X enia stretched languorously before ascending the staircase, her body aching from the long carriage ride from Staplegrove to Kinnerton.
Somewhere mid-stretch she realized that was likely something she wasn’t supposed to do in front of the servants, but at that moment when she was still flushed from the coachmen hearing her orgasm, she thought stretching was a minor sin.
She laughed under her breath as she turned to Simon.
“I find myself in dire need of a bath after our tedious journey. Is it too late to ask the servants to prepare one?”
He turned back to the butler, who was directing the servants where to put Xenia and Owen’s belongings. “Andrews, please have a bath prepared for Lady Kinnerton immediately,” he instructed.
As an afterthought, he added, “Advise the staff to gather here tomorrow at noon, to meet the new viscountess.” Xenia shivered at the announcement. She was a viscountess now.
“Very good sir,” Andrews said.
When they reached Simon’s bedchamber—now hers, too, she imagined—Owen continued down the hall to the bedroom he would use when he stayed overnight. Or the bedroom where he’d muss the bedclothes, since the whole point of his staying was to be with Xenia.
Once they were alone in the chamber, Simon turned his attentions back to Xenia. He drew close, gliding the flat of his hand down her side in a tender caress that made her want to melt into him.
He suddenly straightened, his arm wrapped about her waist, keeping her tight against his body. “I don’t have a lady’s maid for you. The woman who assisted my mother left to be closer to her family. I’ll have to contact the agency.”
His hand slid upward, covering her breast, and he bent to nuzzle her hair. “In the meantime, I shall take on the role myself, with Owen’s assistance, of course. We’ve gotten quite proficient at removing your clothing.”
Xenia laughed. “I’m to have two handsome, strong lady’s maids. How very fortunate am I.”
Owen, who had been lingering in the shadows of the doorway, grinned. “At your service, m’lady,” he said with a mock bow, his brown eyes alight with camaraderie.
Simon glanced at the door to the dressing room before saying to Owen, “I don’t believe the bath is ready. Come back in half an hour.”
With a gesture of compliance, Owen retreated. His footsteps echoed lightly down the corridor.
Xenia watched him leave, and a heaviness hit her heart.
For all their talk about her being married to both men, in truth, Owen would be hidden in corners, darting into cupboards if they were about to be discovered in flagrante delicto.
She must make an effort whenever he was near to show him how important he was to her.
When Simon opened the door to his dressing room, the warm glow from the newly lit hearth bathed the room in a soft, amber light.
Servants shuffled in and out carrying steaming pails of water which they carefully poured into the large, copper tub that dominated the space.
Seeing the size, Xenia realized two could easily fit in it if it wasn’t overfilled.
“Is there anything else you require, Lord Kinnerton?” one footman asked.
With a subtle shake of his head, he dismissed them. “Thank you, that will be all for now.”
Once the door closed behind the last servant, leaving only the faint echo of their departure, Simon returned to his bedchamber and rapped on the wall it shared with the one where Owen waited.
Owen strode in with the confidence of a man who knew he was more than just a guest, to Xenia’s relief. He appeared to have washed his face, and he’d taken off his coat.
Simon’s fingers deftly worked the laces of Xenia’s bodice, and it dropped to the floor. Owen, standing beside her, lifted her chemise, his fingertips grazing her skin, igniting a trail of warmth that bloomed across Xenia’s flesh.
Her hair came tumbling down as Simon gently removed the pins that held her bun in place. The locks cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face in a dark halo that contrasted starkly with her pale skin.
“Each time I look at you, I’m astonished at your beauty,” Owen murmured. “And that you allow me to love you.”
Xenia sat and removed her shoes and stockings by herself, then took Simon’s hand for balance as she stepped into the tub. The temperature was perfect, hot enough to relax her travel-weary body without being too hot.
Owen picked up a bar of soap and a cloth, lathering them until bubbles formed, white and inviting.
When she settled at one end of the tub, he began to wash her, his motions deliberate and soothing.
The cloth glided over her arms, her chest, dipping lower to worship the curves that made her uniquely feminine—the curves both men adored.
Behind her, Simon dragged a chair closer and sat. His skilled hands spread over her shoulders, kneading and rubbing. Slow, purposeful circles transitioned into gentle strokes that traveled the expanse of her neck and back. His touch was magical.
Xenia lounged amidst the warm embrace of the bathwater, the tender ministrations of Owen and Simon having eased her into a state of languid bliss. Soon enough, she realized they meant the bath to be for her alone.
“Simon, Owen, won’t you join me?”
“You appeared so tired when we arrived. I thought for tonight we’d let you rest,” Simon said.
Owen nodded.
She pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowed as she looked from one hauntingly handsome man to the other.
“Husbands, this is my first night in my new home. I’m a viscountess now, not simply a baker’s daughter.
I intend to celebrate my fortune. Now, undress, both of you, and get in the damned tub! ”
Simon drew back slightly, shock showing in his expression, but then he grinned. He tugged off his waistcoat and pulled his shirt free of his breeches.
Owen’s laughter echoed off the walls, rich and hearty. “How could we ever deny you anything, wife?” He set about undressing.
As Simon stepped into the bath, he said, “We’re entirely at your service, dearest.”
The flickering candlelight cast a golden glow over him, turning the droplets on his flesh into tiny jewels. His gaze fixed upon her, his eyes dark with desire, as he drew closer and extended his hand to trace the line of her collarbone with the tip of his finger.
She breathed his name in a sigh, lifting her hand to meet his, fingers dancing across his chest before venturing lower, seeking, finding. Her touch was bold and unabashed as she found his arousal, his primal grunt sending a surge of heat through her body.
With a gentle tug, he lifted her, turning her and guiding her onto his lap, where their bodies aligned in heated anticipation. A shared sigh escaped them as he entered her, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. She arched her back against him, cupping her breasts above the water.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Owen watching, his hand around his cock. There wasn’t room for him in the tub, but she wanted him taking part. She called to him.
He stepped forward, and as he neared the edge of the tub, Xenia stretched her arm out to him.
Her hand encircled him, her movements sure and eager as she drew him into the intimacy they all shared.
The sound of water splashing gently against the sides of the tub provided a rhythmic backdrop to their synchronized breathing.
Simon’s grasp on her hips tightened, and he slowly lifted her up the length of his cock, moaning.
The slow stroke was heavenly, and as he entered her again, his erection rubbed against the place inside her that magnified everything he touched.
Her lips were parted to take Owen into her mouth, and a gasp escaped her.
“That feels so wonderful, Simon,” she purred, then licked the liquid on Owen’s tip.
Somehow, her men found a rhythm in their awkward positioning, thrusting alternately as she moved between them. Her hands clasped Owen’s bottom to keep him close. Her hips flexed against Simon, and she sucked Owen into her throat.
The tension coiled within them, each sensation amplified by the shared connection that tethered their souls.
Xenia exhaled a moan as waves of pleasure radiated from where Simon filled her, the sound harmonizing with the low, throaty grunts that escaped Owen as she drew him deep into her mouth again.
Simon’s fingers dug into her flesh as if to anchor her on him.
Quiet, urgent whispers and stifled cries filled the dressing room.
And then, as if by some unspoken signal, they shattered together.
Simon’s body tensed, his grip on Xenia tightening as he spilled himself into her.
Xenia’s own climax washed over her in relentless waves, her inner walls fluttering around Simon, milking him.
And beneath her lips, Owen pumped once more before tensing in a guttural cry.
In the aftermath, they clung to one another, the water now cool against her skin flushed from passion. Silence settled, broken only by the ragged cadence of their breathing.
Owen withdrew first, reaching for the cloth he’d used on Xenia and washing away the remnants of his passion.
Simon carefully lifted Xenia from his lap, setting her on the cold floor with a tenderness that belied the fervor of moments ago.
She caught his gaze as he stepped from the bath, water cascading down the planes of his muscular form.
Owen handed him a length of toweling before wrapping Xenia in another.
Together, they attended to Xenia, drying her curvaceous body with the same care they had shown in undressing her.
Xenia returned their attentions, helping to dry their broad shoulders and sculpted chests, her fingers treasuring the feel of the taut muscles.
Bathing together might not be practical regularly, but she would ensure it happened often enough.
Once dry, they made their way to the bedchamber, the scent of soap surrounding them.
The bed, with its clean linens and soft pillows, beckoned invitingly.
After extinguishing the candles, Simon and Owen took their places on either side of Xenia on the mattress, their bodies aligning naturally as they lay.
Simon drew the covers over their sated bodies, his arm slipping around Xenia’s waist, pulling her back against his chest. His skin was cool from the bath, soft and slightly damp on her back. She sighed contentedly, nestling closer into his embrace.
Owen leaned in to press a gentle kiss on Xenia’s forehead, his breath caressing her skin.
She looked up, offering him a sleepy smile, and with the moonlight streaming through the window, she saw him return it.
His hand found hers beneath the covers, fingers intertwining.
She mouthed, “I love you,” and he kissed the air between them.
As she closed her eyes, she found a name for what she’d felt these past few days, even while rocking endlessly in the carriage. Contentment. She had everything she needed.