Authors: Astrid Lee Donovan
“Care to join me?” he purred, holding his hand out in divine invitation.
As an abiding Phillip stood by with a smile, Cybele made fast tracks in the direction of the tub; performing an impromptu belly flop that sent her catapulting into the arms of her wild blond lover.
Soon her body covered his as their arms and legs entangled; their slippery wet bodies rubbing and molding together to produce the most delightful friction.
As her buxom wet breasts crushed her lover’s chest, a freshly aroused Cybele allowed her curious hands to roam all over her lover’s perfect form; sliding free and smooth down his golden torso as he rubbed and washed her tender sides and her fleshy derriere--finally sudsing up her tender breasts as he claimed her lips in an intense kiss.
Cybele moaned against Barnaby’s wet, moist lips as his wet, slick hands coursed every part of her body; both cleaning and arousing her as she writhed in his embrace—her legs bracing his rock hard thighs as—fully and finally—two became one.
Barnaby’s erect shaft mimicked the motion of his tongue as his stiff shaft advanced to probe and penetrate her; aqua supplying the ultimate lubricant as he pressed her body close against his and their hips and thighs locked.
Performing what she thought must be the most unique swim stroke ever known to humankind, Cybele sank and swayed free in Barnaby’s arms as his cock plunged deep inside her; her massaging fingertips running like wetted flower petals down the length of his sculpted abs and over the base of his pulsating manhood.
Her eyes flew wide moments later, as a second pair of strong, nurturing hands coursed the length of her back; laying a playful squeeze on her buxom rear before withdrawing for just a moment.
“Wha-?” she gasped outright, grinning in spite of herself as a resounding splash signaled the arrival of a third person in the tub—one who covered her body with his as he rained sweet kisses on the back of her neck; his hands running wild through the strands of her hair.
This move exciting her further, Cybele slammed her hips against Barnaby’s as her fair-haired lover lowered his fingers to rub and knead her clit; thus delivering a dual pleasuring further enhanced by Martin’s erotic massage.
Finally she exploded once again in a sizzling, satiating climax, one that prompted her to join her lovers in a trio’s chorus of forbidden delight.
CHAPTER FIVE
Something downright bizarre was going on at the ever respectable Magnolia Resort; and, blast it, Sir Colton Jones was bound and determined to uncover the truth!
After passing a sleepless night ruing his own idiocy at insulting one of his most valued customers, Colton had come downstairs this morning to see that a most unique breakfast order had been placed from the confines of Cybele’s suite; one that called for the immediate delivery of three plates, directly to her room!
Longing to investigate the two other occupants that shared Lady Cybele’s suite—and, apparently, her strawberry scones and tea biscuits—Colton took firm hold of her silver-plated breakfast tray and made fast steps to the door of her suite; announcing his arrival as he pounded on her door.
“Ah, good morning Colton!” He couldn’t help but notice the light, sweet tone that belied Cybele’s friendly greeting. “Do come in!”
Colton gaped outright moments later, as he passed the threshold of Cybele’s front entrance and saw a most unusual sight: the vision of three smiling, contented people lying side by side in the sheets of her luxurious bed; the beaming Barrington twins flanking Cybele in the middle.
“Lady Cybele!” Colton murmured, adding as he cleared his throat, “I trust it you enjoyed a pleasant evening?”
“I did indeed!” Cybele enthused, wrapping tender arms around the gentlemen who touched her cheeks with kisses of great affection. “I guess I shall be staying the weekend, after all—though I daresay that the three of us will need only one suite.”
Colton stared at her a long moment, then shook his head as he turned for the door.
“Very good then,” he snapped over his shoulder, averting his eyes from the scene that seemed to defy explanation.
“Not just very good,” Cybele countered, adding as she linked hands beneath the sheets with her two besotted paramours, “The best!”
The trio just barely waited until Colton cleared the room before bursting into a fit of laughter; one that Phillip disrupted as he asked in all seriousness, “What will happen when the weekend ends, Lady Cybele? May we call on you sometime at your manor house in Birmingham?”
Cybele nodded.
“Not only may you call on me, Gentlemen, but I’d quite like you to court me—either together or separate,” she announced with a grin, “The only trouble being, of course, that—if I was to marry one or—praise to the heavens—both of you, my new name would be Cybele Carrington Barrington.”
