The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale (32 page)

“And you?” Sam asked suggestively. “A farmhand perhaps?”

She giggled again. “No, love. Never.” She raised a brow. “Only Annabella.”

“Truly?” His cock sparked with interest. Sebastian had described his love as voluptuous and lusty. “I regret having missed your frolicsome romp.” He pushed an inch inside her. “As you haven’t had a man in over six months,” he murmured, nudging in a little more, “then you will enjoy what I have to offer.” He filled her slowly, fully, watching her emerald eyes widen in abandon with every measure of penetration. When he was utterly sheathed in her warmth, he slowly pulled out, again marking her reaction at every inch.

And then he slammed inside her with winter’s pent-up energy.

Clara let out a sharp cry and clutched him to her, digging her nails into his back, raising her hips in pleading. Her first climax engulfed him, taking him to the edge, her body continuing its release with a seemingly unending succession of orgasms. He was trapped between needing to explode and wanting to prolong her utter joy. He had to hold on for her sake.

He bent his back to take her sensitized nipples in his mouth, one after the other and back again. Clara wailed, clenching him in her sensual rhythm. She tugged him away from her chest and lifted her body to press her mouth to his, the thrusts of her tongue mimicking his forceful penetration. Dizzy with lust, they tumbled to the side, never breaking contact. Clara righted herself on top, straddling him as he continued driving into her from below. She closed her eyes and shook her head, her hair whipping the air, her absolute abandon challenging his control, her moans tearing down his otherwise sharp defenses.

She bent over him, her hair falling like curtains on either side of her face, creating a private space for their feasting mouths. Unbelievably, she still climaxed. Sam closed his eyes, relaxing, focusing on her pulsating grips…

“And I thought the two lovers downstairs in the kitchen were lost in their own world.”

“Christ!” Sam jerked back, grabbing Clara at the waist to shield her from the intruder.

Patrick stood at the side of the bed, sloughing off his waistcoat, smirking. His jacket and hat lay on the ground near the door.

“Damn you, Pat!” Sam scolded as he fell against the mattress in relief.

Unwinding his cravat, Patrick chuckled and grinned wolfishly at Clara, locking eyes with her before he pulled off his shirt. She still straddled Sam, unmoving, as his cock twitched in complaint. She flashed him a sated smile before reaching to stroke Pat’s chest, tracing the muscles with her fingers. Placing both hands on his shoulders, she pulled Pat to her and took him in a devastatingly sensual open-mouthed kiss. He growled his appreciation as he gave in willingly, and raised no objection when she unbuttoned his breeches.

Clara drew back to free his erection from his fly. Slowly riding Sam, she flashed him a provocative look before curling over to take Pat’s cock in her mouth. Pat let out a shocked gasp, then groaned contentedly. Finally, he would understand. The lady was good, so very and amazingly good, with a remarkable tongue and lips every bit deserving of Sam’s panegyric. As Clara sucked and licked, Pat’s expression slackened in stunned delight.

He protested when she let him slip from her mouth. She smiled wickedly at them both, her chest rising and falling in anticipation of some imagined scenario. “I want both of you,” she said. “Both of you inside me at once.”

Sam’s cock jumped, shooting desire through him to coil in his stones so utterly ready to burst. Pat bit his lip, thwarting the smirk of victory that tugged on his mouth. It was something they had both fantasized about, had talked about, had strategized as a diversion during the long winter nights. They knew exactly what to do.

Sam repositioned himself to the middle of the bed and spread his legs. “Come here, love. Straddle me.”

Clara scrambled over and opened her thighs wide, ready to take him inside her.

“Not yet.” He touched her belly to halt her descent. “Just bend forward, so your face is near mine.”

Clara hunched over a little, then more so when Sam pulled her closer. Patrick knelt behind her, between Sam’s legs, naked and erect, holding a small bowl in one hand. She turned around to watch Pat, then looked at Sam, perplexed.

“How—” she began.

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh, shh. Just do what you’re told, sweet.”

“Yes, Sam,” she breathed.

Pat stroked the cheeks of her buttocks, pulling them apart. She dropped forward with a gasp when he found her tight hole, giving Sam a better view. Pat scooped his fingers through the bowl, the flexing muscles of his arm making plain what his fingers did to her.

Clara’s mouth fell open at the sensual assault, her breaths hot and ragged on Sam’s neck. She glanced over her shoulder at Pat.

