Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr (19 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Amber

BOOK: Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr
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“Well said, Jane! Now, of late, Signore Mosca has oft been in the company of one Monsieur Lemieux due to a matter of business.”

Jane’s brow rumpled as she rifled through her mental catalog, trying to match the name with a countenance. She called to mind a large, hulking Frenchman, with lank, unruly hair in need of a trim. He had sparse conversation, and little interaction had occurred between them on the occasion they’d met.

“I can’t precisely recall his features,” she admitted.

“And no doubt you’re too much the lady to mention those features you might recall. But I recollect him as thick and muscular—his overall shape fashioned in a most ungentlemanly way. And you’re too well bred to remark on his manners—brutish, as I recall,” added Nick. “Nevertheless, we can expect that Signore Mosca might bring the monsieur as his guest when he visits. And in that event, you would be also obliged to extend your hospitality in a new direction, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“After observing your generosity toward Mosca, Lemieux would almost certainly want to fondle your breasts as well. However,” Nick cautioned, “it’s likely he wouldn’t request permission.”

As his words died away—

Rough hands cupped the underswells of her breasts through the fabric of her chemise, squeezing and remolding their contours with scant consideration. They pressed until her areolas met, positioning her nipples for the descent and easy ravishment of a voracious mouth.

The crests of her flesh were drawn deep into its warm, wet prison and then released and drawn again. Under the strong nursing her chemise grew sodden, a stimulation in itself.

The lips pulled away, and Nick confided:

“I fear I was correct regarding the monsieur’s behavior. In fact, I believe he might abuse your breasts in other ways before he leaves you. But no matter how unmannerly his touch, don’t complain, Jane. Bear in mind he’s our guest.”

Jane yelped and strained at her tethers as her sensitized nipples were peremptorily tweaked and pinched. Teeth bit and nipped along the curves of her breasts. The lecherous attention stirred her blood, and a corresponding echo of sensation twinged between her thighs. How was it that such ill usage could invoke this secret shameful enjoyment?

Abruptly the sensual attention ended. Hands and lips departed, leaving damp circles on her chemise and a tingling remembrance.

“Now, Jane, thank Monsieur Lemieux for teasing your nipples.”

Vastly irritated at having such stimulation withdrawn before it could be properly analyzed, Jane remained silent.

“Jane?” Nick scolded softly.

“Merci, Monsieur,” she said grudgingly.

“Said like a good, obliging mistress,” Nick approved.

“Yes, well…”

“Lemieux has another request to put forth for his additional entertainment,” Nick interrupted. “Do you think you might accommodate him further?”

“In what manner?” she hedged.

“The next request he might put to you would surely be an uncouth one. Don’t be shocked if he asks something truly wicked.”

“Puis-je avoir la permission—may I view her cunt?” an accented male voice inquired.

“Nick—no!” Jane pressed her thighs together. The thought of showing herself to strangers was so abhorrent she momentarily lost sight of the game.

Nick made a tsking sound of disapproval. His palm cupped her cheek in a comforting way. “Impulsive and forward of him, I agree. But I’m proud of you, cara, and therefore find myself strangely willing to show you off. You don’t want to displease me, do you?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Then display yourself.
Faccia come dico.
Don’t keep our guests waiting.”

After a moment of indecision, Jane rallied her courage. She let her legs fall open. Unseen hands pulled her knees upward and apart with brisk efficiency, splaying her as wide as her body would allow.

Cool air found her private slickness, and she sensed eyes inspecting her. Hard knuckles stroked through her labia, nudging at her slit.

“Am I not fortunate, gentlemen?” Nick asked, fatuous pride evident in his voice. “This is mine to enjoy whenever I wish. Do you not envy me?”

Jane’s inner muscles tightened at the casual touch along the folds gating her vaginal opening. She murmured appreciatively.

“With such visual provocation, Mosca has been emboldened to make a new request,” Nick informed her.

“Con permesso. May I taste it?”

“And what do you reply to that, Jane?”

Jane groaned, squirming closer to the tantalizing rub between her legs.

The clever fingers were withdrawn.

“Answer the signore, Jane.”

She should have been shocked. But his tone soothed and lulled, and she craved more contact.

“If my lord wishes, you may, signore,” she replied.

