[PolyAmour: Erotic Historical Multiple Partner Romance, M/F/M, voyeurism, HEA]
Princess Estelle Moreland is married to a brutish man who is making her life a living hell. She tries to follow her dissolute husband to one of his favorite brothels in the seedier side of London, needing evidence necessary for a legal divorce. Thugs attack her in an alley, but she’s rescued by two of the most gorgeous men she’s ever seen. They take her with them as they escape.
When Prince Julian Thurstan and Count Alek Faust meet Estelle and hear why she was in such a neighborhood, they decide to take action. In the process of freeing Estelle, they ignite a fire of passion in her that burns red-hot and can’t be extinguished—no matter where they are.
In 1890s London, the legal system is stacked against women. Julian and Alek set about releasing Estelle from her horrid matrimonial bonds, matching wits against a cruel and cunning man determined to keep his only source of wealth—his wife.
Note: This book was previously published with another publisher and has been extensively revised and expanded.
A Siren Erotic Romance
“What brings a woman with money here? You don’t look like a smoker.”
Estelle shook her head and tried to speak, to explain the reason she was in a seedy back alley instead of in her own home, but though her lips moved, no words were formed in her throat. The gang leader chuckled malevolently and took a half step closer to his beautiful captive.
“Maybe you’re not a smoker. Maybe you’re here looking for someone. Usually it’s men that look for women to buy, but you…” As his words trailed off, he smiled, revealing a mouthful of badly decaying teeth. “Course, some men come down here looking to buy pretty boys. If you’re on the market for pretty boys, you’re going to save yourself some money.” He laughed, this time barking out his savage glee. “You just found yourself three pretty boys that’s going to do you right and good in this here alley!”
It was a cultured male voice, sounding faintly Germanic though the words spoken were in English, that responded, “Perhaps not.”
Boot heels clicked against the cobblestones. Two men, both tall, their silhouettes displaying long capes that fluttered like wings as they walked, stepped into the alleyway. Seeing them, Estelle nearly fainted dead away with relief.
“This ain’t none of your business!” the leader said, wheeling around to face the intruding duo. He had his big knife raised to shoulder height, ready to stab or slash. Seeing an advantage in numbers, his tone changed as he added, “But I bet you fine gentlemen got gold in your pockets. Let’s see what you got, and maybe I’ll see it clear to let you live.”
Estelle could not see the new men well, though even in darkness she could tell that they were dressed in formal evening attire. They were big men, she could see, one several inches taller than the other, but both at least six feet.
The shorter of the two, the one who wore a top hat, spoke then, his English with a hint of upper-class elitism bred into it. “You men have made a lot of mistakes in your life, but you’ve always been able to walk away from them. If you don’t walk away now”—he smiled, his white teeth gleaming wolf-like in the moonlight—“you’ll never walk again.”
Estelle could not say why the casually delivered threat was so frightening to hear. Perhaps it was because of the man’s obvious breeding and education that the deadly threat made her shiver. Maybe it was because he had smiled, the facial expression in stark contrast to the violence he had promised. Whatever it was, Estelle believed instinctively that this was not a man who issued empty threats.
With her attention on the tall, cape-clad figures, Estelle hadn’t noticed the leader of the thieves move—until he suddenly grabbed her by the arm and jerked her away from the wall. An instant later he had an arm thick with muscle wrapped around her body, and the cutting edge of his long-bladed knife against her throat.
“Either of you assholes move, I’ll cut her throat!”
Estelle’s eyes rolled back in her head, and for a second or two her world began to spin as she felt herself losing consciousness. But then she inhaled deeply and blinked her eyes, and through a sheer force of will she brought herself back from the edge of fainting. This was not the time to be a weak woman, a voice whispered in her brain. She needed to be strong if she was to free herself from her husband. An instinct for self-preservation put a fire in her belly and a glittering light in her eyes.
“Don’t cut her,” the taller of the two gentlemen said, his Austrian accent more pronounced when he spoke quickly. “That won’t do anyone any good.”
“Let’s see the wallets! I want your money now, or I’ll spill her blood!”
One of the thugs started toward the gentleman, assuming they would simply hand over their wallets. He stopped when he realized both men were holding pistols, and both pistols were aimed at him.
“Jim–Jimmy…shit…Jimmy,” the guy stammered as he backpedaled quickly.
The gang leader—Jimmy—put his hand over the plump mound of Estelle’s right breast, squeezed hard enough to make her wince in pain, then cackled and said, “So you got guns! So what? Drop the guns, or I cut her throat!”
Estelle felt the coarse, callused fingers groping her breast. Under any other circumstance, she would have felt defiled by being touched by such a loathsome creature as Jimmy. With a razor-sharp blade to her throat, Estelle—never a particularly spiritual or religious woman, though she attended services because it was expected of a woman of her station—found herself praying for celestial interference.
