[Ménage Amour: Erotic Historical Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, light bondage, HEA]
Catherine Morris leads a dull life as a companion to a wealthy young woman. To escape, she reads gothic novels. She dreams about two mysterious men loving her, and when she meets Henry Tilman and John Thorne, her heart recognizes them. John and Henry agree they’ll each court Catherine and let her choose. Henry invites her to the Tilman’s ancient family home, Norrington Abbey, and John comes along. At Norrington Abbey, Catherine discovers Henry’s father’s secret chamber filled with whips and cuffs and sees him and Henry’s brother sharing a maid. Can she have her two men at once? John and Henry gladly share their passion with her. When Henry’s father learns she’s poor, he orders her to leave. Will Catherine lose the loves she’s only just discovered? Or will John and Henry fight to give her all the intrigue and passion she desires for the rest of her life?
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among the men.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Later that night, after dinner and a few hands of cards, Catherine retired to the room the lovely Mrs. Slater had shown her earlier. It was quite nice, freshly decorated and furnished with modern, comfortable fixtures. Disappointment filled her once more. The abbey had looked delightfully gloomy when they’d arrived, so many windows staring down at them where they stood on the drive. What secrets did they conceal? Oh, how she longed to find out!
She changed into her nightdress and sat on the edge of the bed. It was soft and lush, as fine as any she’d seen at the Thorne’s or in Bath. She stretched out, staring up at the carved canopy above her. The house was still, no creaking or clanging chains in this part of the house. There were other areas, however. Places in the abbey that beckoned. She sat up. There was one place she would explore tonight. A giggle burst forth, and she covered her hand with her mouth. Henry had said there was nothing of interest there. Well, she begged to differ. She’d seen the secretive cast to his features when he’d dismissed her inquiry.
“The general won’t be back for a few days,” she told herself, climbing off the bed. She donned her wrapper. “Surely he won’t mind my snooping about his rooms in his absence.”
She took a candle from the bed stand and left her room. She could hear John moving about his guest chamber as she crept past. Was he ready for bed as she’d been? Did he wear a nightshirt? She flushed and her body heated. Or did he wear nothing at all?
She still felt incomplete after being with him. And with Henry as well. They’d pleasured her, to be sure, but left her craving the ultimate satisfaction. She held her hand up to John’s door. Would he allow her to enter? She fisted her hand. She couldn’t. True, she wanted him as much as she wanted Henry. But that was the crux of the matter. She wanted both of them, not one or the other.
Turning her attention to the general’s secret room, she went down the hallways. She passed the family’s rooms on her way and paused before Henry’s door as she had John’s. Shaking her head, she passed his room as well and headed for the general’s wing.
The air seemed chillier as she passed his rooms. The carpet was worn here, the wall’s rough stone painted but not plastered. It was darker as well, and she felt her skin tingle. What was he hiding?
To her surprise the door didn’t squeak as she eased it open. There was a desk within, so perhaps he did use the space as a study. But there was a bedchamber beyond, through a low archway. A large bed sat within, rough-hewn and bare of any draperies. It was dressed with simple linens, and the wood posts were scarred and nicked. A screen and washstand stood in one corner, a chipped bowl and thin towels at the ready. What was this place? Perhaps, despite his cultured bearing, the general longed for more Spartan conditions now and again. There was a sort of raw sensuality to the room, however. It was dim and bare of all but the essentials.
A humongous wardrobe stood at one side of the room, which she now noticed had no dressing room of any kind. She crossed to the large piece, trailing her fingers over the dark wood. She set down the candle and looked about, expecting someone to come upon her at any moment. Her heart raced, but she’d come this far. Placing her fingers around each of the hammered metal knobs, she pulled the doors open. Her breath caught at what she found within.
Whips and crops and worn leather straps too numerous to count. Thick metal hooks and loops hung beside them, and there were several wooden paddles on the lower shelf. Her body went cold. What was all of this? Did the general have a violent streak? Was that why he kept this room concealed?
She closed the wardrobe and turned to the bed once more. Did he utilize this as some sort of torture chamber? She clasped her hand over her mouth. Oh, what would he do to her if he found out she’d discovered his secret?
