Absolute Surrender (33 page)

“Is this not…is this not part of what you intended to show me?” Amelia asked quietly. She could feel the hard ridge of Charles’s arousal cradled by her bottom, the tip of Hugh
’
s erection just under her thumb beneath the fall of the fabric she held on to. She ran a thumb over Hugh
’
s erection, and he tensed, groaned. He sounded pained, and she was suddenly more concerned than upset by his change in demeanor.

“Amelia, we hadn
’
t intended to—”

She swept her thumb across his hardness again, and a stiff groan cut across his words.

“I want to see what passion looks like in you—and in Charles,” she said. “I believe that only fair.”

The heel of Charles’s hand pushed into her, and her breath caught. “Don
’
t—” She closed her eyes and concentrated. “Don
’
t you dare try to distract me, Charles,” she finished. Charles smiled against the back of her neck, and she looked up to the ceiling. “I…I find myself quite curious.”

“As you please,”
Charles said.
“Since Hugh seems to be in a convenient position…”

She clenched her eyes.

“Oh, thank you
very
much,
Charles,” Hugh said, his voice strained and breaking across the words. Hugh didn
’
t seem to be happy about this turn, and she was confused. Then she felt his hardness wane.

“
I don’
t understand. I enjoyed very much what happened, and from what I know…neither of you were brought to that same enjoyment.
Before
.” Amelia knew her speech was halted and difficult.

“No, that we did not…we…honestly, we didn
’
t think that far ahead…or perhaps we thought that part would not be necessary,” Hugh said breathlessly.

“So you discussed it?” she asked.

“We discussed
your
passion, Amelia,”
Charles said.
“We did determine that it may be difficult for either of us to
come
off
with another man in attendance and never quite reconciled that,” Charles finished simply.

“To…
come
off,
” Amelia said. She had
come,
and they had not, and she felt terribly selfish in that knowledge, regardless, she realized, that that had been their intention. “I see.” She thought for a moment. She could wait, but she didn
’
t want to. She wanted to know what passion looked like on them. She believed being a witness to passion an integral part of the process, in fact. She swept her thumb across the front of Hugh
’
s trousers again, and his size bloomed beneath it.

“Please,” she whispered. She looked to Hugh, caught his deep gaze, pleaded with him with her eyes. She saw a stiff nod, and she moved her hands to the buttons that kept him from her. He lay still beneath her hands, save that one spot that grew again—slowly—as his breath stilled.

Six buttons.
That
’
s all that lay between her and him. Amelia
’
s gaze moved to her hands, and she concentrated. She loosed the first button, then stilled.
Charles
. “Charles, is this—”

“Carry on.” Charles’s voice was gruff against her ear as his fingers began again to do amazing things to her.

“As a lamb to slaughter,” Hugh grumbled. “I cannot believe it. We were to work together, and
you
have effectively thrown me under the carriage wheels, the sacrificial son.”

“You
’
re mixing your metaphors, Hugh,” Charles said quietly, and she shivered against his hot breath on her shoulder.

“Damn you,” Hugh whispered as the third button slipped free. He flung his head back against the pillow. “I can
’
t watch this.”

I can,
she thought.
I most certainly—
the sixth button slid free, and the fall of his trousers was loose—
can.

She brought her hands to her mouth as she chewed on her lower lip, deep in thought. Charles had moved a hand to her breast and was doing something incredible to her nipple, making it quite difficult for her to concentrate.

She saw Hugh move his gaze from the ceiling to the contact between Charles’s hand and her breast, and as her gaze shifted back to the fall of his trousers, he grew. She saw his hardness expand, the fabric of his drawers pulling tight across his…
maypole.
She shook her head.
Penis. It
’
s a penis,
Amelia thought. At least, she
thought
she thought it. But perhaps she hadn
’
t, because Charles smiled and laughed against her shoulder blade, and Hugh…

“Dear God!” Hugh exclaimed.

She reached for it. With her right hand. She kept her left hand at her mouth to attempt to contain any further inappropriate words that might escape. She watched as her fingers undid the top button of his drawers, and she could see the skin pulled tight around the appendage, like a sleeve. She ran a finger across the very edge of that overskin, felt the wetness it held back, and heard a string of curses the likes of which she
’
d never—not ever, not even on his worst day—heard from Hugh.

Charles’s arms tightened around her, holding her together in a miraculous way, one hand still at her breast, the other returning to her nethers.

She loosed the last button. She
’
d been wrong—there were eight buttons, the six of his trousers and the two of his drawers—but she couldn
’
t have known this until now, obviously, because—

“Ahhhh…Amelia. For fuck
’
s sake, you
’
re killing me,” Hugh groaned.

