Page 12 of A Lady, Her Lord, & Their Duke

Arabella laughed as she held out her seed-splashed hands. “Oh, you’ll recover.”

Rather endearingly, Stanforth blushed harder.

Neville immediately took a washcloth and cleaned Arabella’s fingers, before patting them dry. He was actually appreciative of the mindless task, as it allowed time to further ponder Stanforth’s past. How bad, exactly, had the duke’s marriage been? And he’d never taken a mistress? On one hand it seemed unthinkable, and yet it explained so much of his virgin-like response to pleasure. He’d never come like that before.

Which only made it imperative that it happen again. The more Stanforth orgasmed outside a pussy and grew accustomed to the sensations, the easier it would be to train him. A man who had never experienced ecstasy in service of a beautiful dominant woman didn’t know what he was missing and wouldn’t strive for it. But a man who understood would become a man like Neville. Obedient yet provocative in the hope of discipline. Entirely, joyfully submissive.

God, he couldn’t wait for Stanforth to find that Utopia.

When Arabella and Stanforth were both clean, Arabella climbed off the bed and sauntered over to the refreshment table. “I need sustenance,” she said saucily. “And so will you both, for the game I have planned.”

Neville shivered at the promise. Years of experience with his wife, of being tormented for hours and repeatedly denied orgasm while being teased mercilessly, meant the play she had in mind would be spectacular. But with Stanforth involved as well, already so sweetly succumbing to need…it would be a true challenge for Neville to retain his well-honed sexual nerves of steel. For there was something supremely erotic in watching a very proper duke, unable to hide his response, being utterly undone by pleasure.

Neville hurried over to the refreshment table and poured Arabella a glass of champagne. Then he turned to the duke. “Brandy? Or something else?”

“I’d love a brandy,” said Stanforth. “Looks a fine color.”

“Only the best at Sanctuary,” said Arabella, as she picked up a plate. “Nev? What will you have?”

His mouth watered at the selection. “All the pastries and fruit tarts you can spare. Also an extremely generous scoop of brown bread ice.”

Arabella shook her head with a sly wink. “No ice yet, I’m afraid.”

Neville blinked, then raised an inquiring eyebrow at his wife. When she gave him a brief nod, he almost moaned. Oh God. They were going to play Winter and Summer, his absolute favorite erotic game, involving Gunter’s legendary ices and Arabella’s even more legendary breasts.

After filling a plate for him, Arabella cut a large slice of heavy fruit cake and added several meringues for Stanforth, then selected a dish of lemon syllabub with whipped cream and several pastries for herself. Once they had temporarily sated their hunger and finished their glasses of champagne and brandy, Arabella directed them to leave their dishes on one end of the table, then beckoned them back to the bed.

Slowly, with the care and precision of a stage performer that understood every movement mattered, Arabella climbed onto the bed. Then she padded on hands and knees to the center, tormenting him and Stanforth with glimpses of her soaked pussy, her thick bush, and her swaying breasts as she stretched and flexed. Finally, she turned onto her back, settling herself on a pile of pillows like an empress waiting to receive her subjects, carefully arranging her hair so it didn’t become trapped under her back.

Neville could only stare at such a portrait. Arabella was an erotic goddess and it was an actual miracle from the heavens that she had chosen him. Except then she offered further proof, bestowing a wicked smile and sliding a hand down between her heavy thighs, parting her bush to offer an unobstructed view of her glistening pink labia, before lightly, delicately circling her swollen clitoris.

“Oooooh,” she moaned.

He bit his lip, swallowing down a desperate plea to be able to suck that bud until she screamed, to fuck her core with his tongue until she came all over his face. No. It was too soon. Despite the fact that his cock was so hard it could be used in battle, he had to wait.

Stanforth made a guttural sound, utterly transfixed at the sight. “I’ve…I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful. So sensual. Ever.”

Glancing down at the other man’s rapidly hardening cock, Neville hid a smile. Stanforth was certainly answering his own question about recovery. “I’m sure you are wondering, Your Grace, but I am living proof that a man will not, in fact, perish from needing a woman more than he needs to breathe.”

“How do you do it?” whispered the duke, his gaze actually admiring. “Obey and not lose your damned mind?”

Arabella laughed and spread her thighs a little wider apart. “My husband is exceedingly well trained, Your Grace. I should know, I trained him. But he has learned over time that with great patience and forbearance and attention to my pleasure…comes the kind of orgasm so intense, so powerful, and so long, that it drains him quite dry. What you enjoyed before is only the tip of the iceberg, as they say.”

Stanforth actually swayed, looking a trifle dazed. Then he blinked, rallying himself in a way that only a duke could do. “You said…you said something about a game?”

Arabella raised an imperious brow. “I beg your pardon? Do remember that men not properly respectful are liable to be spanked.”

The duke flushed. “Forgive me, ma’am. Please might we play the game you mentioned before?”

“Much better. And yes, I believe it is time for festivities to begin. Nev, darling, you know what is required.”

Neville nodded eagerly. Not only would they soon be playing Winter and Summer, but Stanforth was about to receive a sexual lesson he would never forget.

Let the play begin.

In terms of erotic experience and knowledge, it was utterly humbling to know that he, Edmund Vane, Duke of Stanforth, was a babe in the woods compared to Arabella and Neville Carlisle. But what was also humbling: how generous they were in freely sharing that experience and knowledge when they gained nothing in return. No one ever did that in the ton. Everything was a transaction, whether it be money or favors, an introduction or patronage.

So while Edmund desperately wanted to forget who he was and romp like a beast in the rain, part of him remained wary. Cautious. Not just of making mistakes or being a fool, but wondering: what did they want?