Retreat From Love (22 page)

“Anne,” he cried out softly, and then he buried his hand in her hair and roughly pulled her head around. His lips crashed into hers, pushing her lips against her teeth, and she gasped. His tongue surged into her mouth and Anne held him so tightly she thought she might crawl inside him. He plundered, he ravaged. There was nothing gentle about his kiss. Anne didn’t want gentle. She wanted a kiss that matched the emotions raging inside of her. Emotions she’d deny later. But right now, she couldn’t hide from them. She needed him.

He tasted like coffee and mint. His lips were firm and soft as satin. His mouth was an inferno, so hot she whimpered at the intensity of it. He ran his tongue over every corner of her mouth. He tickled her palate, licked her inner cheeks and slid the tip of his tongue over the sharp points of her teeth. All the while he moaned and clutched her and Anne reveled in his devouring.

Finally he tore his mouth from hers. Anne was weak with desire, hanging in his arms, his to do with as he pleased.

“I need you,” he rasped, his voice reluctant. “I’m sorry. But I…” His voice trailed off and he gently pushed her backward. She stumbled back several steps with Brett guiding her, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders. Her legs hit the edge of the sofa and then Brett lowered her down onto it.

“Anne.”

She knew what he wanted. He seemed almost sad and Anne pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh,” she told him. “I know.” She toed off her shoes and lifted her legs so she lay lengthwise on the sofa, her knees raised. Brett kneeled with one knee between hers and one foot still on the floor.

“You don’t—”

Anne cut him off. “Oh yes, I do,” she told him softly, seriously. “I need you, Brett.

Please say yes.”

“Anne.” She knew him now, knew that her name on his lips meant yes. She smiled, and sitting up, began to unbutton his jacket. She didn’t get it off before he was kissing her again. Anne grabbed the edges of the coat and tugged him down as she lay back. He braced his hands on either side of her and followed her down.

The weight of him was glorious. She hadn’t known what she was missing

yesterday. Hadn’t known how good it would feel to have him pressing her down in the cushions, adjusting his body so as not to crush her yet unable to stop himself from thrusting against her.

“Brett,” she cried out. “Yes, darling.”

Anne reached between them to undo the fall front of his trousers at the same time his hand went down and grasped her skirts, yanking them up. He pulled off her just 110

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enough to get her skirt up around her waist. Anne desperately missed his warmth, his weight. She sat up and frantically began to unbutton his trousers. Their fumbling hands got in the way of each other, but they didn’t care.

When his trousers were undone Brett shoved at his underwear until they were down far enough for his cock to escape. When it sprang free Anne greedily grabbed it.

It was as exciting as it had been yesterday. As thick around as her wrist, pulsing with life, the head dark brown, flushed with pink, shiny with the moisture that leaked out onto her hands.

“God yes, Anne, touch me.” Brett gasped as she pumped her fist down his length and back up again, the skin hot and as soft as his lips over an astoundingly firm core.

“I dreamed of this,” Anne confessed. The words came pouring out though she tried to stop them. “I dreamed of you. I imagined what you would be like.” She looked up at his flushed face, his glazed eyes, his lips parted as he panted his arousal. “I wanted you like this,” she whispered. “From the first moment I saw you, I wanted you like this.”

“Take me then,” Brett told her roughly, forcing her onto her back. He grabbed both of her legs behind the knees and raised them high, until she was fully exposed, vulnerable. Anne threw her head back and mewled with pleasure. Brett shoved himself between her spread legs, his hips holding her wide open, and she felt his cock for a split second against her opening before he thrust inside.

“Ahhh,” she shrieked as both pain and pleasure streaked through her. He was so big, she was so full. She bit her lip hard and panted through the burn of his abrupt entry even as she felt her sex ripple around him in excruciating pleasure at being filled again. Brett was frozen above her, and she realized he was concentrating very hard to hold still. His face was harsh and pained as he breathed deeply through his nose, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Move, damn you,” she whispered. “Make me take you.”

Brett pulled out and slammed back in and Anne rode the wildness of him. “Yes, yes,” she panted, “more.”

“More, more,” Brett said harshly, punctuating each word with a deep, hard thrust.

