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“Bed,” Lancelot said, even as he waged a small internal war. He was content to stand here, kissing and touching, praying the morning never came. At the same time, it felt as if he was in physical pain, one that would only be cured when he drove his hard cock deep into her soft, wet body.
Sylvia moved toward her bed without comment. Her haste told Lancelot she was in the same overwrought condition.
Hugo, however, seemed more in control of himself. Or…was he suddenly hesitant?
Lancelot glanced at the other man’s face, struggling to understand what he was seeing there. There was no mistaking Hugo’s desire. He wanted to be here, but something was holding him back.
“Hugo,” Lancelot murmured, capturing his friend’s attention. Hugo’s gaze shifted toward him, and then he took in a deep breath.
That was when Lancelot realized Hugo was waging an internal battle as well. Between what he wanted…and what he should take. They were coming to her bed with secrets.
Lancelot understood that, just as he accepted the fact that he wanted her beyond all reason.
“Are you coming?” Sylvia asked softly from the bed. She’d climbed on the mattress, her back resting against the headboard. There was no shyness, though Lancelot couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she seemed almost innocent. Despite the confidences they’d shared during the drive about past lovers, there was something ethereal about her, some delicateness that made him want to protect her, even though the only danger in the room at the moment was them.
Hugo moved first, stripping off his shirt and pants as he faced her. She lifted her chin slightly when he was completely nude and for a moment, she appeared almost regal, a queen studying her loyal subject. Hugo was erect, his cock thick and ready. Hugo wrapped his hand around it, slowly stroking himself as he looked at Sylvia. She watched him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
Lancelot was fascinated by the interchange, by the fact so much was being said between the three of them with few to no words.
Hugo didn’t approach the bed, and it occurred to Lancelot that perhaps the other man was waiting for Sylvia’s permission.
Her gaze slipped from Hugo to him, then back again. “Hugo,” she said, her voice strong and sure. “I want you.”
Whatever invisible chain had held Hugo in place slipped free. He walked to the bed, placed one knee next to her, then used a strong grip on her ankle to pull her from a seated position to her back in one fluid motion.
Hugo looked over his shoulder at Lancelot, who shook his head. “You first.”
It was one thing to take a woman to bed with another man, but it would become something entirely different if he shed his clothing and climbed onto that bed as well. Lancelot wanted to do that, wanted it more than his next breath, but there were too many things rattling around in his head and, until they cleared, it was better to observe.
No, he thought. There weren’t things clouding his vision. There was one thing. His desire for both of them. Sylvia and Hugo.
Lancelot had never lain with another man, never even considered such a thing. Even when he pledged his life to the Masters’ Admiralty, understanding there was a chance he would be wed to another man, he’d imagined that would only involve sharing their woman—their wife.
That wasn’t what he wanted here.
Tonight, he wanted to claim more than one lover.
Hugo lay down next to Sylvia and she twisted to face him, the two of them side by side on the large bed, kissing, stroking, exploring. A deep groan from the bed drew Lancelot’s attention to Sylvia’s hands, and he watched as she gripped Hugo’s cock firmly, drawing her hand along the hard flesh until she reached the head. Her fingertips found the pre-come there and she slid it around his slit as Hugo’s eyes closed, his expression one of absolute bliss.
Lancelot stepped closer to them, standing at the foot of the bed. He was still dressed. He was as aware of that as his lovers were, Hugo and Sylvia both sending curious glances his direction.
A strange sensation came over Lancelot. While he wasn’t in the bed, he felt as if he held the reins, as if everything that would happen in this room was under his control. An alpha by nature, he wondered if that was why he’d always eschewed the concept of a male lover. Had his struggles been based on sharing control rather than sharing his body?
Hugo’s hand covered Sylvia’s on his dick, tightening their combined grip, but not seeking to speed her strokes, even though Lancelot could tell that was what he wanted…needed.
“Sylvia,” Lancelot murmured, lifting his chin to draw her attention to the pained lines etched by Hugo’s eyes that revealed how much more their lover needed.
Sylvia was astute, attentive, a quick study. Her hand began moving faster, her motions rougher, more demanding.
Hugo’s hand slipped from hers, moving between her parted legs, teasing her clit before he slid two fingers inside her.
“That’s right,” Lancelot whispered. “Make each other crazy with need.”
His words spurred them on, both of them giving and taking as much as they could. Sylvia broke first, shoving on Hugo’s shoulder until he fell to his back. She straddled him, using her grip on his dick to guide him home. She dropped down, taking him inside in one hard, fast stroke.
Hugo’s hands encompassed her waist, though Lancelot couldn’t tell if he intended to stop her or drive her on.
Once more, Hugo merely held her, let her take him as she wanted.
