by Krista Wolf
“So you can keep the donor’s sperm — I mean the donor’s embryos — separate from one other? Like you’ll know which ones you’d be implanting?”
The doctor smiled knowingly. “In most cases there’s just one donor of course,” he said. “But to answer your question, yes. We have had cases where a patient freezes embryos fertilized by more than one sperm donor. And yes,” he chuckled. “We keep them very separate. The patient can choose when she gets pregnant, as well as with whom she gets pregnant.”
The guys looked absolutely dumbstruck, each in his own adorable way. As my gaze traveled from one to the other, my heart was soaring with love for them.
“Of course this is none of my business,” the doctor said, putting his hands up defensively. “But if I might speak freely again?”
Jason nodded. “Go for it doc.”
The old man’s mouth curled back into a smile. “What I think you’re looking to do will be no problem at all.” He turned back to me. “Provided you get started relatively soon, of course,” he winked. “After all, there are four of them.”
The tears flowed again, and this time the doctor handed me a tissue. I could only imagine the number of tissues this kind little man handed out in his lifetime, and for much worse scenarios than mine. All at once I felt very, very lucky.
“Make a consultation appointment when you’re ready to begin,” the doctor said, gathering up my file, “and we can discuss the specifics.” He smiled one last time. “But be prepared to be pregnant four to six months after that.”
I nodded, and my head felt like it weighed absolutely nothing. It was like some colossal, crushing weight had been finally lifted from my body.
One by one we filed out into the hallway, each of the guys shaking the doctor’s hand so vigorously I thought they’d take his arm off. It was Dakota who turned around at the end, just before the man began walking back.
“Doc, we love you man,” he grinned happily. “But quick word of advice?”
“Yes?” the doctor asked.
“Next time lead with the good news!”
Fifty-Six
SAMMARA
The last of the brilliant violet still hadn’t gone out of the sky. It painted the whole countryside a deep purple, from the rolling hills and sprawling fields to the grey stone walls that glimmered like amethyst.
I was getting married in a castle. An actual castle!
And I felt like the most amazing princess in the entire world.
Eight more months had passed. Eight long, incredible months of love, adoration, and sweet, sweet accomplishment. The nasty business with Goddard was over. Di Spatia was expanding, business was thriving, and I’d completed two of my first five Modern Vintage homes.
Best of all, my lovers had all been home. Kyle and Ryan had finished their enlistments, and Dakota’s assignments hadn’t extended beyond base duties. Jason traveled from time to time, but never for more than a week or two, and never without keeping in touch.
I felt more at home than ever before — more loved and cherished and grounded than anywhere I’d been in my life. It felt like family. The family I’d never had — the one I’d been cruelly and abruptly denied since childhood, through no fault of anyone’s but fate.
“You look gorgeous!”
Melissa beamed at me from the other side of the ancient antechamber turned makeshift bridal suite. She looked stunning herself, with her hair down and her makeup done up, and her maid-of-honor dress a flawless, chiffon blue.
I choked back another round of tears. It just wouldn’t do. The ceremony was minutes away, and I wasn’t about to face it red-eyed and mopping at the corners of my eyes.
“You’re the best,” I told her, forcing the words out past the lump in my throat. “You know that?”
“Oh I know,” she grinned. “I’ve always known.”
I turned away from my mirror and stood up, taking her by both hands. The train of my dress flowed downward in thick waterfalls of white silk.
“I’m serious. You… You’re…”
We hugged hard, and the tears flowed anyway. There was nothing I could do. I let them go, not caring about dresses or makeup or anything else. Not caring about anything other than my best friend in the whole world… and the four incredible men waiting for me just a hallway away.
“Come on, you beautiful little vixen,” Melissa finally said. “Your time is up.”
I followed her out into the centuries-old hall, unable to stop marveling at the Gothic-style architecture. The 17th-century castle was absolutely amazing. Almost as breathtaking as the rest of Wales, and the countryside surrounding it.
“Leave it to you, Sammara,” Melissa hissed over her shoulder, “to get married in a castle.” She chuckled merrily. “And not just that, but renting out the whole fucking castle…”
That part had astounded me even more. When the guys told me the entire castle was ours — staff, grounds, gardens and everything — for an entire two weeks? I’d nearly lost my mind.
“You deserve it of course,” Melissa went on, “but it doesn’t make me any less jealous. I want you to know that now, so when I’m—”
I shushed her with my finger. We were standing before a pair of banded wooden doors — doors that had been opened a thousand times, into hundreds of wonderful events.
Oh my God…
Just on the other side, the slightest hint of music played through.
“You sure you’re ready?” Melissa smiled, one slender hand resting on a big iron ring.
I bit my lip and nodded.
“It’s not too late you know,” she said. “Four husbands… that’s going to be a challenge.”
My stomach was all butterflies. My heart felt like it would explode.
“You could slide me one,” she said, “or two. You know, if it gets to be too much. Maybe on the weekends. I’m sure Rich wouldn’t mind, if I—”
“Open the door, bitch,” I grinned. My eyes were glassy again. “Before I break your wrist.”