“You always want more. I love that you want more.” His hands went from her knees to her hips and he hauled them higher, the angle of his penetration becoming sharper and deeper and Anne stifled another shriek as pleasure ripped through her. “That’s right.

I’ve got more to give you.” Brett’s whispered words barely registered in Anne’s lust-fogged brain.

“You feel so good,” she moaned. “Do you know how good you feel? God! You’re so thick, Brett, so wide and wonderful. Harder, fuck me harder.”

Strong arms suddenly hauled her upright, so she was straddling his lap, his cock buried deeply within her as his lips slammed down on hers again. Brett kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough. He ate at her mouth as if she were bread and water, the very sustenance of life. Anne wrapped his desperation around her and wallowed in it. She let him support all of her weight, grinding down on him, her arms wrapped tightly 111

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around his neck, one hand buried in his hair, pulling it roughly in her fist, holding him to her. Finally they had to come up for air. With a gasp they broke their kiss.

Brett stared at her, and she was confused by what she saw in his face. He looked sad, angry, desperate. But when he lay her back down, he was infinitely tender.

Suddenly the urgency of their coupling was gone, leaving a deep well of need and tenderness behind. “Love me, Brett,” Anne whispered.

“I…” Brett never finished the thought. Instead he gently raised her hips again and moved deeply and slowly within her, crawling closer until his thrusts dragged his cock against a sensitive place inside her, a place that exploded with sensation with each move, until she was seeing stars and her hands trembled against his shoulders.

A movement at the door caught Anne’s eye and she turned her head, feeling as if she were trying to move underwater as Brett continued his exquisite torture. Freddy leaned back against the closed door, his hat on a nearby table, his gloved hand palming his hard cock through his trousers. When Anne’s gaze met his he straightened away from the door and started to pull off his gloves.

“Leave them on,” she gasped. “Leave your gloves on.”

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August 10, 1811

Anne,

We sit idle. If only my mind were as kind as Wellington. All this time on my hands has me
thinking of you almost constantly. What are you doing? Are you helping Mrs. Tilton with her
shopping? Are you mending the parsonage linen? Are you smiling and laughing and kissing
some man under the willows at the pond?

No, I know that last is not true. Not even if you know that Bertie has been unfaithful. And
you do know, don’t you? But you’ll forgive him, or so he assures me. I cannot be so inconsistent,
Anne. No other’s face or form appeals any longer. I must see your face. I must hold your form. I
cannot envision another ever moving me as you do. If such a person comes along, then I shall
give them what is left of my heart. Because I have kept a little, I think. If you were here with us
now, if I could truly smell your hair and hear your voice, then I think that even if another were
to come along I would not see them or recognize them. This is all moot, of course. I have not
forgotten that your heart belongs to another, and in spite of everything, his heart belongs to you.

Do I sound sanctimonious? Anything but that, dear Anne! But I suppose I am the kind of
man who always tries to do what is right. I cannot change who I am. I will not let this war
change who I am.

There are some here who have become closer than brothers. I have wondered, were it not for
you, would Bertie and I have done the same? The answer is unequivocally no. He is the brother I
never had. But I have begun to hope, Anne, that there may be a way. For every moment of hope,
however, there are two of despair that I shall never see you. If only this cursed idleness would
end! But that is a foolish wish. Because here there is only idleness or battle. Boredom or death.

With hope, I choose boredom.

Brett

* * * * *

Brett swung his head around to the door at Anne’s words and saw Freddy there. He was tall, elegant, aroused. And Brett wanted him. Buried balls deep in Anne, he wanted Freddy too. He was a greedy, selfish bastard. Then Anne’s words registered. His gaze flew down to see the dark brown leather riding gloves Freddy wore. Every muscle in his body jerked at the thought of Freddy touching him in those gloves. God, Anne wanted the same thing. He’d known she’d want the same thing.

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Freddy looked at him and Brett didn’t need to say a word. Freddy smiled that slow, seductive smile that Brett had seen for the first time yesterday, and a shot of heated arousal careened from his shoulders, straight down his spine and around his arse and his cock jerked inside Anne.

