Tea & Temptation | A Wickedly Delicious Bridgerton Tale: Pen is learning all the ways pleasure can surprise a proper wife…
(Note: it's a Scorching Hot fanfiction with a threesome)
Part 1: The wrong tea... or should I say the right one?
Penelope Bridgerton — formerly Featherington, currently quite flushed, and entirely too content for someone who’d only recently been wed — was not thinking about tea.
She was thinking about her husband’s hands.
Specifically: where they were.
“You do know,” she murmured between kisses as Colin backed her against the stone railing of their little honeymoon cottage’s balcony, “that we are outside.”
“It’s our balcony,” Colin replied, voice low and unrepentantly smug. “And we’re married. It’s practically expected.”
She giggled — an utterly indecorous sound for someone who’d once penned entire columns under the nom de plume of Lady Whistledown — and let him kiss her again.
Increasingly unsuitable for public viewing.
Which, naturally, was when the doorbell rang.
Colin groaned, his forehead thunking lightly against her shoulder. “If that’s Eloise again, asking for literary advice—”
“Or my mother, come to redecorate…”
He looked genuinely stricken.
But alas, it was neither Eloise nor Lady Featherington. It was Benedict — arriving unannounced, all grin and vague intentions.
“I was on my way to a very animated artist’s soirée,” he said breezily. “Since your place is on the way, I thought I’d stop in before I start sketching nudes and scandalizing high society.”
Colin scoffed as Penelope smothered a laugh.
“You’re just in time for tea,” she said, smoothing her skirts and attempting a dignified air. “Let’s move to the drawing room — it’s getting chill out here. Would you care for something calming?”
“Desperately,” Colin said, placing a hand over his heart.
“I’ll ring for it.” She turned to the maid with practiced elegance. “Black tea with milk for me. For the gentlemen, the calming herbal blend — from the tin on the second shelf. And perhaps some biscuits?”
“Cookies,” Colin added, eyes bright. “The lemon ones. Or almond. Or both. Preferably both.”
The maid curtsied and vanished.
“What’s in this calming tea?” Benedict asked as they entered the drawing room.
“Some herb Colin brought back from Egypt,” Penelope replied, settling onto the sofa. The gentlemen each took a chair. “You know how he is.”
Benedict narrowed his eyes at Colin. “Did it come with a label?”
“Possibly. But it wasn’t in English. And the merchant had very trustworthy eyebrows.”
Their laughter filled the room until the tea arrived — fragrant, mysterious, and ever-so-slightly suspicious.
Penelope took her usual: rich and dark with a splash of milk.
The men took the herbal blend.
It smelled faintly of campfires, mischief, and minor regrets.
And slowly, the effects began to bloom.
“I feel… tall,” Benedict said, blinking up at the chandelier. “Taller than usual. Tall in spirit.”
“You’re sitting down,” Penelope pointed out.
“Am I?” He glanced down, awed. “Good Lord, I am.”
Colin was already laughing. Loudly. Too loudly.
“Pen, what was in that blend?”
“Fennel, I think,” she said — though now with a touch more alarm.
“Darling,” Colin leaned in, his pupils wide and oddly reverent. “The last time we had fennel, I mistook your bonnet for a woodland creature.” He waved at her forgotten bonnet at the corner table.
At that exact moment, Benedict decided to stand.
Or rather, attempt to stand.
More specifically — into Penelope’s breasts.
His hand, traitorous and unbalanced, landed squarely upon her left breast.
“I—Penelope—Mrs. Bridgerton—Pen, I am so sorry,” Benedict blurted, yanking his hand back as if it had touched holy fire. “I didn’t mean—it was the rug, and the universe shifted slightly to the left—”
“It’s all right,” she said quickly, though her cheeks bloomed scarlet.
But it wasn’t entirely all right.
His palm had been warm. The contact brief but… charged.
Her skin tingled where he’d touched her, and her blush was not entirely from embarrassment.
She avoided Colin’s gaze.
