Regina Kammer – The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale
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The door to the captain’s quarters crashed open.
Captain Taylor and Lieutenant Hamilton entered the bedroom with a clandestine air. The lieutenant bolted the door as the captain stripped off his jacket and threw it on the bed, clearly cross and irritable, muttering about that “blasted woman,” as the lieutenant countered with “Sam, Sam,” and soothed him with calming words. Clara could not quite hear what they were saying but she was certain she was the topic of conversation.
Suddenly, the captain pushed the lieutenant against the wall and took him in a violent kiss. Clara froze. Two men kissing? She had never heard of such a thing. The men tore at each other hungrily, stripping off clothes, biting, clawing, licking each other like animals in heat, until, finally, they stood completely naked, and simply pressed themselves together in a tangle of arms, their mouths and tongues still teasing tenderly.
She stared, mesmerized by the perfectly matched bodies of the two officers, lean, sculpted muscles entwining into one knot of masculine flesh. The captain held the lieutenant’s head in his hands as he covered his cheeks with kisses, murmuring something to make the lieutenant smile and nod, then pulled away and walked to his desk. He was more magnificent in the full light of day. The hair that had taunted her as it disappeared down his breeches now continued its trail to a wreath of curls framing his impressive endowments. His cock, longer but not quite as thick as Paul’s, jutted out fully aroused, bouncing slightly as he moved across the room, his heavy balls swinging enticingly underneath. He went to the desk lamp, removed the top and burner, and dipped his fingers into the oil in the font. His hand dripping with the viscous liquid, he grabbed his prick and stroked, covering himself until he was slick and glistening.
“Now your turn, Pat,” he said, his voice dripping with seductive desire.
Clara had to stifle a libidinous sigh.
The lieutenant, still waiting by the door, quickly glanced at the drawn bolt, then strolled over to the desk with a wide grin. His body was now on display, sleek and potent, his erection, matching the captain’s in length and girth, springing proudly from a mass of brown hair. Once at the captain’s side, the two men kissed luxuriatingly as the captain reached around with his oily hand to the lieutenant’s buttocks, his movements eliciting a low hum of appreciation from the lieutenant.
Clara squeezed her thighs together hoping for relief, instead provoking herself with a slick massage.
As the lieutenant rolled his hips against the captain’s hand, the captain murmured against his lips; “…the bed…” was all she could hear. His expression slackened with lust, the lieutenant dutifully went to the foot of the bed and bent over, holding onto the low footboard, his butt taut and round above powerful thighs. The captain followed and arched over him, licking and kissing his back, gently pressing his hips against the lieutenant’s firm bottom, urging his legs apart with his knees.
And then the captain aimed his prick at the lieutenant’s arsehole and pushed in slowly.
Clara clapped her hands to her mouth to suppress a gasp. Paul Bridgers had taught her a great many things about life and love. The fact that two men could join in sexual union was not one of them. Yet, she and Paul had done precisely the same thing, and the coupling of the devastatingly handsome officers seemed like the most natural act in the world.
The captain’s fingers danced lightly on the lieutenant’s back for a moment before he held on to his shoulders and pushed his cock farther. The lieutenant lifted his head, exhaling a groan, then twisted back to gaze at his lover. The captain grabbed a fistful of the lieutenant’s brown hair and pulled his head back for a devastatingly deep kiss. Lust spiked in Clara’s core. As the captain swallowed the lieutenant’s tongue, she opened her mouth and thrust out her own.
The anguish of pleasurable pain wracked the lieutenant’s face as the captain pushed in deeper, then pulled out slowly. The captain snaked his hand around to take his friend’s cock in his fist, sliding up and down the hard shaft. The lieutenant let out a long, growling moan.
Clara’s body screamed for relief. She could not possibly touch herself without making noise. Or could she? Her left hand found the ties of her petticoats and loosened them enough so her right hand could maneuver under the waistbands and slowly scrunch up her shift. Her fingers finally found her excited clit throbbing for attention. She smoothed the sticky wetness over the nub, tightening her lips against the urge to sigh, stroking slowly, then matching the rhythm of the captain’s hand on his lover’s cock, uniting her lust with theirs.
Captain Taylor drove aggressively into the lieutenant, pumping his prick with equal violence, pulling and lengthening the shaft toward the floor. Sweat sheened his back, his muscles flexed and tensed as he raced to completion, hissing curses, rumbling affirmations. Clara frantically rubbed her tender clit, wishing, wanting, imagining it was her the captain plundered, as she climbed to an elusive crest only to slip and tumble back down.
She needed one of the officers to climax first.
It was the lieutenant who could no longer hold out. He clenched his jaw, straining against a cry, as the captain milked him unrelentingly, sending jets of pearlescent fluid onto the wooden boards. Clara came next, her body finding its peak and holding on for the most glorious second before taking her over the edge, her eyes ripping themselves from the scene only momentarily as her head fell back in relief.
