Page 8 of My Lord, Lady, and Gentleman

“Well said. Now, tangle your fingers in his hair and make him do it.”

Speechless with lust as she obeyed, her hold on his hair deliciously firm this time, his wife pushed his face toward her quim. Joseph paused to inhale the intoxicatingly spicy scent of her wetness, before parting her labia, dragging his tongue along the silken flesh, and penetrating her entrance.

Susanna gasped. “Yes. There. Mmmm.”

Emboldened by the sound, and her words, he firmed his tongue and pushed it deeply into her. In. Out. In. Out. Fucking her with it, again and again, sliding his hands under her backside to hold her still as her hips began to writhe, gaining a perfect reward as honey trickled into his mouth.

“More,” growled Clayton. “Make her come. She’s close. So close. Own that sweet little cunt.”

Susanna arched, sobbing for breath, and dragged Clayton’s left hand to her breast.

Yes. Pinch her nipple.

As though the artist had heard him, he slid a finger either side of the swollen peak, and squeezed. Almost shaking, his cock so hard his trousers were a torture, Joseph frantically lapped his wife’s soaked quim, rubbing his lips and chin against her even as he buried his tongue inside to collect more of her delicious juices. And then, the most perfect sound of all: a wild cry of pleasure as she climaxed, her inner walls pulsing around his tongue, her hand tugging hard on his hair. He could only groan in dismayed ecstasy as his cock erupted, ruining his trousers forever as he drenched the fabric with harsh spurts of his seed like the greenest of lads.

Joseph’s knees wobbled, and he slipped onto his side, caught only by Susanna’s thigh. Resting his cheek on it, scarcely able to catch his breath, he looked up. They were both smiling at him. Susanna’s cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. Clayton nodding in approval.

Because he’d done it. With the other man’s help, he’d actually done it.

For the first time, he’d made his wife come.

* * *

She had opened the mythical Pandora’s box. And to her eternal shame, she didn’t want to close it but open it even further.

Pausing in the aisle containing long, smooth tables covered in bolts of gilt-shot silk, Susanna inhaled deeply of the warehouse’s scents. Fabric and wood. River air and damp stone. Camphor to keep away the moths. It wasn’t an especially pleasant combination, especially coming into winter when the Thames became even more sluggish and the dampness mocked the efforts of the fireplaces to keep the huge building warm and dry. But it was familiar. And she needed that to try and gather her thoughts.

How could she be such a bad wife?

Joseph had granted her many boons. Permitting Clayton to sketch her. Encouraging her when she’d been so blasted nervous. Then actually getting down on his knees and taking instruction so he could learn to make her come. Truly, he deserved all the praise in the world, especially for the mind-shattering orgasm that had torn through her body, more powerful and wonderful than anything she’d witnessed at the warehouse window. But how had she repaid him?

By seeking the touch of another man.

Susanna winced. How could she be so fiercely attracted to Clayton when she was a married woman who loved her husband? Even hours later, it was embarrassing to recall how eager she’d been to sit on the other man’s lap. How right it had felt with his muscled chest at her back and his strong, dexterous hands at her waist while Joseph’s wicked tongue plundered her quim. But she had compounded her crime by guiding Clayton’s hand to cup her breast. And when he’d pinched her nipple, sweet heaven. The exciting contrast of the bite of pain and the blissful licking, the reminder that not one but two handsome men were attending to her…well. Ecstasy like she’d never dreamed.

Worst of all, she wanted so much more. Definitely more of Joseph’s tongue between her legs, but more of the forbidden, too. Clayton’s raw, explicit words in her ear, his stern commands, and his hands on her breasts. Perhaps even his fingers inside her. His cock. Both men making her beg for it and taking her roughly until her orgasmic cries echoed in the room…

“Susanna?”

She shrieked, spinning around so fast her peach-striped gown tangled around her legs and almost sent her sprawling onto the warehouse floor. “Jos—er, Fenton! Oh my goodness, you startled me.”

“I did call out,” he said, with a lopsided smile. “But you were obviously deep in thought as you paced. Are you displeased with the silks? No one knows fabrics like you.”

The praise both warmed her, and added to her guilt. “Lithgow Imports did well enough. Lithgow Fenton Imports has established itself as the best because of you, though.”

A faint pink highlighted Joseph’s cheekbones. “That is kind of you. Not sure how true, though.”

Impulsively, Susanna reached out and touched his hand. “It’s true, my canny baron.”

“Ah, away with you, Susie.”

She stilled, both at the pet name, and the brief return of his musical Irish accent. “I’ve missed that,” she said softly, all-too-aware of the dockhands lifting and carrying more heavy containers of satins and lace no more than twenty feet away. “Being Susie. And hearing your lovely brogue.”

Joseph closed his eyes briefly. “Not now. I mean…not here.”

“Then perhaps we should go home,” she said. “The carriage is nice and private. Perfect for a lengthy discussion on, ah, certain topics.”

“Like earlier in the music room?”