[Ménage Amour: Erotic Historical Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, HEA]
Anne Ellis lives like a spinster, a dependable sister and favorite aunt. Five years earlier Capt. Patrick Wenworth made her heart pound, but she was persuaded by her aunt to spurn him due to his lack of fortune. Now he's back in her life, a wealthy war hero, and icy cold toward her. His friend, Capt. Jonathan Benton, is the opposite. He flirts and spouts poetry and makes her feel young again. She soon cares for them both, but she's uncertain of their true intentions. Patrick and Jon both want Anne. They survived battle together, but can they survive their feelings for her? Patrick must let his bitterness go, and Jon must settle down. Anne must learn to trust her heart to make its own decisions. Can she make the choice to finally have the life she wants? Or will she continue to live a half life of duty and obligation?
A Siren Erotic Romance
“Oh, Anne will do it. She has no cause to visit the Cosgroves this evening.”
Anne Ellis did not even flinch at her sister’s dismissive statement. The truth was undeniable, of course. Though she’d dressed for a visit, she was not needed at the Cosgroves, having no connection there save through her sister’s marriage. That the man she’d married had been intended for Anne was of little consequence in Anne’s mind. She hadn’t felt a glimmer of attraction toward Charles then and, now that a few years had passed and the man’s early signs of dissipation were now quite evident in his florid face and spreading paunch, she was pleased she’d redirected his affections toward Mary.
“Anne will see to the child if he’s fussing,” she heard Charles add. “She’s quite suited to that task.”
“Yes,” Anne murmured, not lifting her head from her needlework she’d used to occupy her time as she waited for her sister to dress. “Maiden aunt and convenient child care.”
She did love little Charlie, however. The four-year-old adored his aunt as well. The little boy was the only regret she had where Charles’s courtship was concerned. She couldn’t bear to think of the child she might have borne if another engagement had not ended so abruptly. But it wouldn’t do to think about Patrick Wenworth at this late date. Five years was long enough to pine over losing what might have proven to be the love of her life.
“Anne!” her sister’s shrill voice cried.
Anne set her task aside and stood, fixing a cool expression on her countenance. “Coming, Mary.”
Mary wore a look of exaggerated relief when Anne stepped into the entry.
“Thank goodness,” she sighed. “We are going to the Cosgroves’. Charles’s parents are back in the country and demanding we present ourselves, but little Charlie is feeling sickly.”
“You can stay with him, Anne?” Charles asked.
She eyed them for a moment. They were both dressed for the evening also. Charles’s waistcoat visibly strained at its seams. Mary’s turban had more feathers than a henhouse, but if that was what passed for matronly fashion her sister was welcome to it.
“Did you say Charlie is ill?” she asked.
“Oh, I daresay he ate too many tarts,” Mary said with a wave of her hand. “If it were only Charles’s parents to consider we would tote him along, but there will be guests this evening.”
“A decorated war hero,” Charles said with a nod. “Two of them, to be precise.”
“Louisa will practically swoon,” Mary put in, speaking of Charles’s sister.
Everyone knew that Charles’s sister was on the hunt for a husband, now that she was eighteen years old. Pretty if tending toward plump as her brother, she would undoubtedly catch a suitor now that all and sundry were vacating London for the country. Another season over, and Anne couldn’t help but feel relief that she’d missed it. There was no man to court her now at her advanced age of twenty-five. Sedate dinners with neighbors were all the socializing she could expect. And not even that tonight, apparently.
“Are these relatives of yours, Charles?” Anne asked.
He blinked then shook his head. “My father was good friends with Captain Benton’s father,” he explained. “He and his friend are to be guests tonight.”
Mary’s hands fluttered. “Oh, but Captain Benton isn’t the one Louisa will set her cap for. Mark my words.”
“Really, Mary,” Charles griped. “You make courtship sound so mercenary.”
Anne held her tongue again. As if Charles hadn’t courted her due to her dowry.
“Charles, you know that the fortune Captain Wenworth gained in the war puts him head and shoulders above his friend,” Mary said.
Charles said something in answer, but Anne could not attend. Captain Wenworth? Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath held tight in her throat. It couldn’t be Patrick. He’d been a midshipman when she’d last seen him, with little to recommend him beyond his noble bearing and dashing figure.
“So you will just have to make their acquaintance at another time, Anne,” Mary said, adjusting her shawl about her shoulders. “Charlie will do much better with his Aunt Anne than with his mum, I’m certain.”
Anne managed a nod. “I’ll go change and relieve the nurse.”
Mary and Charles were still out when Anne descended from the nursery two hours later. Charlie had been a bit sick to his stomach but a few stories and a long cuddle from his aunt set him to rights. Alone in the big house that felt less like home with every passing year, Anne settled before the fireplace in the parlor and caught her breath at last.
