Bound with Passion Page 15

  He stroked his length several times, not that it was necessary, as he was already hard as a post, but he wanted to, for Georgie. James adjusted his position so his knees were on the cushion and the head of his cock was sliding up and down through the smooth, welcoming heat of Trevor’s arse. Without looking at her, James asked, “Do you have a good view, Lady Georgiana?”

  She replied, almost panting, “I do, Mr. Rushford. You may proceed. “

  James watched Trevor’s profile; he was staring across the carriage, eyes fixed on Georgie. James wanted him just like that. He wanted Trevor looking at that woman with whom he was falling madly in love, while he felt the physical proof of the man who always had and always would love him. James wanted those feelings to be inextricably linked inside Trevor.

  James pressed his swollen, hard cock into Trevor with one powerful thrust.

  All three of them cried out at once.

  James stayed perfectly still, pressed to the hilt, his hands in a hard, loving grip on Trevor’s hips. Then he tilted Trevor’s pelvic bones with rough familiarity, and he knew immediately the new angle would be even more deliriously pleasurable for Trevor.

  Then he began to move slowly—reminding Trevor, using his body to reinforce every memory, every moment that they had between them. All the while, Trevor’s gaze stayed upon Georgie.

  Trevor and James were soon breathing in unison: the pattern of his thrusts, the sound of their breaths, the distant huff that came from Georgie’s mouth each time he thrust in, as if she too were experiencing the act as much as Trevor. Which perhaps, she was.

  Georgie had never felt more connected, more attuned to life and the world around her, than she did just then, even though she was quite apart. Something deep and real was taking root inside her. Perhaps something that had always been there, but had lain dormant until now. The way James took control of Trevor’s body, the way he drove into him as both an expression of power and love was completely overwhelming Georgie’s senses.

  Perhaps it was merely the way her body was drugged with lust, her own approaching orgasm making her soft or impressionable. But she didn’t feel soft when she watched those two men—so strong, so intense, and so much in love. Her eyes skated from the erotic, graphic display of James’s glistening cock—in, pause, out, pause, in, pause. It was that maddening pause! She knew perfectly well how that felt. Last night, that was how Trevor had taken her, each one of those pauses driving her deeper into that place of profound peace and comfort, the only place where she felt all the disparate parts of her lock firmly into place, like a broken clock, with all of its faulty pinions and wheels finally clicking back into precise, humming order.

  Her breath caught. Oh lord, she’d always used the same act to distance herself from anything deeper—to lose herself in that mind-numbing pounding, an animal rutting devoid of any deeper emotion. Yet, seeing James and Trevor, she realized this was no mere display of animal dominance, but an act of profound trust on one side and profound care on the other. An act of love.

  She drew her eyes away from where they were joined, and let herself gaze upon the beatific face of Trevor Mayson. Eyes moist with emotion, mouth agape as he teetered on the edge of his release, holding on until James gave him permission to let go. They stared at one another like that for an eternity—all the memories of childhood friendship weaving into this adult intimacy—until Trevor’s eyes began to flutter and his lips began to quiver. It was as if her own body experienced everything in exactly the same way, her lips trembling and her pussy tightening.

  She looked quickly toward James to see he had picked up his pace, and his face, too, was beginning to go slack with his imminent orgasm. Then James reached around Trevor’s hip and grabbed his cock, white knuckles straining with the intensity of his grip.

  “Come for me now, my love. Come for me,” James ordered, moving his clasped hand in time with his quickening thrusts.

  The words were meant for Trevor of course, but Georgie felt the commanding power of them too.

  And she went over right as Trevor did.

  Her body arched away from the back of the carriage seat. Pushing her pussy hard against her palm, she ground against herself as contraction after contraction pounded through her. When her eyes slowly opened, she saw James—looking for all the world like a fully clothed gentleman—draped over the back of Trevor’s coiled form. Both men were breathing heavily and looking at her through glazed, dreamy eyes.

