Tollivers After Dark
One would be a veritable fool to assume that marriage made our darling Lottie and Jasper chaste.
Nor should one assume that Jasper Deverell had lost his interest in men merely because he had married a woman.
Lottie, who had never in her life been content with half measures, was terribly interested in this fact.
This author shall not bore you with the particulars of their marital discussions upon boundaries, invitations, permissions, jealousy, discretion, safety, and the proper management of extramarital arrangements.
Such conversations, though vital to the happiness of any sufficiently wicked marriage, do not make for exciting reading.
Suffice it to say that they had been married several years, were excessively fond of one another and in possession of a circle of friends whose morals were very flexible.
On the evening in question, London had been washed clean by rain.
The pavements shone black beneath the lamplight as carriage wheels hissed through the streets.
In the Deverells’ drawing room, however, there was firelight, brandy, and Mrs Deverell sitting in a chair far too large for her, with one slipper dangling from her toes and her husband watching her over his glass.
“Your slipper is about to fall,” Jasper said.
“So it is,” she said idly, and let it.
She watched as Jasper’s gaze lowered to her bare foot, then travelled with leisure over her ankle, her calf, the loosened arrangement of her evening gown over her breasts, and finally to her face.
Oh, this man took a private, heathen pleasure in violating every one of the solemn vows he made before God with her.
Across from them, Gainsford gave a soft laugh.
He was the Duke of Morleigh’s cousin, which was a pity, for Lottie felt a man ought to have some better occupation than being connected to such a dullard duke.
Many years ago, at Lady Malverne’s infamous house party, he had drunk with Lottie in a folly before Georgie and the duke ruined their fun.
He had been handsome then in a careless, insolent fashion.
He was handsomer now, older, broader in the shoulder, with silver beginning at one temple.
Gainsford leant back, one ankle over his knee, his glass held loosely between two fingers. “Well,” he said slowly, “I must say that I am beginning to wonder why I have been invited to drink brandy with you both tonight.”
Lottie looked at her husband and smiled, for it was clear Gainsford had endured as much small talk as decency required.
Jasper returned her look, and placed his glass aside. “Gainsford,” he said mildly, “my wife is considering you.”
“Is she?”
“Oh, yes.”
Gainsford did not move. His gaze came to Lottie with such deliberate heat that she felt it low in her belly. “And what,” he asked, “does Mrs Deverell consider?”
Lottie rose. Her gown was dark blue silk, fitted close beneath the breast. She crossed to him without haste, bent, took the glass from his hand, and set it upon the table. “I consider,” she said, “that you have been looking at my husband for at least half an hour.”
Gainsford’s mouth curved. “Have I?”
“Yes.”
“And does that offend you?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Jasper rose behind her. Lottie did not turn at once, though she felt him approach as surely as if he had placed a hand upon her spine. Jasper had always moved like that when he wanted something, as though desire made him more dangerous rather than less composed.
Gainsford’s gaze lifted past her shoulder. Whatever he saw there made the amusement leave his face.
Lottie turned around, and put one hand on her husband’s chest. His heart was beating hard beneath her palm.
“My love,” Jasper said softly, before bending to kiss her passionately.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, and Lottie opened beneath him with a soft sound she had not meant to make. He drew her closer, his other arm banding around her waist, and kissed her more deeply, until the heat of his mouth and the strength of his body was all she felt.
Lottie reached her hand between them. He was hard already beneath the fine fall of his breeches. She stroked him once through the cloth, slowly enough to make him jerk beneath her touch.
Jasper broke the kiss on a sharp inhale.
Lottie turned to look at their guest, her hand still moving with lazy, intimate knowledge over her husband’s cock. Gainsford had gone very still.
“Are you enjoying this view?” Lottie asked.
Gainsford’s gaze dropped to where her hand worked Jasper through his breeches. “I am.”
The words were harsh, and Lottie’s pulse leapt.
Jasper gave a low groan, almost a laugh, and lowered his mouth to her neck. His lips moved against the sensitive place beneath her ear as she opened the fall of his breeches, all the while looking at Gainsford.
Jasper’s cock came into her hand, hot and heavy.
Lottie smiled at Gainsford. “Very much?”
Gainsford shifted in his seat, his gaze fixed upon Lottie’s hand with such naked want that she felt wickedness bloom through her body.
She bit her lip, and began stroking Jasper slowly, from root to tip, gathering the slickness there with her thumb and spreading it over the flushed head of him.
