Chapter Seven

 

 

 

If Molly didn’t get a breath of fresh air soon, she was going to go starkers. Penned like a prized pullet in a henhouse, she was getting twitchy. She took a measured look at the luxuriously appointed stateroom. It was a gilded cage, but a prison was a prison no matter how comfortable. She’d be willing to risk a stroll on the upper deck, in broad daylight. Join the other passengers taking their daily constitutional. But they’d been taught a hard lesson, so the men wouldn’t take any chances.

Two days out from New York, the ship’s massive steam engines struggled against the heaving waves to get them to shore, but not to safety. Danger lay in wait for them.

Shoving her mangled darning into her sewing basket, Molly glanced at the other inmates who shared her enforced incarceration. They played Hazard using vouchers for currency. Annabelle had a nice pile by her elbow. She’d tossed dice a time or two. Molly didn’t see the point in not playing for money. If she gambled and won, she wanted something tangible to show for her efforts.

Beset by boredom, she glanced at Logan, who had made a full recovery. He now moved with the same easy catlike grace that he had before his stabbing. Even when he had been wounded, he, Raul and Glenhaven took shifts during the night to stand watch. The only time she left the stateroom was when she accompanied Raul, at the oddest hours, to collect their meals. Raul and the head chef, a fellow Frenchman, exchanged incomprehensible vitriolic invectives in their mother tongue when he demanded the best the kitchen had to offer. However, he prevailed and they continued to eat well. He was off on one of his rambles, leaving her behind after receiving a dark glower from Logan, depriving her of a respite from her dreary existence.

Annabelle crowed with triumph and clapped her hands when the men tossed down their cards in defeat, her gleefulness excessive for someone who’d acquired nothing more than useless scraps of paper.

A befuddled ‘how did that happen?’ look slid across Logan’s face as though he couldn’t believe that the delicate beauty had bested him in what was essentially a man’s game. Her husband beamed at her, his pride evident. The couple shared a grin, rife with intimacy, highly improper for mixed company.

Glenhaven gathered the deck and shuffled it with a card sharp’s dexterous skill. “She’s proven to be an excellent pupil.”

Molly despaired, wondering what other inappropriate skills Glenhaven was teaching his wife. The girl had already learned far too much. She plunged head first into every sybaritic practice depicted in the pillow-book the earl had had no business giving to her.

“Shall we play another hand, gentlemen? Or we can come up with another game to relieve our tedium. I get to be ring master—or should I say ring mistress—since I hold the majority of the chits.”

Game? What game? This is what she got for allowing her mind to wander. Judging by the impishness sparkling in Annabelle’s eyes, Molly wondered what wickedly carnal acts she’d involve them in now. Contrarily, a thrill raced through Molly and she licked her suddenly dry lips. Her nipples tingled and furled into tight nubs. She responded to Annabel’s not-so-subtle intimations. If Molly were honest, she’d admit that she’d look forward to the randy couple’s next amorous exploit with anticipation.

“As it was agreed upon, the losers are to do anything and everything I demand.” Annabelle’s words trailed off into a husky purr. She studied Logan as though he were a particularly tempting delicacy.

“Now what do you suppose I should ask for? Should we observe the proprieties or should we play naughty games? You know about bedsport, don’t you, Logan? Now the question is—are you recovered enough to play with us?”

Her provocative tone held a suggestive allure. Unless Logan had become a eunuch over the last week, he’d respond.

Guarded interest flickered across Logan’s face and he shifted in his seat, a little discomfited since their attention was centered on him.

“But… Maybe… Now that you’re eager to step into the parson’s mousetrap,” Annabelle teased. “Perhaps you’ve turned prudish on us, as Molly suspects.”

Molly winced. The girl used every opportunity to employ improper colloquialisms.

One black brow rose in question on Logan’s suntanned forehead. He turned to face Molly with a challenge in his eyes and something more. Amusement and the confidence of a lover who understood her needs and penchants. And so he should. Then there was also a promise of sweet, sensual reprisal.

Molly smiled, but her insides quivered with excitement, leaving her belly fluttery and a heavy throbbing between her thighs.

But how far would he go to prove Annabelle’s assertion wrong? The pair of voluptuaries would revel in any action he took. Oh, they had the sense of entitlement the rich and the noble came by, because of their privileged lives, or birthright as in the earl’s case. However, it was tempered by their innate generosity and they’d discarded the antiquated notions where sex was concerned. By all indications, the randy couple weren’t going to enjoy a traditional marriage.

A reckless glitter lit Logan’s eyes. He spared a glance at Glenhaven, who tilted his head acquiescing to anything his friend planned.

“Why don’t you start the ball rolling, milady? Perhaps Molly can mimic whatever you do to add some spice to your games. I’ll do what you ask to retrieve my chits, of course.”

A bulge tented the fabric over his crotch. He displayed all the signs of a man gripped by a full-blown arousal—taut face, erratic breathing, eyes hot with lust.

