Scandal - COMPLETED

Chapter Seven

I managed to keep myself pulled together until the door of my sitting room was firmly closed behind me, though I had no idea what it was I said in response to the maid who greeted me in passing along the way. Judging by the confused look on her face afterward, nothing comprehensible.

The room that spread out before me now was awash in the tawny shades of ocher thrown by the fire. Candles had been lit, providing further illumination, but still I struggled to make out the familiar shapes of my sitting room. I was so caught up in what had just taken place that I was like a blind woman, forced to use my hands to navigate.

I made it through the connecting door that led to my bedroom without incident, and when I saw that I was alone, I locked it behind me and immediately started toward my bed. Halfway there I tripped over a footstool. A squawk that would have made a goose proud burst from my lips as I fell in an ungracious sprawl across the Aubusson carpet. At least it was a soft landing.

I burrowed my fingers into the thick rug and curled onto my side, pushing my knees together. An aching pressure had built between my thighs. John's parting words echoed through my mind, taunting me. It was all I could do to remain where I was instead of leaping up and racing back to the study, to hell with taking our time.

Some still sane part of me recognized the folly of that. There were the servants to think about. Our agreement to take things slowly.

I needed to get up and summon Harriet to help me out of these clothes. Once she was gone and I was tucked safely in my bed, then I could relive what had just happened in vivid detail, and once that was seen to, delve into my feelings about it all.

It was standing up that proved difficult. I shifted my legs, meaning to reposition them before pushing myself from the ground, but my undergarments had bunched between my thighs upon landing, and the move dragged them across my over-stimulated sex in a way that found me flat on my back, panting up at the ceiling.

I was in no fit state to be waited upon, that much was clear, and nor did I think I would be until I gave into the all-encompassing desire that still burned beneath my skin. No longer trusting my legs to carry me to my bed, I decided to stay right there on the rug. I wrenched my corset down just enough for my breasts to slip free and then tugged my skirts up over my waist. I slipped my left hand over the flushed skin of my chest, teasing one nipple and then the other into hardened peaks, then continued to ply them while the fingers of my right hand shoved beneath the band of my undergarments to find that I was already, unsurprisingly, soaking wet.

What were John and Henry doing in the study at this moment? Talking? I somehow doubted it. No, after the way they had kissed each other, I had a feeling that the only words being uttered within that room were ones like "yes", "please", and "more".

I had barely slipped a finger inside myself, my palm grazing over the most sensitive part of my anatomy along the way, when the first wave of my release hit. It rolled me over so quickly that I was soon lost in the undertow, my body a slave to the current, my jaw clenched tightly shut to keep in the low, keening moan that threatened.

I lay there for several moments afterward, winded, reeling from the strength of the orgasm, the shudders of which still wracked my body. If I came that hard after kissing them, I almost feared what might happen if either of them brought me to release.

Part of me still struggled to come to terms with the events of this evening. John wanted me. Henry wanted me. They wanted me. Together. The edges of my lips crept up as I remembered the feel of Henry beneath me, the sight of John as he reached past me toward his lover, pressing me between their bodies. I almost couldn't believe it had happened. My mind was already ascribing a mystical quality to it, as though it was nothing more than a daydream that my subconscious had conjured.