“It is to me.”
Althea slid off the bed, her hand on her lower back. “You should speak with Sommersby. His Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 47
father kept journals—he had done very extensive studies on vampires. I know that he knew about you. I believe he was the one who encouraged Lord Ashcroft to extend help to you.”
“You mean that the previous Lord Sommersby has records about my past?”
“I don’t know that for certain, Serena. I have never seen his books.” Althea stood by the door, a frown on her pretty freckled face.
Serena stood up. She had to see those books. Could the present Lord Sommersby know what she was? But why hadn’t he killed her? Perhaps he had the books but hadn’t read them yet. She must get to them before he did.
Desperate to dress, to race to his house, she slipped out of bed.
“Serena—please wait!”
She turned, startled by the sharpness in Althea’s tone.
“Sommersby might not have anything. I had heard that he was not able to find all his father’s records when he returned to England. And there are six estates—the papers could be hidden anywhere. Please, don’t…”
“Don’t what?” He might not have read them—thank heavens. Serena fumbled with her nightgown buttons.
“Don’t pin all your hopes on this. The past doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make you who you are.”
She undid the ties at the throat of the gown. “It does, Althea. I know that it does.”
“Serena, what are you going to do?”
“Go to Lord Sommersby’s house.” The earl would be out hunting vampires. And if she didn’t find the books before he did, she would pay with her life.
Why had she done that?
In her boudoir, Althea stroked her rounded belly—she couldn’t resist giving a little poke. She giggled when the baby kicked back. And shivered. The sight of a little bulge crossing her stomach, a little bump completely independent of her, still seemed both miraculous and a little frightening—
and she was a vampire!
Althea studied her reflection in the cheval mirror. Heavy, full breasts. A rounded tummy with taut skin—how could she grow any larger? But she still had so many months to go, and at the end, she would be enormous.
“It’s almost dawn, sweetheart.”
The deep, loving, seductive voice sent a tingle of love and pleasure through her. Althea smiled into the mirror at Bastien’s reflection. Naked, gorgeous, and scratching his ballocks without a touch of self-consciousness. This was what married life resulted in, she thought, and saw her lips curve in a tender, wry smile.
Bastien leaned against the doorframe, his long, lean legs crossed at his ankles. His blond hair, as golden as candlelight, hung loose, the waves brushing his broad, bare shoulders. “Time to sleep.
Sleep is good for the babe, and for you.”
He looked so deliciously sexy any thoughts of sleep vanished. Althea’s gaze lingered on the reflection of his green-blue eyes, his inexplicably dark lashes, the play of his tongue along his full lower lip. Even the veins on his naked forearms made her hot and aroused, and she loved how he groaned when she traced those with her tongue.
Bastien grinned, pushed away from the doorframe, and swaggered toward her. “I recognize that smile, my love.”
Not a minute went by that she didn’t have lusty thoughts for Bastien, or Yannick, or both. But when a lady had two husbands—two vampire husbands with powerful sexual drives—she barely had time for activities that didn’t involve the bedroom.
Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 48
Bastien cupped her nude bottom, and he kissed the top of her head with heat in his eyes. “You are so beautiful, Althea. So lush. So abundant.”
“So big?” Althea couldn’t help a rueful quirk of her lips as she cradled her heavy, hard tummy with both hands. “You are finding very ingenious ways to avoid the truth, Bastien. I can’t share a coffin anymore.”
He bent to her neck. “Not to worry, sweetheart, I’ve commissioned a larger one.”
“Where is Yannick?”
“Not home. We’re alone, darling wife.” And then the rogue licked her cheek with a long, languorous sweep of his tongue. Althea pushed him away with a palm on his handsome forehead.
“Yannick has been very annoyed that you ensure you are always here when he is not.” She spoke teasingly, for it was all in good humor. Though sometimes she did have to tread a fine line between her two alpha males.
She saw the vulnerability beneath Bastien’s rakish wink. “I am merely ensuring I keep my dear wife satisfied.” He reached up and tapped the undersides of her full, round breasts. He groaned as he watched them bounce, her nipples hardening. He tweaked them, and she cried out.