Colin, however, was watching her. Closely.
His smile was slow. Lazy. Knowing.
“Well,” he said, voice low and amused, “it seems Benedict has accidentally discovered something delightful.”
Benedict looked panicked. “I didn’t mean to—honestly, if I had meant to, I wouldn’t have fallen like a drunken duckling—”
“Relax, Ben,” Colin said smoothly, swirling the last of his herbal tea. “It seems to me that it pleased my wife. And everything that pleases her…”
He rose from his chair, reached for Penelope’s hand, and placed a long, deliberate kiss over her knuckles. His gaze never left hers — heated, teasing, reverent.
Penelope’s breath caught.
Benedict blinked. “I—wait, are you saying—?”
“If you want, Pen,” Colin murmured, brushing a kiss against the delicate inside of her wrist, “let him.”
And then, slowly — delicately — she nodded.
Benedict looked between them, stunned.
“Oh my God,” he whispered reverently, lowering his hand back to her right breast, hovering with hesitation before finally settling it there. “Her breasts are like heaven.”
He caressed the curve, fingertips brushing the fabric of her gown with delicious care.
Penelope let out an involuntary laugh — breathless, nervous, thrilled. “You’re still high.”
“Unreasonably so,” he admitted, his voice thick. “And also possibly in love with your neckline.”
Colin smirked, lounging back with the satisfied air of a man who had just discovered something wildly decadent in his afternoon tea.
“Well then,” he said. “Shall we call it a sacred accident?”
He moved to the sofa beside her, his touch confident and possessive. With a sly grin, he reached for her left breast, mirroring Benedict’s gentle hold.
The moment sparked like lightning.
Penelope inhaled sharply, caught between the mirrored sensation of both men’s hands on her body.
Benedict froze — unsure, breathless.
But Colin didn’t stop there.
He leaned in and kissed her — slow, firm, claiming. A kiss that reminded her who had married her, who had undressed her a dozen times already… and who was willing to share, but not surrender.
Penelope’s thoughts scattered. Her world narrowed to warm lips, greedy hands, the scent of tea and sandalwood and something far more primal.
Their touches ignited a fire inside her — slow-burning, dangerous, utterly exquisite.
Benedict kissed the curve of her neck, his lips lingering as his fingers traced the edge of her bodice, teasing her cleavage. The warmth of his breath made her shiver.
Colin tugged down the neckline of her gown, baring her breasts to the cool air.
She gasped — shocked, yes, but more thrilled than she’d ever imagined.
Benedict lifted his head, drinking her in with reverent hunger.
“Good God, you’re perfect.”
He cupped her breast fully now, skin to skin, filling his hand with her warmth.
“So soft,” he murmured. “Like heaven.”
“If you enjoyed touching her breasts,” Colin said with a wicked gleam, “you’re truly going to love tasting them…”
Then he lowered his head.
He didn’t have to say another word.
Colin and Benedict descended in perfect synchronicity, their mouths capturing her nipples with reverent, hungry lips.
“Oh—oh goodness! Ah…!”
Penelope cried out, covering her mouth with both hands, her head tipping back in overwhelmed delight.
She opened her eyes — dazed, half-lidded — and looked down.
Two men. Both licking, flicking, kissing, teasing…
Their tongues tracing slow circles, their teeth grazing gently, their hands cradling her curves like she was something sacred and wicked all at once.
“Oh… Lord… This is delicious…”
She let her hands fall into their hair, holding them to her, anchoring them there as they worshipped her body with lips and teeth and tongue.
Penelope was willingly losing herself — her mind hazy with surrender, her body singing with sensation — when a single, awful thought struck her like a bolt of lightning:
Damn. The door to the drawing room is unlocked.
The maid could walk in at any moment.
Of course, she was the only one to think of this, being the only sober person present. That realization only made her feel more mischievous. Every action, every moan, every wicked decision was entirely her own. No herbs. No haze. Just want.
