Epilogue #2
She let out another heavy sigh. “I was dreaming of this place like it was to be my sanctuary. But, in reality, it is just one more cage. It is just another house I could lock myself away within. Four walls would be replaced with four more . . . does that make any sense?”
He nodded. “It does. And now?”
“Now . . .” She glanced about the room. Her room.
In her fine London townhouse. “Now I fear that dream is utterly spoiled for me. I cannot be free here, Charles, not with a staff watching our every move. Not with the whole of London pressing outside our door. We will go to a dinner tomorrow and they will all be polite. They will simper and smirk and all the while they will mock us when our backs turn. They hate us, for they know we don’t belong—”
Charles scooted closer, tipping her face up to meet his. “Do not think on it, my darling. Do not pay them any mind. I don’t care what they say about me. Let them mock me. Let them jeer. Let them say I am beneath you.”
She shook her head, placing her hand around his wrist. “We are beneath them,” she corrected.
“I was always a pariah, Charles. Now I am utterly insignificant . . . and I am happy this way,” she added, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.
“It took coming here and being inside this house to know with a surety marrow deep that I cannot live this life anymore. I cannot live in this house, making calls and going to dinners. I am a vicar’s wife,” she said with a smile.
“I belong with you and John in the country. I want a quiet life amongst our own set of people. To own the truth, if I never step foot in London again, it will be too soon.”
He sighed, leaning back. “So, what would you like to do? We could keep this house and let it out. We could use the income to fund a passion project, perhaps build a girl’s school in the village . . . or we could sell it.”
She stiffened. “But Leary House is part of the Leary fortune.”
“Yes, but it is only part,” he added. “And if it pains you so, perhaps you would be better off with it gone. Remove all temptation, as they say.”
Before she could reply, the door rattled open and Warren entered, a snubbed little candle on a stand in his hand.
His hair was down and wild about his shoulders.
He wore a dark dressing robe open over his black evening pants and white dress shirt.
It was all part of the new wardrobe she’d insisted he get for town.
“Did anyone see you?” Charles called, sitting up. “We don’t know this staff. We can’t trust their discretion.”
Warren glared at him. “Are you kicking me out?”
“No,” Charles said on a breath. “We just . . . must be careful here.”
Muttering something under his breath, Warren locked the door.
Madeline watched him slap the candle down and begin stripping out of his clothes. “Is your room comfortable?”
“No.” He tossed the dressing robe aside. Then he jerked his shirt off over his head, his thick muscles flexing in the firelight.
Madeline sat forward with interest, not missing the way Charles did the same. Warren was so beautiful.
He turned to face them, his scar crinkling over his eye as he glared at them. “A man just tried to wash me.”
Madeline blinked while Charles spluttered. “What?” she cried.
“I was sat in the tub taking a bath, and a man came in and tried to wash me! I nearly knocked him flat out.”
Charles choked laughter into his hand as Madeline tried to school her features. “Was it the footman? Perhaps he was just trying to help—”
“He offered to wash my hair! Christ!” His hands shook as he dropped them to his sides. He stood at the end of the bed, chest heaving as his gaze focused on a spot between Madeline and Charles.
She inched forward. “John—”
“I cannot stay here,” he blurted. “I thought I could, but I can’t. I cannot be housed miles away from you on a separate floor, waiting for some ponce in a wig to try and rub my hair with oil!”
“John,” Charles echoed in warning.
“This house it too big, the rooms are too drafty, and why the hell is everything green?” he barked. “Pick another color!”
Madeline crawled to the end of the bed, holding out her arms to him.
He stiffened, not yet ready to be touched. “And I cannot have my husband’s first comment on seeing me again that I should go away.”
Charles groaned. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I’m sorry,” she added. “I didn’t think it would be quite like this. I’m miserable too.”
Warren shook his head. “This is your world, Madeline. It is not mine. I said I would try. I will keep trying, but—”
“It is not mine either,” she replied. “Not anymore. I said in the carriage, my home is you. My home is wherever you are. Both of you. And if both of you cannot safely be here, then this is not my home. Please, John—”
He hesitated for a moment before stepping into her arms, his body stiff.
“We will stay for the christening because we made a promise to the Corbin’s.