A castle. In Wales. With the people I loved most in the whole world; Melissa and her husband Rich. Cindy, who’d come alone. Kyle’s mother. Ryan’s father, and his sisters as well. Even Dawn and her new girlfriend, invited last minute…
But not Dakota’s family.
Some battles had to be picked, and some won later. The important thing was that I was making headway. I knew I was growing on them, even his mother. And in time—
Melissa thrust a bouquet into my hand. I wasn’t even sure where she got it from.
“Here we go.”
The doors swung open into the most amazing candlelit cathedral. I saw ribbed arches, rising to a beautifully vaulted ceiling. Tympanums and buttresses, enshrouding the exits. An enormous rose window of stained glass looming in the back, segmented by mullions and tracery and—
Sammara, stop!
I had to blink hard, drawing my attention back to the only thing in the chamber that actually mattered:
The four strapping groomsmen waiting for me at the altar.
Fifty-Seven
SAMMARA
I’d imagined my wedding countless times during the course of my life, especially when I was a little girl. I’d be married in a church, by a priest, surrounded by hundreds of friends and family. There would be solemn, handwritten vows. A breathtaking, fairy-tale like kiss…
I’d even imagined my groom, standing beside me. My future husband. Tall. Dark. Handsome…
Oh, how hilarious life can be.
I couldn’t help but laugh inwardly as Melissa walked me down the aisle. I was in another country, another time, another place. Walking through ancient European halls instead of a traditional American church, before an audience of twelve instead of dozens. Moving inexorably closer to not one handsome groomsman… but four tremendous, powerful, beautiful men. Men who I’d gladly give my very life for. And men who somehow — through all my faults, and against all odds — loved me together, as one.
The lump in my throat came bac
k as I thought of my parents, specifically, my father. This walk would’ve been his by right. A small thing on the surface, but a tremendous moment in the life of any man who ever loved a daughter.
I wasn’t sure I knew him well enough to say whether he’d approve or disapprove, but one thing I did know was the man loved me with all his heart. I liked to think my father was here anyway, holding my arm. Guiding me into the next great adventure of my very strange, but very blessed life.
As we inched closer, I glanced up at my soon-to-be husbands. Kyle was absolutely glowing. Dakota, on the verge of tears. Ryan and Jason were standing tall, their hands clasped neatly in front of them, staring at me as if I were the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen.
Which of course, I was.
I was having the most non-traditional wedding ever, yet I’d still picked out the most stunning white gown. The sleeveless silhouette hugged my curves on top, all the way down to my waistline. There it flared out into a beautiful skirt and lace-edged train, all sewn with sequins and shimmering crystal.
“Hey,” Melissa had joked while picking it out. “If you’re gonna get married in a castle? Might as well look like a princess.”
Slowly but surely I reached the altar. Melissa lifted my veil, kissed me on the cheek, and left me in the hands of a grinning Samoan ‘priest’ who was even bigger than any of my potential husbands.
“You ready for this?” the man smiled down at me.
I laughed. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because you’re marrying these clowns,” he chuckled. “And… well…”
He motioned, and my four fiancés moved to either side of me. We formed a little circle, as always. A well-dressed, happy little group standing before an altar of carved wood and stone.
The man, I knew now, was Nanise — a member of Di Spatia, and an old friend. He actually was a priest back in Samoa, or so the story went. Much more important than that however, he’d saved Kyle and Jason’s life. On more than one occasion too, from what they told me.
To us, that made him family.
“We’re gathered here today,” he said in a booming voice, “in this hallowed place, before family and friends… to join five lives as one.”
The robes he wore barely made it around his massive body. They left his forearms exposed; two big ham-hocks that were crawling in tribal tattoos.
“In every culture, marriage is sacred. It’s a holy bond. A connection of the souls. It doesn’t so much matter what you believe, or in which higher beings you place your faith. Marriage is generally universal. It transcends cultures, customs, and tradition.”
Nanise paused dramatically, raising his palms in the air. At the same time he looked down at me, and shot me a smile and a wink.
“These men are my friends,” he went on. “My brothers in arms. They’re my blood, my very life. In my eyes, they are already joined by the unbreakable bonds of war. The idea that they’ve accepted a common soulmate comes as no big shock to me. They are eternally linked, through friendship and brotherhood… and now, through their hearts as well.”
I stood there trembling before the altar. Not out of nervousness, but because I was so taken aback by his powerful words. Nanise went on and on, talking of life and love and ties that bind. Of experiences and friendship and respect. Of loyalty and selflessness and ultimate allegiance.
It was all so eloquent, so enchantingly beautiful. Every word drew me deeper into the ceremony. Everything he said felt tailored to our own unique situation, echoing in ways I could never fully express, my exact feelings.
In the end he had us stand in a circle, placing our right hands atop each other. Mine was in the middle, between them all, as Nanise drew out a long flowing ribbon of red and blue.
Abruptly he began speaking in his own tongue, reciting some long but ancient Samoan blessing. With words that sounded more beautiful than anything I’d ever heard, he delicately wrapped the silken ribbon around our wrists. He took his time, weaving it over and under, above and beneath in a great circle, until we were all bound together.
