Chapter 26 #4
The undershirt went the same way as the tunic. A substantial pile of clothes was growing at their feet, one they were both ignoring. Ash moved to his breeches, removing those with even less grace than they had done Ash’s, and soon they were both standing naked before her.
The air thrummed with tension. It was as if the storm from weeks ago had somehow shrunk itself and squeezed through the window, filling the room with crackles and sparks.
Ash and Olly stood naked, barely touching each other, and yet even from the other side of the room Agnes thought she could feel the heat coming from them.
She wondered if they would set upon each other right there, in the middle of the chamber, leaving her to perch on the covers and watch, or if they would return to the bed.
She wanted them to return, she realised. Last time she had done this she had been a careful, distant observer. But now she wanted to be close: to see and hear and smell it all, to be a part, yet apart.
‘Would you join me on the bed?’ she asked, gathering her courage before it fled her.
Ash looked surprised, eyebrows rising, cheeks flushing even darker. Olly did not appear shocked at all, wearing that same, smug, devilish grin. They crossed the room to join her, settling themselves onto the bed side by side, Agnes still perched on the edge.
‘What promises did you make to him to get him into those clothes?’ Agnes asked.
They shared a glance. Agnes waited. It was Olly who spoke first. ‘I told him I was going to fuck him.’
The heat between Agnes’s legs flared harder.
‘Well,’ she said, her very breath feeling hot. ‘You ought to fulfil that promise.’
Olly gifted her another one of those devastating smiles. He seemed to be assessing the situation.
‘I’ve an idea,’ Olly said, slowly. ‘Agnes— that is, if you do not mind … ?’
‘Please,’ Agnes said, eager to know what he intended to do. ‘I concede to your expertise.’
Olly grinned. ‘Very good. Place yourself at the head of the bed. Ash …’ He pulled Ash around to the foot, kissed him hard and then pushed him back. Ash collapsed onto the mattress, legs dangling.
‘There. Now stay …’
Ash went still. So did Agnes. She watched as Olly sauntered to the little chest that sat atop the bedside table and opened it with a soft click. On the bed, Ash whined. Olly reached inside and pulled out that same jar that he had done before – the one he had used the night Agnes had watched them.
Ash, too, had his eyes upon the jar as Olly placed it just beside his head. Olly leaned over him, kissing him down into the furs, before moving to the foot of the bed. He gently eased Ash’s knees apart.
‘This one is a wriggly creature,’ Olly said. ‘Agnes, I need your assistance.’
‘Yes?’
‘Take his wrists,’ Olly said, looking down at Ash, ‘and hold him still. Here—’
Olly slid his hands up Ash’s legs, towards his chest, then – bending over him – to his arms, forcing them above Ash’s head. Agnes leaned over her captive husband.
Where it took Olly only one hand to clasp Ash’s wrists, Agnes required both as she placed them where Olly indicated. She slipped into place, Olly brushing his fingers across the backs of her hands as she held Ash down.
‘Very good,’ he said, in a low baritone. ‘But tighter.’
Ash was staring at her, she realised. She caught his eye – his gaze was needy and open. He swallowed heavily, and Agnes found herself mimicking his movements. She squeezed harder. Ash sucked in a quick breath through his teeth. His heart beat frantically against Agnes’s palms.
‘That’s it,’ Olly drawled. ‘Now …’
He smoothed his hands back down Ash’s chest, fluttering over his stomach towards his prick.
He gave it a slow tug. Ash groaned, straining against Agnes’s hands.
Agnes’s own need was growing, a tight and unmistakable wetness between her legs.
She took a little breath, then immediately felt her face flush for how obvious her own arousal was.
She squeezed her legs tighter. She was desperate to reach beneath her skirts and underclothes and find her cunt, to reach that dizzying height together, all three of them.
But she could not; least of all because both hands were currently employed in keeping Ash held down as he writhed beneath Olly’s expert touch.
Olly brushed his hands up Ash’s legs before reaching for the little jar. Ash’s eyes slid shut, his mouth opening in silent gasp. As Agnes watched, Olly took Ash’s prick in hand, slowly sliding his palm up and down the shaft, squeezing, rubbing at the tip with his thumb.
Now he opened the jar, flooding the room with a strong herbal scent. He dipped his fingers inside, coating them generously with the slick stuff within – a kind of tallow, Agnes thought, or hardened oil. It glistened as Olly coated his fingers.
‘Ash?’
Ash responded with a grunt. Olly grinned, then slid his hand lower.
Ash gasped out. Agnes gripped his wrists tighter, and Ash groaned, the sound igniting her even further.
Olly worked him, one hand between his legs and the other on his cock, stroking him, muttering words of praise as Ash twisted on the bed.