Grabbing up the candle, she fled the room. She didn’t even take care to close the door quietly before all but running away from the general’s wing. By the time she gained her guest chamber, she had to sink down on the bed and will her heart to cease its pounding.
She collapsed on the bed, covering her face with her hands. She should not have come to Norrington Abbey. First there was her illicit desire for two men, neither of whom would ever offer matrimony. And now she’d invaded General Tilman’s private domain! Whips and straps and shackles…what could it all mean?
Curling onto her side, she hugged her middle and waited a long time for sleep to take her.
“Capital idea, love,” John said. He turned to Henry. “Did you know about this place?”
Henry shook his head. “I know my father and Frederick seem to talk in code now and again. Now I realize what they spoke of in cloaked terms.”
Catherine stood trembling in the darkened chamber, her every nerve stretched taut. She wore her nightdress, but her men were still dressed. Pity, that.
Henry eyed the large bed as John crossed to the wardrobe. He pulled the doors open and let out a low whistle. “Your family is twisted.”
Henry joined him, his eyes wide. Catherine could guess what he was thinking. No matter. Her attention returned to the cuffs tethered to the bedposts. She longed to give herself over to her men and had no desire to wait a moment longer.
“You’ll take me tonight, Henry,” she said softly.
Henry turned to her. “I will, indeed.”
“I daresay the whips and paddles have seen some use.” John closed the doors with a click and faced her and Henry. “The straps, however? I have no problem using them on your wrists and ankles, if that is what you desire.” At her eager nod he turned to Henry. “What do you say, Henry?”
Henry fingered the thick leather. “They are supple and soft. No wonder I’ve never noticed marks on any of the maids.”
His words brought the image she’d stumbled upon once more before her mind. She stretched out on the bed, leaning up on her elbows. “What are you waiting for?”
John laughed and Henry blinked. They were soon naked at last, their cocks standing at blessed attention. Coming up on her knees, she drew her nightdress over her head and stretched out on the bed again.
“Henry, you take her wrists.” John ran his hands over her legs, teasing her skin. “I’ll take her ankles.”
Her breath caught as they fastened the cuffs on her wrists and ankles. She was completely at their mercy and she could not wait to see what they did to her.
Henry traced his fingers over her belly, her rib cage, finally circling her breasts. Her nipples pebbled, and he leaned down to slowly lick one. “Ah, your taste.” He closed his mouth and began to suckle.
Sharp wanting stabbed her, from her breasts to her center. “Henry!”
John’s fingers trailed up from her cuffs to stroke so close to her pussy. Her skin prickled and her legs clenched. “Do you want us, Catherine?” he asked.
It was what he’d asked in her dream, when she’d had no idea who held her from behind. She felt her pussy swell, her juices flooding her. “Oh, yes.”
John climbed up on the bed and settled between her thighs. “Henry has spoken of your pussy’s flavor, love.” He kissed her inner thigh so close to her damp curls she nearly screamed. “I have to taste it myself.”
Henry licked and fondled her breasts as John began to eat her. It was like Henry’s kisses yet different. John was determined to make her come, that was obvious. His tongue stabbed deep inside her, making her long for his cock.
“John, please.” She gasped. “Please.”
“I could eat you all night,” he said, his voice low.
“Make her come,” Henry breathed.
“Do you want that, Catherine?” John asked. He licked her clit with the edge of his tongue. “Do you want to come?”
“Desperately!” she cried.
He sealed his mouth to her pussy then. Sucking, licking, nibbling until she could concentrate on nothing but his tongue and Henry’s mouth. She could scarcely move her arms or legs, tantalizingly trapped by the cuffs. She made the tiniest movements, but it was enough to send her over the edge. She cried out as she came, trembling in her restraints.
Before she could do more than catch her breath, John drove his cock deep inside of her. She felt full, stretched, and it was marvelous. “Take me, John!”
He grunted in answer, hastening his thrusts. “What of Henry?” he bit out, holding himself up to grind his pelvis against her swollen clit. “Do you want him, too?”
She nodded, so close to climax she could hardly breathe.