W hen Xenia felt her chemise being raised, her breath hitched.
She’d never been fully naked with a man, and here she stood with the two men who had frequented her most clandestine dreams. She’d never dreamed of loving both at the same time, however.
The sheer idea was overwhelming, yet she wasn’t afraid of disappointing them.
And the only way they could disappoint her would be to stop now.
Simon’s face was tense with restrained passion, his eyes alight with an intensity that sent a tremor skittering down Xenia’s spine.
The anticipation coiled within her, tight and insistent, as her body responded to the unspoken promise etched into his smoldering look.
She could nearly feel the weight of his desire.
She stole a glance to see his erection pressing against his breeches.
“Is this all right, Xenia?” He watched her with an intensity that caused her knees to weaken.
Without breaking eye contact, he slid his hand down her side in a languid trail that ignited her skin.
His touch was reverent as it traced the curve of her hip, then ventured toward her center, causing a hushed gasp to part her lips. His fingers whispered over her thigh.
“Oh, yes,” she sighed. A shiver raced over her bare shoulders, not from a chill in the air, but from the exhilarating sense of vulnerability.
Simon’s fingers brushed her dark curls, and her hips rocked toward him.
She felt the heat of Owen standing behind her. Reaching over her shoulders, his fingers smoothed across her collarbone before descending to the swell of her breasts, drawing circles around the sensitive peaks that ached for further attention.
The sensations they stirred were beyond what she could have imagined. Hands on her breasts, someone cupping her bottom, squeezing and spreading her, then someone found her dampness. She gasped at the throb that finger awoke.
Simon caught her gaze, his eyes alight with passion. He licked his lips and smiled.
Owen spread his coat on the grass and Simon followed suit, fashioning a makeshift bed. While they undressed—finally—she lay down, one knee bent in a weak attempt at modesty. Here, in the full light of the sun, they could see everything, the padding on her belly, the lines on her full thighs.
Her stockings and shoes were unnecessary now, making her feel more exposed. She quickly removed them while watching the men undress.
Simon tugged off his waistcoat, unwound his cravat, and fumbled with the buttons of his fall. When he shrugged off his shirt, exposing the broad expanse of his chest, Xenia saw black hair dusting the firm muscles.
Owen had worn no cravat. He pulled his shirt over his head while holding her gaze as if he awaited her reaction.
His smithy work was evident in the powerful build of his shoulders and arms, the sinewy strength that came from years of laboring over an anvil.
He cast his clothes aside with a carelessness born of urgency.
Xenia’s breath caught as she took them in—Simon’s dark strip of hair trailing down from his muscular chest, and Owen’s hairless muscle.
As they stepped out of their breeches, need pooled low in her belly.
Her gaze traced every hard line and contour on display, sparking a flame deep within her, a throbbing need.
They positioned themselves on either side of her, their nakedness enveloping her like a cloak. The heat emanating from their bodies chased away the chill, wrapping her in an embrace of pure warmth. She lay back, lifting a hand to stroke Owen’s biceps. He was like rock.
Simon’s eyes roved over her and his gentle fingertips followed in a path from her thigh to her breast, stroking but not landing anywhere.
Owen kneeled at her hip, parting her thighs and dipping into the warmth of her wet, hot sex. “God save us, you’re drenched. Seems we’re doing something right, wouldn’t you say?” he teased, his voice thick with desire, yet laced with a playful edge.
“Something—” her breath hitched when he brushed against her nub. Her legs spread a bit more, and she rolled into the touch. “Oh, yes.”
Simon lowered his head to capture one pert nipple with his lips. He lavished it with attention, sucking and kneading. His tongue flicked out, toying with the hardened bud, drawing a gasp from Xenia’s lips. His other hand trailed over the curve of her waist and down the length of her thigh.
Owen continued to trace the damp heat between her legs, spreading her moisture.
Just before her eyes fluttered shut, she saw Simon lower his head between her thighs.
His fingers joined Owen’s, then his tongue found her nub, flicking and teasing.
She cried out. Someone’s finger slipped inside her, and Simon’s tongue continued his worship.
“Make her come,” Owen said with a growl.
She quivered around the finger at the thought of coming. As much as she wanted it, she didn’t want it yet. More tongue, more hands, more eyes watching her—that’s what she wanted now.
As Simon sucked her clitoris, she rode the finger inside her, her thighs brushing against the rough bristles of Simon’s cheeks.
“That’s good, Zee. Let it happen,” Owen encouraged, then licked and nipped the skin on her thigh.
She was too weak to make it last. They were too skilled. A few flicks of the tongue on her clitoris shattered her, and she cried out. “Oh, oh, Simon, Owen, don’t stop.”
They continued their caresses as wave after wave of pleasure engulfed her. The finger withdrew, and Simon lapped up the evidence of her wicked desire. “So sweet.”
Simon spread her thighs wide and positioned himself at her entrance, stroking the length of his cock.
The heat in his eyes burned into her. He lifted her legs, angling for his entry, and guided himself with a steady hand, the tip of his cock nudging gently against her.
With a deliberate thrust, he breached her warmth, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed within her.
Her breath caught in her throat, a soft moan escaping as she felt the delicious stretch, the sensation of being wholly filled by him.
Her fingers dug into the makeshift bedding of their coats beneath her, eyes fluttering closed as she adjusted to him.
His thrusts were measured, a rhythm set to stoke the fire building inside her, rather than to achieve his orgasm.
Each motion drew a deeper gasp from her lips, her body responding with an eager undulation to meet him stroke for stroke.
