Lydia let loose a scream and a litany of curses as she played the role of a woman used most terribly — while experiencing the tenderest care at the hands of an expert strategist.
As she caught her breath following the outburst, Lydia watched Carter’s wet cock slip through her thighs. She directed it up, so it pushed more decidedly against her quim. His cockhead pressed into her nub and set her legs to shaking.
“That’s it, put it where you need it,” said Carter, his whisper rough after putting on a show of yelling abuse at her. “Take what you need.”
“Is it good for you, too?” she asked, her body rising to a peak despite the terrifying circumstances in which she found herself.
“I’m struggling not to spend all over you immediately, sweetheart,” he said. After so many nights in his company, she could hear the smile in his voice. Her heart moved strangely at his consideration.
“I think I’d like that,” she said, working her hand over that angry cockhead. “To feel your seed against my skin again. Feel it so close to where I need you to fill me.”
Carter gasped, and his spend shot forth within an instant, flowing over her fingers and dripping onto the floor since there was nothing but her hand to catch it. She thought to work his cock through his release, but her own struck her most abruptly as she watched his seed glaze her quim and felt the friction of his shaft between her sensitive lips. On and on she shook, herbody supported by Carter as she erupted with no thought for the watching men in the room next door, only the sensations he gave her.
Lydia reacted with a jolt when she heard something splatter against the floor. The noise came from Denny, his breeches open and cock erupting after watching her little show with Carter. Chamberlayne wasn’t much better, his hand back on that wet spot in his breeches.
“Are you feeling well, Lydia?” asked Carter, slowing his motions and pulling from between her legs. “Do you think you can go downstairs now?”
She wanted to beg him to stay. To keep her in this room, drowned in pleasure, and never go back to the outside world. But she wasn’t a silly girl of fifteen anymore, and she knew there was no way to stop her meeting with Fate. This most blissful interlude was over.
“I’m ready,” she whispered.
“Well, I’ve fucked and filled the slut. I suppose it’s time for the actual game to begin!” shouted Carter.
Chapter 5
Three hours later
“And here we are once more, Denny,” said Wickham, leaning against the back of his chair with a satisfied expression. “As we have been so many times before.”
Captain George Denny cast his old friend an amiable look. To a man deep in his cups, as Wickham was, his countenance must have seemed open and gentlemanly.
But Lydia knew better. Below the surface of his fine manners, there was afroideurforged in aristocratic breeding and hatred of Wickham. She rubbed her forearms, trying to feel as warm as she had in that room upstairs.
“The last time we were at this table, I lost rather badly,” said Wickham, squeezing Lydia into his side as if he cherished herand the whole thing was a lark. Her body was lax after receiving so much pleasure, and she moved as her husband directed her, lost in her thoughts and trying to avoid looking about the room.
At least it was Denny at the final table. Her old friend had opened his purse and outlasted all comers — including Carter and Chamberlayne — to meet Wickham for the last game. Lydia was thankful it was him and not one of the many men ringing the room now, licking their lips as they witnessed her humiliation with unseemly relish.
Lydia didn’t have the impression that her husband was particularly skilled at cards; he was naturally inattentive, and it only got worse with drink added.
But he’d been staked three times over by Lydia’s officers, and that coin allowed him to weather decisions and luck that would have emptied a lesser purse.
She studied Denny. She could do without being dragged to an inn and sold, but she’d gladly spend another night in Denny’s arms. And if he invited Chamberlayne and Carter to join…
Lydia was lost in a reverie as the end of the game approached. The crowd grew noisier until the men at the front hushed everyone to silence. “Last card,” she heard one man call.
Wickham’s fingers were like iron bands, and his sensual lips were thin. He must be on the verge of losing her yet again. More importantly to Wickham, he’d also be out a good deal of money.
A trickle of sweat ran down Wickham’s temple. Did he have more at stake than his ready coin and Lydia herself? He might be the most nervous person in this room right now, despite fighting to maintain his placid countenance.
Lydia cautiously cast Denny a smile so he could see his impending victory didn’t upset her in the least. He sent her the briefest, private nod and fixed his icy eyes on Wickham.
The innkeeper, who’d been acting as dealer since some men questioned Wickham’s shuffling a few games ago, turned the last card.
“Ace of hearts,” he announced.
Lydia wasn’t familiar with écarté, so she was initially unaware of her fate.
Wickham rose from his chair with a shout, leaving Lydia still sitting in confusion. What had happened?