“E leai ni tapulaa,” he announced, when he was finished. Nanise smiled gently before translating. “There are no limits.”
I was hopelessly spellbound, but suddenly there was clapping. Crying. Murmurs of excitement from the people behind us, and then a resounding cry went up — so happy and cheerful it pierced my soul.
Somewhere in the middle of it all a ring was slipped on my finger. I glanced down at the thin but beautiful wedding band, still struggling to breathe. It was set with four small but perfect diamonds, this time side by side.
The next thing I knew I was kissing them one by one, and another cheer went up from the crowd. Kissing them as my beloved husbands.
Kissing them as their loving wife.
Fifty-Eight
SAMMARA
”Well?” I demanded huskily. “Are any of you ready?”
The bridal suite filled with the sounds of rapid undress — a sweet song I’d heard numerous times before. There was the jangle of belt buckles. The heavy clunk of shoes being pulled off and discarded.
I was already bent over the bed, the skirt of my wedding dress hiked all the way up to my waist. I waved my ass back and forth tantalizingly. Delivering my most smoldering hot look as I glanced back over my shoulder.
“Isn’t someone going to help consummate our wedding night?”
I laughed to myself, watching as the guys raced to strip down. Dakota was fumbling desperately with the buttons on his vest. Kyle cursed mightily as his slacks got caught around his ankles…
I giggled as he nearly fell over.
“Oh, you’re going to get it,” he swore.
“Am I?” I teased.
I wriggled my ass in the air some more. I was wearing the most fantastic white-lace bridal panties, with the word “Mrs.” embroidered right where they tapered down into a sleek, silky thong.
A black sock whizzed past my head. Someone murmured the words “fuck it,” followed by the sound of a dozen plastic buttons being popped off at once.
I sighed happily. Our suite was absolutely perfect; the tremendous paneled chamber complete with elaborate fireplace could only have been a lord’s master bedroom. Two large, king-sized mattresses had been brought in and laid side by side. They were made up with cool, silken sheets and plush, luxurious linens.
A hand closed over one warm globe of my ass, and I felt my cute little panties being pulled to the side. I recognized the touch immediately: Ryan’s. Just the idea of what was about to happen made my whole body shudder.
Oh God, this is going to be good…
I stopped swaying as Ryan positioned himself behind me. I could feel the warmth of his thighs, pressing against the backs of mine. The swell of his hot manhood, growing stiff and hard as he wedged it between us.
“You know we’re gonna wrinkle this dress if you don’t take it off, right?”
I smirked back at him over my shoulder. “Oh well.”
“Correction,” Dakota grunted. “We’re gonna destroy that dress if you don’t take it off.”
He dropped the last piece of his clothing to the floor, looking like the statue of some Greek god in the warm, flickering light. My eyes couldn’t help but loiter along every line of his magnificent body. I felt myself grow wetter just looking at him.
“Whatever happens, happens,” I shrugged.
I’d already decided beforehand not to fret about the dress. It would be a lot more fun fucking in it than stowing it away in some vacuum-sealed box I’d probably never open again.
Besides, being ravished in her wedding dress was every bride’s God-given right. And there was no way the dress was surviving even one of my Army Ranger husbands. Much less four of them at once…
“Don’t say we didn’t warn you,” Jason smiled, somewhere off to my right. “And don’t say…”
Ohhhhhhhh…
Whatever else he was about to say would be forever lost to time. That’s because
my mind and body were both too consumed by something else: the exquisite feeling of Ryan’s granite-like cock, sliding its way deep into my warm, dripping pussy.
Holy. Shit.
“You’re my wife now,” he growled, leaning over my back. His breath was hot in my ear, but it was the way he said the actual word that gave me the tingles.
“Yes…”
“And I’m your husband…”
Husband.
The word seemed so foreign. So alien. And yet, it was such an awesome word. An amazing word.
“My… husband…”
I tasted the two little syllables in my mouth. They were sweet and wonderful. Even so, it still hadn’t hit me. The concept still felt too far away to actually grasp.
My hair spilled forward as I buried my face in the comforter, concentrating on the feeling of being so wonderfully, wickedly full. Ryan’s hands remained clamped on either side of my ass, guiding me forward and back along the entire length of his cock. His thrusts were strong and confident, with an extra shove at the end of each one that tickled a special spot, way up in my tummy.
I loved the way he fucked me. I always felt so impaled by him.
“Hey…”
A gentle hand guided my chin upward. I was staring into the devilishly handsome face of Kyle. He leaned in and our mouths met, his lips rolling hotly against mine as our tongues swirled and played. It was a slow kiss. One full of depth, and passion, and feeling. I felt myself go lightheaded with need and want, with lust and desire. Just as I reached for the back of his head, to pull his mouth even harder against mine, he leaned back and smiled.
“You know you’re stuck with us forever now, right?”
Another swarm of butterflies took off in my stomach. Damn, I loved him so much.
“A girl… could have… worse… problems…” I grunted breathlessly, between thrusts. Kyle laughed at my dilemma. It was never easy, timing things while getting screwed from behind. Words came out as fragments. Kisses ended abruptly with bumped teeth.