“Butter,” he explained, tossing the bowl onto the bed. “I almost tripped over Hawkins and Annabella in the kitchen to get it.”

He continued his ministrations, lubricating and loosening Clara’s tight muscles, her panting moans so deliciously beguiling. Sam pulled her mouth to his in a plundering kiss.

“I think we’re ready,” came Pat’s voice.

Clara pulled back, curiosity clouding the cast of lewdness on her face. Sam delved his fingers between their bodies to toy with her aroused clit, drawing her natural wetness to coat the little nub, massaging steadily. Clara moaned and her eyes fell shut as she faded into lubricious oblivion.

Until Pat prodded her with his engorged prick.

She gasped as he entered her slowly, deliberately. Sam worked her harder, taking her to the inexorable peak. She came on his hand, soaking his palm, his abdomen, and Pat took the opportunity to press in fully.

Pat gripped Clara’s waist as he pumped in and out, digging his fingers cruelly into her flesh as she undulated to the tempo of his thrusts. Sam grabbed his yearning prick, the rapturous expressions of his lovers as they merged in carnal union taking him to the brink of need.

“Lift up a little for me, love. I want to enter you now.”

She raised her hips just enough. Sam wet his cock in her slickness, then entered her, slowly, watching every twinge of emotion flitting across her face at the double invasion. Pat waited patiently as Sam filled her, pushing in to the hilt.

“Oh, God!” she screamed, grabbing Sam’s chest hair, clawing at Pat’s fingers on her waist. Both men remained still as she clenched and released unceasingly, panting and growling with each climax.

She was already so exquisitely tight, but this, this was torture. Sam had to muster every ounce of control to keep himself from coming, knowing if he did, it would not be a satisfying climax. He needed to move inside her.

“Clara—”

She clenched again. “Please … Sam …” she rasped, her eyes tightly shut, her face red from want of air. With one final scream she slumped forward.

Sam lightly caressed her shoulders. “Sweet, are you well?”

“Oh, God,” she exhaled, barely recovered, yet smiling. “Sam, love. Pat,” she turned her head weakly over her shoulder, “spend in me. I want you both to spend inside me. I want you to feel what I just did.”

Released from her sensual torment, Sam laughed out loud, exhilarated, meeting Pat’s relieved gaze. Sam set the rhythm, and Pat followed, thrusting in as Sam pulled out, his cock sliding along the length of Pat’s through warm wetness, the excruciating tightness relieved only when he was embedded fully and Pat had pulled back.

There was simply no more luscious feeling than a double fuck.

But the time for indulgence was over. The need for release had never been so strong.

“Now!”

Pat grinned at the command and followed Sam’s lead, matching his movements, pumping in and out simultaneously, two men as one. Clara offered fresh encouragements, moaning and tensing, taking them to the edge. Sam hung on as Pat gripped Clara’s waist, threw his head back, and with one final thrust, loosed himself deep inside, the heat of his emission penetrating her core, enticing Sam to let go.

He gazed up at Clara, his Clara. She smiled as a tear fell from her cheek. “I love you,” she whispered.

It was his undoing. Sam jerked up in release, filling her with his seed amidst curses and blasphemies.

For a moment, the three lay in a spent heap, catching their respective breaths, the pounding of their hearts slowing in concert. Pat pulled out first.

“I expect our guest is here by now, waiting in the parlor downstairs,” he said as he cleaned himself with a handkerchief before starting to dress.

Clara tumbled off Sam’s body. “Guest?” she said, looking from man to man.

Sam pulled himself up on his knees and took both her hands in his. “Clara, love, the man downstairs is the parson from the town of Chesterton. I’ve had a license prepared. He’s here to marry us, if you will have me.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Sam,” she said with a soft sniffle.

He cupped her cheek with his palm. “Clara, will you marry me?”

Her eager eyes answered him first. “Yes, Sam, I will.”

He bellowed in gleeful laughter as he took her in his arms and kissed her everywhere his lips could reach. “Thank you, thank you. You have just made me the happiest man in the world.”

Clara giggled. “But, love, won’t Patrick be jealous?” she teased.

Pat let out a sharp guffaw.

Sam grinned. “Patrick is already married these last few months.”

Clara’s eyes widened. “Constance?”