“You’re so lovely,” Simon said in a strained voice.
“And wet,” added Owen, who kneeled beside her.
After a succession of purposeful thrusts, Simon pulled out, and Xenia whimpered at the loss of fullness. With a glance at Owen, he moved aside.
Owen crawled into place on his knees. He slid into her with a steady glide that made her shiver with anticipation.
He didn’t plunge fully into her immediately, and she enjoyed the graze of his body against hers.
Xenia’s heart raced, feeling the difference in their lovemaking, both distinct yet equally exhilarating.
Owen’s fingers found her clitoris, flicking his nail gently across it.
“Look at you,” Owen said as he watched her face.
“So beautiful, so ready for us.” His thrusts picked up pace, each one punctuated by the careful ministrations of his fingers, stoking the flame that Simon had kindled.
Xenia’s world narrowed to the points where they connected, to the building crescendo of bliss that threatened to wash over her in waves.
He drove into her as Simon watched, uttering brief comments that were as obscene as the touch of Owen’s finger on her nub.
Simon angled her leg as if to better see where Owen slid in and out of her.
The naughtiness of him watching, of her being with two men at the same time, made her quiver around Owen’s cock.
Then Simon licked her clitoris, and she squeaked at the sensation. Owen began to grunt with each thrust of his cock, and she knew he was getting close. Without warning, she burst into waves of ecstasy, her hips rocking.
He suddenly withdrew, and she met his gaze while his hand moved with purpose along the length of his slick cock, strokes measured and deliberate. As he came, his seed spilled onto Xenia’s thighs.
She sought Simon’s cock, still swollen and turgid.
Her fingers wrapped around him and she drew her hand up his length.
He exhaled a deep, ragged breath as she stroked.
She observed every subtle change in his expression—the way his eyes darkened, his jaw clenched, and his lips parted with each stroke she administered.
With her thumb, she spread the liquid on his tip.
Using the sounds he uttered as a guide, she quickened the pace of her strokes as he grew closer to release.
His face was etched with fervor as his climax neared.
His stomach tensed, his hips fucking her hand.
And when he finally surrendered to the sensation, his body jerked with a primal force into her hand, his release shooting across her belly.
Xenia watched him rock back on his heels. Then she looked at Owen, who studied her with a smoldering look she’d never seen on any man before. She wished they would lie beside her and cuddle in the contentment of satiation.
Simon took out the handkerchief tucked in the pocket of his discarded coat, unfolding it with careful hands.
Xenia watched as he dabbed at her belly, the touch light and considerate, a stark contrast to the fervor that had preceded it.
His actions were unhurried, the fabric gliding over her skin, mopping up the traces of their shared abandon.
“Here,” Owen said softly, proffering another handkerchief. He took his turn, his fingers brushing against her sensitized skin between her thighs as he tended to the remnants of their passion, a small smile playing on his lips.
The act was practical, yet there was an intimacy in these moments—a silent acknowledgment of the care they held for one another. It was a different closeness than the lustful heat that had just simmered between them.
With the quiet task complete, Simon’s gaze met Xenia’s, a playful spark igniting within the depths of his eyes. “So, lovely Xenia, who was the more adept lover?”
Her elation sank, dampened by this reminder that what they’d shared had simply been a contest. What she perceived as emotion behind their loving acts was merely a competitive need to best the other man.
She quickly swept aside any foolish notions she had that they might enjoy each other another time in the future.
She glanced between Simon’s expectant look and Owen’s curious tilt of the head.
With a coy smile, she replied, “Why, Simon, I believe you wouldn’t wish to hear if the answer didn’t favor you. ”
A chuckle rumbled from Simon’s chest, deep and resonant. “Perhaps,” he conceded.
Owen moved closer, his voice a low whisper that tickled her ear, “Then let us consider it a tie, for now. A rematch might be necessary to make a proper comparison.”
Laughter bubbled from Xenia as relief soothed her tension. There might be another lovemaking session in the future, after all. Or two. She could claim her indecision as long as was necessary if it meant more glorious time naked with her men.
Simon rose and picked up his smallclothes. Xenia sought her own garments as she stood, then pulled on her chemise. When she donned her gown, Owen came up behind her.
“Allow me,” Owen offered, his hands brushing against her back with a familiarity that sent a shiver down her spine. He’d touched far more intimate places just a short time ago, and with such skill. She refused to let her thoughts wander to questions of how many women he’d helped dress.
She only found a few of her hairpins in the grass where they’d fallen, but they were enough to maintain propriety until she returned home, and her mother shouldn’t notice the difference.
“Shall we?” Simon asked when she’d repaired her bun, extending an arm to Xenia.
She took his arm with a smile, her other hand finding Owen’s sturdy forearm. They walked with unhurried steps, and contentment filled Xenia. “Remember, the Harvest Festival is in a few weeks,” she commented.
Owen made a noise close to a growl. “The perfect occasion for round two, wouldn’t you say, Simon?”
Simon laughed. “I might find a moment to escape my duties as magistrate.”
“So, a quick fuck, then. What do you say, sweeting, to a quick fuck at the festival?” Owen nuzzled her neck.
“Hmm.” She pretended to ponder the question. “When it comes to comparison, quickness isn’t necessarily an asset. But it might prove who is better at making me come. Can you satisfy me in a short time?”
“I promise to never leave you unsatisfied,” Simon said.
She offered them a melodramatic sigh. “That might cause some difficulty. I fear I can never have my fill of you two.”