“I hate to interrupt — this is amazing — but we need to close the door if we don’t want an audience,” Penelope said, her flush deepening, blooming from her cheeks down to her collarbone. She gently extracted herself from the twin attentions of the two men.
She crossed the room quickly, turned the key in the lock with a soft click that somehow echoed like a promise.
When she turned back, both Colin and Benedict were watching her. Their eyes were dark. Focused. Hungry.
“Now,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “where were we?”
Colin crooked a finger. “I believe we were about to conduct a thorough exploration of your assets, my dear.”
Benedict, still looking stunned — and unmistakably aroused — gave a dazed nod. “Indeed. Though I must admit, I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t a dream.”
Penelope smiled — slow, sultry, wicked. A smile that would’ve shocked the woman she’d been only a few hours ago. “Then perhaps,” she purred, “we should make it a dream worth remembering.”
She stepped back into their waiting arms, her heart pounding, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird.
Benedict moved behind her, brushing her long hair aside. She tilted her head naturally, baring her neck to him in offering. His lips met her skin — warm, reverent — and she gasped as his mouth began to worship her throat.
“You’re radiant,” he whispered into the hollow of her neck.
When his hands cupped her breasts again, she felt not just heat — but restraint. Beautiful, trembling restraint.
His lips traced beneath her ear, lower, to the sensitive dip where her shoulder met her neck.
His fingers teased her nipples, rolling them gently between skilled fingertips.
Her moans were swallowed by Colin’s mouth — his kiss urgent, hungry, his tongue claiming her with unmistakable intent.
Then she felt it. Colin lifting her skirts. His fingers sliding between her thighs.
“You’re so wet…” Colin murmured.
He drew his fingers back and licked the moisture from them while holding her gaze.
The look in his eyes made her shiver all over again.
“So naughty,” he murmured, delighted.
“I want to taste her too… but first—” Benedict’s voice was ragged as his hands moved to the laces at her back. He began to loosen her bodice, even as he lifted her hair again, exposing the pale nape of her neck to his tongue and teeth.
She whimpered into Colin’s kiss as Benedict worked — and as Colin circled her clit with two fingers, the pleasure grew dangerously sharp.
The moment her bodice gave way, Colin’s hands moved upward — confident, greedy — peeling her gown down, baring her shoulders, her arms, her breasts.
The air was cool on her skin. She was left in nothing but her thigh-high stockings.
She was practically naked while they were both fully dressed. How wicked was that?
Four hands on her body.
Two mouths.
She felt like a banquet — offered up, willing and eager, to be devoured by gentlemen who had long since abandoned all civility.
Kisses trailed over her skin. Teeth grazed. Tongues licked.
Benedict’s large hands slid around her from behind, cupping her breasts again, his thumbs teasing her stiffened nipples. Then one hand began its descent — down her back, along her waist, then—
“Oh!” she gasped into Colin’s mouth, caught off-guard.
“Sorry,” Benedict said with a wicked smile. “I couldn’t resist.”
Colin chuckled darkly and grazed his teeth along her jawline. “You shouldn’t resist,” he said smoothly. Then he arched an eyebrow and gave her other cheek a matching slap.
“Ahn… yes,” she moaned, the sound slipping out helplessly.
“You’re exquisite,” Colin breathed. And then, with ceremonial slowness, he began kissing a path down her throat, lower… until his lips met the hollow between her breasts.Â
“Isn’t she perfect?” he murmured, as though Penelope were a priceless sculpture rather than a trembling, breathless woman between them.
Benedict’s laugh was soft. Worshipful.
“She’s beyond perfect,” he replied. Then his mouth followed his hand as he dropped to his knees behind her. He kissed the small of her back, the dip of her spine.
Then the side of her hip.
Penelope sobbed out a breath — overwhelmed, consumed — clutching Colin’s arms as if they were the only things keeping her upright.
Benedict’s hand slid along her inner thigh, slow and deliberate, until it reached the soaked heat between her legs.