She and Mary had never been very close, yet now even companionship seemed more than her sister was inclined to provide. Marriage to Charles had given her the stature their father was always chasing, which made her the favored daughter. While Anne didn’t mourn that particular loss, she would have liked to have a true relationship with Mary now. Perhaps then she would have been able to discuss the startling news she’d been given tonight.
Was Patrick really here in Dorset? Why was she to be put through such an ordeal? She was too pragmatic to entertain the notion that her reprieve would continue. Surely she would be dragged into making the newcomer’s acquaintance. She could only hope that his stay would be of short duration.
Thank goodness Mary knew nothing of their past connection. That was one good circumstance that arose from their lack of affinity. There was no telling the discomfort Anne would have to endure if her sister learned she’d nearly married the rich naval captain.
“Do let us in, love,” came Jon’s voice.
Her heart froze. Us? Before she could change her mind, she pulled open the door and found Jon and Patrick standing there. Determination was stamped on each of their faces, along with that expression of desire she’d come to recognize.
“Why are you both here?” she asked, shutting the door behind them.
“We both want you,” Patrick said simply.
Jon rolled his eyes with a smile. “You are the woman who beats inside each of us, Anne. Tell us you want to fly to heavens tonight, our angel?”
His preposterous speech had her laughing, as was surely his intent. Jon grabbed her to him and while he plied her with delicious kisses and caresses she searched herself for a flicker of doubt. She found one, but it was soon doused by her need for him. “Jon, please.”
Jon placed her on the bed then stood to disrobe. “What of Patrick? Will you ‘please’ Patrick as well?”
She found that man standing stock-still, wearing as tender an expression as she’d ever seen on his face. “Please Patrick? Oh, yes.”
He smiled then removed his clothes as well. They were both naked, to her shock and delight. “Look at your…”
They glanced at each other’s cocks then back at her. “What?” they both asked.
“You’re both so beautiful,” she said.
Patrick growled in the back of his throat. “I need to see you, Anne.”
“You had her last night,” Jon said, climbing on the bed beside her. “Did you not look your fill?”
“The room was cursed dark,” he answered.
“Leave the candles lit, then.” Anne pulled her nightgown over her head. “Look your fill.”
Patrick whispered something that sounded like a prayer. “Anne. You are indeed an angel.”
She felt beautiful as their eyes traveled over her. Her nipples tightened as her pussy swelled and she couldn’t wait much longer.
“Spread your legs, Anne,” Jon said.
She leaned back and bent her knees, brazenly showing them her center. “Like this?”
Their eyes fastened on her pussy and juices flooded her. “Touch me, please,” she implored.
“Which one of us?” Jon was the first to ask.
She thought for a moment, a bit surprised when the answer struck her. “It doesn’t matter.”
The two men shared a grin and some sort of private communication. Before she could question them, Patrick fell on her. His mouth was hot on her pussy, his tongue pushing deep inside as he held her thighs apart.
“She’s sweet,” Jon said, slowly stroking her breasts. He bent his head and flicked a tongue over one nipple. “Isn’t she?”
“God, yes,” Patrick said. “Ambrosia.”
He put his fingers in her like last time, but with his tongue flicking over her clit it was almost more than she could bear. “Oh…”
Jon teethed her nipple and she bucked. “That’s it,” she heard him say. “Come for Patrick.”
His mouth on her breast and Patrick’s on her pussy combined to start an upward spiral of pleasure. She relished everything they did to her. Patrick’s hands strong on her thighs, Jon’s mouth tender on her breasts. She gave herself over to it, and it was only Jon’s mouth on hers that kept her screams from waking the entire inn.
Patrick lifted his head, and she tried to gather her wits. When she opened her eyes she found them both staring at her, identical expressions of want on their very different faces. “Take her, Jon,” Patrick said. “Before I forget my vow.”
“Your vow?” she asked, blinking.
Jon kissed her again and pulled her to him. “I want to come inside you tonight, Anne. I want to feel your most tender flower pulling my essence from me.”
She laughed again. “Really, Jon. Read more prose.”
He laughed with her then flipped her over onto her stomach. “Jon!”
He moved behind her and lifted her onto her knees. “I want to fuck you from behind, love.” He spread her knees wider and stroked up her still-tender flesh with his rigid cock. “Ah, your ass is almost as pretty as your pussy.”
“Another night, Jon,” she heard Patrick say.
What could that mean? She thought to ask, but Jon began to finger her pussy. She knew she was wet. She could feel herself dripping from what Patrick had done and what Jon was doing now. Up on her hands now, she moved back toward him and moaned.
“You want me inside, don’t you?” Jon asked.
“But what of Patrick?”
She looked up as Patrick sat at the head of the bed. He held his cock in his fist, a look of frustration on his features. “May I pleasure you, Patrick?”
“May you?” He closed his eyes as a bead of liquid appeared on his cock’s head. “Ah, Anne.”
Her mouth watered for a taste of him. “Let me lick you as you did me.”
He began to shake his head, then groaned and moved in front of her. He held himself as she came closer. Touching her tongue to him, she tasted the salty drop.