She reached out, but her bravado faltered, and her hand stopped just there, within a breath of his manhood. “
I don’
t know what—”

Charles cut her off. “Take him in hand, Amelia. Wrap your fingers around him.”

Amelia
’
s fingertips grazed the silky skin as they passed, reaching around his shaft, then meeting at his abdomen. It was…like a steel pipe, wrapped in skin—no, not just skin—the softest, most supple skin she
’
d ever felt, like the skin of her lips, or her nipples. She moved her other hand to one breast and slid a finger around her nipple in a circle. His skin was not like the peak of her nipples, mind, but just around it. She smiled at the thought, then grew serious to her task once again.

“Now what?” she whispered.

“Whatever you wish,” Charles groaned.

She slid her hand gently up, toward that opening of flesh. The very end of his penis was round, and it was softer there, more pliant, and wet, almost as though it cried for her. Drops of moisture slicked her thumb as she ran it across the tip.

Charles groaned again, against her back. She could feel his nose on her spine as he looked away, and she wasn
’
t sure he looked away because he was upset to see her touching another man or—

He can
’
t become hard when upset.

She remembered that. So she pushed her hips back into his and felt his hardness. She knew he was aroused, and the knowledge shot straight to the point where his hand connected with her quim. Earlier, Hugh had gotten aroused watching Charles’s hand on her breast. Yet they
’
d both been concerned about being able to
come
in the other’s presence.

They liked what they saw.

“Oh God,” she whispered. This was so…
something
. She couldn
’
t take her eyes from that part of Hugh.

Hugh grumbled unintelligible words, and Charles’s hips pressed hard against her backside as
Charles spoke.
“Move your hand slowly, up and down the length of him,” he commanded, and she did.

“Hugh, I
’
m not…can you please help me?”

Hugh moved slowly, his muscles jerking. His hand wrapped around hers, skimming it up and down his hardness, then he held her tighter around him than she would have done and repeated the motion. The skin slid along his length below their joined hands. She pulled her eyes away for a moment to look on Hugh
’
s face. He looked pained.

She looked back to where Hugh worked her hand, and Charles slipped a finger between her legs. Charles moved between her slick folds in an identical rhythm to her hand on Hugh—and she knew he was watching. Charles’s hips moved against her in the same rhythm as well, and she pushed back, caught the rhythm set by Hugh, and held on.

Charles’s breath was heavy on her neck, Hugh
’
s chest heaved as his hand moved with hers, his strokes becoming faster, and her breath stilled. Hugh bucked, and Charles’s mouth opened on her back. Hugh leaned up, his abdomen tensing and folding in on itself, then he stretched out and thrust into her hand. At the same moment, Charles pushed one long finger into her tight wetness and closed his teeth gently on the skin between her shoulder blades.

She screamed and held on to Hugh as the crisis coursed her spine, rested in her womb, then sent the shocks outward, her vagina clenching around Charles’s finger as white jets streamed from Hugh, landing on his belly.

Hugh held on to her, she held on to Hugh, Charles held on to her…they were all together.

The first thing Hugh perceived—after a time of simply lying in the bed with his eyes closed, trying to regain his breath—was her fingers on his belly, slipping through his seed. Amelia was so curious. His cock twitched yet again at the thought of her sweet innocence, and he groaned.

Her head shifted on the bed, her face turning up to him. “That was quite beautiful,” she said.

Beautiful
. She
’
d called this beautiful. The mess of him on his belly.
Beautiful.
She was madly, truly, deeply…incredible.

Hugh let out a breath, wondered how Charles had fared, but was simply thankful that he hadn
’
t noticed much of Charles during the whole…
beauty
of it.

“This…is the seed you plant in me. This is what makes a babe,” she said quietly as she swirled her fingers through it.

Amazing,
Hugh thought.
A true innocent.
He
’
d always coveted that innocence, and this was most likely the reason he’d treated Charles so badly, saw the worst in him. Hugh should have been more wary of that particular commandment.

If anyone knew how innocent she truly was, it was Hugh, for he knew her better than anyone. He looked down at her hand, watched her—here, she was an explorer. And that did make sense, because she
’
d always been overly curious. Yet even the most curious of women were shy of his mettle if ever they saw it, and here,
she
thought his seed beautiful. Discussion-worthy even. He saw his cock twitch in the distance and laid his head back to the pillow to concentrate on…not twitching. He smiled, the realization that she was so familiar with that particular want coming across him.