Barnaby laughed.
“Is that truly the oddest part of this whole situation, Miss?” he deadpanned, eyebrows arched.
Cybele giggled.
“Oh, I daresay that the entirety of this particular encounter is pretty blasted odd,” she allowed, adding as she opened her arms to her smiling young lovers, “And if odd feels this bloody good, then I say we delay breakfast and I’ll feast on the two of you instead!”
THE END
TEMPTED BY THE KNIGHT
MFM Menage Romance
The duchess lost herself in the dance.
Engaged in a light, spirited reel with her fiancé, the right honorable Lord Gerald, Lady Catherine clutched the hands of her beloved and twirled in a free, open circle; their bodies swaying closer together as they stared into one another’s eyes.
She watched with delight as her rose hued skirts of gossamer silk both served to flatter her full figured form and flowed and flitted in time with her movement; secured by the glittery golden girdle glowing in the candles that illuminated the crisp tiled dance floor. A floor bordered in glory with silken tapestries that depicted rose gardens in ebullient bloom, and topped near its brocaded ceiling with a line of banners every hue of the rainbow.
Yet even this spectacle failed to compare with the vision of her betrothed: a tall, statuesque man with hair of flowing gold and crystal blue eyes, whose muscled frame moved with uncommon grace in a lush tunic of scarlet red, emblazoned with the image of a roaring gold tiger and accented by some tight, form fitting hose.
Generally a reserved, refined gentleman, Gerald moved with a sensual grace that both surprised and enticed his lady; his trim hips gyrating ever so slightly as his long, trim legs shifted in a gentle rhythm. After finishing their circular reel around the vast expanse of the crystalline ballroom, he sashayed her smooth in the direction of a broad stone fireplace; one that formed a far corner of the room, serving as a resting place for those noble lords and ladies who’d come far and wide to attend the queen’s ball in the heart of Londontown.
In the light of this blazing, golden hued fire, Lady Catherine admired even more the chiseled face of her beautiful betrothed; one that boasted chiseled cheekbones, a cleft chin, and warm, moist lips she longed to kiss.
And so she did.
Leaning forward to sear those perfect lips with a soft, wet kiss, Catherine savored the press of his luscious mouth as he returned her kiss in kind, plying her lips with his as he leaned inward to intensify the feeling. Soon their tongues entangled as he lowered their bodies to the rug of scarlet velvet that fronted the blazing fireplace; and a lusty Catherine purred outright as she entangled her fingers in the silken lengths of his pure golden hair, also inhaling his citrus tinged scent as their kiss deepened and intensified.
Just as their bodies had danced moments earlier at the center of the ballroom, their tongues and hands now entwined in a show of decadent passion; one enhanced by the smack of their lips and the pounding of their hearts.
Raising her hands to clutch his muscled shoulders, a reckless Catherine drew him closer than close as she whispered against his lips, “My darling, I love ye.”
“I love ye,” Gerald returned immediately, adding as he wrapped his muscled arms tight around her back, “So very much, milady. And I cannot wait for the day of our wedding, when we fully and finally can be joined as one.”
Yet with these words he pulled away from her on the rug, making fast distance between them as she groaned in protest.
“And as much as I do indeed wish to be with ye, and in the truest, most passionate sense my love,” he told her, clutching her hands warm and tender between his, “I fear that we must restrain ourselves until the night of our nuptials.” He paused here, adding with an awkward shrug, “Tis the proper thing to do.”
Catherine frowned.
“Well from what I have heard about ye, my love,” she told him, tossing the fiery red ringlets of her flaming hair to proud effect, “It is not generally your way to be prim and proper at court. Indeed, I have heard many tales of your—ahem—adventures with everyone from countesses to chambermaids in the wake of royal feasts—that is, of course, before we were betrothed.”
“And now, my love, I am betrothed,” he reminded her, adding as he bowed his head low in her direction, “More than that, I plan to wed the finest lady in Elizabeth’s court; a lady who, if she was thinking with a clear head, surely would see the wisdom of waiting until the appropriate time for us to be joined.”
Bolting upright on the surface of the rug, Catherine lifted her chin as she regarded these words with a sharp, prim sniff.
“A clear head?” she barked. “So I take it that a proper lady is not supposed to be a desirous one—is not supposed to have a yen for the pleasures of the flesh?”
