Page 9 of How to Lose a Dowry in Three Bucks (A Few Good Bucks #3)
Matthew Bohun, Earl of Peverel, was in a special circle of Hell reserved for libertines.
He’d been trying to do the right thing: fulfil his promise to his university tutor and get Miss Sophia Stafford her London Season.
What he hadn’t expected was that she’d be the most perfect little minx. A curious virgin and budding exhibitionist-voyeur with a cunny tailored for his oversized cock.
Well, she was no longer a virgin — he’d divested her of that title, and if she wasn’t careful, he’d give her a different one.
Ever since their disastrous training session that escalated into the most unexpected smothering of his cock in Miss Stafford’s receptive cunt, Matt had been like a man hunted. In fact, he was hunted.
Yes, she had shown her cunt to be ready for the Grand Bucks, but shouldn’t they be training her arse and mouth? she’d asked. She’d asked while dropping to the floor and placing her hands at the fly of his trousers, waiting for permission to take out his perilously swelling cock.
And, of course, he’d let her suck and lick it. He was only human, after all. But when he realized she was alarmingly proficient at oral pleasures, too, he’d promptly spent most dramatically and then had to flee from all mentions of continuing her arse training.
If she proved to be proficient there, he’d be the one on his knees, begging her to set aside this ruination project in favor of fucking and filling all day and night.
It was too bad that she couldn’t live in his house and keep having Seasons in perpetuity without drawing the attention of the more judgmental members of society.
But then, if her project went according to plan, she’d be threatening her solicitor with photographs that could provide for her utter ruination.
Freed of her reputation, perhaps she would consent to stay with Matt?
He had never had a long-term mistress before, given that most women felt the full extent of his cock and then begged not to see him again.
But Sophia? She was different. So very different, Matt thought, gazing across the carriage at her.
And not just in terms of her body’s remarkable abilities.
Her grace and grit, mixed with creativity, were going to set her free.
She orchestrated her own liberation. What could he possibly offer her that wouldn’t amount to an alternate sort of cage?
She was back in her high-necked dresses and lace, covering her luscious body. And that cunt…he was contemplating making his way to his knees to feast on her when the carriage slowed outside the Forest, the headquarters of the Grand Bucks.
“Are you prepared for utter ruin, my dear?” he asked her, holding out a hand to help her down.
***
Within the townhouse, Sophia’s eyes darted around, taking in the plush green fabric floor, the spindly trees, and the sound of a spectral orchestra coming from behind a curiously mended tapestry.
“This way,” said Matt, placing her hand in his. Looking down at her elegant fingers in his hand, he felt a sense of impending loss.
Was this feeling because of the knowledge that the brother Bucks would use his Sophia? And be photographed with her? In truth, both excited him greatly. He didn’t feel possessive of her beautiful body, but of her soul. What a novel problem to encounter at this stage of his life!
Their shoes clicked over the floor until Matthew brought Sophia to a seat before the reflecting pool.
“Wait here, my darling,” he said, dropping a kiss on the lace at her neck as he removed her cloak. “I want to undress you in front of the Bucks.”
She nodded yes, clearly lost in thought, and sank into the seat.
***
Matt was stripping off his clothing when the other Bucks arrived in their lounge.
“Why so grim, Thorncock?” asked Stagshade, the joker of the group, clapping him on the shoulders.
“She’s perfect,” Matt said, slapping his waistcoat onto a high-backed chair.
Matthew could see Stagshade and the High Buckthorn exchange glances, but he couldn’t find the energy to question his friends.
“I’m guessing we’re talking about the young woman currently staring into our reflecting pool while wearing an alarming amount of clothing?” asked the Buckthorn.
Matt grunted, clearly unwilling to discuss her further.
“Well!” said Stagshade brightly. “I’ve recruited a man who will photograph her naked and in the act, then make the prints. Mind you, such images are highly illegal, so I offered him a deal.”
“What deal is that?” asked the High Buckthorn, pulling on his mask.
“Promised that he could take part in a future bucking,” said Stagshade.
The other two turned to look at their friend in disbelief.
“Our numbers are dwindling, and societies like ours haven’t been truly fashionable in some time.”
“We have a whole Bucking Constitution,” said the High Buckthorn, aghast that his society brother had circumvented the bylaws established by the founders in the last century.
“So this man with a camera proposes to copulate with one of our guests?” asked Matt, still struggling to understand how Stagshade thought this demand was reasonable. “Some lord is going to give his wife to the Bucks…and allow a guest fawn inside of her?”
The High Buckthorn shuffled through some papers.
