Caine Hawk stretched out on the coverlet, his lust at last sated. He concentrated on nothing more than breathing as his beast all but growled in relief. Sometimes he was grateful for the damned thing, but last night his drive had been more demanding than usual.
The three women he’d sent on their way thirty minutes ago had left his mind as soon as the chamber door closed behind them. He’d been very generous when he’d paid for their service at the little pub in village. The Cock’s Roost might not have the best food in town, but they poured the best ale and had the most accommodating serving girls.
There was little light in the chamber, despite the electricity he’d had installed at considerable expense last year. Not that he couldn’t afford such progressive luxuries. He was blessed with money, both in making it and when he’d inherited the estate and a considerable fortune from his late mother decades earlier. It was all part of his Hawk legacy, according to his venerable long-time butler, Reeves. That and the curse Caine had inherited from his unknown Hawk father.
Over the past one hundred years or so, according to Reeves, the Hawks had populated half of Yorkshire with their bastard sons. Caine was one of those, though he’d been legitimatized through blind legal channels soon after birth. Caine had known no other Hawks in the whole of his life though, giving him at least a touch of suspicion regarding that “half of Yorkshire” legend. As for his mother? He had no memories of her whatsoever. Tonight was not the night for such maudlin thoughts. He never indulged such as a rule, and he wasn’t going to with his beast silent and his mind besotted.
He roused himself just enough to grab the brandy from the table to his right. Not bothering with a glass, he drank deeply from the bottle. He ignored the liquor trickling down his chin and over his chest and belly, and then set the bottle back down. He couldn’t raise his eyelids, so he just pushed aside any possible regrets as darkness wrapped him in uneasy sleep.
Icy cold water splashed over him as he woke with a start. Sputtering, he pushed his soaking hair out of his face and struggled to a seated position.
“What…” His throat was tight and his mouth as dry as his head was wet. “What the devil?”
“Good afternoon, Lord Burnley.”
That was Reeves, unless Caine was mistaken. There was hardly any mistaking that imperious tone of voice of his.
Caine’s head pounded in time to his heart as he pried open his eyes. He managed to swallow and turned his head to see a blurry image of his bedchamber. “Reeves, what is going on?”
“This ends today, my lord.”
He turned his head swiftly in the butler’s direction, immediately regretting that action. The room swam and his belly clenched tight. Closing his eyes again, he concentrated on breathing in and out until everything settled once more.
“What are you talking about, Reeves?”
“The endless debauchery, my lord.”
Caine grumbled and rose, wrapping the loose linens around his waist as he stumbled into his dressing room. “Of all the impertinence.”
“What was that, my lord?” Reeves asked.
Caine ignored the butler’s entreaty, choosing instead to focus on the red-eyed reflection staring back at him above the basin in the dressing room. A few splashes of cool water and he felt a bit better. He walked out to find two maids swiftly putting his room to rights as Reeves stood there with his arms crossed. He saw that one of the maids was holding the trousers he’d shed last evening, and grabbed them out of her hands.
“You appear quite imperious,” Caine said. “Have you been elevated while I was unconscious?”
Reeves didn’t flinch, but apparently thought it prudent to wait until the maids were finished with their duties before speaking again. He crossed to the door and shut it tight before turning back to Caine.
“This has gone on long enough,” the butler said.
“Be clearer, please.” Caine pulled on his trousers and gingerly brushed the hair back from his very tender scalp. “What, pray, do you believe has gone on long enough?”
Reeves raised a brow, his narrow chest puffed and his thin frame taut with indignation. Caine bit back just where he wanted to tell the man to put his outrage.
“You’ve been carrying on, my lord.” Reeves looked as if he would say more, but to Caine’s surprise he held out what looked to be a letter. “This arrived for you this morning, and I believe it would be in your best interest to read it.”
Caine grabbed the missive from the butler’s hands and sank down on the edge of the bed. He squinted at the seal. It bore a crest he thought he recognized. A bloodthirsty hawk with talons outstretched, its sharp eyes daring any and all to stay out of its way. Breaking the seal, he opened the envelope and his suspicions were confirmed in the first few written lines.
“The Bloody Earl of Hawksfell,” he murmured.
Opening it, he began to read.
“I take it you’ll go to Hawksfell Manor, then?” Reeves asked.
“What’s this?” Caine peered up at the butler. “Never say you read my correspondence.”
“Never have and never would, my lord.”
“Then how the devil could you know that he’s invited me to his great manor?”
A smile seemed to tease one corner of the man’s mouth, gone in an instance. “I might have heard something in the village about such doings, my lord. Of invitations extended to several of your Hawk relatives.” He shrugged. “It seems to me it was only a matter of time before you received a summons.”
