“Life is uncertain,” he persisted, “and should fate deal me a cruel hand, I implore you to extend your protection to Xenia. To treat her with the kindness and respect she deserves, especially if she is left a widow with children to care for. Your great-grandchildren.”
“Should such a tragedy befall you, rest assured, I would not abandon your widow or your offspring.” There was a grudging respect in his tone, a tacit acknowledgment of the gravity of Simon’s request.
A profound relief washed over Simon, though it did little to ease the tension that still thrummed in his veins. He nodded respectfully, acknowledging the gravity of the conversation and the concessions made. “Thank you, Grandfather. Your support means more than you might imagine.”
With those final words, he turned and made his way to the door, each step measured and deliberate.
As eager as he was to leave this house, he needed to consider Xenia’s well-being.
He could maintain a pleasant facade for a few hours longer and allow her to rest, but then they must renew their journey.
* * *
The carriage swayed gently and Xenia wondered if they’d ever be home. This was her first journey from the village and, aside from the joy it brought of her now being married to the men she’d loved always, she hoped she’d never have to travel again.
She sat alone, facing her two men, each staring out a window.
Simon exuded an air of quiet intensity. She wondered how his private audience with his grandfather had gone.
The earl had been polite enough in the short time she spent with the three men after her brief nap.
He was a very austere sort, she’d decided, very noble.
What had he been like before assuming the earldom?
Would Simon change much when his time came?
Owen looked restless, shifting his position often.
Likely he didn’t spend entire days doing nothing like this.
As she studied him, he turned his head and caught her gaze.
As the carriage took a curve in the road, he rose from his seat and moved to sit beside her, his proximity sending a thrill through her body.
“Husband,” she said softly, her insides smiling as much as her lips did.
“My Zee,” he whispered back, his tone low and husky. His hand moved to her lap, where he began gathering her gown.
She felt the cool air kiss her legs as they were bared to the hungry gaze of the two men she had loved in silence for so long.
She watched Simon lean forward opposite her, his attention riveted on her most intimate parts, now visible by Owen’s boldness.
There was something almost reverential in the way Simon looked at her, as if he were beholding something precious and forbidden.
She spread her legs to be certain he had his fill of the sight.
“Look how eager you are for us,” Owen commented, his finger sliding up and down her slick folds, parting her with a gentle but insistent touch. His words were not just an observation—they were an invocation, calling forth the heat that pooled between her thighs.
Xenia could feel a blush rising to her cheeks, the heat of it nearly as intense as the heat building within her. “I can’t help it. Not with such handsome men beside me, looking at me.”
“She blames us. Typical.” Simon’s formal tone held a hint of amusement and an undercurrent of arousal that was impossible to miss. It was a sound that stirred something deep within Xenia, emboldening her.
Owen’s hand between her thighs continued to toy with her idly. Rather than an insistent stroke aimed at building arousal, his fingers seemed content to simply explore. Yet her arousal grew.
Simon’s gaze bore into her, a glint of mischief mingled with desire in his eyes. “Xenia, you are the embodiment of wicked temptation.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine, stoking the flame within her.
Her hips flexed, wanting something inside her—a finger, a tongue, a cock.
She didn’t care. She felt scandalous under their dual attentions, yet she couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through her veins.
Owen’s fingers sought her warmth with a practiced ease, pressing into her as the carriage jostled them gently.
Each bump in the road had her hips unwittingly grinding against his hand, the sound of her arousal embarrassingly audible in the confined space.
“Ah, Owen...” She could barely form words, her mind clouded with a haze of pleasure brought on by his fingers.
The sensation of being displayed, coupled with Simon’s intense stare, was overwhelming.
She surrendered to the rhythm set by the movement of the carriage, each roll accentuating the strokes of Owen’s fingers inside her.
As he continued his tender assault, her fingers clutched at Owen’s wrist, urging him on. Her body craved more.
“Good heavens, Zee,” Owen said, his own excitement palpable in the tremble of his voice. “You move with the carriage as if it were your lover.”
Simon’s voice, low and thick with desire, punctured the haze of Xenia’s pleasure. “Imagine, my dear, when we reach our home. Upstairs, in my bedchamber. No need to send away the servants anymore, as we’re married now.”
Owen’s fingers stilled momentarily inside her, and he leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. “Picture it, Zee. We’ll have you naked on that soft bed all night. No need to hurry before someone questions where we are.”
Her heart raced at the idea of bedding them every night. Her pulse pounded, throbbing in her clitoris. Eventually she would grow tender, she imagined, and might beg for a night with just cuddling, but even that.... oh, her life was so delicious.
Owen resumed his movements, fingertips drawing circles around her now slick and sensitive flesh, while his other hand filled her. She arched toward him, inviting more of his touch, craving the fulfillment only they could provide.
The carriage hit a bump, and the sudden jolt sent a shockwave of pleasure through her. A gasp escaped her lips, louder than intended, and her cheeks flamed knowing that beyond the thin walls of their private world, the coachmen might hear. But it was too late for modesty.
“Almost there, love,” Owen said, and she knew he wasn’t just referring to their destination.
As if on cue, the carriage wheels slowed, the rhythmic rolling that had been their accomplice in sin now ending.
With one last flick and press of Owen’s fingers, Xenia tumbled over the edge.
Her climax washed over her in an overwhelming wave, just as the carriage came to a complete stop outside the looming silhouette of the manor house.
Unable to contain herself, she cried out in the sudden stillness.
Heat warmed her face, and she ducked her head, pushing Owen’s hands away as she straightened the skirt of her gown.
“Xenia,” Simon said gently as he prepared to exit the carriage. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”
She couldn’t reply, her breath coming in short pants, her body still shimmering with the aftershocks of her release. The sound of the manor door opening brought her back to reality, reminding her that the journey—this part of it, at least—had ended. But another was about to begin.
Owen chuckled beside her, deep and unabashed, as if the world outside their intimate cocoon mattered little.
“Imagine the tales our coachman could tell,” Simon teased, eyes twinkling with mirth as he glanced upward toward the driver’s seat, invisible beyond the confines of their shelter. “The envy of the town he would be, knowing the treasure we’ve claimed.”
“True,” Owen agreed, the timbre of his voice laced with satisfaction as if he’d orgasmed alongside her. “But what’s ours is ours alone, isn’t it, Zee?”
She nodded, caught between embarrassment and pride. The men’s words were a balm to the heated flush on her cheeks, turning her mortification into a secret thrill. They did not care for propriety, they reveled in their possession, in their shared love for her.
Simon’s hand found the door handle, and he swung it open with a graceful motion, stepping out into the cool night air. He turned back to her, extending an arm like a lifeline. His silhouette framed by the doorway was both a promise and a temptation.
“Come now, my dear,” Simon said. “You wouldn’t want to tarry and miss what awaits you inside.”
Her heart raced at the anticipation of what was to come, a playful smirk dancing on her lips despite the lingering tremors of her recent pleasure.
She placed her delicate hand in Simon’s, allowing him to assist her from the carriage.
As she stepped down, the brush of her skirts against her sensitized skin was a reminder of the imprudent acts they had indulged in, acts she longed to continue within the privacy of the estate’s walls.
“Swiftly, love,” Owen urged from behind her, his hands skimming the small of her back, propelling her gently forward.
And with a last glance at the silent coachmen working to unload their bags, whose ears had borne witness to her ecstasy, Xenia allowed herself to be led away by the two men who had claimed her body and soul.