  She watched as their panting eased to a gentle rhythm of deep breaths. She looked down the length of their bodies to where James’s hand was still wedged in between Trevor’s hips and thighs.

  “I want to taste Trevor,” she blurted.

  James smiled and sat up straighter, pulling his cock gently out of Trevor’s body, then sliding his glistening hand slowly out from the confined space where he’d worked Trevor’s cock.

  “As well you should, Lady Georgiana.” And with that, the diabolical man dragged his tongue along the slick remains of Trevor’s orgasm where it coated his palm and fingers. “Mmm, you simply must.”

  Georgie was reluctant to take her hand away from her own body, loving the feel of that lingering pressure against her spent sex. “Bring it here,” she ordered haughtily, as if speaking to a servant.

  James continued to suck on each of his fingers, enjoying each pass like a particularly savory lick of ice cream. He shook his head slowly from right to left and said, “I’m afraid not.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You need to come and get it yourself.”

  She knew what he was really saying: Trevor might be willing to throw himself at your feet, Lady Georgiana, but I am going to make you work for it. And she realized that was what Trevor meant when he said James was the connective tissue, because if anyone could get Georgie to admit what she truly wanted, it was James Rushford.

  By making her admit it, by making her cross that small distance—that tiny space in the confined carriage—James was making her acknowledge what and how deeply she wanted. For now, she kept telling herself.

  She sighed dramatically and removed her hand from her now soaked drawers. “Oh very well. If you insist on inconveniencing me, I suppose I must.”

  James smiled at her, narrowed his eyes, and gave one brief but confident nod. “Please allow me to make him more accessible.”

  Georgie knelt on the floor of the rumbling carriage, her face close to Trevor’s backside, and then watched as James stood up and slowly lifted Trevor’s hips and thighs to help him turn onto his back. Trevor was like a rag doll, gloriously spent, and when she looked at his face—

  Oh God. Her heart lurched into a frantic gallop. He was quite simply the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. His golden-green irises were dreamy as he stared at her down the length of his torso. So much love poured out of that gaze. Georgie was more than a little terrified.

  “Oh Trevor.” She moved awkwardly on top of him, all limbs and elbows, until she was clasping his face with her hands, tracing his lips with her thumbs, and kissing his eyebrows and then his lashes and then his nose. His mouth was seeking her fingers, where they were still wet from her own juices.

  She let him suck on two of her fingers after she pulled her lips away. She leaned back slightly, straddling his hips, and admired his body. As Trevor continued to lick and suck her fingers, she slid down and stretched to kiss the tip of his thick cock where it lay against his firm abdomen. She left two fingers in his mouth and wrapped her other hand around his cock. James caught her eye and nodded again, telling her to take her pleasure with Trevor’s body.

  Georgie’s mouth opened involuntarily. She felt like she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, but in some twisted way, it wasn’t air that her body craved—it was the taste of this beautiful man who was sprawled out before her like a buffet of sensual delights. She leaned in and let her tongue trail slowly along the full length of his cock, from shining crown to base, where the nest of erotic black hair was still moist with his
release.

  She indulged all of her senses: the smell of him, musky and rich; the feel of his skin, warm and smooth in some places, coarse with hair in others; the taste of his release, salty and powerful. Georgie licked every inch of his cock, lingering around the base, and then continued up his stomach to his navel, where a delicious drop of his release had pooled. She was turning into her most basic, animal self, letting instinct and lust direct her movements. She heard and felt against her lips the moan of his pleasure. His suction on her fingertips had been rather languid, more of a caress, when he first began tasting her a few minutes ago. But now that she was focusing all of her attention on him and his beautiful, stiffening shaft, the pressure was getting progressively harder.

  She wouldn’t deny it: it was a heady power to have a man of this size, of this intensity, respond to her slightest attention with such complete devotion. She moaned gently in return, letting him know how much she was enjoying her task. She finished with his stomach, withdrew her hand from his mouth, and let her lips kiss a trail down to where his balls were hanging between his widespread thighs.