“My correspondence indicates that our next guest will be a courtesan, a bit past her prime, who longs for hard use. So says her protector?. It doesn’t sound like he’d raise objections to the composition of the herd, especially since we’re masked and not exposed as members. ”
“You’ll need to make sure the gent with the camera knows how to fuck,” said Matt, applying oil to his shaft. “What’s his name??”
Stagshade snapped to attention when the High Buckthorn gave him a shake. “Man with the camera? Clarence. Clarence Brocklehurst. Not a bad sort. Met him at the club. New to Town.”
The Bucks moved to join Sophia in the main room of the Forest when Stagshade spoke again. “Say, you wouldn’t know the name of the lady? The one visiting us next gathering?”
“The courtesan?” asked the High Buckthorn. “Don’t know that her protector mentioned one.”
Stagshade lowered his mask and hummed his understanding.
“Won’t matter anyway, will it? Since she’ll be masked and unknown once she’s in the Forest,” said the Buckthorn.
Stagshade gave no answer, and Matt remained unconvinced that the silence indicated agreement.
***
As the three remaining Bucks advanced on Miss Stafford, she resolutely stared at the reflecting pool.
“You give yourself to the Bucks, to be used as we wish?” called out the Buckthorn in a ringing voice.
Matt moved to her side and took one hand in his to help her rise despite what were clearly wobbling knees.
“You’ve trained well,” he said in a whisper behind the papier-maché mask. “You’re ready.”
“No clothing in the Forest,” grunted Stagshade, regarding Sophia.
“Yes, I thought to divest her of them before your eyes. So you might feast upon her unwrapped skin,” said Matt, eyeing the hideous dress.
The Buckthorn moved to carry on, and Matt took Sophia’s high lace collar in his hands.
“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do,” he said, ripping it in half and pulling the parts from her neck.
He moved on to the dress itself, and tore into that hideous, thick fabric with relish, causing her to cry out.
“Are you well?” he asked, holding her for a moment when Stagshade dropped to the floor so he could dip the snout of his mask under Sophia’s chemise as if he were truly an animal in rut.
The Buckthorn advanced on Sophia, his hands moving to her exposed bosom rising and falling above her corset, which Matt was working to remove. Soon, he’d freed her of that too and could rip the chemise from her body, leaving her nude.
“I selected those garments carefully,” she hissed at Matt.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” he intoned back. “You won’t need that armor anymore, not now.”
“And why is that?” she asked, her voice going higher when the Buckthorn pinched a nipple just as Stagshade’s snout hit some sensitive part of her cleft.
“Yes, that’s an excellent shot,” said someone from nearby. “If everyone could hold for just a moment while I capture the lady’s ruination, that would be perfect.”
Matt felt Sophia flinch. She’d clearly forgotten that her ravishment was to be recorded for posterity and legal expediency.
“Do you wish to continue?” he asked softly.
She was the rare woman who didn’t wear a half-mask in the Forest — on account of her plan to annihilate her reputation — so Matt could see every small change of her expression as the Buckthorn grew increasingly insistent with his pinches to her nipples and Stagshade set one of her thighs on his shoulder to open her cunny to his questing snout.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh yes.”
Matthew moved behind her and placed one hand to support her lifted leg and another about her waist. His cock swelled as it came in contact with Sophia’s soft skin. He wished to be free of that blasted mask so he might lick and kiss her neck. It was so close, so tempting—
“Yes, wonderful, if everyone could hold that position!” shouted the photographer.
From a distance of ten feet, there was a flash of burning magnesium ribbon, and Sophia jolted in his arms.
“You’ll need to remain still for the photographs,” the man with the camera reminded them.
“But I’m so close to paroxysm,” she whined back at Matt as he brought a hand to her straining nub.
“I won’t let you go without,” he said, pleased at her neediness, and wishing the camera wasn’t necessary — despite growing ever harder at the thought of somehow getting images of this encounter that might live in his metal box until he required inspiration.
“Oh, there!” cried Sophia as Stagshade played with the ring of her arse.
“You like to be eaten there?” asked Matthew, lightly slapping at her quim in time with the rocking of her hips. “Would you like me to feast—?”
Her scream was so loud it seemed to make the tops of those dried trees shake, such was the power of her orgasm when Matt plunged three fingers into her waiting hole as his brother Bucks worked her arse and breasts.
He continued filling her without remorse until she groaned and shuddered in his hold, the sounds she was making flooding his balls with seed that he couldn’t wait to leave inside of her.
At her whimpers of “too much,” Matt withdrew his wet hand and let it cradle her lower belly.
He wanted to push himself deep and plant some chain that would connect her to him always.
Yet he’d committed to assisting with her flight to freedom. Damn.
“Yes, that’s very good,” said Clarence the photographer, a flash going off behind him. “Perhaps now you might wish me to capture the penetration of the lady?”