Her Husband’s Lover

Darleston steadied himself a moment. What Lyle was proposing was different to how it had been between them in the past. He’d always been the indorser, Lyle the nancy. And yet … ‘Is that what you really want?’

‘Robert, you don’t need me to answer that. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve got hard just thinking about it.’ Desire made Lyle’s voice husky.

‘Then do it.’ Butterflies filled his stomach at the instruction. Lyle remained tensely poised, as if he couldn’t quite credit the reality of the invitation. Darleston gave him a wicked grin. Wits and senses be damned. He hadn’t earned a reputation as libertine by acting in a respectable manner, or by waiting around for somebody else to make the definitive move. He curled his fingers into the hair at the back of Lyle’s neck and pulled him hard against him.

They fitted together like the two parts of a puzzle, as if they were meant to be together. It made sense. He’d once loved this man. Nay – that love had never died, circumstances had simply torn them apart and then it had been easier to deny his feelings than to live with them. He’d acted in exactly the same way over Giles.

Darleston nipped lightly at Lyle’s bottom lip, teased him with the promise of a deep kiss but stayed just out of reach until Lyle’s breath became fast and flighty. Only then did he deliver on the promise. As it had been the night before, the kiss left him feverish and uncomfortably hard. Unlike last night, he didn’t allow Lyle to take charge. Having tossed aside his hat and stripped the coat from Lyle’s back, Darleston jammed their hips together while simultaneously enjoying a good feel of Lyle’s bottom. Firm muscle filled his palm. The robust swell of Lyle’s cock branded his abdomen, promising … well, promising exactly what he damn well needed.

It didn’t matter if this lasted a week, for the summer or the rest of his life. He no longer wanted to deny the pull he felt. Instead, he committed to it. No turning back.

‘Swive me,’ he purred.

‘With pleasure.’ Lyle’s breath warmed his ear. His lips traced the lobe and descended again to his jawline.

Darleston pushed his hand inside Lyle’s breeches and took pleasure in the feel of Lyle’s erection filling his hand. This was what they both needed. It was a beginning and an end. They’d never properly said goodbye. This was a welcoming hello.

‘Trust me.’ Lyle winked as his fingers began to explore beyond the swell of Darleston’s shaft. ‘I learned a trick or two from that vadelect. All you need do a while is relax and enjoy.’ He made swift work of the remaining fastenings and dragged Darleston’s breeches down to where his boots prevented any further descent. Then, having first pressed a kiss to each inner thigh, he bestowed a series of ecstasy-inducing licks to the very eye of Darleston’s cock.

Darleston lay on his back and stared at the blue sky and swaying bowers. Birdsong filled his ears. Prior to Lyle, the last person to go down on him like this had been Lucy. He might hate his wife, but he’d made a fine job of teaching her how to suck. Yet Lyle breathed fire into his veins in a far more endearing fashion, seeking out tender spots so that the ache in his balls grew almost unbearable. His hips began to roll of their own accord. Fingers gripped him tight. They coaxed his legs further apart, traced circles over his bottom, urged him to lift up and turn over.

As he rolled onto his front, Darleston eyed the long slim wand that was Lyle’s cock. It had been too long since he’d allowed himself this pleasure. Butterflies began to riot in his stomach as he positioned himself over the trunk as he’d imagined seeing Lyle. He’d needed, had wanted a good pricking for so long, but circumstances had conspired against him and he hadn’t wanted a whore. He’d wanted someone with whom he had a bond.

Lyle’s hands settled upon his bottom, the touch so light it raised hairs all over his body. The sensation bordered on ticklish and made him realise just how few really good times he’d had playing the bottom role. No man had ever really touched him like this. Past encounters had been swift and frantic – seedy; something done in the dark, without an exchange of names or meaningful emotions. This was broad daylight, out-of-doors and luxuriously tentative.

Lyle touched him as though he meant to imprint a memory of himself upon the skin. When his thumb brushed the sensitive whorl of Darleston’s anus, he nearly shot up off the bark, it set so many nerves alight.

Dear God – that was only the trace of one finger.

Conflicting messages crowded his pleasure centres. Things became even more muddled, even rapturous, when Lyle bent and set his mouth to work where his fingers had strayed.

Darleston’s eyes drooped closed. He’d definitely never been kissed so intimately before. Within moments his blood ran so hot he swore brandy fumes had replaced his blood.