  “Look at you,” she marveled. James’s slick seed was dripping out of his arse, and she couldn’t resist dipping her tongue into the pungent mix—the filthy, glorious, rudimentary evidence of what had just passed between these two men. She wanted to lap it up.

  Perhaps there was some small part of her that pushed her to do these seemingly disgusting things in the perverse hope that Trevor and James would see her for the twisted, base creature she really was. Some small, cruel voice in the back of her mind told her she would always be alone with her perversions. That sinister voice encouraged her to do everything that her sick mind could think of because, eventually, Trevor and James would realize she was simply beyond redemption. She would not have to wait any longer on the edge of being discovered.

  And so she kept on. She pressed her lips into that forbidden place, pushing in, violating Trevor in the crudest way she could. Her nostrils flared and her eyes slid shut when she tasted James as well. She became rather frantic, thrusting with her tongue and then alternatively sucking the remains of James’s orgasm from Trevor’s body.

  This would prove the final straw, she thought vaguely, this grotesque display of her darkest fantasies; after this, surely Trevor and James would want nothing more to do with her. She slowed down after a time, finishing with her task as it were, and licked Trevor one last time while his body shuddered in ecstasy.

  She pulled her face away a few inches to look, to stare really. She had his balls pulled back taut. And had been using her other hand to keep his cheeks spread while she indulged. Slowly releasing her hands, she looked up at James, expecting to see revulsion. But instead, she saw . . . herself, reflected back at her.

  “He is utterly delicious, is he not, Lady Georgiana?”

  She stared at James for a few long moments, unable to comprehend his words. “He is . . .” She still wasn’t sure if James was mocking her, if he was going to finally laugh at her, dismiss her. But he wasn’t laughing; if anything, he was admiring. Tears came unbidden to her eyes.

  Georgie wasn’t much for crying. Of course, she loved the stinging press of tears when a cock first breached her rear entrance or pressed into that perfect place at the back of her throat, but that wasn’t at all the same thing. These were hot tears of emotion—terror, relief, and something unfamiliar that was probably love. “You—you—you mean you are not repulsed?”

  James’s brow furrowed and he shook his head slowly. “Look at him,” James whispered. “Just look at him.”

  Georgie turned her head to the right and saw that Trevor had slipped into an angelic doze, like one of Botticelli’s putti after a wild rout. His face was the most radiant Georgie had ever beheld.

  Trevor was floating somewhere between bliss and ecstasy. The movement of the carriage, the scent of Georgie’s skin on his, the feel of James’s warm palm where it rested with familiar ease on his inner thigh, all mingled around him in a cloud of pleasure. Everything felt light and beautiful.

  He could still feel where Georgie’s fingertips had played lightly against his lips as he drifted in that miraculous space. He gradually sensed that they were nearing Mayfield House, and he opened his eyes as if from a deep, deep sleep.

  Georgie, face unaccountably tender, watched him from across the carriage. She and James were already properly dressed, and James was finishing gently refastening Trevor’s trousers. Trevor stared into Georgiana’s eyes. Everything about her was so incongruous: she was seated with her legs bent up under her, perfectly at ease, looking very much like she must when she sat on some exotic carpet in some faraway Bedouin tent, her elbow resting casually on her left knee while she stared at his mouth.

  “And how are you?” she asked softly.

  Somehow he couldn’t find the words, perhaps because he didn’t know what he felt, perhaps because he had no words to describe the immensity of what he felt.

  She smiled at his silence and reached across the carriage to press her fingers against his lips. “Alas, we are in the forecourt of Mayfield House and our lovely carriage ride is at an end.” She withdrew her hand from his light hold, and he missed her touch immediately. There was a moment between them then—where he let that feeling show in his eyes, the unmasked desire for her to keep her hands on him—and her answering glance showed she was unused to being wanted that openly, if at all.