Gerald shook his head.
“Of course ye have a yen, my lady, just as I do,” he assured her, adding with an awkward shrug, “Yet I desire our marriage to be a pure and sacred one. And, as such, I fear that we must abstain from any and all sinful behavior.”
With these words he smiled bright, bringing her hand to his lips for a warm, affectionate kiss.
“So tell me, my love,” he pressed her, arching his eyebrows to curious effect, “We have only a few more hours together this night, before our servant knights return with us to the place of our manor homes. Now pray tell me, what would ye like to do with that time? We could have another dance, play our favorite game of chess and listen to the songs of the wandering minstrel….”
His grin dissolved as his intended jerked away from him, rising to her full, imposing height as she shook her head from side to side.
“As absolutely thrilling as those prospects do indeed sound, my love,” she spat out these last words while turning away, “I do believe I feel a headache coming on—and with that in mind—my very clear and lucid mind—I believe that I shall retire to my chambers. Post. Haste.”
Retiring ‘post haste’ to a deluxe guest chamber that adjoined the feasting hall, Lady Catherine took no time to admire the gold brocade walls, the plush floral print furniture, and the sheer lace curtains that distinguished this beautiful haven, which came complete with a ceiling mural that depicted cherubs in flight across the expanse of a jewel blue sky.
Instead she just collapsed in the satiny depths of a plush lavender bed; one overseen by a brilliant canopy that shone in its exquisite gold and bronzed accents.
Her fully made form descending in the depths of a soft, luxurious comforter that lined this dream of a bed, Catherine reclined her head on its lace trimmed floral print throw pillows and tried to relax; fighting the wave of anger and ire that seized her body and soul.
Before she came to know the man she’d been betrothed to for the past six months, she’d heard frequent tales of his roguish ways; and even had giggled with cronies and ladies in waiting about the gentleman’s exquisite talents.
These tales had remained long in her mind as her longtime friend had commenced their courtship, escorting her to balls, tournaments and other festivities as their once innocent affection for one another grew and blossomed. She basked in his kisses and his tender embraces, longing for the day that he would seduce her; finally fulfilling the dreams and fantasies that had plagued her mind for so long. To make little mention of the intense desires that ruled her body day and night.
“This eve, I planned, was to be the night,” she mused, adding with a hefty sigh, “The night that I would experience the divine emotions that I’ve read about in the pages of novels and whispered about with other gels who’ve already had the experience. Instead this eve, I sleep alone.”
Her troubled meditation was disrupted by the sound of a loud, sharp knock on her door; one that brought her to her feet as she folded her arms before her.
“Go away, Gerald,” she snapped as she tapped her slippered foot on the surface of her plush carpeted floor. “If ye will not love me in the way that I deserve, with your full and true body, then I have no wish to see ye at all. No wish at all, milord.”
A long silence met her words; followed by the sound of a shy, halting voice that did not mirror the tones of her beloved.
“Um, milady?” The voice resounded again, only serving to deepen the embarrassed flush that stained her fair cheeks. “Tis Gaston, your loyal knight servant. I came only to ask after your welfare. You departed the hall in a fit of pique, and I wish only to ensure your wellness.”
Catherine sighed.
“Well I was passing fine, Gaston,” she murmured, adding as she opened her door to her longtime friend, “That is until I revealed some rather intimate secrets to a member of my royal guard.”
Catherine’s eyes flew wide as her loyal knight servant—a tall muscled man adorned in an ivory hued tunic emblazoned with the image of a ruby hued swan, her family crest, as well as a tight, form fitting chain mail hauberk that showcased his bronzed muscled form—greeted her, not with his customary nod and bow, but with a warm, tight embrace that stole her breath.
Resting for just a moment in the sanctity of his strong muscled arms, Catherine rested her head on his hard massive chest as a single tear descended her fair cheek; one he caught immediately with the soft press of his full, moist lips against her tear stained skin.
“It pains me to see milady weep,” he whispered soft in her ear. “I swear to you, I cannot bear it.”
Drawing away from him with a frustrated groan, Catherine stared into the wide ebony eyes she knew oh so well; opal gems framed in a face of chiseled splendor, also boasting carved cheekbones, a carved chin and full, moist lips.