Annabelle laughed. She rose, hiked up her skirts and straddled Glenhaven’s lap, her pretty bum showing through her translucent silk drawers. Annabelle was well aware of the enticement she not so innocently employed to rouse, her cleft shadowed and deep. Her legs dangled over her husband’s, spreading her thighs wide. A provocative vision that evoked thoughts and needs, even if one were a cold fish. Molly watched with fascination, wondering how far Annabelle would go before she invited them to participate.

Her man cupped the firm globes and pulled her closer. Annabelle wiggled her rump, no doubt rubbing her cleft over his cock. “You’re an inveterate temptress. It’s so very bad of you to tease me so.”

With a carefree giggle, Annabelle leaned in and nipped his lower lip. “I thought it was my little predilections that made you want me so much. After all, they are similar to your own.”

She slid her tongue over his lips, lapping at the seam until the earl opened his mouth, his hunger stirred. Glenhaven angled his head and deepened the kiss. He caressed her legs dangling over his thighs, cradled her arse with his big hands and drew her close to settle her over his crotch. His wife wiggled her hips, grinding her pussy over Glenhaven’s groin, her head falling back as she let out a husky moan.

Panting, Annabelle clambered down onto the floor. She unbuttoned the placket on her husband’s trousers and released Glenhaven’s rigid penis. As an opening volley, she gave his straining cock a long, slow lick.

Glenhaven groaned. Logan swallowed audibly.

“Well… Come on, Molly,” Annabelle invited.

“Since you don’t hold my markers, I believe I am exempt from paying Logan’s debts,” Molly teased, even though the flesh between her thighs pulsed with the sweet ache that came with arousal.

Annabelle pursed her lips into a provocative moue. “But, Molly, we have so much fun driving Gideon wild. He particularly likes it when we suckle him together.” She flicked a glance at Logan, whose gaze remained fixed on the couple.

Molly moved closer, dropped to her knees and cupped the earl’s taut balls. Her eyes met Annabelle’s and in perfect amity, she and her cohort ran their tongues all the way up Glenhaven’s satiny cock.

Guttural groans in different timbres revealed how their actions affected the two men. Molly and Annabelle licked and lapped at the round crown on Glenhaven’s penis. The muscles in his thighs tensed and shuddered under Molly’s palm, and he threaded his fingers through her hair. With a little urging, he pushed her mouth down onto his cock. She relaxed her jaw and allowed him to sink deeper into her mouth. She bobbed her head, caressing his erection with lips and tongue.

“Oh Christ, you wicked wenches are going drive me mad.” Glenhaven groaned and flexed his hips, thrusting his straining cock toward their mouths.

He apparently wasn’t the only one pushed to the brink of sanity. Her skirts were flipped over her hips, and her drawers dragged to her knees. The chill air cooled her arse, but it heated up when feverish kisses peppered her full arse. The wide palms gripping her hips could only be Logan’s.

Molly uttered “Oh, my” in reaction to the hard cock being rubbed along her slit. She moaned and wiggled her hips, her clit growing taut and her cunny pulsing. The sensations he gave her were delicious but nowhere near enough.

Molly eased her mouth off Glenhaven’s cock, but he tightened his hand in her topknot and held her in place. With gentle back and forth motions, Logan worked his cock against the tight circle of muscles at the opening of her pussy until they gave way to his persistent prodding. With slow deliberation, he thrust inch by each bulky inch into her. With her mouth full, all she could do was whimper her welcome.

A cock in her pussy and another in her mouth, pleasuring her at both ends. Could it get any better? Bliss blossomed in her clitoris, spread through her passage, coiled in her belly and washed over her body.

Cum spewed, filling her hungry orifices. She came, racked by tremors. Her knees gave out and she collapsed. Logan caught Molly, pulled her up and back so she perched on his thighs to keep his cock planted deep inside her.

Panting like a racehorse, Molly writhed, working his still-hard cock with the muscles in her passage, and pulled more pleasure from her orgasm.

Annabelle grinned at her. “Do you think I could have a go at him?”

Molly wiggled. Yes, she believed he had more than enough spit and vinegar in him to satisfy the greedy minx.

There was a brief rap on the door. Raul let himself into the suite with the latchkey he’d been given bearing a food-laden tray.

His load wobbled on his palm. Crockery rattled until he steadied the salver. There was no way he could misinterpret what they had been doing. Glenhaven’s and Logan’s damp cocks glistened from their combined fluids. A little flustered, she pushed her skirts over her hips.

His heated gaze settled on Molly and a determined glint settled in his eyes. He set his burden down, fished a sheave of telegrams from his coat and stalked forward to hand them to the earl.

Raul’s attention didn’t stray from her. Logan tightened his arms possessively around her. Molly had the unnerving feeling that she was about to become the bone fought over by two rabid bulldogs.