Lady Adalyn (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 1), Sahara Kelly [the best e book reader .TXT] 📗

of her ached, but as Evan washed her legs, her calves felt lighter. His hands and the washcloth roamed over her, and no part of her was omitted from his ministrations.

When Evan reached her hips, Jeremy’s hands slipped from her head down to her neck—and further. The two men worked as if by a single direction, washing her most intimate flesh and caressing her breasts at the same time.

She sighed, gasped and then moaned…unable to resist the seductive persuasion of their attentions. Evan’s hand replaced the washcloth and he stroked her mound, touching places that responded with exquisite heat, especially when Jeremy flicked nipples that had hardened into taut buds.

Her back arched involuntarily and water splashed as she writhed and spread her thighs as wide as she could in lascivious invitation to Evan’s hand and fingers.

Two men, four hands, slippery skin and an unquenchable desire for release—Adalyn was drowning, but not in the water of her bathtub.

She was drowning in sensations, in the extraordinary feel of Evan’s fingers as he slid one, and then another into her body. It was amazing, arousing and so much more wonderful than she could ever have imagined.

As if obeying the baton of a conductor, both men touched her in concert, playing with the most agonisingly sensitive flesh, teasing, caressing, even pinching to a point where a scream choked in her throat.

They seemed to know when to touch and when to stroke, and Adalyn gave little thought to the water she might splash all over the place. At last she could take no more and she sobbed out a cry as her world erupted, great shattering spasms of pleasure jarring her body and shutting down her mind.

This. This was what she’d wanted, what she’d craved.

She flew, mindless and blind to everything but the maelstrom of sensations rippling over her.

At last, she eased, sliding back into the now-cool bathtub.

“Adalyn?” Jeremy touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?” He pushed her wet hair to one side and dropped a light kiss beneath her ear.

“Oh God, Jeremy,” she sighed, then lifted her head. “Evan.”

“I’m here, Adalyn.” He was rubbing his fingers over her foot.

“I need to get out now, otherwise I might just sink beneath the water and never come up again.”

Both men chuckled, and within moments they wrapped her in a large cloth that had been warming by the fire.

Jeremy gently dried her hair with a smaller one, and Evan mopped the splashes.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her words falling into the silence. “Thank you both.”

“Our pleasure, Adalyn,” answered Jeremy. “Now here’s your brush. And you’re warm enough here by the fire. Evan and I will empty the tub and then perhaps some dinner?” He glanced at the other man.

“I have a pie baking, and a warming soup. Would you like dinner here? That way you can slip into your nightgown and nobody will know.”

“I think that sounds lovely.” Adalyn stretched her arms wide. “As long as you join me…”

“It would be our pleasure, dearest Adalyn,” smiled Jeremy. “Don’t fall asleep before we return…”

“Oh, I won’t.”

It was a promise she could very easily keep. The thought of sharing an evening with them sent all sorts of exciting tingles through her once again, and she energetically tugged at the tangles in her hair, letting it hang free to dry.

She caught sight of herself in the looking glass as she walked to her bureau.

Yes, that was, without doubt, the reflection of a loose and sensual woman.

And wasn’t it extraordinary?

Dear Diary,

I scarce know where to start - these last few days have been so eventful that sorting it all out in my mind is not an easy task, to be sure. I suppose I should begin with my first foray to our local church, where the sermon was charming, the hymns familiar and I had the delightful honour of being seated in my own Wolfbridge pew, with Giles at my side.

I believe I sat taller and straighter because of those two circumstances; not through pride, but because of my desire to do right by the Wolfbridge reputation.

It was after the service that we were all surprised by a woman who accosted Jeremy. She was a figure from his past, he told us, and he revealed a story I still find hard to believe.

He was tried as a murderer for saving this young woman. The villain attacking her with obvious intentions was accidentally killed and Jeremy was responsible. Thankfully he evaded the ultimate punishment, but I can understand now why his reactions to some of my personal revelations have been so strong.

No sooner did we recover from those astonishing tales, than everything turned upside down.

Trick has been arrested in connection with the death of Sir Amery Fairhurst.

I cannot believe I am writing those words, since they seem so outrageously wrong and unjust. Trick has the most honest heart and warmest soul; the mere notion of him poisoning Sir Amery is absurd in the extreme. Even now, Daniel and Giles must be examining the situation with the Lord Lieutenant - they left yesterday afternoon and have yet to return.

I was, and still am, terribly upset by all this, and Jeremy suggested we help Trick in the best way we could by caring for his stables. I agreed, and I’m glad I did, since now I know at least two of the horses there have clean stalls and fresh food and water. I pray Trick will be back soon to take over this job and am determined that should his stay in the Roundhouse be prolonged, I shall visit him and take him some of the things he might need.

How strange it feels to have only two of my gentlemen here at Wolfbridge - as if one of my limbs is missing. It has been so easy to grow accustomed to all four handsome faces smiling at me and with two gone…I am a little lost.

But I must confess that last night, Jeremy and Evan admirably filled the void.

They bathed me, dear Diary.