“I don’t like staying here, Althea,” he murmured. “We should sail soon—you don’t have to do anything the Society demands.”
“It’s for Serena.” Even as shots of pleasure raced from her nipples to her cunny, Althea tried to concentrate. “That’s what I was speaking about.” He tugged on her oh-so-sensitive nipples. She had to tip her head back and shut her eyes. “Oh, Bastien, I did something impulsive. Something I know I should not have done.”
“Confide, Althea. I suspect you’re fretting over nothing.”
A guilty blush touched her cheeks, hot and sudden. “I told Serena that the late Earl of Sommersby kept journals—I hinted that she might find answers about her past there.” Althea turned in his arms. “Serena is so alone. She told me how happy she is that she has me, that it was so much nicer than being completely alone. I feel so horrid, keeping the truth from her.”
Bastien gave a kiss to her shoulder, then dropped to his knees in front of her. Althea saw support and caring in his gorgeous blue-green eyes.
“Then tell her the truth,” he said.
Althea shook her head. “It isn’t so simple.”
“Is it loyalty to the Society—?”
“No! It’s because I’m afraid for her. Lord Ashcroft has told me that Serena is the first child ever born of a vampire and a mortal, a feat they believed impossible. Her mother was incredibly powerful, and Serena will inherit that power. And I’m worried what will happen when she knows—”
Bastien kissed her—just below the curve of her belly, above her red pubic curls. “Althea, love, don’t worry. It’s not good for you or the baby.”
“I know you don’t approve of my relationship with the Royal Society.”
“I understand it, love, but I still believe it’s damned unholy for a vampire to be involved with those who want to destroy us.” The wretch tickled her now-protruding navel.
Her giggle bubbled up, relaxing her tense shoulders. “I know. But we are the only ones who can stop truly evil demons.”
Though she knew how frightened the Society must be of her coming child.
Bastien bent, brushed a soft kiss to her bare nether curls. “We have to sail, love. Before your pregnancy has advanced much further. You can’t sail when you are too close to your confinement.”
“I know,” she said again.
“The truth is, my angel, I believe you don’t trust the Royal Society. You should tell Serena the truth. If anyone can help her cope with that discovery, my sweet, it’s you. Now, let’s play for a Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 49
while—before dawn, before Yannick returns.”
Bastien stroked her thighs as his tongue slicked down through her curls to her clit, and she arched her head back on a cry of pleasure.
“You are always trying to steal lovemaking on your brother, aren’t you?”
“Of course, dear love. Because I love you so much.” His large fingers toyed with her wet and sticky nether lips. “And I know that being enceinte has made you very aroused. I have some very naughty games in mind.”
She reached down and stroked his silky hair, but the rogue fooled her—he whipped her clit with such vehemence that her legs became jelly and only his hands on her hips kept her from falling. “Bastien!”
Bound to the chair, Bastien watched Althea approach.
She dropped her robe and turned her back to him, displaying her voluptuous derriere—plump, rounded cheeks caressed by warm candlelight. His naked cock jolted up a notch higher.
She swayed her hips back and forth, the gesture tempting and hypnotic.
Bastien prayed she planned to sit astride him and not just torture him. God, he loved her—he could not believe how he had deserved a woman like Althea—loving, clever, and so wantonly inventive she left him astonished.
He also could not believe he shared her with his brother, and how she had opened his eyes to the beauty of a love shared between three.
Ropes bit into his wrists and ankles. He loved this game. He loved putting her in charge—
because he was still in control. A few naughtily whispered suggestions and he could coerce Althea to do what he wished and send them both into explosive ecstasy. “Well, your ladyship,” he teased,
“what do you plan to do to me now that you have me tied up?”
“I think I shall sit quite daintily, Mr. de Wynter, and have my tea.”
God, yes.
Her bottom lowered until the tip of his cock brushed a plush cheek. She reached down and held him steady, swallowing him in the valley of her bottom.
Bastien’s prick pushed against the tight, hot entrance. He tried to lift his hips but was too tightly restrained.
Althea rubbed him against her, wetting herself with him. Gripping him tight, she sat down on him, taking him slightly inside. The tight pressure enthralled.
