by Dee Palmer
“Sorry, darling, but couldn’t hold off any longer, not touching you, I mean.” His grip is firm and at a respectable place about mid-thigh, with no indication it’s going to start wandering. His deep eyes and soft smile are as genuine as his words. I get a warm tingle inside.
“Oh no, that’s fine. Just a little nervous I guess.” I shrug and return his grin, but I jump again when Toxic does the same on my other leg. He flashes a smirk, though, when our eyes meet, and continues to hang his head out of the window, his aviator glasses protecting him from the glaring sun and bugs.
“You need to think of us a spiders’.” Tug’s tone is completely serious, which makes me frown. Is this code? Am I missing a joke perhaps, because why the fuck would I want to sit in a car with four fuck-off-sized spiders. “We’re much more afraid of you than you are of us.” He grins, and I snort out a laugh, which makes him laugh outright. “You know, darling, you’re just too damn cute. We’re gonna eat you all up.”
The audible gulp escapes from my throat, and they all turn around. Four pairs of hungry, demanding, deliciously dangerous eyes boring into me. Like I said…dripping.
I haven’t paid much attention to the scenery, my eyes keep drifting to the swell of toned arm muscles lightly covered in sweat, the glimpse of a tattoo, or some occasional eye contact in the rear-view mirror from Charge that makes the hairs on my neck stand at full mast. We swing a sharp left and I fall against Toxic, my hand reaching out to Tug for balance. I grip the material on his trousers a little too close to his crotch, and he tenses, but I release my grip quickly. Face on fire, I snatch my hand back. I’m pretty sure I grabbed his cock along with the material, but that would make him…I want to say huge, but looking at where my hand actually landed, I’m going to say deformed. He wiggles his brow, and a knowing grin spreads, wide and wicked, across his face. Oh, shit.
“Someone’s in a hurry?” Pink calls out from the front and slaps Charge on the shoulder.
“There’s a lot to get through.” The curt response is matter of fact and not in the least playful. I wonder whose idea this was and if they’re really all on board. I get a different feeling from Charge, which might be something or nothing, but I guess we have the whole month to figure everything out, to find out if we fit. I chance a glance at Tug, and my wayward thoughts make my thighs squeeze together conspiratorially. That is never going to fit.
The dirt drive turns once more to an automatic white five-bar gate that starts to swing wide as we roll forward. Evergreen trees line the road, and on either side are white posts and rail fencing, separating fields with horses and smaller paddocks, as far as the eye can see. Or for a couple of hundred acres Pink informs me with a pride-filled smile. This is his passion since he got out of the Navy.
Charge pulls the truck to a stop at the bottom of some steps leading to an expansive front porch, which seems to wrap around the double-story, wooden farmhouse. The boys jump from the car, and I slide slowly to the edge of the back seat to peer at my new home; it’s stunning.
A large overhang is supported by white pillars along the front and around the building by the looks of it. The white, wooden boarding is pristine. Although I don’t think the building is new, it’s weathered and clearly loved. There are several steps leading up to a double-oak door, and I can see a swing on the porch. Is it wrong to feel giddy about a swing? They have a swing.
I jump when a hand appears in front of my face, but I grimace my apology when my eyes meet Charge’s stern expression.
“Sorry, still a little nervous.”
“Understandable, but I think we can help with that now.” I hesitate, but at his commanding tone I grasp his hand, and I’m helped from the high truck. My knees buckle when I hit the ground. I don’t know if it’s from the long flight or the intimidating presence of this God-like man holding my hand, but he wraps his arm around my waist preventing me falling any farther. He steadies me, and once I have my footing, his arm falls away, making me slump a little at the loss. He still has my hand and tugs me to follow him.
“Okay, let’s get this freak show started.” Toxic barks out a laugh, but I freeze at his comment, pulling my hand roughly from Charge’s hold, and crossing my arms. A deep and instant swell of sickness hits my stomach like a sucker punch.
“That’s what you think I am? A freak?” I step back and watch the horror on Charge’s face morph to pure rage.