“Oh fuck…” he muttered, his eyes narrowing with molten desire as he dipped his finger into her pussy. “I’m going to devour you.”
Without another word, Benedict lifted her and sat her back on the sofa, then slowly parted her legs wide — his gaze locked to hers the entire time, hungry and reverent.
The three of them knew exactly what was about to happen.
Benedict’s hands trailed down her thighs, his fingers brushing against her slick folds, drawing a gasp from her lips. He paused — eyes meeting hers — seeking permission. She nodded, her breath catching in anticipation.
He lowered himself between her thighs, the heat of his breath ghosting over her skin. His eyes never left hers.
“Here,” Colin said from beside her, circling her clit with the tip of his finger, “this is where she likes it most.”
A soft “Oh… yes…” slipped from Penelope’s lips, sending a visible shiver through Benedict. His mouth watered at the sound.
Colin withdrew his hand. “Enjoy.”
Benedict didn’t wait another second. He dipped his head between her legs and dragged his tongue slowly along her slit, tasting her fully, shamelessly.
His mouth claimed her, tongue lapping at her folds with reverence and hunger, lips sucking and teasing until she could no longer hold back the moans.
She cried out, her composure shattering. The scene was nearly surreal — this wasn’t a fantasy, and yet here she was: laid bare and open, being feasted on by another man who wasn’t her husband. And yet — she was so happy with Colin. This wasn’t about replacing him.
It was about being worshipped.
Being adored like a goddess.
And the way Benedict looked at her while tasting her… it was exquisite.
He continued his sweet torture, circling her clit with the tip of his tongue, soft and firm in turns, then sucking it gently between his lips.
Colin, watching with gleaming eyes, sat beside her once more and leaned in. He took one of her nipples into his mouth, licking and teasing, while Benedict devoured her pussy with maddening skill.
Penelope cried out again, her body arching as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.
The two men worked in harmony — a perfect rhythm of mouths and hands, of hunger and praise. She wasn’t just being pleasured; she was being studied, adored, revered.
“Do you like that, darling?” Colin murmured, his fingers teasing her other nipple with slow, infuriating patience.
All she could do was moan. Her thoughts were melting into a puddle of sensation.
Colin chuckled softly, dragging his mouth to her neck, alternating between licks and playful flicks of his tongue on her pulse point.
“You taste heavenly…” Benedict groaned, his cock aching with the need to take her — to bury himself deep — but he knew he couldn’t. Not like this. “I want to fuck you so badly,” he growled, “but I can’t risk getting you pregnant.”
Penelope whimpered as she tangled her fingers into Benedict’s hair, holding him to her, hips grinding softly against his mouth. His groans vibrated through her core, sending her spiraling.
He looked up at her, chin glistening with her wetness, and slid two fingers into her heat.
She moaned loudly, her head falling back as he began to pump his fingers in and out with slow, delicious precision — his tongue never relenting in its torment of her clit. Pleasure swept through her in hot, greedy waves as she came undone, trembling with exquisite release.
“I’m losing my mind,” he gasped, his voice muffled against her. “She’s so tight… I need her. But I can’t… I can’t risk it.”
Colin, still toying with her nipples, said with a grin, “You can have her… in other ways. If she consents, of course…”
He slid his thumb into her mouth, gently pressing past her lips, while his other hand slipped beneath her to cradle the curve of her bottom, a teasing suggestion in his touch.
“Would you like both of us to take you at once, my dear wife?” he asked, voice low and laced with decadent intent.
Penelope gasped, her eyes flying open. “Oh my… can that really happen?” she asked, breathless, awash with shock and curiosity.
Her mind flashed back to that moment in the carriage — when Colin had taken her from behind during their first kiss, her butthole virginity claimed in the most deliciously wicked way to avoid conception. But this — the thought of being filled by two men… one in front, one behind…
Just the thought alone nearly made her climax again.
“There are so many possibilities you haven’t explored yet, my darling… this is just the beginning of your adventures, my dear Penelope…”Â
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