“Brett!” she cried out, and he realized he was holding her hips so hard she would have bruises tomorrow. He forced his hands to relax, let his head fall back on his shoulders, closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

“You like the gloves?” Freddy purred, and Brett’s eyes flew open. Freddy had crossed the room and was standing next to them. He took a step closer and suddenly Brett could feel the heat from his body, could smell the sweat and the horse on him, and he nearly groaned with pleasure. He would have if he hadn’t bitten the inside of his cheek.

“Yes,” Anne purred right back. “Touch me, Freddy.”

Brett started to pull away, but Anne wrapped her legs around his waist and held on tight. “Oh no,” she told him breathlessly. “You’re not going anywhere.” He felt her inner muscles deliberately clamp down on his cock, and this time the moan escaped.

Anne smiled like the vixen she was. “I know how much you like us together, Brett.

Would you like to see Freddy touch me now? While you’re inside of me? Would you like to see those gloves against my skin?”

“Christ,” Brett croaked in a rough voice.

“I believe that means yes,” Freddy said with amusement. “Brett.” Just his name.

That was all it took to drag Brett’s gaze to Freddy. The look Freddy gave him was hot, intense, amused. Freddy looked down and Brett’s eyes followed. He saw Freddy’s gloved hand glide along Anne’s leg, from the top of her stocking up her naked thigh, so close to Brett he could feel the heat radiating from the leather. Freddy’s hand stopped on her lower stomach, just above the dark bush of pubic hair, Anne’s and Brett’s tangled together, that hid their joined bodies.

Brett was breathing so hard and fast that he felt lightheaded. He watched the muscles of Anne’s stomach quiver under Freddy’s touch and he couldn’t control the rough thrust of his hips.

“Undo your trousers,” Anne choked out. “I want to see those gloves against your cock, Freddy.”

Freddy’s rubbing fingers stopped on Anne’s stomach. “Do you?” he said softly.

“Brett?”

Brett couldn’t speak. He could barely think. If he said yes, did that make him Freddy’s lover? Or Anne’s? He was confused, hardly in the best position to reason the situation out. He let instinct guide him. He closed his eyes and nodded.

When he opened his eyes he saw Freddy slowly drag his hand from Anne’s

stomach. Brett knew he was going to release his cock. Right there, practically in front of Brett’s nose. God, he was temptation itself. And he knew it. He must know he was pushing Brett. But Brett had to maintain his control. This was about Anne. Not about 114

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Brett. It was what Anne wanted. But God, Brett craved it. Craved the sight of that shiny leather glove wrapped around Freddy’s cock.

“Is this what you want?” Freddy asked roughly, and though he tried to deny it, Brett couldn’t keep his head from turning. And there it was. Brett groaned. He just couldn’t help it. Freddy’s leather-clad fist was wrapped around his erect cock, which was flushed red with arousal. As Brett and Anne watched he pumped his fist several times up and down its length, until a drop of moisture leaked from the pink tip.

“Look what you’ve done,” Freddy whispered. “Do you have any idea how erotic it was to walk in and find you two fucking each other? Do you? Anne spread out, taking your cock, Brett, so beautifully. And I knew what you felt. I know how tight she is, how hot, how wet. How she loves it. And you, Brett, you were lost. Lost in her gorgeous little cunt, weren’t you? You didn’t even hear me come in. I thought I was going to come at that instant, just at the sight of the two of you.”

While he was talking Freddy ran his thumb over his leaking tip and shuddered.

Then he rubbed the moisture over the head, making it shiny and more tempting than the sweetest morsel. Brett’s mouth was watering. But the sight of the leather shining and growing dark as the moisture soaked into the brown glove, Christ, it had Brett going mad. He wanted that wet glove rubbing all over him.

Anne took Freddy’s free hand and brought it back to her stomach. She held it there, both of her hands pressing it into the white, flawless skin of that perfect belly. Then she slid it down into her pubic hair.

“What do you want, Anne?” Freddy asked, his voice so sweet, so tender. That voice made Brett ache.

“Touch me, Freddy,” Anne begged, her head thrown back against the cushions. She writhed beneath Brett. “Touch me while Brett fucks me. Please.”