‘You really want this, don’t you?’ A whisper of hot breath assailed his ear. The tip of Lyle’s very cheeky tongue wriggled into another sensitive place. ‘Tell me how much you want it, Robert. Tell me what you’re feeling right now. Having regrets? Any final wishes?’

‘Let me feel you.’

‘Like this?’ Lyle’s form moulded itself to the curve of Darleston’s back. Loins pressed fast to willing flesh. Why was it that the sensation of a cock poised within the channel of his arse was in some ways more enthralling than the act to which it led? ‘Think you’re relaxed enough yet? Think I’ll slide in without a hint of resistance?’

He wasn’t sure about no resistance, but teasingly close wasn’t anywhere near close enough.

His senses screamed and his balls ran with an itch so crazy he wanted nothing more than to jerk himself to fulfilment then and there. Instead, he pushed back against Lyle’s cock.

The rasp of Lyle’s breath whooshed past his ear. ‘Easy, Robert.’

‘Easy yourself.’ He pushed back again. A shot of joy streaked from his anus to his chest as the tip of Lyle’s cock eased inside. A groan started deep in his chest and gained vehemence as it left his throat. ‘More. Do it and I’ll tell you what I have planned for Emma.’

‘What makes you think I want to know?’ Lyle wriggled his hips a little, but staved off Darleston’s attempt to take him all the way inside.

‘Because I know you. Give me a chance, Lyle, and I swear we’ll have her together. Have you ever had a woman as you’re taking me now?’

Lyle grunted – but not in affirmation.

‘Imagine it. Then imagine my cock inside her cunt so that you can feel me as though our cocks are caressing one another as we both possess her. All three of us sharing that perfect moment of bliss …’

A pinnacle he wasn’t so very far from now. He arched his back against Lyle again. This time his lover pushed forward at the same time so that their bodies met and Lyle slid deep.

‘Oh, God!’

The ache, was it always this good?

Too good.

Incredibly raw.

The border between ecstasy and pain had never been so fine.

‘I did warn you to go easy. Relax. Don’t tense up.’ Lyle pulled out a little, then slid back home. ‘There now. Show some bottom. Let’s just get you used to it, shall we?’

‘Fuck!’ Darleston swore. Drawn-out wasn’t what he needed right now. ‘Harder, Lyle.’ His words came out in a rush.

‘Like this?’ Lyle wrapped his arms tight around Darleston’s chest and tugged him into a kneeling position. Chest locked to his back, they swayed together, scaling the path of pleasure.

Lyle’s fist closed fast around Darleston’s cock and began to jerk him to the rhythm of their hips. ‘Almost,’ he cried. ‘I want you with me. It bothers me when the man I’m fucking can’t stay hard. Not that you’re having that problem.’

‘Keep stroking me like that and you’ll know just exactly how into this I am.’

‘Are you going to come while my cock’s in your arse?’

‘If you insist on stroking me like that, I don’t think I’m going to have much choice.’

Despite the warning, Lyle persisted in swirling his thumb around the head of Darleston’s cock.

‘Holy God!’

‘That good, eh?’

Darleston fell forward onto his palms. Sweat beaded his skin. His balls drew up tight as he soared towards orgasm. ‘Your goddamned wife is watching us.’

CHAPTER FIVE

‘Emma, aren’t you going to dress?’

Emma glanced up from the sampler that lay upon her lap. The embroidery needle she’d held lay dangling over her knee by a thread. Amelia stood at the drawing-room door, her hands pressed together before her as if in prayer, a pose that was probably intended to mask the ridiculously low and inappropriate neckline of her dress. Only a tiny scrap of lace maintained her modesty. A piece would have to be sewn into it before she was allowed to wear it in public.

‘The dinner gong went five minutes ago, yet you’re still here,’ the minx said, before Emma had a chance to scold. ‘Oh, heavens, Emma! Are you so determined to wreck my chances of finding a husband? Isn’t that the frock you went out in this morning? There are mud stains all around the hem. You can’t wear that to dine.’

Dinner. Hours had passed. Yet she hadn’t seen or heard anyone come in. After Darleston had … after he’d touched her, her heart had raced so fast she thought it would jump right out of her chest. All of her breath had been stolen. She’d had to get away from him as fast as possible, but she hadn’t run very far. The mire of brambles made it difficult and her legs wouldn’t carry her. Her feet kept slipping. One briar whipped back upon her and left her arm beaded with blood. She cried out but he hadn’t heard.