The shorter of the gentlemen, the one who spoke English without a foreign accent, took a step closer to Jimmy. He made a patting-down motion with his left hand, as though to calm the knife-wielding thief while at the same time keeping a short-barreled revolver pointed at what little of Jimmy was exposed behind the voluptuous, terrorized captive.
“Your name’s Jimmy, I take it. Listen to me carefully now. I want you to be very calm. Is that clear?”
“Are you calm? If you are not calm, people could get killed, and that would be a terrible thing.” He was close to Estelle now, and when he smiled, she was shocked at how handsome he was, and at how casual he was under the circumstances. “Are you calm, Jimmy? I need an answer from you.”
“I’m calm,” the thief said, the undercurrent of suspicion thick in his gravelly tone.
“Now be very careful with that knife. Okay?”
Seconds passed in complete silence. Estelle tried to keep from trembling, but she couldn’t help herself. Having lived a life of great wealth, she had seldom as an adult been in any situation where her money, power, and influence couldn’t dictate the behavior of those around her. Except where her husband was concerned. He was the bane of her existence and the exception to every rule.
“Jimmy, are you careful with that knife?” the gentleman asked.
“I’m careful,” was the quiet response.
The gentleman turned his gun to the closest thief and squeezed the trigger.
She kissed them in turns, allowing Julian to explore her mouth with his tongue, then turning moist lips to Alek for pleasuring. As one man kissed her, the other was busy with the buttons of her dress.
“This isn’t fair,” Estelle whispered as Alek and Julian pushed her dress over her shoulders and down her body, taking her petticoats down with them.
She stepped out of the garments while Alek unhooked her corset. Estelle’s stockings, attached by garters to her corset, were removed, and finally her camisole.
“I feel like I’m drunk, but I know I’m not,” Estelle whispered. “Why am I letting this happen?”
They took her by the hands and guided her over to the sofa. There was nothing in Estelle’s personal history to prepare her or educate her as to what would be expected of her. This was far beyond anything she had ever done sexually, beyond even what she had fantasized about. Her adolescent fantasies of being seduced by a knight in shining armor never included two knights in armor.
They sat on the sofa. Alek pushed his fingers into Estelle’s golden hair, turning her face toward him. As his mouth sealed over hers, Julian’s warm lips captured Estelle’s nipple. She moaned into Alek’s mouth, a low, warbling sound of unanticipated passion. Strong hands touched her knees, pulling them apart to expose her to intimate caresses.
Estelle spread her arms, putting one around Alek’s massive shoulders as she hugged Julian to the lush mound of her breast with the other. A caressing finger eased between her moist labia, pushing in slowly, careful to judge her readiness. Estelle wondered whether it was Julian or Alek invading her most intimate place. It didn’t really matter. She adored them both equally, lusting after them with a primitive, primordial need that she had never before experienced or even knew was possible.
“That’s it, darling Estelle,” Alek whispered. “Just let yourself feel.” He traced the perimeter of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, then eased down on the sofa. “Such beautiful breasts. So big and beautiful.” He opened his mouth wide, sucking as much of her nipple and areola into his mouth as possible.
Estelle cried out in momentary shock when she felt Alek take her breast into his mouth. To have two hot, wet mouths caressing her nipples simultaneously was an electrifying experience. Looking down, Estelle was given the surreal pleasure of watching two handsome men feasting on the lush mounds of her breasts, sucking and licking and nibbling on jewel-hard, wickedly responsive nipples. She realized then that these men could make her come just from sucking on her nipples.
Julian eased off the sofa, settling on his knees on the floor. “Look at me,” he said to Estelle. “Watch what I do.”
Estelle leaned slightly to the side to have an unobstructed view of the English prince. When their gazes locked, he leaned forward slowly until his mouth was scant inches from her pussy. He blew softly on her cunt for a moment, teasing her. And finally, when he pressed his mouth to Estelle and thrust his tongue between the lips of her pussy, she cried out in shock, her body jolted by the exquisite sensation of an oral caress. She tried to close her legs, but Julian was much stronger than she, and he forced her knees obscenely wide apart as he dragged his tongue through the cleavage of her pussy until he reached her clitoris. He sucked the small, pink button of flesh between his lips, flicking his tongue from side to side.
Estelle had very little forewarning of her orgasm. Julian had two fingers inside her pussy and was sucking tenderly upon her clitoris when suddenly the climactic spasms began. Estelle gasped an obscenity as she arched her back, thrusting her pussy upward against Julian’s tantalizing mouth. And when at last the spasms subsided, she slumped back down onto the velvet sofa, gasping for air, a faint sheen of perspiration glistening on her naked body.
“I thought…I would die,” she whispered between gulps of air.
Julian was smiling as he straightened his body, remaining on his knees on the floor.
“That was just the beginning,” he said, guiding the flaring crown of his erection to her still-tingling pussy.