Chapter 66 Stuck between two men (10)
Third person POV:
They did not give her time to recover.
She was lifted again, turned, bent forward over the window seat.
Rain lashed the glass inches from her face; lightning turned the world white.
A cock pressed against her entrance, thick, familiar, devastating and drove home in one slick thrust.
Sebastian.
She knew the shape of him now, the way he filled her so completely it stole her breath.
He took her hard, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her hip as he pounded into her with storm-force strokes.
Each thrust slammed her against the seat; her breasts swayed, nipples rubbing raw.
Another flash.
Edmund stood before her, breeches open, cock jutting proud and wet-tipped.
He cupped her face almost tenderly, then fed himself into her mouth inch by inch until she gagged softly around him.
They moved in perfect, brutal unison, Sebastian driving into her from behind, Edmund fucking her throat with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips.
The storm roared; thunder covered every wet sound, every choked cry.
Hands roamed everywhere hers, theirs, she no longer knew.
Someone pinched her nipples until she screamed around Edmund’s cock; someone else slapped her ass in sharp, rhythmic blows that made her clench hard around Sebastian.
She came again, harder this time, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
Sebastian groaned and followed, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside her.
Before the pulses had even faded, they switched.
Edmund now behind her, sliding into her slick, swollen heat with a single thrust that made them both cry out.
Sebastian’s cock, still wet with her and his own release, pushed into her mouth.
She tasted them both salt and musk and forbidden sin and nearly came a third time from that alone.
They used her thoroughly, relentlessly. Positions blurred, on her back across the window seat, one man between her thighs while the other fed her his cock; on her knees, mouth and pussy, filled at once; lifted between them, impaled on both until she sobbed from the stretch and the overwhelming fullness.
Lightning revealed glimpses, Edmund’s face savage with love and jealousy; Sebastian’s carved in fierce triumph; her own reflection in the storm-lashed glass. Hair wild, lips bruised, eyes blind with pleasure.
She lost count of her orgasms. They tore through her like thunder, one after another, until she was limp and trembling and begging in broken whispers she no longer recognised.
At the height of the storm when the wind screamed and the lightning struck so close the air smelled of ozone, both men entered her at once.
Sebastian lay beneath her on the window seat, cock buried deep in her cunt.
Edmund knelt behind, easing into the same tight space with slow, relentless pressure.
She screamed as they stretched her impossibly full, two thick lengths rubbing against each other inside her with every breath.
They moved carefully at first, finding a rhythm, then harder, faster, until the three of them were locked in a single, shuddering creature of pleasure and ruin.
She came so violently her vision whited out, body seizing around them both.
They followed within heartbeats of each other Sebastian first, then Edmund, flooding her with heat until it spilled down her thighs in a warm rush.
Silence fell, broken only by the slowing rain and their ragged breathing.
Slowly, carefully, they withdrew. Arabella collapsed between them, trembling, tears and rain mingling on her cheeks.
Sebastian kissed her temple with surprising tenderness.
Edmund pressed his lips to the tears on her other cheek.
Neither man spoke.
Outside, the storm began to pass, thunder rolling away across the downs like a retreating army.
Inside the alcove, three hearts beat in fractured unison, and Arabella knew with the cold clarity that follows devastation that there could be no more pretending.
The next move would break them all.
The storm had left the world washed clean, but inside Harrington Park the air was thick with unsaid things.
The storm had left the world washed clean, but inside Harrington Park the air was thick with unsaid things.
Morning light, pale and merciless, poured through the tall windows of the breakfast room.
Servants moved on silent feet, setting out chocolate and rolls and pretending they had not spent the night ferrying candles to guests who had lost their way in the dark.
No one mentioned the muffled cries that had drifted down certain corridors. No one dared.
Arabella had not slept.
She sat at the long table in a simple gown of dove-grey, hands folded in her lap to hide their trembling.
The marks of the night were hidden beneath high lace and careful powder bruises shaped like fingerprints on her hips, the faint imprint of teeth along her collarbone, the tender ache between her thighs that made every shift in her chair a reminder.
Sebastian entered first.
He looked immaculate, dark coat, silver waistcoat, not a hair out of place, as though the storm had never touched him.
Only the faint flush high on his cheekbones and the way his gaze lingered on her throat betrayed him.
He bowed over her hand with perfect courtesy, but his thumb brushed the pulse at her wrist in a silent, possessive claim.
Edmund followed minutes later.
He looked as though he had not slept either, eyes shadowed, cravat knotted with impatient hands, the golden stubble on his jaw catching the light.
When he saw the faint crescent of bruises peeking above her lace collar, his step faltered.
Something raw and wounded flashed across his face before he schooled it to blankness.
He bowed, stiffly. “Your Grace.”
Sebastian’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Vale.”
The silence stretched, brittle as spun sugar.
Then the door opened again and Lady Langley swept in, feathers trembling, followed by Arabella’s younger sister, Miss Clarissa Langley–eighteen, wide-eyed, and dangerously observant.
“Mama!” Arabella rose too quickly; the room tilted.
Sebastian’s hand shot out to steady her, lingering a fraction longer than propriety allowed.
Lady Langley beamed, oblivious. “We came the moment the roads were passable! Clarissa simply had to see Harrington Park, and I could not bear another day without knowing how my darling duchess fares.”
Clarissa’s gaze darted between the three adults, sharp as a seamstress’s needle.
She curtseyed prettily, but her eyes missed nothing, the way Sebastian’s hand still rested at Arabella’s waist, the way Edmund’s knuckles were white around his coffee cup.
Breakfast passed in a haze of forced pleasantries.
Arabella tasted nothing. Every bite stuck in her throat.