“Immensely,” Gainsford said at last. His arousal was evident now, straining hard beneath his evening clothes.
The sight pleased Lottie so much that she nearly laughed; not from mockery, but triumph. “Come and join us then.”
He stood slowly and came to them without haste, though all the ease had gone from him. His attention moved from Lottie’s face to Jasper’s mouth, then down to her hand wrapped around Jasper’s cock.
Jasper lifted his head from her neck, and the two men looked at one another.
Gainsford spoke first, very low. “Deverell.”
Jasper’s mouth curved, but his voice was not light. “Gainsford.”
Lottie, who had never had any patience for men conversing at the edge of precipices, used her free hand to catch Gainsford by the lapel. She drew him closer, and caught him in a kiss.
His mouth was different from Jasper’s. It was less known, less beloved, and therefore shocking in another way. Lottie made a sound against him, and Jasper’s cock pulsed in her hand.
Gainsford broke the kiss just enough to look down. Lottie’s fingers still moved upon Jasper slowly, and now Gainsford’s hand covered hers.
Jasper’s head tipped back.
“Oh,” Lottie whispered, delighted.
Gainsford guided her hand over Jasper’s cock, his palm large and warm over her knuckles.
Together they stroked him, and Jasper, beautiful, indecent Jasper, lost another inch of his composure before their eyes.
His lashes lowered. His mouth parted. His hips gave a small, helpless movement into their joined hands.
Lottie’s body answered so fiercely she felt wetness gather between her thighs.
“Oh,” she said again, as Gainsford’s thumb brushed over hers at the head of Jasper’s cock.
Jasper swore softly. He opened his eyes, and they were dark and unguarded, almost tender with wanting.
“Come here,” he said to Gainsford. His hand came up, caught Gainsford by the side of the neck, and drew him in.
Lottie’s mouth dropped as they kissed hungrily. She stood between them, her hand trapped around Jasper’s cock beneath Gainsford’s, watching her husband’s mouth open under another man’s.
When the kiss broke, Gainsford looked wrecked, and Jasper’s mouth was wet and swollen.
Lottie looked from one to the other, and the ache between her thighs became almost unbearable. “Now.”
Both men turned to her. She drew her hand away from Jasper, enjoying the way his body protested the loss.
“We are moving to the chaise.”
“The chaise?” Gainsford said breathlessly.
“Yes.”
Jasper’s gaze travelled over her face and dropped to her breasts. “No,” he said softly. “Not yet.”
Her eyes lifted in question.
“We are all far too clothed.”
With a grin, Gainsford unbuttoned his own shirtsleeves, before his hands went to the back of Lottie’s gown. “May I?”
Lottie felt Jasper’s hand cover hers, felt his thumb stroke once across her knuckles. “Yes,” she breathed, “you may.”
Gainsford undid the first fastening. The little hook gave, then another, and another.
Jasper lowered his mouth to her neck as the gown loosened, his lips warm against the place where Gainsford’s thumb had been.
Lottie’s breath caught. She watched in the mirror as Gainsford opened her gown from behind, as Jasper’s hands slid beneath the fabric at her waist, as the silk began to slip from her shoulders.
She felt no chill as the silk fell away, for the room was warm from the fire.
She felt only heat—Jasper’s breath at her throat, Gainsford’s fingers at her back.
Her own body becoming conscious of itself by degrees, the tightness of her nipples beneath her chemise and the damp ache between her thighs.
Jasper’s hands came to the thin linen of her chemise. He touched her through it, palms moving over her breasts with slow possession, thumbs brushing the hard peaks until she leant back against Gainsford without meaning to.
Gainsford’s breath touched her ear. “Beautiful.”
Jasper looked at him in the mirror. “Yes.”
He drew the chemise down and bared her breasts to the firelight.
Gainsford looked at her for a moment in reverence, lingering on her nipples, before he bent and pressed his mouth to her shoulder.
Jasper kissed her, and Lottie was held between them, naked to the waist, her gown fallen, her husband’s cock still exposed and hard against her belly.
She kissed Jasper deeply while Gainsford’s mouth moved along the back of her neck and his hands slid around to cover her ribs.
Jasper drew back. “Now us, I think.”
The men undressed quickly. Jasper’s coat went first, then his waistcoat, then the shirt Lottie had liked on him and now had no patience for whatsoever.
Gainsford stripped more quickly, as though his restraint had been left behind with his glass.
Buttons slipped free. Linen dragged over shoulders.
Evening black fell onto blue silk upon the carpet.