“You asshole!” Tug thumps Toxic on his arm while Tug looks at me with confusion.
“What? No! Fuck no! Shit!” Toxic’s eyes dart from me to Charge and back to me.
“You apologize now, Toxic or—”
“You don’t need to threaten me, Charge. Of course I’m gonna fucking apologize.” Toxic stands in front of me and waits until I meet his eyes. I draw in a deep breath and tip my chin up. His hazel eyes have tiny, gold flecks in them and hold my gaze but are crinkled with obvious concern. “Fuck, Finn. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I mean…I think we’re the freaks. Not you. Never you. We’re so fucking lucky we found you. I just made the joke because, well, this ain’t the norm, you know, and I think that makes us freaks, but in a good way. Fuck, darling, you’ve saved us from a life of one-night stands and tired right arms, so don’t go thinking you’re anything other than the best thing to happen to a bunch of freaks like us.”
“Did you have to focus on the sex, asshole?” Pink groans, running his hand down his face. I look over to see both Charge and Tug roll their eyes.
“What?” Toxic holds his hands up in defeat, and I can see the genuine frustration and anxiety that he might have upset me. I step up to him and take his hand.
“It’s okay, Toxic, and thank you for explaining. This is an unusual situation, but I’m also a little tired, so not in the best frame of mind to take a joke.” He gives me a tentative smile, and I squeeze some more reassurance into his hand. “And it’s okay to mention the sex. It’s not like I came here to bake cookies.”
“What? There aren’t going to be any cookies? Dammit, I want a refund.” Toxic jokes and pulls me into a side hug.
“No refunds, but you do get the four week trial period before you send me packing,” I reply with a half-teasing tone.
“Never gonna happen, sweetheart. Never gonna happen.” Toxic kisses the top of my head as he steers me up the stairs and through the door Charge is holding wide open. Charge’s deep voice washes over me as I cross the threshold.
“Welcome home, Finn.”
“WOULD YOU LIKE A TOUR, or do you want to rest before we get started?” Charge asks, and my instant gutter mind flashes the deepest pink hue across my cheeks, making his lips twitch with amusement. “I thought we could go through the binder,” he clarifies.
“The binder?” I frown, then understanding hits me. “Oh, yes, the binder. Of course. How about a quick tour? I’m surprisingly not that tired. I feel like I’ve been mainlining coffee straight for the last three months,” I snicker.
“Adrenaline, which again is understandable,” he states.
His face is so handsome but impassive. We’ve chatted a lot over the past few months, now I’m here, and I can’t get a read on him, at all. “Would you like some chamomile tea?” he asks.
“Oh, yes, that would be great.” He never breaks eye contact, even when he addresses the others.
“Pink, why don’t you show Finn her quarters, and we’ll bring her bags through. Then we’ll do the tour together.”
“Cool beans.” Oh, ground swallow me now! Did I say that out loud? What am I, twelve? I cough to hide my embarrassment. “That would be perfect, thank you. Oh and I need to call Hope. Just to let her know I haven’t been abducted.” I chuckle awkwardly.
“What makes you think you haven’t?” Charge replies deadpan, and I force out a stilted laugh which falls flat, until Tug speaks.
“Man, did you not hear the girl say she’s not up to jokes yet?” Tug winks at me, and I laugh a little lighter now, even if Charge has yet to crack a smile at his own ‘joke’. Jeez,
that guy is intense.
Pink tilts his head for me to follow his lead, and I do, catching Charge’s nefarious smile and piercing stare when I chance a glance behind me. The goosebumps dance like a flash mob across my skin, and I give a full body shiver once we are at the top of the stairs and out of sight.
We are a good way down the long corridor before I ask.
“Is he always so…?” Pink stops midstride and faces me with a wide, knowing grin as I search my vocabulary to describe what Charge is making me feel. Nope, I’ve got nothing.
“Oh yes.” Pink chuckles and motions for me to carry on to the end of the hallway. “He’s a good guy, Finn. The best.” Pink opens the door and steps aside to let me through. All troubling thoughts and confused feelings dissolve when I enter this picture-perfect, show-house master bedroom.
