The Huntress and the Nightingale Ch. 04

Together, they near crush the Housekeeper between them as they share another threeway kiss. Their six breasts press together, their legs entwine in the sheets, and their hands once again wander between each other's legs lazily. Collectively, they are wet, sore, tired, and losing precious stamina but what has sparked between them is near unquenchable.

As a slower cycle of lovemaking begins anew, the paintings of Diana and her nude attendants seem to look upon the three women with approving smiles.

...

When dawn breaks, the sapphic lovers are a tangle of limbs beneath the furs and quilts. The fire has finally died, along with the remaining candles, leaving only a sliver of blue light from the oncoming winter's dawn to light the chambers. In the darkness, the crowded paintings of Diana and her nymphs have lost the near voyeuristic gleams in their eyes, returning to their cold indifference.

Though it all has grown still, the chilly air is heavy with the scent of sex and the sheets are damp in places with their sweat and fluids. Louis rests between her Housekeeper and soprano, both of them sleeping soundly as they cling to her and each other for warmth and comfort. The two of them found sleep easy once their night of lovemaking was concluded but Louis could only catch a few snatches before the cold light of the sun began to rise.

Her fingers hold their soft bodies possessively close as she stares into the cooled hearth where the last embers have finally died. She can still recall the chorus of sounds they made, the aching emptiness after Constancia fucked her, and the sensuality of Clara being such an eager participant. Yet, her thoughts about the two women also haunt her. How she must protect them, hold them, love them, elevate them as best she can with the power her blood and the crown have allowed her.

With the roads soon to be cleared, she knows that it is only a matter of time until the Sun King and the Duc d'Orleans call her to Versailles again. It would not be for hunting, both the King and the Duke were not particular fans of the harsh conditions of winter hunting. To them, the winters were made for excess and revelry, leading up to one of the few celebrations that she and the Heroux family were not allowed to ignore.

It would be there, she decided in that dark room, that she would show them she was made for more than tracking prey, raising hounds, and seizing poachers. It would be there that she would debut the greatest prize that she has captured and cultivated to them all.

At Versailles, her beautiful Nightingale would sing.

Author's Note: This chapter was a real labor of love, it took me FOREVER to write this one and it's made so many turns that I didn't anticipate from the first outline. Thanks for your patience if you've been reading this from the first publication, I often came back to read your encouraging words in the comments.

Please feel free to leave a comment, if you really enjoyed this installment in their story. Thank you for reading!