Page 16 of The Education of Ivy Leavold
“That’s it,” Julian coaxed. “Show us, pet. Make that beautiful pussy come.”
I came. With Silas’ mouth everywhere and with Julian’s cock filling me, I came. And I came hard.
It started at my clitoris, a fire and flame that moved like a wave, rolling back and then crashing against my cunt and womb, retracting and then crashing through my hips and thighs, and then finally shaking my entire body, tremors and tingles that raced along every nerve to the tips of my fingers and toes. I heard Mr. Markham swearing as the convulsions squeezed him and I felt Silas’s smile against the soft lips of my cunt as he continued to tongue me.
“Julian,” I pleaded, as the waves kept coming and coming.
“I’m here, wildcat,” he rasped in my ear. “And now it’s our turn.”
With my pussy still clenching, he lifted me off him, and I whimpered at the abrupt emptiness. I was put on all fours on the bed, with Mr. Markham kneeling behind me and Silas coming up to join us after removing his pants. He knelt in front of me, his member—no less impressive than Mr. Markham’s—jutting out from his lean hips.
Without warning, Mr. Markham plunged into me, sinking to the hilt on the first thrust, and I cried out, the deeper angle bruisingly delicious, turning my already hard nipples into tight jeweled points as Silas slowly stroked himself.
“Ivy,” growled Mr. Markham. “Don’t you want to thank Silas for making you come?”
I nodded, and then Silas moved closer, the head of his dick only the barest breath away from my lips. He was so polite, hesitant almost, and I got the sudden flash of insight that he wasn’t used to taking the reins in the bedchamber like Mr. Markham was. He was so charming and handsome and laid-back, I imagined that most women were more than happy to crawl over him and do all the work. Women like Molly, who liked to take control anyway. If it had been my Julian in front of me, my mouth would have been taken already. But instead Silas waited patiently, one hand gripping himself, the other resting against his thigh.
Mr. Markham was more than willing to take control on his friend’s behalf, however. His hand fisted in my hair and yanked my head back. “Open up,” he ordered. “Open that pretty mouth and let him slide in. I want you to suck him like he’s me, do you understand? Suck his cock like it’s mine.”
He didn’t let go of my hair, and my eyes were watering, but my pussy was wetter than ever, a second climax knotting itself around Julian’s ruthless thrusts. I parted my lips and moaned as Silas entered my mouth, the almost apologetic look vanishing from his face, replaced with something more primal. And then his hand was in my hair too, his fingers tangling in the tendrils along with Mr. Markham’s, and he began moving his hips to bring himself in and out of me, gasping whenever I flattened my tongue against the underside of his cock.
Behind me, Mr. Markham’s other hand dug into my hip, hard and uncaring; his fucking became raw and rough, savage animal noises tearing from his throat as he rammed into my cunt like a man possessed. Delight and desire flared in my chest;Iwas the one doing this, I was the one rending the controlled Julian Markham in two. The Julian Markham, who barely blinked or panted as he came on my dress, became ferociously undomesticated whenever he sheathed himself inside me, and in turn, it made me wilder, made me feel just as brutal and uncivilized. I spread my legs wider, wanting him deeper, wanting him everywhere.
The two hands in my hair and the sensation of two cocks pistoning inside me and the erotic sight of Silas’s hips flexing as he fucked my mouth…the explosion built in me once more, making me moan and whine around Silas.
“Silas is going to come, Ivy,” Julian said, and his voice was so rough, rasping over the sound of our bodies slapping together. “And you are going to take it all. And then you’re going to come on my cock and you are going to milk me. Hard.”
On cue, Silas swelled in my mouth, his motions growing jerky and uneven, and then with a soft moan, he spilled onto my tongue and down my throat, his hands on either side of my head, holding me still as he spurted. His noises and the delicious feeling of his cock pulsing was enough to send me over the edge on its own, but the moment his orgasm ended, he was on the other side of me next to Mr. Markham, reaching down to fondle my clitoris while Mr. Markham kept hold of my hair and my hip for leverage as he pounded into me.
“Oh God!” I cried, this third orgasm sawing through me with a viciousness unlike anything I had ever felt, and I wasn’t sure I could survive it. I was coming to pieces, coming unknit and unmade, and Julian kept fucking and Silas kept rubbing and I was screaming through it all, until, with a loud hiss, Mr. Markham came so hard inside me that I could feel his seed lashing against my walls and feel his cock convulsing. He kept his hand on my hip and kept pounding into me through the duration of his climax, sinking his teeth into my shoulder and growling as he did.
After a few long minutes, his thrusting slowed and his teeth left my skin and my vision finally began to clear. The three of us fell backward on the bed into a tangle of limbs and panting, Mr. Markham still buried inside of me.
“Thank you for sharing yourself with me,” Silas said, all gentlemanly politeness, despite the sweat on his forehead and despite the sleepy cock currently pressed against my thigh.
My eyes seemed to close all on their own, and a happy sigh escaped me when Mr. Markham’s hand reached around me to cup my breast and Silas laid his head against my shoulder.
“It was my pleasure,” I said, and those words had never been truer.
I woke twice that night. The first was to Mr. Markham moving against me, his shaft seeking entrance to my cleft, and I sleepily parted my legs, resting one on his hip as my breasts pressed against his chest. I felt lips on my back—Silas was kissing me there—and for several long minutes, there was nothing but slow dreamy thrusts and the press of Silas’ erection against my ass and the sound of skin rasping on fabric. When my orgasm came, it was gentle and sweet, and I was drifting back into sleep even as Mr. Markham shuddered and released into me.
The second time I woke, the floor-length curtains had parted and the blue-black light of early morning limned the window frame and the balcony outside, along with a tall figure. I knew without looking that the man still in bed with me was my own Mr. Markham, but the warmth of the room made the pre-dawn air look cool and attractive, and so in a moment, I was standing next to Silas, wrapped in Mr. Markham’s dressing robe.
He’d pulled on his trousers but nothing else, leaving his ridged and slender torso exposed to the open air. He leaned against the railing, surveying the street below, seeming amused by the early morning bustle of food delivery wagons and street vendors and sporadic hansom cabs.
“Too warm?” he asked, not looking at me.
I affirmed that I was and leaned against the railing as well. The world was a different place in the early morning, when the debauched had finally gone to bed and the industrious were barely awake.
“He’s in love with you, you know,” Silas remarked, still not looking away from the road.
I flushed, wheeling around to make sure Mr. Markham was well asleep and couldn’t hear us talking about him. Satisfied that our conversation was not being eavesdropped upon, I turned back to Silas. “I know.”
Now he turned and braced his back against the railing, folding his arms across his chest. On any other man, the gesture might have seemed hostile or aggressive, but Silas made it seem friendly. Casual. “Do you really?” he asked.
Defensiveness rippled along my skin like invisible chain mail, but I couldn’t refute Silas. It had only been a couple of months, and by any standards, that was too short a time to claim to know someone, however intimately. I barely knew him and I now barely knew myself—I’d always been the girl who had done whatever she wanted, sure, but how could I know that marriage to Mr. Markham wouldn’t cage me instead of free me? I wanted to be next to him always…but what if the institution of marriage, the boundaries that came with it, the expectations…what if they poisoned that love for me? For the first time, the ring on my finger felt more like a shackle than a promise.
Yes, I wanted to say. I knew that he loved me. But there was so much complication surrounding it all that I couldn’t actually find the right words.
