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An Unfortunate Stain
Two. He’d brought two, and yet neither could be found.
Outrageous! That’s what it was. Damned, bloody outrageous—almost, but not quite, as infuriating as the port stain on his cuff that would necessitate a change of outfit before he descend into the throng below. One didn’t maintain one’s position as a fashion leader with horrid liver spot blemishes afflicting one’s arm. The port had made an absolute mess of the blue damask, a colour he’d made his signature. He’d have to exchange it for the Florentine silk instead. Although, Lord Egremont had remarked that particular shade of grey left him looking exsanguinated.
The Right Honourable Taylor Hulme cast a final glance over the swirling figures in the ballroom below but failed to spy either the white-gold hair of Miss Percival or the alluring dark beauty of Mrs. Quinn. Though where either of them could possibly have got to at a such a soiree was entirely beyond him.
House parties were not typically Taylor’s thing. He much preferred the crush of an assembly ball to this more intimate gathering. In town it was possible to lose one’s self in the crowd, be absorbed into it and become anonymous, and while this gathering at Rievaulx House was large for such an event, there were still only forty or so people dotted around the place, many of them related, and all of them known to one another. Well, mostly known to one another. Naturally, he’d taken great pains to keep his two beloveds apart. He did not care to have them gossiping and discovering they both occupied space in his heart. Such knowledge would only result in discord and vexation. Miss Percival would probably weep, and Mrs. Quinn… In all truth, he preferred not to dwell on what that lady’s actions might be. Something hideous involving shears and his wardrobe, no doubt.
Taylor walked straight into the chamber he was sharing with Branwell Locke, knowing his friend to be downstairs. He knew also that his valet wouldn’t be present for he’d dismissed the man for the evening, and hence he’d be off doing whatever it was that gentlemen’s gentlemen did when they weren’t organising clothes. Thus the presence of a figure perched upon the foot of Taylor's bed was all the more surprising.
Miss Amelia Percival beamed at him, her apple-blossom smile turning her pale cheeks rosy. Well now, Amelia’s presence here at least explained why he’d been unable to spy her in the ballroom, but didn’t explain why she was in his room. If anyone saw her here, the resulting outrage would bring the house party to an abrupt close.
“Amelia?” He addressed her, coming forwards with both hands extended towards her. He made no more than five paces before the chamber door slammed behind him. Taylor glanced back, assuming a draft or the weightiness of the door to be the cause, only to find Mrs. Quinn planting her abundant derrière against the wood. “Verity?” he squeaked, immediately disgusted with how guilt-ridden the noise made him sound.
Taylor took stock and swallowed slowly, anticipating a verbal backlash if not a physical assault. He was no craven, but still he edged a few paces back, out of Verity’s reach. It was ungallant to defend oneself overmuch against a lady’s wrath, particularly when her fury was justified. He did hope they could avoid coming to blows.
“Taylor,” Verity said, her eyes narrowed, arms crossed before her and lips pursed into a succulent pout. “There’s been some mistake it seems with regards to our arrangement. There I was talking to this most delightful girl and she informs me that she has an understanding with you. ‘Why how could that be,’ I said, ‘for Mr. Taylor Hulme has an arrangement with me, and he wouldn’t be so disagreeable as to make fools of us both in this way. Surely, you are talking about a different Mr. Hulme.’ But no, for it seems she is talking about the Right Honourable Mr. Taylor Francis Hulme, of Whytebury Hall in Leicestershire. So naturally, we came to find you straight away to sort out this nonsense.” She lowered her silky dark eyelashes and let her arms unfold from around her breasts before pinning him with her gaze once more. “Please tell us which one of us you intend to fulfil your promises to?”
“Ladies, please.” Taylor reached out a hand to each of them. He had definitely not made any specific promises to either woman. “I concede this is most awkward, but need we speak of broken promises? I ask you, are either of you dissatisfied by me? Have I neglected either of you in any way?”
Amelia shook her head furiously. She had always been a timid mouse. Matter of fact, her quietness and shyness combined with a truly heavenly bosom were what had first drawn him to her. She made the most delicious contrast to Verity’s wilful boldness.
