by Cheri Chaise
But this time things were markedly different. The pregnancy sickness had stayed with her long after those first weeks. Fatigue had plagued her as a constant companion, only worsening as Stella’s girth rapidly increased. Her tiny waist had expanded to the point I feared at times she’d burst open.
Especially if she fell.
Through it all, Bret just smiled and continued to reassure me as the weeks passed that each pregnancy’s effects were as varied on a woman as the children she brought forth. After all the time he spent breeding and caring for his pregnant mares, I trusted my brother knew what he was talking about.
But the strain of this pregnancy wore on more than just Stella. If we didn’t get this birth over soon, I was afraid none of us would make it.
“Lovely, aren’t they?” Bret murmured as he sidled up behind me.
“That they are,” I responded in kind, shoving down my worry and concern. “You and Stella make beautiful babies.”
“I can’t argue there.” My brother practically hummed in contentment as we continued to watch our wife rock Meg to sleep. “What’s this I hear about you barking at my little one this morning, Cole?”
Shame twitched the corner of my eye just as Stella glanced up and smiled at us. We were busted. No, I was busted.
“Stella got tangled up again with Meg always at her feet where she can’t see. If I hadn’t come around the corner when I did…” I shuddered just to imagine the scene as it could’ve been. “My bark came out a little harsher than I meant. My apologies, brother.”
Bret nodded. “Apology accepted.”
That was Bret – so quick to forgive. In so many ways, he was the best of us. So calm. Thoughtful. Never quick like me to jump into the fray. His quiet assessment from the sidelines usually brought about the best solutions to the problems that arose in any given situation.
But with that Indian blood running through his veins, the rest of the world was too distracted by the differences in our looks to see it. Even I’d worried overmuch about how Stella would view him when she arrived. And, as usual, he’d forgiven me for being a fucking asshole right to his face.
Which is why I continued nudging at the topic that had painted me in such a poor light this morning. “If you would, though, talk to Stella about keeping Meg out of the kitchen when she’s cooking.”
Bret hung his head with a sigh. “Now you know damn good and well that won’t work.”
“Why? She’ll listen to you.”
Working with horses had only enhanced my brother’s naturally gentle spirit. He had a soothing manner that ensured success almost every time he bred those horses. And it worked to keep from putting people on the defensive when navigating difficult subjects.
Me? My approach was more like a stampeding herd of buffalo, barreling across the plains and letting nothing get in the way of the goal – whatever that was.
“You don’t get it, do you, brother?” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “After all these years of thinking she was barren, Essie would endure plenty of scuffed knees, burned hands, or broken bones to keep a whole mess of children at her feet.”
I snorted. “She said as much to me this morning.”
“Then trust she’ll do what’s necessary to take care of herself and our children. If there’s one thing that comes naturally to that woman, it’s being a mother.”
“It definitely wasn’t being a cook,” I quipped, remembering how we’d forced ourselves to swallow plenty of charred meals and hard biscuits in the early days of our marriage.
Bret chuckled quietly along with me before ending on a sigh and placing a hand on my shoulder. “It won’t be long, Cole. Essie will come through this birth just like she did the last one, and you’ll have a strong son to bounce on your knee.”
I gripped his hand. My jaw tightened as a knot in my throat threatened to swell it shut. “I’m just grateful we have you here to help.” I took a deep breath. “And that you love to read all those damn doctoring books.”
Dark eyes revealed a hint of sympathy by the time I released his hand. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll check her again after I put Meg down.”
I nodded. “I’d appreciate that, brother.”
Stella had forgotten all about us again, her cooing hums thrumming through me, reminding me of how our ma once sang us to sleep. Bret let go of my shoulder and started to return to the kitchen before my question stopped him.
“Is there anything we might do that could help this process along? I mean, for Stella’s sake. That body of hers can’t hold out much longer, can it?”
“A baby only comes when it’s good and ready,” he murmured before a naughty little grin twinkled all the way up into his dark eyes. “But we might be able to stir him to action a bit sooner…and enjoy ourselves a little in the process.”
I didn’t even have to ask what my brother meant – and trusted that he wouldn’t suggest anything that would endanger mother or child.
“Then lead the way, brother.”
Chapter Three
Estella
Bret pressed around on my protruding belly while I tried my best to lay still on my back in the overly large bed of my bedroom. I still remembered how surprised I was at the bed’s size when I’d first seen it.
Now I knew why.
I loved sharing this bed with Cole and Bret. One was always tucked in front of me and one wrapped me up from behind. My dusky-skinned husband usually enjoyed the behind position, where he had direct access to pleasure me in all sorts of delicious ways.
Except these days, which was yet another reason why I was in a hurry to deliver this child and get this pregnancy over with. I wanted – no needed – to have my men inside me again, thrusting their long and thick manhoods repeatedly into my channels with a feverish frenzy of lovemaking that left us all riding the stars in the Montana big sky.