“Such compliance!” Nick told her.

“Proceed, Mosca,” he suggested, his tone brimming with jovial male camaraderie.

Long seconds passed. Jane lay tense with expectation….

The merest butterfly touch of a tongue came, tickling her clitoris. So light she wasn’t sure if she’d only imagined it. Her legs drew inward reflexively.

Gentle thumbs spread the delicate hood protecting her clit. The touch came again, still light, but firm enough to be more certain of it. When she didn’t twist away, the hesitant tongue seemed encouraged. With tender precision it began to lap at her, laving first with only its tip and then with the full stroke of its raspy warmth.

“That’s good,” she breathed, shivering.

With a final lingering lick, the tongue dragged away.

Only then did Jane realize her legs now lay sprawled, wide and welcoming.

“After observing such a wanton display, Monsieur Lemieux will be anticipating another turn,” Nick told her softly. His fingers combed through her silvery hair where it lay on the pillow.

“Puis-je—may I suck it?” a gruff voice inquired.

“Please, yes, monsieur, I would be delighted for you to do so,” Jane answered.

“I believe your manners are improving greatly through this exercise,” Nick told her. “But remember, Jane. Monsieur Lemieux has already shown himself to be exceptionally brutish.”

Before she could formulate a reply, hot, moist breath fell on her as a wet, greedy mouth descended to feast at her slit—sucking, slicking, tonguing. Hands clasped the underside of her thighs, lifting her closer, and she jerked in helpless response.

All too soon, the mouth pulled away.

Jane made a yearning sound. Her hands strained, retesting her restraints.

Nick brushed the dampened curls over her mound. “What is it, cara? Is your pussy hurting?”

“No!”

“Lonely, then?”

“Yes! Please cease this game. Come into me? I beg you.”

“I regret that I cannot,” he commiserated. “Though I desire nothing more fervently than to accommodate your request, you must acknowledge how rude it would appear if I attempt to relieve myself with you while our guests go wanting.”

Jane gritted her teeth in frustration.

Nick caressed her hip consolingly.

“But happily, I see Lemieux has a solution to offer. Put your request forward, Lemieux.”

“Avec permission, Monsieur Satyr. May I poke my cock inside it?” the French voice asked.

“Ciò è ingiusta! Why should Lemieux do so when I was here first?” Mosca rightly demanded.

“Gentlemen, please. I think I can speak for Jane in this matter,” Nick said in a conciliatory tone. “I happen to know she’s well acquainted with such matters and much enjoys the feel of a stiff cock inside her. As to the question of who shall be first? I shall decide quickly if you will but pull your shafts from your trousers and allow me to assess them.”

The rustling sound of clothing being adjusted followed, loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Ah, and Signore Strand has joined us. Do reveal your shaft, sir, and join the game,” Nick invited.

“Jane, can you handle three unfamiliar cocks tonight?”

“Yes, signore,” she replied.

“Generous girl,” he said, patting her thigh. “Then it’s only left to decide whom Jane will service first.”

After quick consideration, he reached a conclusion. “Signore Mosca, you’re the smallest. Therefore you may apply yourself first, thus preparing her for others of more robust proportions. I’ll allow you to put yours all the way inside her. But only once.”

There was a pause.

“Don’t grumble, Mosca,” Nick admonished. “I am being an exceedingly agreeable host, after all.”

Jane held her breath, tantalized with the knowledge that a “stiff cock,” as her husband described it, would finally be forthcoming.

Beside her, the bed shifted, and her flesh felt the warmth of someone nearing. A man’s body hovered and then settled between her legs.

Fabric burnished the inside of her thighs. Though he still wore his trousers, the flap of cloth at his crotch sagged open. The velvet tip of his shaft dragged down her abdomen, leaving a snailing trail of pre-cum. His male thatch brushed her skin as he fumbled and poked, as though trying to locate her entrance. The inexperienced prodding was somewhat uncomfortable, but at last his crown found her.

Her slit parted. Then came a rigid, welcome invasion that filled her by slow inches.

He lay within her for long seconds, his breath harsh and steady in her ear. The buttons of his shirt remained fastened and pressed uncomfortably in a line along her abdomen and chest. They dug deeper still when he bucked once against her, as though to retest her depth.

