“More,” said Chamberlayne, earning a whimper from Lydia as she bucked on his lusty tongue. “Those rough hands will drain m’ cods good.”
Lydia gasped, about to give him a set down for pointing out her work-roughened hands.
“I’ll handle this, sweetheart,” said Denny, gently removing Lydia’s hand from Chamberlayne’s cock and directing her forward so she could attend to riding his fellow officer’s skilled mouth.
But wouldn’t that leave William aching? Poor man, he deserved to feel pleasure such as he was giving her. Lydia looked behind herself, thinking she would try to stroke him again when she discovered that Denny had taken over the task most competently, running his hand from the base of Chamberlayne’s cock to its leaking tip and back down again.
“Oh heavens,” said Lydia, overcome at the eroticism of the sight and planting her hands well above Chamberlayne’s head on the bed so she might be supported as these clever officers drowned her in pleasure.
On and on Chamberlayne laved his tongue over her spread cunny as she writhed on him.
“You’re teasing me with that hungry little hole,” said Denny, placing just a fingertip at her entrance as he continued to work Chamberlayne’s cock behind her.
“In, put it in,” begged Lydia, chasing a climax in this most unprepossessing room.
Denny didn’t hesitate; he slid two fingers into her cunt, twisting as he brought them in and out, his pace as relentless as Chamberlayne’s sucking and licking.
Lydia’s release had the force of a town coach, and she had to come to her elbows to brace and keep herself from collapsing on Chamberlayne’s mouth. The man himself seemed not to mind the risk of suffocating in her cunny, and he pulled Lydia down by the hips so he could run his nose over those places that made her shake uncontrollably.
The door to the room slammed shut once more, and Lydia came to her knees in surprise, Chamberlayne still between her thighs and Denny yet jerking his fellow officer’s cock if the noises behind her were any indication.
“We’ve a problem,” said Major Carter of the regulars, the last of the three officers who had used her at the Forster’s old house six weeks ago. “Men coming up the stairs, determined to watch. I need you two on the door.”
Chapter 4
“Whatever do you mean?”asked Lydia, still dazed from the shudders that had wracked her body so recently.
For their part, Chamberlayne and Denny moved quickly, adjusting their breeches and scrambling to stand guard at the door. They were used to following orders without question. Lydia was not.
“Carter, what is the meaning of this?” she asked, covering her breasts instinctively and struggling to bring the bedclothes about her hips — though Carter had already seen all of her bare.
“You know how crowds can turn,” he said with an uncharacteristic wave, as if he were attempting to wave her concerns away. This was not good; if he couldn’t tell her what had happened, there must be a disaster brewing downstairs.
“What has he done?” asked Lydia, her voice flat. Somehow, she knew exactly who was to blame for this: her dear husband.
By now, she stood before the major, and she considered poking him if he dissembled. She didn’t need to.
“After Wickham sold a third stake — to me — the assembled men protested that he’d be too flush to beat and threatened to leave the inn,” said Carter. “We don’t have long until the game begins.”
Lydia knew little about wagers, but their complaints didn’t sound unreasonable. This would be far from the first time George had attempted tricks at the betting table. He’d come home bruised and bloody on plenty of occasions, waving away Lydia’s questions.
“So he’s stopped offering new stakes in the game?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Carter, the single syllable drawn out into something long and winding. Which could only signal that there was more to the story.
Lydia poked his uniformed chest to prompt him to continue, just as she had on many cheerful evenings of flirtation before her marriage. Carter, the oldest and most senior of the officers, turned his nearly black eyes on her with a softness she hadn’t expected.
“So now he’s selling rights to watch youruse, a shilling per man,” said Carter at last.
“My use…”
Carter had the decency not to shift on his feet or delay in answering. “He offered the last man staking him the chance to fuck you. Quickly.”
Lydia shook her head, trying to understand.
“Then who will wager for me during the game?” she asked, none of this making sense considering his earlier proclamation that only the winner of tonight’s game would fuck Lydia.
Carter nodded. “He must…he must think he can make enough by letting other men watch to offset any losses. Or…”