She pumped up and down slowly, taking him in inch by delightful inch. She let go of him and sank right down to his hips. He felt his cock invade her and push her fire-hot walls apart.
Althea lifted on him, then dropped back down, her body clamping around him. Being inside her bottom was the most illicit pleasure.
She let only the softest sighs escape. Each time she almost moaned, she bit the sound back.
Playing the dominant, she wanted to disguise how much he pleasured her, and how she loved to be filled with his cock.
Bastien watched as she arranged herself to sit like a lady on him. He wanted her to pump on him like a wanton; instead she sat with demure grace, not moving at all. And rang the bellpull.
The stretch of her arm shifted her around his cock, and he let a howl of pleasure ring to the rococo ceiling.
“What are you doing?” He laughed.
“Summoning tea.”
“You plan to have a servant come in here?” The chair scraped the floor as he jerked in surprise.
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“If you are silent, he will never be the wiser.”
“And how—” Even seated on his cock, she held up her hand imperiously. He shut his mouth, intrigued.
A blindfolded footman brought the tea tray and followed her directions to place it on the table before her. Bastien cast him a brief glance and worked to lift his hips, thrusting lightly into Althea’s derriere. He bit back a lusty laugh as he heard her soft gasp, as he saw her breasts—and her larger, darker, longer nipples—bounce with each jiggle.
How had he ever deserved such an inventive and luscious woman?
The muscular footman bowed and withdrew.
Althea leaned forward, changing the glorious pressure surrounding his cock as she set about making tea.
How he wished he wasn't bound. He'd soon put an end to her game. His fingers on her nipples and between her legs would quickly have her desperately working to an orgasm.
She began shifting her hips slightly on him, teasing him. Then she opened herself even more with her muscles and swallowed him deeper.
Squeezing the muscles of her lush bottom, she jiggled up and down on him. Calmly, she lifted her cup and sipped tea.
“Come on, my lady, give me a good hard fucking.” Bastien kept his voice a harsh rasp, full of male need, male hunger—and heard her splutter her tea. “Fuck me hard with your sweet rump. I deserve it, don’t I? And you—” He made this a brash and confident statement. “You want it.”
“You might remember, my devilish husband, that you are bound and now serve me at
my
pleasure.” There was laughter, lust, delighted agony in Althea’s voice. Then she cried, “Oh, I can’t bear it anymore—!”
She began bouncing on him. Her saucer fell to the carpet. Her tea sloshed out of the cup. She rode him like wild and their chair tipped dangerously. But he didn’t care. He was almost ripping the legs off it, trying to pull against his bonds to pump into her.
He was close—too damn close—he had to make her come first.
The door opened. The footman strode in, still blindfolded, but he moved with the assurance of a man who could see. Hell and damnation! But the footman yanked the blindfold away and tossed off his white wig.
Christ! Yannick!
“You little wanton witch,” Bastien groaned against Althea’s ear. She laughed—and then cried out as she ground her bottom hard into his crotch and took him impossibly deep. Yannick gave an austere glare. “You cannot steal my wife so easily, brother.”
“
Our
wife!” Bastien shouted it, gnashed his teeth, fighting not to explode. He almost yelled in relief as Yannick dropped to his knees and buried his face into Althea’s quim. A few flicks of his brother’s tongue and Althea climaxed. She ripped at Yannick’s shoulders, mercilessly pounded his cock, and screamed.
Bastien’s orgasm tore through him like fire through a dry forest. It consumed him, flared into a massive, brilliant flame, and scorched him.
The chair broke with an explosive “crack.” He fell hard in the jumble of wooden legs and twisted seat. Althea fell with him, but his cock fell out, and Yannick collapsed too.
“Athlea, love, are you all right?”
She giggled—the sweet, naughty giggle that he knew so well—and began to untie him. As soon as he was released, Bastien fell back, sated, massaging his numb hands. He cracked open his eyes to see Althea present her rear to Yannick and his excited brother plunge into her sweet pussy from behind, and from his view, Bastien could watch her luscious tits bounce.
God, he loved married life.