The room is massive, easily as big as Hope’s entire one-bedroom flat back home. It has a sloping roof with exposed beams and French windows, which open up onto a balcony. The chiffon curtains billow with the slightest breeze coming in from outside, and the sweet aroma of honeysuckle drifts in with the warm air. The hardwood floors have a shine I could see my reflection in, if I could take my eyes off the massive four-poster bed. I must have gasped because Pink is laughing.
“You like it?” He takes my hand and leads me over to another door. “Then you’ll love this.” The en suite has a bath big enough for five and a huge open shower. I do love it, but the bed looks fabulous. I think I might weep, it looks so comfortable, with the thickest mattress, pure white covers with intricate lace edging, and hundreds of pillows.
“This bed looks amazing.” I sigh and run my hand over the softest cotton sheets. His face is the picture of puzzled amusement. “I’ve been mostly sleeping on Hope’s sofa for the last four months, with the occasional night sharing her bed when she wasn’t with some random stray,” I clarify so he doesn’t think I’m that crazy; it’s not like some weird bed fetish. I just like my sleep.
“This is your space so no sharing, unless you want to.” Pink searches my face, but I have nothing to add. I knew I would have my own space, I didn’t think it would be so utterly enchanting. The bedroom door opens, revealing Toxic and Tug as they enter with their arms full of my suitcases. They each look like they are barely carrying a bag of groceries, and I know each case weighs a ton. I had to pay a fortune in excess baggage charges. They place them at the end of the bed and then stand in a semi-circle of awkward silence, casting furtive glances to one another.
“Okay!” I clap my hands together with a sense of purpose. It’s going to be a long month if we can’t break the ice. “Let’s get to know each other properly.”
“Really?” Tug takes an eager step forward before he’s hastily pulled back into line by Toxic.
“I think she meant the binder, dipshit.” He slaps the back of Tug’s head and looks to me. “You did mean the binder, right?”
“Um, yeah, I did.” I shrug an apology to Tug for his misunderstanding. But seriously? He thought we were going to get down, gangbang style right now? I chew the inside of my lip to stop the thought from creating a telling smile. I’m a slut. Then again, if the purpose is breaking the ice, I do believe that would not so much break it, as smash it to smithereens.
We meet up with Charge at the bottom of the stairs, and he proceeds to take over the guided tour. This was his grandparents’ place. The boys moved in when Pink left the Navy and needed something to do. He’s always loved horses, so was happy to take over the stud farm. There’s an open-plan kitchen, which leads into a sprawling dining and lounging area. The back of the house has several sets of French doors, which open up to a terrace and the glorious views over the land and down to one of two lakes. The second is farther into the land and much more private, according to the boys. There’s a game room, study, and gym. The garage leads to the pool house, and all the bedrooms are on the first floor. We walk a slow loop around the entire house, and I can’t quite take in just how beautiful it all is or how quiet.
The stables are set away from the house down at the other end of the drive, but they have a different entrance, so the main house is completely private. This is clearly important as it’s mentioned twice in the space of five minutes, but I don’t ask why, since there’s plenty of time for questions. I’m just trying to take everything in without either my jaw dropping or drooling. We arrive at the back of the house and I’m taken into the laundry room, which is overflowing with sheets and shirts, uniforms and heaps of underwear.
“And this is the laundry room,” Charge states.
“So it is.” I smile tightly.
“Since you won’t be working we thought you might get bored and you’d want something to do,” he elaborates, and I respond just as matter-of-factly.
“When I’m not doing one of you guys, you mean?” I can’t help my snarky tone, because this has just gone from my dream deal to my worst nightmare.
“Um, not exactly. We just thought—” I hold my finger up as a warning and interrupt.
“Look, you are clearly looking for a maid who fucks, because who in their right mind would want to do laundry to stave off boredom?” My voice gets a squeaky high-pitch when I become agitated, which tends to make me sound a little unstable. They all look a little shocked at my outburst.
