounced and her vagina picked up starving aches for his cock to fill it, mindless within the small outbursts Brynmore flicked over her clitoris. She grappled for his cock, lifting it to her need, as Brynmore hissed his answering passion to her. He never stopped smearing the hard surface of his fingers over her clitoris as she fitted the head of his cock to her longing sheath. The feel of that lance at her opening caused the needy walls of her womb to ripple.

Suddenly, the carriage bounced heavily, lifting, then hitting the road again with a jolt and a loud clatter. Kit squealed with long, “Oh’s,” at the end, while Brynmore bellowed once as the jolt embedded his cock with a hard thrust inside her.

“Blimey,” Brynmore managed, rubbing her sides where he’d caught her to steady her.

“Blimey is right,” Kit gasped. She was already moving, propelled by urges the hard thrust had excited.

“Easy,” Brynmore said, guiding her with his hands clasped around her bare waist because the way was not completely slick.

Oh yes,
Kit thought, feeling the slight abrasion as she worked herself on and off Brynmore’s male rod, her nails chiseled into his shoulders holding her in place. With his head fallen back, eyes crimped shut, Brynmore was creative, using his hands to rotate her in varying direction as his rigid organ took opposing paths, until he found one motion and direction that–! “Oh! Oh! Oh! That
feels
, Ah, wonderful, so good, Bry. Mate me! Mate me!”

Her body vigorously took care of the up and down motions, while Brynmore found the spot and kept thrusting to it. “Fuck it, Kit,” he hissed through his gritted teeth. “Say fuck.”

“Fuck!” she cried, panting with exertion and a building climax. “Oh, fuck me, fuck me!”

“Aye!” he charged hoarsely. “So fucking good!”

Brynmore unclenched his eyelids to watch Kit in the flickering moonlight. God, she was magnificent, with her breasts lurching as they were captured in the frenzy of fucking. He listened to the direction of her rising orgasm in her shriller moans. His prick heard it too with his seed beginning to burn ecstasy up the shaft. He did not catch Kit’s moment of climax exactly, yet her cunty convulsing around his prick sucked his ejaculation to gut-wrenching bliss moments later. Through the explosion going on in his brain and body, he heard Kit careen with the sound of another orgasm following right behind the first. Just the act of his seed filling her had sent her over the top again.

Inappropriate or appropriate, he laughed with pure pleasure between the bellows his lungs used to try and catch his breath. Kit’s breasts piled into his chest as she sank onto him. “By all the saints, I love you, Kit lass,” Brynmore managed between breaths.

He could barely believe he’d said it. It shocked him that it came tumbling out of him like that. He knew it was true. It was a moment of pure honesty, however he never clearly intended to just say it. Then out of the blue, of the little world that they’d shaped in the last few moments, they came jolting back to reality as the carriage came to a bouncing halt.

“Oh lord,” Kit exclaimed, rising from his chest.

Brynmore could see the beginnings of sudden panic setting in. He felt it too, but then abruptly it came to him. “Dinna get riled, lass,” he said. “That is what they do here. They have unbridled sex all over the place!”

Kit’s eyes blinked at him, the moment suspended, and then she laughed. He picked it up with her laughing too. They gazed at each other like mischievous children. Their startled and nervous energy loosening with mirth. Then Kit sobered a bit, lifting her hand to his cheek. “Bry, I just need you to know that I love you too.”

They had no time to explore the new revelations. They both knew it, but he had to say, “Tell me that whatever we do in the future, we do it together.” Urgency filled his voice. “
Say
it, love.”

“Yes, Bry, yes,” she exclaimed softly, then she kissed him soundly, sealing the vow.

Their lips parted, and he said with more confidence than he’d felt since the beginning of the mission. “Let’s finish this, lass.”

Chapter Twenty

Kit noticed right away that the temple, “The great God Bacchus has built,” there on earth for Lord Hellion, as one of the inductees called it, was nothing like The Satyr Whip Club. The entire ambiance and attitude of the assembled members was completely different. Theirs was one of intense worshiping as opposed to the freedom of sexual frenzy that The Satyr Club had contained. Although the trappings of the old church had been turned to pagan devices that were overtly sexual and lewd, actually violent. The attendees were cloaked in robes and reverently silent with an aura of great anticipation.

Kit held small hopes that no public sexual display by her or Brynmore would be needed tonight as they filed in with others moving to gather in the dimly lit pagan temple.

“Greetings. You’re Lord Duneagan and his pet?”

Kit turned to the strangely accented voice. Her gaze met only a chest covered in a brown robe. She looked up, then up again, finally lighting on a man’s black face. He was huge and he had a gold pin through his nose.

“Aye, we are,” Brynmore nodded, even he had to crane his neck.

“My Master requests you watch the ceremony from a privileged place and will speak to you afterward. Please follow me.” The soft quality of the black man’s voice belied his size.

They followed Hellion’s mammoth black servant to an enclosed place in front of the stage which held the dais. Right next to a phallus jutting from a two-story high statue of a black-onyx Satyr. There were no seats, people stood, and Kit noticed the people hidden in their hooded robes were swaying. The black servant left them there and moved off toward the back of the temple. Next came a hooded person with a tray of small silver goblets. Each cult member took one, drinking the contents down in one gulp, then setting the empty goblet back on the tray.

Kit peeked from beneath the hood of her robe, up at Brynmore. She did not want to drink, being suspicious of the contents and she knew he did not either. She watched Brynmore take a goblet, lifting it in his hand as she hesitated reaching for one.

“We will keep them,” Brynmore said curtly, nodding arrogantly to the servant. Silence met this response, with only the hint of a chin seen from the depth of the hood on the servant’s bowed head. Kit held her breath, but then the servant moved on without a word.

“I’ll not be drinking this,” Brynmore proclaimed under his breath. “Find a way to get rid of it with no one noticing.”

Kit made a small sound of agreement as she lifted the goblet to her lips pretending to take a sip. She glanced around trying to figure out a way to secretly get rid of the liquid. She felt a movement beside her, turning her gaze she saw Brynmore bending forward slightly and she looked lower. She saw the liquid hit the stone flooring, spreading out slightly. Then, he stepped over it. His robes encompassed the wet spot and he winked at her from beneath his hood.

She held back her smile, remembering some of Nia and Radford’s instructions that the best deceptions were the simplest ones. Kit wished that were so with Hellion, however she knew the elaborate scheme they were trying to set up to stop him was anything but simple. It was going to take daring, perfect timing, and a great deal of acting to accomplish. Another thing Radford had told her was she had to remember the difference between the facts she was aware of hidden schemes, while the victim was unaware. He said that ninety percent of the time they never knew what had hit them.

A gong sounded, lifting Kit’s gaze to the stage where torches washed its central expanse in light. Unlike the audience arena which was cast in dimness. Kit took up swaying with the rest of the cult members as her insides tightened. None of them really knew what to expect. This would be the first cult ceremony any of them had seen, besides the one Joelle and Saxon had been in. The Archangels had speculated and agreed that ceremony had been unique, with Hellion’s intentions of madly ascending to become a God. Now, none of them could imagine fully what type of ceremony Hellion might perform with the intentions of binding the masses under his spell. An orgy, a virginal sacrifice or Hellion spouting his mad ravings had all been bandied forth and speculated upon, but no one knew for certain.