As they approached the manor house, Simon emerged from the front door, his attire also capturing Xenia’s attention.
He wore a finely cut waistcoat under a coat that hugged his broad shoulders and tailored breeches that accentuated his long legs—again, not fishing attire.
But he had no one to fool about his plans, so she let it pass.
“Good day, Xenia, Owen,” Simon greeted. He led them into the drawing room. Xenia took her usual seat on a small chair opposite the sofa. The moment she settled in, a memory unfurled in her mind of when she sat on that sofa with the two men opposite her.
Her arousal flared at the recollection of being told to undress before them, a blush warming her cheeks as if the ghost of their touch lingered still.
She’d touched herself most intimately while Simon and Owen had watched, fully clothed.
She grew damp as she thought about it. Would they have her do that again?
Owen seemed fidgety, approaching her, then turning away, standing behind her, then coming back to stand near Simon.
Simon stepped forward, and in one fluid motion, dropped to one knee before Xenia. Her heart stuttered, eyes wide as saucers, breath hitching in her throat. She glanced toward Owen. Should Simon be doing this in front of their friend?
Taking her hand, Simon said, “Beautiful Xenia, I can’t think of a time when you weren’t in my life. All the happy memories of my childhood include you. And lately...” His pupils flared, and she wondered which particular memory struck him that way.
“Lately I find it hard to concentrate on anything. I want to know how your day is going, what you’re thinking.
In truth, I find myself unable to envisage a future without you by my side.
” The words spilled from him with a vulnerability she had never witnessed in Simon.
His hand trembled ever so slightly as he held hers.
In the silence of Simon’s pause, Owen stepped forward. His declaration came as a surge, impassioned and raw. “Zee, there’s no life for me where you aren’t present. I love you, with all I am, and all I’ll ever be.”
Her pulse raced, and confusion wrinkled her brow. What were they doing, both proposing at once? Was she expected to choose one now and send the other on his way with his heart trampled? How could they do this to her?
As Simon’s formal proposal echoed in her ears, Owen’s fervent confession wrapped around her, tugging at the strings of her heart. Her trembling fingers brushed against Owen’s calloused ones, seeking solace in their familiarity, even as Simon held tight to her other hand.
The pressure bore down on her, a decision between the two men who had been the twin anchors of her very soul. Confusion clouded her mind, her body tense with the weight of their combined pleas. It was a choice she had hoped she wouldn’t have to make.
When she looked back at Simon, he continued. “I have given this much thought, and I ask not only for your hand but for your heart in a union most unique.” He paused, searching her face for any sign of understanding. “I propose you marry us both—me and Owen.”
The silence that followed was thick, almost tangible.
Xenia could not draw in a breath. She felt as if the ground beneath her had shifted, the ground tilting beneath her feet.
Had she heard him right? Marry both men?
Her mind raced through the implications, the scandal it would cause, the sheer impossibility.
Yet, as she watched Simon’s hopeful gaze and then turned to see the vulnerable expectancy etched into Owen’s rugged features, something inside her softened.
“Both of you?” Her voice trembled, mirroring the quake of emotions within her. It wasn’t a question of desire; the very thought sent a thrill through her veins. It was the audacity of it all, the leap into the unknown.
“Both of us, Zee,” Owen affirmed, stepping closer still. His eyes shone with sincerity.
Her heart swelled, filled with an overwhelming sense of completion. The fear ebbed away, replaced by a burgeoning certainty that this—this was the path meant for her. She looked from Owen to Simon, seeing the open vulnerability in their eyes, the silent plea for her to accept what they offered.
“Yes. Yes, I will marry you both.” The words came out in a burst of relieved laughter.
The breath that Simon and Owen had each been holding released in tandem, both men sagging in relief.
They moved closer, encasing her in the warmth of their presence.
Simon’s tall frame leaned down as he wrapped his arm around her, while Owen’s muscular body pressed against her side, enveloping her in a cocoon of affection.
Simon traced the curve of her waist before slipping behind her, reaching for the hem of her gown. She felt the warmth of his breath against the nape of her neck, igniting a shiver that cascaded down her spine.
Reaching for her sleeves, Owen tugged at them, moving her neckline off her shoulders, baring her breasts. He cupped one, and the other, then pressed both together.
A firm pressure on her back bent her gently over the chair, her skirts being coaxed upwards with a deliberate slowness. Simon pressed against her inner thighs, urging her to spread her legs. As she did, his tongue began doing indescribably delightful things to her cunny. Her wetness increased.
Owen moved around the chair near her head, sliding his fist up and down on his thick erection. She saw a drop on the tip and licked it up, grinning up at him, before drawing him into her mouth.
“Let me show you how much I cherish you,” Simon murmured into the skin just above her stocking, placing a kiss there. He was kneeling behind her, nipping her thighs, spreading her open.
His tongue found the sensitive bud and Xenia moaned around Owen’s cock, a bolt of pleasure shooting through her core. Simon lavished attention upon her, his tongue swirling, teasing, urging her toward a precipice she was all too eager to tumble over.
The world narrowed to the feel of Simon’s mouth on her, the taste of Owen, the scent of arousal thick in the air.
She moved with them, a symphony of sighs and moans and the slapping of wet skin.
As Simon’s tongue circled her clitoris with a fervor that matched the pounding of her heart, she felt the coil within her tighten.
The crescendo built swiftly, and when it broke, she cried out, her body quivering with the intensity of her climax. Simon held her through it, his mouth never ceasing, drawing every last shudder from her until she lay spent and panting.
It was then, in the aftermath of her release, that Owen found his own. His hips jerked once, twice, and with a strangled sound that was half growl, half plea, he spilled himself into her mouth. She savored him, continuing her glide up and down his length until he was done.
As she felt Simon aligned himself with her, Xenia peered back at him beneath lids heavy with lust, her breaths coming in quick gasps, inviting him to fuck her.
He entered her in one smooth, determined thrust. The air left her lungs in a soft, keening sigh as she felt him fill her completely, the sensation of him inside her reigniting the fire that had scarcely dimmed.
Owen watched while running his fingers through her hair. His hand found its way to her breasts that hung and bounced in time to Simon’s thrusts, teasing a pert nipple that strained for his touch.
The room reverberated with the sounds of their union, the rhythmic cadence of flesh meeting flesh, the whispered encouragements from Owen’s lips spurring them on. Simon’s movements grew more fervent.
And then, with a groan, Simon poured himself into Xenia, gripping her hips and bending over her back.
Carefully, they began the quiet task of redressing, their movements unhurried, Owen handing Simon a handkerchief to clean his seed from Xenia.
Her cheeks were still warm with the flush of arousal as she smoothed down her skirts.
She kept looking from one man to the other, unable to get her fill of the sight of them, clothed, naked, or anywhere in between.
She had questions—oh, so many questions—but there was time enough to learn how they pictured their marriage working.
Simon, having reclaimed his composure along with his attire, turned to them with a smile that was both satisfied and affectionate. “I believe some refreshments are in order.”
“Lovely,” Xenia said. “A little sustenance sounds delightful after such... vigorous activities.”
With a graceful motion, Simon adjusted his cravat, his eyes never leaving Xenia’s gaze. “Quite true. The afternoon awaits us, and with it, I dare say we will need our strength.”
His words hung in the air, a tantalizing hint at continued desires and the union that had bound them together in passion and affection. Xenia’s heart fluttered at the notion, excitement tingling through her veins like the finest champagne.
Simon offered his arm, which she took with grace, and led them toward the dining room where a light repast surely awaited, since the servants were not at home. Owen followed, his presence a comforting constant at her side.