Perhaps it was best that he hadn’t heard. He’d been going to kiss her. Hell knows what he’d have done if he’d seen her hurt.

No man had ever kissed her upon the lips. Darleston had looked at her and seen into her soul. He’d read the desire there, had been about to return it. If he hadn’t raised his hand first, he might even have captured her. Her heart sped a little at the thought. A knot of tension built in her womb. How wonderful that he recognised her desire, but he had to understand that she wasn’t like the society women he knew. She couldn’t be with him. She couldn’t love him in that way. Any passion would remain unrequited. Regardless of the desire she felt, she would never act upon it.

And yet she’d still about-turned and stumbled back to where she’d left him. There’d been no sense in her head, just as none resided there now. The sound of Lyle’s voice had spurred her forward. She’d known why he was there even before she spied the men together. She’d given Lyle permission. She had only herself to blame. But seeing them together like that … The details of what Lyle practised had never before troubled her thoughts.

Now they were her only thoughts.

‘Emma?’ Amelia’s shrill cry smashed the recollection apart. ‘Are you not well? You look ill. See, you’ve gone crimson and your skin is all blotched.’

Emma turned her head, but she could not see herself.

‘Please don’t be sick.’ Amelia wrung her hands. ‘Father won’t hear of me being amongst this company without you around as chaperone. He’ll send me to Aunt Maude’s.’

Shakily, Emma waved away the concern. ‘I’m fine. Just a little faint. Too much fresh air and not enough to eat. I’ll be right again in a moment.’ She staggered past Amelia and into the hallway.

‘Should I come up with you and help you dress?’ Her sibling shadowed her flight into the hall so closely that her presence added to Emma’s nervousness. Amelia craved affection. Like a lapdog she was always underfoot. She saw any sign of weakness as the perfect opportunity to snuggle up close. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t want to return her sister’s love, only that she couldn’t bear to expose herself in such a way again.

‘No, you go in to eat. I’ll be fine once I’m rested. Could you please apologise to Father for me? Tell him I have a headache. And ask if Mrs Dobs would be so kind as to send up a tray.’

‘Should I have her send up a tincture of something too?’

‘No, quiet will be remedy enough.’ She gave her sister a weak smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine again tomorrow. I won’t let Father send you to Aunt Maude.’ Then she hurried up the stairs before Amelia could follow. More than her head, her heart ached. And when she mulled over what she’d experienced her womb clenched tight too, as if her body intended to wring every ounce of feeling from the earlier encounter.

All afternoon she’d sat gazing into space waiting for either Lyle or Darleston to approach her. She hadn’t given dinner a thought. How foolish was she? Lord Darleston would be next to her at dinner, with Lyle directly opposite. There’d be no avoiding either of them. Oh, no. She couldn’t face them together like that, not in public where everyone would witness her embarrassment.

Hiding in their room wasn’t ideal, but at least only Lyle would seek her there.

* * *

Dinner calmed her a little, though she didn’t eat a lot. Lyle arrived while she was stirring a spoon around in the mashed-up remains of a lemon tart. He paused in the doorway a moment before sealing them within and striding forward.

‘Why are you hiding? Amelia says you have a sore head.’ He perched upon the foot of the bed, so that the tray of food formed a barrier between them.

She knew they’d seen her, so there was no supposing he didn’t understand her reasons.

‘All right, if you won’t say, then answer me this. Why did you come back, Emma? After he’d frightened you, why return? Did you change your mind about something?’

‘No.’

So he knew Darleston had touched her. She hadn’t considered he might be cross with her for that.

‘Emma.’ Lyle stretched a hand towards her, but stopped short of actual contact. ‘Can we speak plainly for once?’

‘I thought we always did.’ Her words echoed around the room, shrill and defensive.

Lyle shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean you to see that. We should have been more circumspect. I want to apologise if my behaviour has offended or embarrassed you. I’m sure Darleston would like to say the same. However, I have to know why you watched. Why did you stay when you saw what we were about? You could have left.’