Amelia he could tease and persuade into the sort of lewdity she knew she ought not to permit. She was prepared to submit―be it with moans and apprehensive whimpers―to damn near everything he suggested. Verity was altogether more confrontational. He might pin her down in bed, but not without a tussle that made his cock stand at alert first. She was also capable of tanning his behind until it ached and then making him come with the mere flick of her fingertip. The twinkle in her eyes suggested she was considering the delights of such a punishment now. She turned up her nose at Amelia’s foray into his arms. Embracing would not solve their dilemma.
“You don’t deny your turpitude, I see. As to satisfaction, I find it a most transient thing,” Verity admonished. “Past exploits do not count. How do you intend to content us both? The night is young now, but I expect to be properly fucked before it’s through. What other point is there in coming to such an event? You can’t possibly hope to please me if you are obliged to hold in reserve some measure of yourself for Miss Percival.”
Amelia gave a shocked gasp at the language, which earned her a huff of disgust from Verity.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Taylor―she’s sweet, but send her back to her mama.”
“I have no mama,” Amelia interjected.
Taylor shook his head.
“Aye, and no stomach for the punishment I intend to dole out to Mr. Hulme for his monstrousness either. You ought to leave. It’s been very nice meeting you, Miss Percival, but really this is no place for you.” Verity grabbed hold of Taylor’s blemished sleeve, which in her zeal to claim him she further damaged, tearing the cuff along the seam.
Taylor held fast to Amelia. He had no intention of dismissing either of them. They were both equally precious to him, which is why he’d sought and maintained both relationships. “Please,” he protested over the damage to both his coat cuff and his arrangements.
However, Verity wasn’t to be thwarted. She tore him and Amelia apart and shoved him over to the foot of the bed, where the eiderdown still bore the faint impression of Amelia’s pert bottom. That lady followed at a cautious distance, her fingertips worrying her lips.
“Take your breeches down, Taylor. I won’t be mistreated like this. To be sure, she’s presented prettily enough, but I’m insulted that you prefer an innocent porcelain doll over me.” Verity’s hands settled upon his arse, warm and firm. They dipped beneath his coat tails and wrapped around him to reach his frontfall. She released one button and had a decent grasp of the next before he brushed her hands away and attended matters himself. Willingly, he would tolerate the shame of Verity’s punishment, if it soothed her temper to a degree where he might reason with her.
Ridiculously, his prick already stood erect. He supposed he knew that this day was inevitable. He’d taken great pains to keep them apart in the past, but his attention in that regard had become a little lax of late. Maybe it had been overly optimistic to imagine he could keep them unaware of one another amidst such a small gathering. Maybe part of him had hoped they would meet. Both women combined aspects he greatly admired, and he dearly loved them both, which was why he’d never been able to choose one over the other, and even now didn’t see how he possibly make such a choice.
“W—what are you going to do to him?” The tremor in Amelia’s voice made him long to reassure her, but he dared not incite Verity to any more fury.
Verity ignored the question, choosing to grab the back of his breeches and tug them down to his knees instead. He supposed her actions made it obvious enough.
“Bend over, palms flat on the bed.”
Damnation, if he wasn’t already trembling in anticipation of her touch. She lifted his coat and waistcoat, folded both neatly over his back so that his naked rear was exposed. Frankly, considering the actions she might have taken at this discovery, a good spanking was mild as punishments went. Better this than her setting fire to all his coats. As for what Amelia thought of all of this, he really wasn’t sure. He risked a quick glance at her face to try to pick up some hint. Her brows were drawn in consternation and her mouth set into a tight straight line. Amelia’s gaze fixed rigidly upon Verity’s hand. The palm of which struck hard his arse.
Taylor sucked in a sharp breath as the burst of flames spread across his rear. He bore no great enthusiasm for having his bottom warmed, for more often than not it left him feeling tetchy and rather on edge, but neither did he entirely dismiss it as a form of potential pleasure. He had thought once or twice if it were done and then he could find relief in a willing mouth that perhaps it could be perversely enjoyable, but Verity was not one to get down on her knees and engage in fellatio, at least not without a promise of hours of reciprocal action.
Still, Taylor maintained his pose and accepted his punishment. A few hard smacks seemed a minor penance.
Only Verity didn’t immediately follow with another strike. She rubbed the red imprint she’d made on his cheek and then reached for his walking cane.
“Bloody hell! Wait a moment.”