For just a moment she graced her friend with a soft, gentle smile; raising her hands to stroke the velvety tendrils of her curly, shoulder length ebony hair.
“Thank ye for your concern, dear friend,” she whispered, adding as she lifted her chin and squared her substantial shoulders, “As it stands, however, I am just fine. Tis just that—well, things did not go quite as planned at the feast of this eve.”
Gaston nodded.
“I gathered as much,” he told her, adding as he planted gentle hands on her arms and lead her forward into the chamber. “As your knight protector, my lady, I see it as my honor bound duty to ensure that you are calm and joyful at all times.” He paused here, staring into her eyes as he added in a lower tone, “And as your doting friend, I shall not see you unhappy. Whatever can I do, milady, to relieve your mind and lift your spirits?”
Catherine shook her head, closing the door behind them as she said over her shoulder, “Just listen to me, Gaston. Tis truly all I need.”
Moments later the two sat sprawled in the luxurious depths of her whisper soft sleeping space; sipping fresh made cinnamon tea freshly poured in floral print china cups.
“Ah, my crony,” Catherine sighed, running two soothing hands across the silken folds of her shiny, billowing gossamer skirts, “I well forgot that ye could prepare a most fetching drink of tea.”
“Tis just one of your knight’s many hidden talents,” Gaston declared, pinning her with a devilish, white toothed smile that made her heart beat just a little bit faster. “Do ye recall when you were a lass, Miss, and ye would play in the garden of your parents’ castle with your porcelain dolls and china tea pots. I as a spry, sturdy boy refused to sit with ye and your dollies at the table—but I did agree to prepare your tea and crumpets, and to stand guard over your tea party with my mighty paper sword.”
Catherine guffawed outright.
“Indeed I do remember,” she affirmed with a nod, adding as she graced him with a gentle nudge, “Aye, my good man, those were jolly times.” She paused here, adding as her dark eyed gaze collided with the bed beneath them, “”At times, in fact, I do wish that we could magically transport ourselves back to that very time and place, where and when we knew nothing but happiness.”
She took in her breath as an attentive Gaston took her full chin in some firm but gentle fingers and lifted her head until their gazes met and locked.
“Tell me what so troubles ye, milady,” he urged her on a whisper. “And more important, just what your devoted knight can do to make ye feel better.”
Catherine shrugged.
“Indeed, I am not sure that much can be done for a lady in my situation,” she revealed. “A duchess is born to be proper and good, to live in eternal service of her queen, her parents and her people. Ah, but she never must act in the service of her own heart—or, for that matter, of her own desires. To put it simply, Gaston, when may I have my fun? My sin? My outright ribaldry?”
She started as she saw the wide-eyed expression that met and greeted these words; one that conveyed, not empathy or shock, but blatant and very heated desire. She’d never seen Gaston’s jet black eyes come alight with such bare emotion, their ebony hue coming alive with flecks of greater gold.
“If I was your man, milady,” he told her, voice low and rough, “Ye never would want for my affections. They would be yours—along, I must add, with all of the fun, sin and outright ribaldry ye so desired. Any time, day or night.”
For a long moment the couple stared at one another, their breath suspended as their gazes locked and their lips loomed dangerously close...yet so far away. As much as she longed to sweep this gorgeous, abiding man up in her arms and devour him, finally satisfying the raw lust that held her being captive, she knew that her station and duties forbade her from doing so.
And, apparently (she couldn’t help but note with a pout), so did her knight servant.
“Ye must remember, milady that the good Lord Gerald only has your best interest at heart,” he reminded her, taking a deep breath in what seemed a blatant attempt to control his own raging yearnings, “He wishes only to show ye greatest respect, and to preserve your maidenhead.”
Catherine nodded.
“I well know this, Gaston, and I love my intended more than I can say,” she told him, adding as she spread her arms between them, “I only wonder, though, if he truly respects his previous lovers—the countesses, the duchesses, the common women and chambermaids who have filled his busy bed. I only hope that he acted a gentleman with them, as well, as opposed to using and discarding them with little thought to their feelings.”
Gaston thought a moment and then shook his head.
“I tell you true, milady,” Gaston declared, covering his knight’s heart for emphasis, “In all my days at court, I never hath seen or heard of Lord Gerald being anything less than a gentleman, and a right honorable lord. And when it comes to ladies, of all ages and stations, he is nothing less than chivalrous.”
