Page 11 of A Lady, Her Lord, & Their Duke

Moving one hand, Arabella closed her fingers around the back of Stanforth’s neck, holding him firmly in place. Then she kissed him softly, rubbing her lips against his over and over until he relaxed. Bloody hell, the duke might as well be a virgin!

She pressed her thighs together, a rather futile effort to ease the incessant throb of her clitoris. Between marking Nev and initiating Stanforth, her pussy couldn’t be any needier.

“Open your mouth for my tongue,” Arabella commanded. “But your hands stay by your sides…you too, Nev, don’t you dare touch yourself while you watch us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” grumbled Nev, having the temerity to pout.

Clearly, he needed another spanking; this morning’s efforts had not sufficiently quelled his disobedient streak. But making him wait and wait to come was a punishment in itself, so she looked back at Stanforth. The duke’s cheeks were a little flushed, his temples glistening with perspiration, so she leaned forward and licked his lips before darting her tongue into his mouth. Slowly, skillfully, Arabella teased him until his tongue tentatively began pushing back, and soon they were tangling together.

Somehow, Arabella managed to stifle her moan. This duke might well become as good as Nev at kissing. “Now, Your Grace,” she murmured unsteadily. “Where shall I mark you?”

“On my arse. Same as Carlisle,” Stanforth panted. “Could…could you do the letter A on me as well?”

Arabella hesitated. The rational, logical part of her said no, that was an honor reserved solely for Nev, the man who permanently belonged to her, not a one-night lover. Besides the fact that she’d already broken the anonymity rule, allowing the removal of all masks and hair covers. And yet…entirely unbidden, her free hand was already sliding down to Stanforth’s backside, her fingernails tapping on the firm, smooth flesh before scraping a palm-sized letter A.

Stanforth arched, moaning raggedly. “Forgive me, ma’am, I’m going to…I'm going to…”

In one smooth movement, Arabella took his thick cock in hand, ruthlessly squeezing and rubbing it. Then she nipped his lower lip. “Come,” she ordered harshly.

The duke orgasmed with a low roar, seed exploding from his cock with the violence of an erupting volcano, covering her fingers and wrist and his own belly.

“There now,” Arabella crooned, dusting his face with soft kisses as Stanforth slumped against her. “Isn’t that so much better?”

Yet when her gaze met Nev’s, for perhaps the first time in ten years, his face was unreadable.

Oh God. What had she done?

Something fundamental had changed.

Neville stared at the pair in front of him as he worked through the ramifications in his mind. His wife was a stern madam who never broke rules, especially in regard to playfellows, and she considered Sanctuary hallowed ground. Yet tonight, not only had Ara allowed it, she’d marked Stanforth’s very fine arse with the letter A.

A claiming.

Ten years might have passed, but he still remembered the first time Ara had marked him. The joy, the relief of knowing he’d been chosen, that henceforth he would belong to her. Did Stanforth understand? Did Ara realize she had now claimed a second man? That rather than being a pair with occasional lovers, they would move forward as a trio? That remained to be seen.

As for himself…it was both surprising and remarkable that the emotions coursing through his veins were not sadness or jealousy or envy, but fierce arousal and pure elation. Even now he was anticipating the time that Stanforth embraced his own needs and desires, was properly cared for and disciplined…and crossed the final frontier of his journey: giving pleasure to, and receiving pleasure from, another man.

“Nev?” said Arabella, an underlying anxiety in her tone as she stroked a still-trembling Stanforth’s hair.

His wife’s concern was misplaced. It was right and proper that his fellow pet received post-orgasm care. Because Stanforth was the third they had been waiting for.

Neville took a deep breath. With each past playfellow, he’d wondered if they might be the one, that special man he would feel something other than mild lust for. A man to join him and Ara forever in a trio. Each time, he’d had an enjoyable romp, but nothing more. No desire to wrap his arms around the man and just hold him, to talk about anything and everything. To teach him. Sleep with him.

However, with Stanforth…all Neville’s instincts demanded he kiss the other man, imprint himself so completely that the duke finally comprehended who he was: a submissive who craved both women and men. But no. Tonight was slow and gentle. A beginning. The glimmers were there; already Neville had caught Stanforth’s lingering gaze several times. The duke was curious. Very, very curious. And not at all averse to watching a naked man touch his cock. But he’d clearly never before had the opportunity to explore. And this was not something that could be rushed or forced, especially for someone so inexperienced sexually, and struggling with the ducal cage he’d been raised in.

Arabella was their queen and would command them both. But as a fellow submissive, it was up to Neville to support and coax Stanforth, to offer demonstrations of what could be. To show him that a lady, her lord, and their duke could very much be forever.

“Let me fetch you both some water,” said Neville eventually.

Arabella nodded while a blushing Stanforth looked grateful.

Neville smiled to himself as he strode over to the fireplace and carefully ladled some hot water from the hanging iron bucket into a porcelain bowl waiting beside it. Sanctuary’s staff had also helpfully left a small packet of dried herbs, so he carefully sprinkled them over the water, inhaling the fresh, clean scent of thyme and rosemary with an approving nod. After snatching up two clean washcloths and a hand towel, he returned to the bed.

“Thank you, my darling,” said Arabella softly, bestowing a kiss to his forehead. But her gaze still held grave concern, and he certainly didn’t want that.

“Allow me to wash your magical hands, ma’am,” he replied, before turning his head to Stanforth. “Help yourself to a washcloth, Your Grace. The water is hot, and it’s scented with herbs. Lovely and refreshing. By the by, it’s always good to get that first orgasm out of the way. Your second erection will last so much longer.”

“My second?” asked the duke, looking startled. “After the first…I’m not sure I’ll recover.”