Page 52 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
“We’ll hire servants and have it livable in no time.” Simon’s voice echoed softly in the high-ceilinged space.
Xenia wandered through the rooms, her fingertips grazing the dust covers. “It’s quite large. Owen should be very comfortable here.” She offered Owen a teasing grin, knowing he had no intention of sleeping anywhere other than the manor house now, except to give Simon and Xenia some time alone.
Owen nodded thoughtfully, his hair catching the light as he tilted his head. “A sound strategy, Simon, to say I’m living here. With no houses between this and the manor house, there’s no one to see me leave for work in the morning.”
“Exactly,” Simon affirmed. “It’s about being prudent. We must think ahead, plan for every possible outcome.”
As she looked about, Xenia realized that one day she and Owen might share the house. If Owen outlived Simon, he and she could marry. She shook off the thought. She hoped to be old and grey and a great-grandmother before either man died.
Simon had a smile that reached his eyes, a sight more and more common now. He drew Xenia closer, his hand finding hers and squeezing gently. “Do you like your house, Xenia?”
“Immensely. You think of everything. I’m grateful to you, and so happy to have married you.” She hesitated for a moment before catching Owen’s eye, not wanting to take anything away from Simon’s generosity. “I’m grateful to you, as well. You’ve given up much to satisfy my selfish needs. Not materially, but in the enormous concessions you’ve made. Thank you to you both.”
Rather than becoming petty, Simon said, “We’re the lucky ones, Xenia. We have your love.”
That night, Xenia watched as the two men, her dearest companions since childhood, stood at opposing ends of the bedchamber while she sat between them on the edge of their bed. The air was thick with an unspoken tension that she found erotic. She didn’t think they were undressing for her entertainment, but entertained she was.
She hadn’t decided if she would remove her own clothing or let them do it for her. The fact that she wasn’t tearing at either her clothes or theirs showed tonight wasn’t going to be a wild ravishment of each other, but a slow celebration of the joy they could bring to each other through touch.
“Wife, do you not plan to join us in bed?” Simon asked as he hung his coat on a hook.
“Yes, wife,” Owen echoed. “Why are you still dressed?”
She sighed, trying to hide her smile and failing miserably. “I fear I might miss the entertainment you two are providing.”
“She is entertained,” Owen said, meeting Simon’s gaze.
“We could entertain her further...”
As if they read each other’s minds, the two men rushed to her and took off her garments in a mad dash. She laughed as if she was being tickled, as they tumbled her about in their haste to have her nude.
“What is this? Have we found a naked sylph?” Owen asked, lifting her into his arms and holding her out to Simon like a rag doll.
“Let me see...” Simon suckled her breast while running a hand up her inner thigh, where he discovered how aroused she was. He licked his fingers, smacking his lips. “Yes, she definitely tastes like a sylph. What shall we do with her?”
Owen tossed her onto the mattress. “I’m uncertain taste alone can tell us if she’s sylph, rather than fae, or sidhe. We should examine her further.”
They turned to look at her. Abandoning their disrobing, they crawled up the mattress like predatory animals.
She giggled and scooted back. “What do you mean, examine?”
Simon grabbed her foot and studied it closely, then sucked her big toe. “We must scour every inch of you, of course.”
Owen picked up Simon’s discarded neckcloth, wrapping it around his hands. “But first we must make certain she cannot escape.” He clasped her other foot in one hand and wrapped the cloth around her ankle, tying the ends to a bedpost.
“Oh, good idea.” Simon’s laughter was wicked. He picked up her stockings and tossed one to Owen, using the other to tie her free leg to the bed.
As Owen took care of one arm, he asked, “What else can we use? I don’t wear a neckcloth.”
Meeting Xenia’s gaze, Simon was thoughtful for a moment, then reached for the buttons on his fall. “I believe we can distract her from wanting to escape.” Freeing his cock, he scooted closer to her and placed her hand on his erection.
She didn’t wait for orders. She circled his width and stroked slowly.
“That’s a good little sylph,” Simon said softly.
When he spoke that way, her body always grew warm, and tonight was no exception. Her clitoris wanted attention. She was too curious about their game to ask, though, and was content to see how they planned to “examine” her.
Owen leaned down to kiss her, his lips crashing against hers with an intensity that stole her breath away. The playful banter stopped, replaced by a fervor that spoke volumes of his arousal. His hands cradled her face tenderly as he wove his fingers through the tresses of her hair.