  He smiled again, sat up, and quickly finished putting his clothing to rights. When he spoke, his voice was rough, probably from a combination of his guttural cries of pleasure and not having spoken for much of the past hour. “You are under no obligation to love me the way I love you, Georgie.” When he looked into her eyes and saw the shining beginning of tears, he wished he could take back the words. “I’m sorry —”

  “No, no,” she said, putting a hand on his forearm. “It is not wrong of you to express what you truly feel. I understand that now. I am the unnatural one who is incapable of such feelings—” Her eyes flew to the door when a double tap sounded. Trevor’s driver had been well trained over many years to always knock before opening the door.

  Trevor watched as Georgie stood up halfway and bent her head so as not to hit the roof. She reached for the handle and pushed open the door. The footman was already there to help her descend, and she was out of the carriage and running toward the stables before either James or Trevor had left their seats.

  Trevor sat up and crossed his legs in front of him. He rested his clasped hands on his knees and stared at James.

  “Well,” Trevor said with a bit of sly mischief, “I’ll take Lady Georgiana Cambury’s version of unnatural any day of the week.”

  James reared his head back and laughed. “Come with me,” James said, reaching out his hand so he and Trevor could leave the carriage together. “You had me worried there for a minute at the end,” James continued, “that you were going to launch into some sort of Elizabethan soliloquy about the nature of your affection.”

  Trevor leaned in and kissed the side of James’s neck as they crossed into the large front hall. “I may have fallen madly in love with Lady Georgiana Cambury, but I don’t think I’m entirely stupid just yet. If she thinks she can scare us off with her version of the most prurient debauchery, who are we to discourage her?”

  James barked out another laugh.

  “Would you like to have a light tea in our room?” Trevor asked, pausing before they ascended the wide stairs.

  “Yes,” James replied. “That sounds ideal.”

  A few hours later, the three of them rode back to Camburton Castle for supper, after which Georgie would stay on for the next two weeks. She was quiet, and Trevor asked if she was well.

  “I am.” Her smile was wistful. “I think I’m overwhelmed. And it’s a very unfamiliar sensation.”

  James reached across the carriage and held her hand. “Quite so. The next few weeks will be good for all of us to . . .” He squeezed her hand and paused to coll
ect his thoughts. “. . . to settle down a bit. And then in London, perhaps, we’ll have a better understanding of everything. Yes?”

  Trevor watched as she squeezed his hand back and nodded. “Yes, a better understanding, I like the sound of that. And in the meantime, I will see you both every day. You promised!”

  “Of course.” James patted the back of her hand kindly, then released his hold. “And you will be over to see Cyrus and Saladeen and Bathsheba. And then we’ll all be together in London again. And from there we shall see, yes? Perhaps we could accompany you to Egypt for your return journey.”

  She inhaled sharply. “You would do that?”

  “Of course,” James repeated as he sat back and rested his gloved hand on Trevor’s thigh. “And is it all right, Georgie, if we hope a little? That you might want to return with us . . . eventually? Even though it’s not at all what you planned?”

  Trevor firmed his lips to prevent himself from begging her to willingly agree to that slight hope.

  “Yes,” she whispered, as if she needed to keep her willingness a secret from herself.

  The next morning, Trevor and James awoke with the dawn and went about the day with the usual purpose and structure that was both a part of who they were and what it meant to run the estate and the millinery business. Trevor spent a few hours before breakfast with his secretary, dictating a letter to his solicitor in London as well as composing a longer and more difficult letter to his father.

  When he reached the stables shortly after nine, it already felt like a very long day had passed. As soon as he mounted his usual horse for making rounds about the estate, though, all the worry about his upcoming marriage began to slip away. His father would be thrilled to learn that Trevor was announcing his betrothal to Lady Georgiana Cambury. And after the wedding . . . Georgie would stay in Egypt or return, as she wished. There was nothing more Trevor could do at present.