Desperately quieting her panting breaths, she watched the captain. He savagely seized the lieutenant’s hips to steady himself as he slammed against his arse, his pendent balls crashing into the lieutenant’s spent sac. The lieutenant gripped the footboard, his knuckles white, his face a mass of creases, his body staggering against the savage rhythm. At his final thrust, the captain closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth, choking back a rapturous cry. For a minute more, he continued to press his groin into the lieutenant as his body jerked in sputtering spasms, until his head fell back and he exhaled a groaning sigh. He spread his palms on the lieutenant’s butt cheeks, smoothing the skin, then bent over his back and wrapped his arms around him.
“Thank you, Pat. Thank you, my friend,” he said with silky satisfaction.
The silence of afterglow was deafening. Or perhaps it was the blood rushing and pulsing through her head. Clara stiffened, her hand still down her skirt. She dared not move.
The captain’s prick slipped out, his emission dripping to the floor to mingle with the creamy pool. He kissed the lieutenant, gave him a little smack on the butt, then both officers dressed calmly and left.
Brenda Huber – Temptation
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She was too satiated to argue, too limp to move. Here and now she fully understood the phrase, putty in his hands.
Gideon captured her lips, dragging her back from the edge of languid satiation, plunging her into needy awareness. Competent hands lifted her higher against the wall, till her feet left the floor. He used his body to hold her in place while his hands skimmed down her sides. He gripped her knees, pushing them up, guiding them high around his waist. Maggie locked her ankles over his taut buttocks. His motions were rough once more. Her drenched cleft skated along the rigid length of his erection and he snarled, his fingers digging in, bruising her.
“Have to get inside you,” he growled.
She whimpered. Her arms felt like rubber, but she twined them around his neck, winding her fingers in the warm silk of his hair as he kissed her senseless once more. She could feel the thick head of his shaft pushing at her entrance, stretching her though she was more than ready. She could feel every beat of his heart pulsing in his member, connecting them somehow on an elemental level. A new, corresponding ache formed in her womb, deeper, more painful and more demanding than before, and instinct told her the only way to ease that ache was to get him inside her, all the way inside, as fast as possible.
She squeezed her thighs tighter around him and rocked her hips in frenzied demand.
She tugged his hair sharply when he didn’t immediately shove hard inside her. Maggie sank her teeth into his lower lip. She didn’t recognize this wanton, demanding female she’d become, had never had her body slip beyond her control like this before. Had never had such a physically carnal encounter in her life. It was as if she’d been awakened. Gideon had brought this out of her. Only Gideon. And only Gideon could satisfy her now.
A dark, guttural curse burst from him. He pried her fingers from his hair, manacled her wrist, slammed it against the wall above her head and held it there. He jerked his head back, his golden eyes sizzling with hunger as he stared her down. Slowly, so she’d be sure to see it, she knew, he licked the thin ribbon of red at the edge of his lower lip where she’d drawn blood. She was shocked by her own behavior…and more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.
Reaching beneath her, he gripped her bottom, angling her, holding her in place as he fastened his mouth over hers again. Gideon slammed inside her, to the hilt, capturing her scream, swallowing it. And then he started to move. Long, deep thrusts that bound them together, body and soul. He tore his mouth away and pressed his cheek to hers. His hot breath was ragged in her ear.
“You’re mine now, Maggie,” he growled, his voice raspy and thick. “I claim you as mymate, and I’ll never release you from my keeping.”
She couldn’t reply, caught up as she was in the sensations of his body laying siege to hers. But a sense of rightness, a sense of finality slammed through her. Gideon buried his face in the side of her neck. One hand was clamped on her bottom, firm and unyielding, possessive, gripping painfully tight, the other still held her wrist. The muscles of his arms and back were taut beneath the exploring fingers of her free hand. Fine beads of perspiration glistened on his skin. Her own flesh felt damp with it. Her legs were still wrapped tight around his lean waist, her ankles still locked over his taut buttocks. His back flexed and bunched as his lean hips pumped in an ever increasing, primal rhythm until flesh slapped flesh. As he pushed them mercilessly toward that glimmering peak, a fleeting thought shot unerringly through her mind.
Some things are supposed to happen, just the way they happened.
Gideon released her wrist, released her bottom, and wrapped both arms around her waist, squeezing her tight enough that she had trouble breathing. His thrusts increased, frantic, pounding, pleasure almost to the point of pain. Her own orgasm had begun to coil tight, waiting for that final second to spring free.
And then Gideon issued a feral snarl against her flesh, driving himself impossibly deep. His teeth clamped onto her shoulder, setting off a chain reaction. All around her, his body went hard as tempered steel. Her own body quaked and shuddered, exploding in a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. Her orgasm slammed into her the moment she felt him jerk and pulse deep inside her as a deluge of hot seed gushed from him. She screamed his name, gasped for air and screamed again.
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