Caine read the earl’s words again, feeling a touch of deference for this relative he’d never met in the whole of his life. There was a warmth, too, however. A familial connection that he’d never experienced before. It caused a strange twist in his belly.
“Am I to tell your valet to ready your things, my lord?”
Caine blew out a breath. A maid appeared with a tray holding a steaming pot of coffee, and he lifted a cup to his lips. The girl was gone by the time he’d finished draining the cup. Facing Reeves once again, he studied him.
“Yes, Reeves.” He squared his shoulders. “Please do.”
Caine kissed her, and it was as surprising as when he’d kissed Peter the first time. She was timid at first, and then her ardor grew as his caresses grew more bold. As sweet as her scent, her kisses inflamed him. This seemed to go beyond his beast’s needs. Like Peter before her, she affected him in ways he’d never experienced. He’d always been aware of a partner’s needs, and as a Hawk he’d known that a good portion of it was due to his unconscious compulsion. He’d seen them satisfied, which was only their due. But this driving need to give her an orgasm was foreign but nonetheless intriguing.
He pulled back, taking another taste of her lips before holding her out at arms’ length. He studied this beautiful young woman in his arms, an odd feeling settling in the center of his chest. He could still taste her kisses on his tongue, and he’d never had sweeter. She was trusting him. Him! Caine Hawk, one in a long line of cursed libertines.
“You won’t regret this, sweetheart,” Peter said as he stepped closer to them.
Caine heard the conviction in Peter’s voice and, while his body ached for the delectable woman pressed close to him, he knew he would never be a part of their lives outside of this room. Here in this luxurious chamber, however? Here they could be anything they wished to be to each other.
“Let’s show our girl some passion, Peter,” he said, keeping his tone light.
Peter nodded in agreement. Passion Caine could manage. Any more than that? That was surely resting on Peter’s strong shoulders. He appeared to be ready for the task, judging by the outline on the front of his trousers. He had gotten to know that incredible piece of his anatomy, and Peter was hung like one of his best stallions.
He and Peter had just eased each other before the lovely Iris happened by, taking turns licking and sucking each other to climax. Yet he was as eager to ride Iris as Peter evidently was. Caine yielded to him for the moment, a first in his memory, and watched as Peter petted and caressed Iris out of her staid and sober uniform. Piece by piece, Peter divested her of her clothing. Each bit of her that was revealed made Caine want to howl with need.
When she wore nothing but her stockings, Caine took a long moment to study her. He’d been with countless women and men in the long years since reaching manhood, yet the sight of her curves and silken skin set him on fire. It was like when he’d first seen Peter in his nakedness. Sculpted. Perfect. And his for the taking. Both of theirs, actually. Another first, for he’d never shared with another man before.
His body was painfully hard, his mouth watering for another taste of her, but he restrained himself. As Peter kissed her, his tongue deep in her mouth, Caine could remain passive no longer. Stepping behind her, her round little ass pressed against his groin, he ran his hands over her. She was as smooth and as warm as she looked, and the sounds of delight she made thrilled him.
“You’re a very sensual creature.” He brought his mouth to her ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth. Goosebumps chased over her flesh and he knew it was from arousal. The room was warm, after all. And a thin sheen of perspiration covered her skin beneath his fingers. “Just feel, Iris.”
She purred as she nodded, arching toward Peter. Peter growled, one of those arousing sounds he made when Caine was loving him, and moved to kiss her breasts. Her pert, rosy nipples pebbled, and Caine couldn’t resist joining in the passionate play.
Cupping plump breasts that filled his hands perfectly, he kneaded and teased as Peter suckled. Iris was weak between them, her supple form pliant and warm. He could smell her, too. Wildflowers and heat.
Slipping a hand over her flat belly to tuck between her shapely thighs, he touched her soft pussy. She was wet to the touch, and her body bowed a bit as he stroked his fingers over her clit.
“Caine!” she cried.
Caine couldn’t hide his smile, not that either Peter or Iris could see it. They both had their eyes closed in obvious pleasure. When Iris mewled a soft protest, Caine looked up to see that Peter had moved behind her. His big hands palmed her breasts, and he roused her further by pinching her nipples. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Caine licked one of her breasts, and then shifted to bury his face in her cunt.
“Oh, my!” Her legs parted further as she gave herself over to them. “Peter.”
Peter continued to kiss and fondle her as Caine licked her. Using the rough side of his tongue, he stroked over her slick flesh again and again until she was trembling. Her juices dripped down his chin as he reached around to hold her ass in both hands. Kneeling before her, his thighs spread in an attempt to ease his burgeoning erection, he feasted as she began to crest.
“That’s it,” Peter said, his voice rough. “Come for us, sweetheart.”