Finally, he pulled his hand away. He dipped his fingers in the jar again, this time spreading it generously down the length of his own cock. When it was done, he looked down at Ash again, who was now lying back, head tilted on the mattress, breathing shallowly.
‘Are you ready, my Lord?’
‘Yes—’ Ash choked.
‘Agnes?’
Agnes dared to look up. Olly’s gaze made her feel as if she would burst into flame.
‘Yes.’
Olly grinned again. In a deft movement, he lifted Ash’s legs, flung his feet over his shoulders, then eased himself inside Ash’s willing entrance.
Ash made a guttural noise that seemed to come from deep within him, like water bubbling from a pool.
Olly choked back a little gasp as he pushed deeper.
Agnes’s whole body constricted at once, every hair on her body on end, every breath a furnace.
She gripped Ash’s wrists even tighter, and he let out a curse into the hot air.
Olly had paused. His eyes were shut, his breathing level and controlled, his fingers twitching where they gripped Ash’s leg.
And then he began to move, a rhythmic, powerful thrust that made the whole bed shake.
With each movement Agnes felt herself trapped in the push and pull of it, the tide of pleasure. Ash moaned beneath her hands.
She wanted it. She wanted that heat, that pleasure, that tide.
She could already feel it in her blood, and now she needed to feel it in her body.
She could not tell if it was a desire to fill or be filled – to be Ash, sprawled on the bed, or to be Olly above him, sturdy and powerful and buried inside him, fit like a dagger within a sheath.
She wanted both. All. She wanted everything she could get, and more.
She squirmed, attempting to reach the best spots without even moving her hands.
But it was impossible. Her grip around Ash’s wrists loosened.
She barely even considered it as she slumped down, knees opening.
One hand was enough to keep Ash trapped, she thought, vaguely, and then suddenly she was no longer pinning him, but twining their fingers together, holding his hand as her other, now freed, slipped beneath her skirts.
The relief was almost instant. As soon as her fingers brushed against her cunt that first deep thrill of pleasure coursed through her.
Her body had been waiting for this, needing it for so long that even the lightest touch was enough to make her legs quake.
She squeezed Ash’s hand unbidden, feeling the bed move beneath them.
She gave in to it quickly and easily. Ash’s gasps beside her, Olly’s laboured breaths, the feel of the bed shifting beneath them, the sound of it all together in a grand, overwhelming cacophony. The air tasted of heat and sweat and she drank it in greedily as she rubbed at herself.
On the bed, Ash was making desperate, building little noises.
Agnes glanced over through hooded lids to see Olly let go of one of his legs and reach between them, taking Ash’s cock in his hand.
Ash gasped, cursed, growled. Agnes squeezed her eyes shut again, unable to look, unable to do anything but press her fingers harder.
Olly went first. He sounded like a song, a melodious note that erupted from his lungs unbidden. Ash stuttered on the bed, groaning. Agnes had but a moment to think before it crashed over her, too, drowning her, soaking her in a hot, lingering burst.
Thrilled with it, body tingling all over, she opened her eyes just in time to see Ash buck and spend across his own chest, his mouth open in a wordless cry.
It was so much – it was too much – and Agnes’s hand, still in her skirts, brushed against her once more – again – again – to send her away for a second time before she collapsed onto the bed beside Ash, breathing heavily.
After a moment the bed sagged as Olly too lay down, nudging Ash aside.
They lay there, the only sound their breathing. Agnes’s head was blissfully empty, her thoughts quiet. Nothing mattered beyond this room – beyond this bed. She could close her eyes and drift to sleep without a second thought.
Her body prickled with sweat, her heart gently returning to a slower pace. The breeze through the windows was mild, but it ghosted over her and made her shiver regardless.
‘Come—’ Olly had a hand on Ash’s shoulder, but he was looking at her. He gave Ash a little shove. ‘You are in the way, you brute. It is cold.’
With a grumble, Ash moved himself so Olly could tug back the blankets. Unwillingly, Agnes moved aside too, watching as Ash tumbled beneath the covers.
‘Agnes?’
She realised that Olly was meaning for her to stay, holding the blankets up so she, too, could slip beneath. Her body was still hot and slick with sweat from all they had done; but that warmed her too, in an entirely different way.
She took the chance, settling in the bed beside Ash, who looped a sleepy arm around her, penning her in.
She had not expected the casual touch, and she wondered if he would have granted it were he not already half-asleep and basking in the rich afterglow of his and Olly’s lovemaking.
His skin was warm, and in her own satiated state she could not resist leaning into him, letting her head pillow against his arm.
Olly slid beneath the covers on Ash’s other side, sliding an arm across Ash’s body. Their hands met in the centre of Ash’s chest. Something tight and bright and good settled between Agnes’s ribs as she drifted into deep, undisturbed sleep.