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Sylvia smiled when both of her husbands offered their hands to help her kneel between them. “I pledge on my honor, and…”
“And as your spouse,” Eric prompted, when she stumbled.
“As your spouse, to love, protect, and keep you, all of your days.”
“Rise,” Eric said. “In the eyes of the law and the Masters’ Admiralty, I pronounce you husband and husband and wife.”
Sylvia laughed, overwhelmed with joy.
“This is the part where you kiss your bride,” Eric reminded them, as Lancelot and Hugo grinned at her.
Hugo reached for her without hesitation, pulling her close to give her a kiss she felt all the way to her toes. They parted for just a moment, Hugo murmuring, “I love you,” before he kissed her again.
The kiss might have gone on forever, if she hadn’t felt Lancelot’s hand on her elbow, gently trying to extract her from their husband. “Stop hogging her,” he teased.
Hugo chuckled and released her, Sylvia spinning to kiss her knight. While Hugo’s kiss was that of a dark and decadent lover, Lancelot’s was pure alpha possession. Claiming.
Her lips felt slightly swollen by the time he was finished.
And then…
Lancelot reached for Hugo.
Sylvia held her breath as she watched the two men—her men—kiss for the first time. It wasn’t brotherly or friendly or…God…anything that innocent.
Lancelot gripped the back of Hugo’s head, his fingers fisted in their lover’s hair, twisting their faces to deepen the kiss.
Hugo wasn’t a passive participant. He reached for Lancelot’s hips, drawing their bodies closer. Sylvia glanced down, spotting the evidence of exactly what these kisses were doing to them. Their cocks had grown hard, thick, bulging the front of their pants.
Sylvia could appreciate that level of arousal. At the moment, she was fairly light-headed with it, her panties suddenly damp.
“Please,” she whispered, needing to get the hell out of here, needing… “Naked. Now.”
Eric slapped both Lancelot and Hugo on the backs. “You’re lucky men. Now go make sweet, sweet love to her. Or have weird, dirty sex. Either way works.”
Lancelot scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of Eric’s chambers to their bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lancelot kicked the bedroom door closed behind them as Hugo reached over and flipped the lock. Sylvia’s arms were wrapped around his neck, as she placed kisses everywhere her lips could reach—his jaw, throat, ears.
He wanted to urge her to go slow. This was their honeymoon. Under normal circumstances, they’d have a lifetime ahead of them…to explore, to play, to love. But these weren’t normal times. The danger surrounding all of them was real, and they’d be fools to pretend otherwise.
Before bidding him to retrieve Hugo and Sylvia for the wedding ceremony, Eric told him he could only give him one night—tonight—for his honeymoon. Come tomorrow, Lancelot was to return to England to take up his new position as a knight of his territory.
Lancelot set Sylvia down, intent on stripping off her dress. The little minx shifted away from his grip, her head tilted as she looked from him to Hugo.
“So…that kiss.”
Lancelot rolled his eyes, not entirely surprised that of everything that had happened in the fleet admiral’s chambers, that was the part she was most fascinated by.
Hugo walked over to a small writing table in the corner, pulling out the chair and spinning it so he could sit down facing them. It felt like an odd thing to do at the moment.
Every fiber of Lancelot’s being was driving him toward the bed, toward fast, hard, dirty.
“Take off your dress,” Hugo said. His voice had taken on a deeper tone, one that reminded Lancelot of Sylvia’s fantasy. Of her desire to be taken, forced. They hadn’t had time to do more than scratch the surface of her desires.
Sylvia didn’t move, her gaze shifting from Hugo to Lancelot and back again. He could see her mind working, see her trying to decide how to play this…them.