Catherine smiled, but only briefly.
“Aye, I am most relieved to hear this,” she admitted, “This revelation, however, does beg the question: If Gerald does indeed respect and revere his lovers, then why cannot he not be with a woman he loves and respects already? Why did he reject me this eve, Gaston?”
Sensing her distress, the knight wrapped some tender arms around his lady’s sturdy back.
“Regardless of how much a gentleman respects a lover,” he reminded her, tone soft and comforting, “A lover still differs from an intended wife.”
Catherine let loose with a low, bitter laugh that brought a pronounced frown to the visage of her knight.
‘Ah, I well see,” she sniffed, setting aside her teacup and rolling over onto her back; her gaze now focused on the fine bronzed tapestry that oversaw their conversation. “And in what other ways, I wonder, do I happen to differ from Gerald’s previous lovers? The ones to whom he actually gave his body and affections? Was it just my title that divided me from the lovers he took? My status as his future wife? Or is it also my plump form? Perhaps my less than beautiful face? Could it be, I wonder, that Gerald plans to keep his pretty little maids after our vows have been said? Well I shall not stand for it, one moment, I tell you….”
She fell silent seconds later as her vision was filled with the sight of her intense, concerned friend, his face glowing beautiful against a bronze backdrop as he seared her with emotional eyes.
“Ye, milady, have a beauty that far surpasses that of any lady at court,” he assured, cupping her face in two tender hands as he added, “Ye have a radiance that glows from within you—a beauty that I adore. And that I now wish to taste.”
With these words Gaston claimed her lips in a hot, passionate kiss; his full, moist mouth devouring hers as his breath came hot and hard.
Surrendering immediately to his advance, a rapt Catherine met his advance with a bare, raw hunger expressed in her kiss. Plying his delicious mouth with hers, she thrust her tongue into his mouth to entangle and dance with his; also entwining her fingers in his silky black hair as his tender fingers caressed her cheeks.
Finally Gaston broke their kiss, engulfing her in a heated gaze of narrow eyed seduction as he released on a whisper, “”Milady, do forgive my boldness. Yet I must confess that, well beyond the incredible care and respect that I always have borne for you, I also harbor a secret desire for my adored, worshipped lady. I want ye, Lady Catherine—I always have, and so badly.”
Catherine’s eyes flew wide as her impassioned knight fell to his knees before her; staring up at her with an intense gaze as he whispered, “It is my duty as your knight servant to fulfill your every need and desire and ensure your happiness at all costs. So with this in mind, milady, I hereby offer you my body this eve. I swear to bring your fantasies to life, to meet every demand of your beautiful, lustful being,” he paused here, adding in an intimate tone as he took her hands in his and brought her upward on the bed, “I swear, furthermore, to love you like you’ve never been loved before.”
She stared at him for a long moment, and then graced his words with a nod of assent that came accompanied by a wide and most devilish smile.
“Ye may,” she said simply.
Letting loose with a joyful whoop that seemed delightfully improper, a beaming Gaston fell at her feet, freeing them from her slippers as he licked and suckled her toes.
A happy Catherine sighed with delight as his knight massaged the pads of her feet; reaching upward to strip off her hose and underthings and drag them down the length of her legs. This delight intensified as he kissed and licked his way up her legs and thighs, finally bowing his head between her parted, fleshy thighs to blow a soft kiss across her tender feminine folds.
Opening herself to him with a gasp of excitement, his lady threw her head back as he wrapped his full, moist lips around the surface of her throbbing nub; kissing and suckling as shards of ecstasy soared upward through every fiber of her being, causing her heart to pound as he leaned his head inward to intensify his kiss.
Moving his head from side to side to intensify the feeling, Gaston growled low in his throat as the soft tendrils of his ebony hair teased the skin of her thighs. He licked, nipped and laved her heaving nub until sensation overcame her; also reaching upward to caress her breasts as his nipples hardened beneath his touch.
Finally and with a last resounding lick, her loyal knight sent her hurtling across the bounds of an incredible climax—the first she’d ever experienced. Catherine shuddered outright as reams of succulent pleasure consumed her from head to toe; in a fit of passion her body descended outright into the luxury of lavender softness.