‘I – I don’t know.’ Her cheeks prickled with the heat flooding them. Her reflection in the silver teapot bore the hue of a raspberry. Aghast with embarrassment she curled her knuckles against her mouth. ‘I was intrigued, I suppose. I’ve never seen … I’ve never spied on you before. Well, only once.’ And that hadn’t been anywhere near so enlightening. ‘I swear it. And I won’t do so again.’

Lyle’s fingers curled into the eiderdown. ‘I didn’t expect you to make it a habit. Not that I should really mind if you did wish to take pleasure in that way, as long as you warned me of your intention beforehand.’

What in God’s name was he saying? That he would invite her to watch them fornicate?

‘I don’t think … I’m not sure that’s absolutely necessary.’ The fire in her cheeks spread to her ears and her nose.

‘Why is that?’ Lyle pressed. He shifted position so that he sat upon his haunches. ‘Is it because it’s not me you want to watch? It’s Robert, isn’t it? You’re attracted to him.’

Robert she presumed to be Lord Darleston. Robert, she repeated to herself, committing his Christian name to memory. ‘I’m most certainly not.’ She shook her head desperately.

Lyle crowded her, shuffling up close to the wall of crockery between them. ‘You’re the most godawful liar I’ve ever met. Tell the truth, Emma. Do you want to make love to him?’

‘Of course not.’ She shoved aside the tea tray and leapt out of bed. Her limbs and arms were trembling. It took all her coordination and determination to cross to the fireplace. Lyle followed. He loomed over her. Emma risked a peep to find him dusting sugar from his clothing. The remains of dinner lay strewn across the bed. She reached out to ring the bell for a maid, but Lyle blocked the way.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so roused.’

‘I don’t want him like that,’ she insisted, still seeking a distraction from the conversation. The whole bed would have to be stripped and remade before either of them slept. ‘You know my habits. I don’t care to be touched by anyone.’

The harshness of her declaration made it sound convincing, but deep down she wasn’t so sure of her honesty. Omission still constituted lying and a small white lie lay embedded in her words. She didn’t want to be touched, but there was no denying that she wanted to run her palms across Darleston’s form.

Lyle frowned at her, his brown eyes riddled with mysteries. ‘He claims you were staring at his arse. And I saw you staring at his cock. Do you deny that?’

She blustered a moment, her mouth working but no sense coming out. ‘Well – I’ve never seen one before and I could hardly stare at yours, considering where it was embedded,’ she eventually blurted.

Oh, dear heavens, that was quite the most foolish and ridiculous thing to say.

Lyle’s jaw dropped. For what felt like eternity, he stared at her, shock engraved in every line of his face. Then, abruptly, he began to laugh. ‘Emma!’ A deep rolling laugh, which tugged at her lips and made her grin too. He didn’t seem so angry either, once their merriment had died down; instead he seemed intrigued.

‘Well, I think that’s outrageous. That you’ve never seen one, I mean. We ought to rectify that. Can’t have a married woman not knowing what’s what. I know you’d probably rather I brought in Robert, but –’

‘No, no, don’t!’ She couldn’t have him here making things even more difficult. Darleston didn’t understand the rules. And even if he did, she wasn’t certain he’d obey them. She supposed being an Earl’s son made him rather a law unto himself.

‘– but I don’t mind obliging you. Really, Emma, you had only to ask if you were curious.’ Lyle artfully slipped the buttons of his frontfall, drawing her attention fully to him. ‘You can’t have seen much detail out in the woods.’

She’d seen detail enough.

‘Robert’s is very nice, of course. I think you’ll find him a little thicker than I. Although I’m longer.’

She had no response to that. None at all. Flabbergasted, Emma watched him step out of his breeches and raise his shirt-tails. Confusion momentarily wrinkled her brow, for what she saw was not at all like what she’d seen earlier. Lyle’s prick lay curled against his body as if slumbering, while Darleston’s member had stood erect. Yet even as she stood trying to figure it out, change occurred before her eyes. Lyle became stiffer, longer. He woke up and stood proud. The tip peeped out from beneath a hood, rosy and glossy. A slit like a tiny eye was exposed. From it leaked a single shiny tear.

‘How much more do you want to see?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. What is there to see?’ She clasped her hands over her mouth.

‘I can pleasure myself, as if I were inside him. I can bring myself to climax. Women can too if they touch themselves in much the same way. Not all touch is bad, Emma.’