Pat blushed. “Yeah. With our baby due, I wanted to get her on the ration for officers’ wives.” He buttoned up his waistcoat. “Sam will do the same for you. But with all the shortages, there’s no guarantee.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Cuyler are fervent patriots,” said Clara. “I’m sure they will allow you to use their lands to grow whatever is needed.”

Patrick chuckled. “And I’m sure we can get Hawkins to liaise with the Cuylers. He’s got farming in his blood.” He wagged a finger at Sam and Clara still naked on the bed. “Get dressed, you two.” He grabbed his hat as he opened the door. “I’ll meet you downstairs in the parlor.”

* * * * *

Clara had never dressed more quickly in her life. She even had to goad Sam into hurrying up.

“Darling, you are marrying an officer of the Continental Army. I must set the example and look presentable.”

Clara simply cursed the war.

And when Sam was finished she grabbed his hand to lead him downstairs and into the parlor. She giggled when she spied the Reverend Daniels, a sharp little man with dark hair, a pointy nose, and reading glasses, who now wore patriot blue instead of his usual neutral green frock. Once the British had left Chesterton, the true sympathies of many of the villagers had been revealed in a similar manner.

He smiled and nodded his greeting. “Lady Strathmore.” The smile turned into a smirk when he turned his attention to Sam who fidgeted at her side so much he was practically dancing. “Major Taylor, I presume?”

Clara giggled some more.

Sam flushed. “Yes, sir.”

Pat stood silently by, trying most unsuccessfully to hide a grin.

And then it happened. As her heart thumped in her chest, the reverend opened his
Book of Common Prayer
to the “Form of Solemnization of Matrimony,” drew in a deep breath and began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered—”

The parlor door creaked open and Sebastian Hawkins poked his head into the room. “I heard the parson was here,” he said, glancing around until his gaze landed on Reverend Daniels. “Pardon me, sir, but may we impose upon you for your services as well?”

Hawkins opened the door wider and let Annabella in, rocking her son in her arms. She nodded her greeting to the reverend and he smiled back, a fatherly twinkle in his eye.

Hawkins put his arm around her shoulders. “We would like to be married, sir. If you don’t mind. I have a license as well, signed by Colonel Henry Livingston, like Major Taylor’s.”

Clara gripped Sam’s arm excitedly and turned a hopeful face to the clergyman. Reverend Daniels shook his head in amazement. “Should I have a concern that your loyalty in marriage may mirror your loyalty in war, Lieutenant Hawkins?”

Pat choked on a guffaw.

Hawkins was nonplussed. “Sir?” And then he blushed. He searched his pockets, drew out a folded document, and handed it to the reverend.

Reverend Daniels perused the document with a raised brow and a hint of skepticism.

“I’m now Captain Hawkins of the 4th New York Regiment,” Hawkins explained. “And Annabella Rogers is my betrothed.”

“He’s on our side now, reverend, so you don’t need to worry about me,” Annabella squeaked eagerly. “He’ll be raising Redmond’s son. A true patriot son.”

“As long as you’re happy, child.” The reverend smiled warmly at her. “You’ll bring your son around for baptizing, too, when you’re ready.”

Annabella curtsied. “Yes, Reverend Daniels.”

The reverend turned to Sam and Clara. “Do the major and his lady object?”

“Oh, no, sir!” they said in unison. Clara giggled. Sam was just as anxious as she.

“Very well then, we shall have two couples joined in holy matrimony this afternoon.” The reverend waved Hawkins and Annabella over.

With the couples positioned before him, Reverend Daniels began his offices, his baritone voice soothing and melodious. Clara listened to the words just enough to know when it was her turn to say “I do,” and when she did, she looked deep into Sam’s eyes. Whatever the future held for them in this rebellious country thousands of miles away from her native land, Clara knew that with Samuel Taylor, she was finally home.

About the Author

Regina Kammer
is an award-nominated, best-selling, multi-published writer of erotica and historical erotic romance. Her short stories and novels have been published by Cleis Press, Go Deeper Press, Ellora’s Cave, House of Erotica, Story Ink, The Naughty Literati, and her own imprint, Viridium Press. She began writing historical fiction with romantic elements during National Novel Writing Month 2006, switching to erotica when all her characters suddenly demanded to have sex.

The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale
was Regina’s first completed National Novel Writing Month novel. The book was a finalist for the Georgia Romance Writers 2014 Maggie Award for Excellence.