Read Online Norrington Abbey by Josie Dennis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Josie Dennis
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and trimmed rose bushes. Fresh and spiced, rich and tempting. When Henry took her other hand she nearly threw herself at both of them.
“What are you about, John?” She swallowed and licked her lips. “Henry, we’re in your father’s garden.”
They both smiled, and then John brought his mouth to hers. “Kiss me, Catherine.”
She opened her mouth to his tongue, tasting deeply of his passion. He held her close, his chest hard against her breasts until she ached. Henry stroked his fingers over her neck, her throat, as John devoured her. Whimpering, she pulled away. “Oh, your kisses!”
Henry turned her to him. “What of mine?”
She blinked. “You’ve never kissed me. Oh, Henry you cannot mean…that!”
He grinned then kissed her as John had. His kiss was different, softer than John’s but just as delectable. She gave herself up to him as John edged his hand beneath her skirts. He touched her, and she jumped.
“Oh, you mustn’t!” She was flustered from their kisses and caresses and knew she must stop. “This isn’t right. Oh, I am a wanton.”
“You are not,” John said, reaching out to take her hand. “You wanted to kiss us both, did you not?”
She hung her head. “Yes, to my utter shame.”
Henry gaped at her. “Catherine…”
She wanted to jump on both of them, to sit on Henry’s lap and feel that compelling shaft of his right up against her pussy. She wanted to caress John to her heart’s content and feel his intimate kiss on her flesh as well.
“I must go,” she breathed, surging to her feet to run from the gardens.
She heard them calling to her, heard their footsteps on the pathway, but didn’t stop. She had to get away, both from them and her feelings for them. She couldn’t go to Isabella about her desires, that was certain. John was her brother after all, and she was as virginal as Catherine. Or as Catherine would be for a short while any way. She knew she would surrender her virginity to one or the other before this visit was over. There was no denying that inevitability.
She gained the library and tucked herself into a corner. What was she to do? She couldn’t choose, for both men seemed to want her as she wanted them. She couldn’t have both of them. She recalled the sensation of Henry’s mouth on hers as John caressed her. The combination was intoxicating. In her fevered dreams she’d been loved by the two of them. Could she have them both?
“Oh, I will be completely and utterly ruined,” she murmured.
What alarmed her was the realization that the prospect didn’t fill her with apprehension. No, she craved the pleasure they promised in their eyes, their touch. Perhaps there were worse ways to lose everything. And she just might gain something she’d never dared consider before.
Happiness, no matter how brief.
Chapter 8
Henry stood in the front parlor with John and Frederick. His brother was already deep in his cups, a common occurrence when at the abbey. Henry hadn’t had the chance yet to speak with John about what had happened in the gardens. Catherine had kissed both of them, with equal ardor if his suppositions were correct. John had nearly touched her beneath her pretty skirts. Had he thought to pleasure her right there? The idea intrigued him as much as it outraged him, however. Her kiss, the first he’d tasted despite their passion of that day in Lansdown, was just as sweet after her kissing John. She was the same responsive girl as that afternoon, but now there was an element of sensual awareness he’d not sensed before. Did John see that, too?
“So what are you about, Thorne?” Frederick asked. “Still rutting your way through the girls?”
John bristled. “No. After my parents’ passing I find there is more to occupy my time.”
“Pity.” Frederick laughed. “We could have gone into the village and had a go at it together.” He waved at Henry. “My brother would be scandalized so we would just leave him here with the ladies.
“What are you about, John?” She swallowed and licked her lips. “Henry, we’re in your father’s garden.”
They both smiled, and then John brought his mouth to hers. “Kiss me, Catherine.”
She opened her mouth to his tongue, tasting deeply of his passion. He held her close, his chest hard against her breasts until she ached. Henry stroked his fingers over her neck, her throat, as John devoured her. Whimpering, she pulled away. “Oh, your kisses!”
Henry turned her to him. “What of mine?”
She blinked. “You’ve never kissed me. Oh, Henry you cannot mean…that!”
He grinned then kissed her as John had. His kiss was different, softer than John’s but just as delectable. She gave herself up to him as John edged his hand beneath her skirts. He touched her, and she jumped.
“Oh, you mustn’t!” She was flustered from their kisses and caresses and knew she must stop. “This isn’t right. Oh, I am a wanton.”
“You are not,” John said, reaching out to take her hand. “You wanted to kiss us both, did you not?”
She hung her head. “Yes, to my utter shame.”
Henry gaped at her. “Catherine…”
She wanted to jump on both of them, to sit on Henry’s lap and feel that compelling shaft of his right up against her pussy. She wanted to caress John to her heart’s content and feel his intimate kiss on her flesh as well.
“I must go,” she breathed, surging to her feet to run from the gardens.
She heard them calling to her, heard their footsteps on the pathway, but didn’t stop. She had to get away, both from them and her feelings for them. She couldn’t go to Isabella about her desires, that was certain. John was her brother after all, and she was as virginal as Catherine. Or as Catherine would be for a short while any way. She knew she would surrender her virginity to one or the other before this visit was over. There was no denying that inevitability.
She gained the library and tucked herself into a corner. What was she to do? She couldn’t choose, for both men seemed to want her as she wanted them. She couldn’t have both of them. She recalled the sensation of Henry’s mouth on hers as John caressed her. The combination was intoxicating. In her fevered dreams she’d been loved by the two of them. Could she have them both?
“Oh, I will be completely and utterly ruined,” she murmured.
What alarmed her was the realization that the prospect didn’t fill her with apprehension. No, she craved the pleasure they promised in their eyes, their touch. Perhaps there were worse ways to lose everything. And she just might gain something she’d never dared consider before.
Happiness, no matter how brief.
Chapter 8
Henry stood in the front parlor with John and Frederick. His brother was already deep in his cups, a common occurrence when at the abbey. Henry hadn’t had the chance yet to speak with John about what had happened in the gardens. Catherine had kissed both of them, with equal ardor if his suppositions were correct. John had nearly touched her beneath her pretty skirts. Had he thought to pleasure her right there? The idea intrigued him as much as it outraged him, however. Her kiss, the first he’d tasted despite their passion of that day in Lansdown, was just as sweet after her kissing John. She was the same responsive girl as that afternoon, but now there was an element of sensual awareness he’d not sensed before. Did John see that, too?
“So what are you about, Thorne?” Frederick asked. “Still rutting your way through the girls?”
John bristled. “No. After my parents’ passing I find there is more to occupy my time.”
“Pity.” Frederick laughed. “We could have gone into the village and had a go at it together.” He waved at Henry. “My brother would be scandalized so we would just leave him here with the ladies.
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