But the moment it is over, we will go.” She pulled back slightly, brushing her fingers through his long hair.
“And Charles had an idea that we could let this house. We could use the money however we wished. We could build a school or buy some land of our own.”
He shook his head. “This house is your dream.”
“Was my dream,” she corrected. “You are my dream now, John. You and Charles.”
He sighed, relaxing slightly in her arms.
She inched closer, peppering his jaw with gentle kisses.
“Let me show you what you mean to me,” she whispered against his skin.
Taking his hand with both of hers, she laid his palm flat against her chest, sliding it down between her breasts, down her stomach, resting between her legs.
He cupped her with a soft groan, his eyes hooding with want.
“Come find your home in me,” she murmured.
“In us. As long as we have each other, we will never want for anything else.”
With one hand cupped between her legs, he grabbed her hair with the other, fisting his fingers in her curls. He jerked her head back. She hissed at the pain, loving the feel of it echoing in her core, a sharp unraveling as she readied herself for what was coming.
She loved when he was rough, when he spanked and teased.
She loved crawling for him, sucking him with Charles, both of them on their knees.
This man owned her, body and soul. And he gave as good as he got, worshipping her and Charles into the early hours of the morning.
She loved watching his tenderness, the way he met their needs without asking.
He was rough, but attentive, angry but loving.
“John, please,” she murmured, knowing how much he loved hearing them both beg. “We need you. This house is not our home. You are. Be with us.”
Charles had slipped off the side of the bed and came around, pressing in at Warren’s side. “I’m sorry, Johnnie. Let’s all forget this horrible place exists. There is only us now. Come to bed, my darlings.” He kissed them both, taking them each by the hand and giving them a pull.
Warren growled, jerking his hand loose as he dropped it to the waist of his pants. “I’m too on edge to be gentle tonight.”
“Good,” Charles replied.
But Madeline had an idea. “Lie on the bed, John.”
Both men blinked at her. “What?” he replied, brows lowered over those dark eyes.
She lifted her chin to hold his gaze. “I said, lie on the bed. You are not in control in this house. This house is mine. I make the rules tonight, and I say you will lie on the bed and let us worship you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, belying the smile he tried to hide. “And what do you expect me to do?”
She glanced at Charles, heart racing. “I rather think I’d like to watch Charles ride your cock while I sit on your face. If Charles is very good, I’ll suck him while he rides you. Would you like that?” she said at Charles.
The poor man could barely contain his groan. He turned to Warren. “Get on the fucking bed, John.”
Madeline smiled, watching Warren drop his pants to the floor and crawl on the bed. His powerful body danced with golden light as he turned, stretching out on his back, his cock hardening before their eyes.
She slipped off her chemise as, next to her, Charles tugged off his shirt.
That’s all it took to have the three of them naked.
She and Charles crawled up either side of the bed alongside Warren.
They both dropped to their elbows at his hips, smiling at each other before they took him to mouth, licking and teasing him to full hardness.
He grabbed their hair, holding their heads as they worked him. Madeline sucked on his tip, hollowing her cheeks, as Charles licked his shaft, one hand smoothing over his thigh.
Warren groaned, tugging on their hair. “Fuck—enough—”
Madeline smiled, popping off his tip. “Have you had enough, dearest?”
He scowled at her. “We’re just getting started. Charles, get on my cock while I make our wife scream.”
Her core ached as she watched Charles slip off the bed. He was back in moments handing Warren the little vial of oil.
“Come here, lovely,” Warren directed, offering it to her.
She looked down at it. “What—”
“You’re going to prep Charles for me.”
She gasped, glancing sharply over at Charles. “Would—do you want that?”
He nodded, leaning over Warren to kiss her. “Yes,” he said against her lips. “My darling, yes. Anything. Everything. Do anything to me. I’m yours.”
Her heart raced as she glanced between them. “Tell me what to do.”
“Come over here,” said Warren, patting the side of the bed next to him. “Charles, get your mouth back on my cock.”
Charles groaned, flipping up to his hands and knees as he obliged.
Madeline crawled on the bed next to him, looking hesitantly at Warren. This devilish man just couldn’t resist taking charge, but Madeline found she didn’t mind in the least.