Page 6 of A Lady, Her Lord, & Their Duke

A tall, hazel-eyed duke.

Neville cleared his throat as he swallowed down the foolish words. The likelihood of Stanforth keeping the card was small enough, but attending tonight? Ha. “You know how partial I am to brawny submissives. The kind who look like they could snap a body in half but kneel so demurely and beg to suck cock. Or perhaps a very proper gentleman who swoons at the sight of your perfect breasts and can only be revived by an emergency dose of pussy nectar.”

Arabella laughed, not a delicate titter, but the full-blooded, full-bellied sound he cherished. “Ten years you have entertained me with such wordplay and I shall never grow tired of it. Either of those options sounds delicious. As it has been six months since our last visit, there might be quite a few new candidates to consider.”

God willing, a tall, hazel-eyed duke.

Neville tossed his head, annoyed at himself for yet another thought about Stanforth. He needed to remain in reality, not indulge in whimsy. “I cannot wait to find out who might be available...ah, here she is, the Empress of Eros herself. Good evening, Madam Venus,” he finished cheerfully.

The smiling owner of Sanctuary strolled toward them, an exquisitely dressed, bejeweled, and lithe blond woman of about fifty years. Just like Arabella, Venus’s father had been a successful merchant, although she’d married a retired soldier rather than a lord. Also just like Arabella, Venus ruled her domain with an iron fist in a satin glove.

“My dears!” said Madam Venus, kissing them both on the cheek. “It’s been far too long. Zachariah sends his love, but he is currently occupied in removing a broken bed. I have repeatedly told a certain group of ladies no more than five soldiers at a time, but they will persist in playing their favorite game: Seven is Heaven. What a damned bother.”

Arabella snorted. “It wouldn’t matter if you etched it on their foreheads, Vee. Not even Wellington could halt a pack of dowagers who have done their duty and are now able to fuck someone they actually want.”

“Very true,” said Madam Venus as she ushered them into her spacious and well-appointed office. “Now onto far more important matters…happy anniversary! Ten years have simply flown by.”

“They have,” agreed Ara, sinking gracefully into a butter-soft leather armchair. “The ten happiest years of my life.”

Neville squeezed his wife’s hand as he also sat down. “I concur. And I can’t think of anywhere we’d rather be than here at Sanctuary to celebrate. What delectable fare do you have available for us tonight?”

Surprisingly, Madam Venus hesitated, leaning back in her chair and tapping her fingernails on her carved oak desk. “I have several scrumptious playfellow options. However, before I make introductions, I wanted to put forward a different possibility. Something you’ve not tried before.”

“Oh?” said Arabella, her expression turning intently curious. “And what might that be?”

“I’ve just concluded an interview with a mature but inexperienced gentleman who has known only a coldly dutiful marriage bed. He expressed a strong interest in watching a loving married couple who enjoy fucking, perhaps taking part if invited to do so. While he does not wish to put his cock in a cunt, this gentleman is amenable to using his tongue or fingers as instructed. Also, he’s never been touched intimately by another man, but I believe he just might be a little curious. So you would essentially be initiating a beginner. A green tunic.”

Neville’s heart began to pound. No. Surely not.

Could Stanforth possibly be the mystery beginner?

“Is there anything else you can tell us about this novice?” asked Neville urgently.

Madam Venus smiled. “His nickname is Charlie. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, skittish as a mistreated colt and will need plenty of praise and encouragement. A man of position and great responsibility. But as you both know, sometimes men who hold the most power in the world wish for a little respite. To have someone else make decisions. To be forced to their knees in the bedchamber.”

Arabella sat forward, licking her lips. “He’s a powerful submissive? I would be his first owner?”

“I suspect he is,” said Madam Venus slowly. “Truthfully, I doubt Charlie has ever had the opportunity to explore his own desires. In the absence of love, of safety, of fucking just for pleasure, it is hard to identify one’s true sexual self. How could Charlie know how desperate he is to be commanded? But eyes are the window to the soul, and he yearns. Reminds me of a certain baron.”

His wife made a sound of raw lust. Neville was already pressing his thighs together in a futile effort to ease the constriction of his trousers. Charlie was Stanforth, he could feel it in his bones. And just the thought of initiating the duke, of pleasuring Ara in front of him, showing him how to worship her properly…then touching him as he obeyed…perhaps even slowly, gently fucking Stanforth’s virgin arse…

Neville sucked in an uneven breath. “What do you think, Ara?”

“Yes,” said Arabella decisively. “Nev and I will give poor Charlie the best night of his life thus far.”

Madam Venus grinned. “Excellent. You have the diamond chamber, of course. Charlie is currently being bathed and prepared; once you’re changed and ready, meet me in the ballroom and I’ll introduce him to Gage and Laurel.”

In his fervent anticipation, Neville had almost forgotten about his nickname. While he loved the way Arabella purred or growled “Nev”, he’d always struggled with his dull given names of Neville Gage. To him, neither sounded sensual or strong—he was quite content to be called Carlisle. But at least Gage was easy to remember, as was Laurel for his wife.

A quarter hour later, Neville and Arabella had completed their mandatory sponge bath and were wearing their club-issued, knee-length tunics, fashioned of gold satin. He loved wearing satin, the way it felt so cool and decadent against his skin. Now just one task remained: helping each other with the black cloth caps that entirely covered their hair, and the close-fitting black satin demi masks that concealed all but their mouth and jaw.

Arabella slid her hand under his tunic and briefly gripped his still-tender arse, her fingernails lightly scraping his skin. “I could just eat you all up. You know how wet it makes me, seeing you ready to play.”

Neville’s mouth watered. He would never get enough of his wife’s heavenly pussy. “Fortunately you’ll have two tongues this evening. But before we go…I must tell you this. I think I know who Charlie really is. You know how I told you at supper that a certain duke approached me at the tea house for information about Sir Kenneth Lochore? I gave him my card. And told him to use it here. If his eyes are hazel with gold flecks…”

Arabella gasped. Then shivered. “Oh God. The things I’m going to do to him. But let’s not keep our novice waiting. Come along, my darling.”

He grinned. “As you command, madam.”