Then came a reluctant, lingering slide, and his length found its way back out of her body. Her vaginal walls clenched, trying to imprison his shaft for a longer stay, but to no avail. The thick head of his cock popped from her, leaving her gaping.

It wasn’t enough.

“Enough,” announced her husband.

The body left her and the bed.

“Ooh, please, cease this teasing,” she begged.

“Silence!” Nick scolded sharply. “Don’t be unseemly, Jane.”

“Monsieur Lemieux,” Nick continued, his tone now colored with boisterous fellowship. “You may proceed next. Your cock is the largest, so I’m sure you’ll understand when I say you may only insert it to a shallow depth on the first thrust.”

“Then may I pump her?” Lemieux inquired.

“You may, but ten times only,” Nick stipulated.

Without warning, her chemise was shoved well over her head to join the bonds on her wrists. The mattress dipped, and a man’s body dragged voluptuously along hers until their genitals were aligned. His trousers were carelessly bunched around his calves and ankles, leaving his hips and thighs bare.

His knees drove hers wider, but he didn’t come into her. Instead, his fingers opened her labia so its squishy wetness might better massage his straining erection.

Willingly, she aided him in mimicking the sex act. He grunted in savage pleasure, tickling her ear with gutter French. Hands lowered to cup and squeeze the contours of her bottom, forcing her hips to move in time with his. Utterances of the most forward nature issued from his lips, assuring her of the delight his flesh found in the grinding.

He folded his arms and tucked them to her ribs, hooking fingers over her shoulders to hold her. An eager cock nudged her entrance.

Jane quivered, anticipating.

He entered her in a single onslaught, but it was shallow as her husband had dictated. Mere inches lay inside her for a moment, until she thought she might be driven near mad with the need for a deeper thrust.

She turned her head, and her lips brushed his jaw. “Please,” she begged.

The thick head of his cock drew from her, suctioning. Quickly it rammed into her again, this time plowing so hard and deep that her body was forced a few inches toward the head rail.

It was good. Full, heavy. Her eyes closed, and she wrapped her legs over him.

His mouth nipped the side of her neck. Teeth grazed. Sucking, he marked her skin.

He pulled from her completely, dislodging her legs. Then he pumped her again with Herculean vigor. And yet again. Her inarticulate murmurs urged him on.

With each intrusion, he expressed his hot enjoyment of her flesh with coarse, carnal epithets. His words would have shocked her at any other time, but strangely, at this moment they only intensified her desire.

Aloud, he counted each rut:…huit…neuf…dix!

When he eventually departed, she pleaded for more. He’d taken her roughly. Odd that she’d found pleasure in it.

Nick drew an unsteady breath, loud in the silence of the afternoon.

“Lord Strand,” he finally managed, finding a businesslike tone. “I believe it’s now your turn. And to express my gratitude that you have recently ordered a vast supply of our vintage, I will grant you a special favor. You may put your cock inside my mistress and pump her until you’re thoroughly satisfied.”

“Jane, will you invite our favored guest into your body?”

“Certainly,” she agreed with alacrity. “Signore Strand, I would be honored if you would put your shaft inside me.”

Nick patted her ankle. “Your compliance pleases me, Jane.”

A fully naked body settled over her, and she welcomed its male strength between her thighs. Warm lips nuzzled her neck, giving gentle apology to the skin which had so recently been marked.

Fingers sluiced through her ruffled furrow, testing her readiness. Long seconds passed as he fondled her, keeping her balanced upon a knife’s edge of wanting.

Finally, just when she thought she might expire from need, a solid, sure cock began to enter her. It filled her slowly and with painstaking precision, until the joining was as complete as possible.

A back-and-forth thrusting commenced. The strokes were capable but measured and slow. Again, her passion built, pushing her toward the precipice of orgasm.

Nick’s disembodied voice whispered in her ear. “I can see by Signore Strand’s expression that you’re pleasing him. Does his cock fill you differently than mine? Are you enjoying it, Jane?”

“Yes! It’s good,” she moaned. Her fingers clenched at the taut fabric of the scarves that held her. “So good.” Her legs wrapped themselves around the hips rhythmically flexing into hers. Seconds later, a violent climax shook her.

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