“Won’t you hurt him with that?” Amelia placed herself between him and Verity. Neither protest swayed the other woman’s intent.
“Only enough to make his cheeks smart. Don’t you think he deserves it?”
“Well…” Amelia cast a cagey glance at him. She nibbled at her lower lip. “I’m not altogether certain of that fact. I don’t like the violence of it, and it doesn’t quite seem the right punishment somehow. Surely what we need is a resolution. I’m assuming you are still intent on staking your claim upon him, and so am I. Beating his arse―” Amelia flushed rather brightly on saying the word “―will not help in that regard.”
“Will it not?” Verity slid her palm up the length of the cane in a rather loving caress, one it would be a joy to feel upon his cock. “Then what do you suggest? Are we to tell him he’s a naughty boy and simply be done with it?”
He was pleased to see a little fight in Amelia. She placed a hand upon one hip. “No, of course not. What he’s done was devious, and…and unspeakably rude. Yes, he should pay for that, only he should do so by satisfying us, since that is what he claims to be capable of.”
“So, you’re suggesting that we should stay here until we are all satisfied and content, or until Taylor recognizes the error of his ways and accepts that he can never hope to please us both and must therefore decide which of us he loves best?”
“Hm.”
Verity’s natural elegance tightened into frostiness, only to break a moment later when she smiled. “Actually, I like it. Although, I still intend to cane his arse.” Unprepared for the blow, Taylor was knocked forwards onto the bed. He lay there, his shocked cries stifled by the eiderdown, and thought that his bottom might melt. Pain, the like of which he’d never felt, exploded through his cheeks and started an unholy prickle in his ballocks. He squirmed against the sheet, tormented by the fire but willingly lifting up his arse in time for the next strike to ease the discomfort in his prick.
The cane struck him thrice, leaving him gasping incoherently. It seemed unlikely that he’d be able to stand straight after that, let alone manage to please anyone. Yet, when the ladies rolled him over, his cock hugged the flat of his stomach. Two gazes fastened upon his erection, and two delighted ladies grinned at one another.
Taylor had thought that Amelia’s suggestion would give him the freedom to use his wits and weave some magic or other that would allow him to satisfy them both. Now he realised they had no intention of letting him coordinate the turn of events.
Amelia bowed her head. His prick jumped in absolute delight when her generous little mouth formed a perfect O around its tip. Amelia knew exactly how he liked this to work. She’d been a novice when they’d first met and a virgin too, but he’d taught her and now she put every one of those skills into practice. One delicate hand closed around the base of his shaft while her hot mouth encompassed the rest. Her tongue dragged at the underside of his prick, then teased his slit. Maybe he oughtn’t to have taught her so well. If she maintained this for too long, he’d satisfy no one. The heat in his bottom was now mirrored in his loins. Hot wet bliss enveloped him. He groaned and tensed his fists around the bedding.
Sweet breath whispered against his face. Taylor opened his eyes to find Verity leaning over him so that their lips were mere inches apart. “So, you believe you can satisfy us both. Here’s your chance to prove it. Miss Percival, if you’d care to oblige. I believe he’s hard enough to mount. I assume you do know how to ride astride?”
Amelia withdrew from his cock, leaving him momentarily bereft. “I think you’ll find I’m quite proficient.”
“Excellent. If you’d do the honours.”
Taylor tried to hitch himself up onto his elbow, but Verity was having none of it. She held him down, her palms flat upon his chest and her knees braced either side of his head.
Amelia made a show of unpinning her dress. She’d always taken pains to keep her clothing pristine, and it seemed even this current dilemma wouldn’t alter that. Beneath the sheer white gown, she was plump in all the right places. Her hips flared out from her tiny waist, her hour-glass shape emphasized by the rigid bones of her stays. As for the joyous bounty that was her bosom, it spilled from its confinement as she loosened the ties of her chemise.
“Show me,” he pleaded.
“Show you what?” She lifted the hem of her chemise as she straddled his thighs.
“Let me see.”
Verity leaned forwards. “Here, let me help.” Her firm grip wrapped around his cock and held him still while Amelia positioned herself to encompass him. Slowly, slowly, she slid onto his length, which caused him to burn with the need for release, and yet he knew he couldn’t seek it. In order to see through this night unscathed he had somehow to satisfy both his beloveds. Only then could he begin to negotiate a path forward.
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