“I like to do the laundry.” Toxic holds his hand up, and I snap my mouth shut, because he’s completely serious. He takes my finger, still pointing in an accusatory manner, curls the digit into my palm and holds my fist in his. “We don’t need a maid, Finn. We already have one, but we all do chores we like to do, and I happen to find it relaxing. You can just switch off. We didn’t mean to offend you.” I feel a wave of embarrassment, tinged with shame that I was so quick to assume. But seriously, how was I going to put those things together when I was barely able to convince Dave to pick up a takeout menu, let alone clean up after himself.
“You will help with the chores, Finn, but only pulling your fair weight. Like Toxic said, we don’t need a maid; we have one. What we do need is a wife.” Charge’s tone is a soft reprimand, but his smile eases the sting. “How about we go over the details, to avoid any more misunderstandings.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” I mumble, backing out of the room. At least I didn’t say ‘cool beans’.
We all take a seat in the living room, although this now feels like an interrogation because the men are all seated facing me on a long and low leather sofa and I’m in an armchair. Charge has handed me the most enormous 3-ring binder. It must be three inches thick and I have only flicked through, and each page is printed on both sides. The sections are subdivided with their names. I lean forward and take a sip of the chamomile tea.
“Why the nicknames?” I take another sip before putting the cup down on the coaster.
“It’s all in the binder,” Charge answers and the others nod.
“Hmm, okay, but maybe you could just tell me?” My question seems to cause some confusion, and I bite my lip to stop from smirking.
“I’m Pink because of my surname, Pinkerton.” Pink is happy enough to answer, even if Charge is scowling.
“And because you’re so pretty, you could pass for a girl,” Tug jokes, and Pink punches him on the arm.
“And you? Why are you called Tug?” I open the file and slide my finger to his section, but there’s so much on the page I couldn’t pick out the answer, not unless it jumped from the page and bit me on the arse. I look up at the sound of rustling material and see that Tug has dropped trou and is holding himself in hand. Not all of himself, because his cock is fucking enormous and roughly the size and width of a barge. “Oh! I get it. Tug…yep, okay.” My eyes must be like saucers, and I physically try to rein in my shock. I swallow back a squeak and let out a lungful of air that’s filled with heat. My cheeks are on fire, and a nervous chuckle escapes with the exhale. “And Toxic? I’m a little nervous to ask now,” I joke, causing him to laugh.
“No, my junk is fine. Nothing toxic about tha
t.” He cups himself but, thankfully, keeps his pants on.
“No, it’s just your ass that’s toxic.” Pink hold his nose and a light punching match ensues. I start to turn the pages and the room falls silent.
“You’re funny, pretty boy.” Toxic blows Pink a kiss, and I snicker. “I got mine when we were kids, and I’d mess around with household chemicals, trying to make my own fireworks and shit,” he clarifies, and I nod happily in understanding and relief, that he isn’t actually called Toxic because he farts.
“How about you, Finn? Do you have a nickname?” Pink asks, and I sniff out a strange, flat laugh.
“Yeah, sort of. My boyfr—Dave.” I correct myself. “Dave used to call me RP.” I cringe a little, because it really wasn’t my favorite.
“RP? What does that mean?” Tug looks confused, they all do, when they look at each other and then back at me for an explanation.
“Oh it was just a joke, really. Only it stuck. RP stands for Roller-Pig,” I mutter, feeling a pinch of humiliation.
“Excuse me? What now? Your boyfriend used to call you Roller-Pig?” Pink says, his brows raised with shock.
“Yeah.” I try and pull a faint smile, like it isn’t a big deal. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s from a film with Matt Dillon, when he goes to investigate the girl, Mary, then he comes back and tells all these lies about how she’s this really gross girl now to put Ben Stiller off.” I can’t for the life of me remember the name, but that doesn’t look like it would help any, because they all look dumbstruck. “It was one of the words Matt used to describe her, and Dave thought it was funny because I had started to gain a little weight. I lost most of the weight, but the nickname stuck.” I shrug.