She’d reserve judgement on that. However she didn’t wish to get into a debate at present. Fascination had taken hold. It was nigh impossible not to focus on the slow, steady rhythm of Lyle’s hand rubbing back and forth, up and down the length of his shaft. What a delightful picture he made. It made her feel twitchy inside, hot and irritable but in a pleasant sort of way.

Actually, in much the same way Darleston’s touch had made her feel.

Well, why should it be such a great thing to admit to desire? She wasn’t immune to physical attraction, merely unnerved and quite unused to the sensations of it. She had never claimed not to feel; she only wished not to be poked and prodded.

Lyle caught her gaze. ‘Perhaps you’d allow me to get more comfortable.’

Emma gave him a mute nod. She watched him strip naked, desperately relieved that the door was locked.

Two years of life together and prior to this moment she had no clear idea of what he looked like. Her husband was a beautiful man. Naturally she was aware of his shape and how well he fitted into his clothes. But clothes masked plenty of sins, as she knew only too well.

Golden hairs flecked Lyle’s chest and the pits of his arms and formed a thick thatch around his loins. His legs were hairy too. She’d never realised that. So too were his forearms. His nipples were two pale-pink pennies, only a shade or two darker than his skin. Smooth muscle gave him a graceful shape. Why, he was even more beautiful naked, especially as he was right now, standing proud.

Lyle left the fireside. Emma followed his movement to the bed, gaze locked upon the firm globes of his rear as he set aside the crockery. He ripped the despoiled eiderdown from the bed. ‘Sit here. Come close. I promise I won’t touch you.’ He beckoned her to a spot just shy of his left hip. Emma sat primly upright, her hands clasped fast together. ‘How does it make you feel to watch me do this?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Good, bad, indifferent?’

‘Hot.’ Another blush streaked across her face. No similar sign of embarrassment coloured Lyle’s cheeks. He seemed supremely relaxed. The only hot and flustered part of him appeared to be his prick. The tip reminded her of the very ripest of cherries, with its dark-red hue and sensual curves. She noted that he swept his thumb over the eye-like slit every time he brought his palm downwards.

‘Hot is good,’ he mumbled.

‘How does it make you feel?’

He laughed. ‘It makes me feel fantastic.’

‘Are you picturing him, while you do that?’

‘Robert?’ Lyle shook his head. ‘Only in a roundabout way. I was thinking of you watching us and how very much I’d like to see you taking your pleasure. Everyone deserves some, you realise.’

She swallowed slowly, fearing what he might ask, how he might demand that she undress and lie naked beside him, and how he might beg to touch her skin. Enter her.

‘I’m not asking you for anything,’ he reassured her, perhaps having noticed her shiver. ‘Just tell me what would make you happy and I’ll give you it. Anything.’

She knew in essence what he meant – that he was offering her the sort of satisfaction other people craved – but she could find no joy in the notion of being caressed. However, watching the steady stroke of his palm back and forth in that rhythmic motion over his cock had taught her something. There was a tingling sort of excitement to be had from seeing someone else touch themselves. Not that she wanted to spend her days watching Lyle alone. No, she’d much rather watch her husband with his lover. The excitement she’d felt watching them fuck was ten times the fluttering, giddy nervousness she felt now.

Would Lyle understand?

What would he think?

Perhaps her greatest fear, far beyond that of being touched, was being thought mad. If she were judged so, every freedom she possessed would be stripped way.

‘Say it, whatever it is.’

‘I want to watch you with him again.’ Shock at her own words engulfed her body like a cold douche. Emma’s heartrate sped as she trembled. Afraid of Lyle’s reaction, she averted her gaze.

‘Go on,’ he prompted.

Emma immediately raised her head. Lyle wasn’t cross – he remained relaxed, if you could describe the pumping of his fist as such – but he was intrigued.

‘What is it you wish to see us doing?’

Emma shook her head, quite speechless. None of this made any sense. The whole conversation ought to have been a dream. Normal couples didn’t converse like this. At least she was fairly certain they didn’t. But then, typical husbands didn’t fornicate with other men, and wives accepted whatever affection their husbands chose to bestow rather than bristling at the mere notion of it.

‘You really ought to tell me. I can’t bear the suspense. I’m conjuring all sorts of images, most of them lewd.’

Maybe it was his smile and the way it ran into the depths of his warm brown eyes, maybe it was the peculiarity of the situation, but the admission spilled from her lips. ‘I want to see you do things the other way around, with him in …’