For now I had to content myself with Bret’s hands simply tracing the outline of the baby hiding beneath my thinly stretched skin. The more he poked and prodded, the more the little one pushed painfully against my spine and kicked at my ribs until I was sure they’d crack.
Or shatter.
But I held my tongue. Though Cole had once told me to complain all I wanted after those first stoic months after my arrival at the ranch, it just wasn’t in my nature to do so.
Until a sharp pain elicited a gasp from my lips. “No more, Bret…please.”
His dark brow furrowed. Then his touch became gentle again as he stroked and lovingly slid his long fingers over my achingly full belly.
“What’s the word?” Cole asked, his full lips thinned into a tight line of concern as he sat on the edge of the bed and tightly gripped my hand.
Bret tipped a strained smile my way before addressing his brother. “You sure make ‘em big, Cole.”
“How big?”
“Big enough,” was all Bret said before moving down between my spread knees. “Big enough that I think it’s time we do something about seeing this baby soon, Essie.”
Cole’s grip tightened and threatened to cut off my circulation. But all of my attention focused on what Bret hadn’t said. Even though he was quite skilled at hiding his emotions behind a calm façade, I still knew Bret well enough by now to detect the slight hint of concern warbling his tone.
There appeared to be some sort of understanding between my husbands that I’d not yet been made aware of when they stood and shucked their clothes. I never tired of looking at the beautiful, sinewy forms of these brothers. Of feeling the ridges of muscles clench beneath my fingertips. Of tasting the richness of their sweat and seed on my tongue.
I yearned to do so even now. But my condition had prevented any penetration in my already full-to-overflowing nether regions over the course of the last month. And with the baby pressing so against my lungs, my ability to take them in my mouth was curbed for the time being in favor of breathing capacity.
But oh, how I burned for them – just as I always did.
Co
le climbed into bed behind me and carefully removed my shirtwaist to expose my ripened breasts to his feathering touch. My groan was in pleasure instead of pain this time as he teased my nipples and pinched them into hard peaks.
I should have suspected something more was afoot besides a mere checkup when Bret had Drew take Meghan’s crib upstairs earlier then handed off her sweetly sleeping form.
“Roll onto your side, Essie,” Bret commanded, his hardness visibly growing before my eyes before he crawled between my legs. “You’ll be more comfortable that way.”
“I’m far too distended in this pregnancy to accommodate one of you.” But I did as requested when they helped me over onto my side. “Much less two.”
Bret lifted my bent knee to expose my glistening wetness to his hungry gaze. “This isn’t for us, Essie. There will be no penetration…only pleasure for you to help instigate the start of contractions.”
“If we’re lucky,” Cole continued, “we’ll see our son before the sunrise.”
“I can only hope,” came my moaning reply.
Cole reached to hold up my raised thigh and open me more as Bret kissed his way along the tender skin of my inner thigh to blow his hot breath against my sex. I shivered in delicious ecstasy as his tongue dipped into the flowing pool at my apex to taste me, swirling my juices onto my nub, and then sucking and licking with abandon.
“Oh, Essie…your juices are sweeter than wine.”
I closed my eyes and sighed in contentment as pleasure coursed through my veins at his continued ministrations. Thundered beneath my skin. Coated my aching joints in sweet bliss as my essence flowed over Bret’s tongue.
Cole tightened his hold on my thigh and lifted it higher as his moist breath filled my ear and his thick hardness pressed against my side. “I love to watch my brother feast on your pussy, Stella. Drink his fill of your hot juice. Fuck you with his tongue.”
His pants in my ear quickened with my own at the coarse words he loved to use during our lovemaking. A constantly protruding nipple was squeezed, tugged, and twisted with glorious care that left me thirsty for even more delicious sensation from my husbands.
I opened my eyes to see the side of Bret’s dark head bobbing between my legs, the angle quite odd to allow him to sup at my core in any manner of comfort. But if he experienced discomfort, his actions didn’t reflect any. Long, dark strands tickled my sensitive skin as he nipped with his lips and scraped his teeth ever so delicately over my nub before sliding his tongue through my dripping seam.
I gasped as shivers coursed through me and my stomach tightened with my building release. Gone were the aches and pains of this pregnancy. Gone were the concerns over the coming birth. I floated higher and higher toward the stars with each touch of my husbands over fevered skin. Each pinch of Cole’s fingers and each flick of Bret’s tongue.
Then suddenly I was awash in shattered bliss. I couldn’t breathe for a moment as I hung over the edge of a mighty ocean as wave after wave cascaded through me. My womb contracted in rhythm with my channel.
My empty channel.
I wanted them inside me. Somehow. Someway. I felt so hollow and alone as my cry died back to a moan on a sigh.
“Here,” I directed, patting the bed on either side of me as I struggled to sit up higher. “Let me at least take you both in hand.”
I didn’t have to ask twice. Cole propped me up with several thick, fluffy pillows then leaned in for a kiss before holding his throbbing manhood before me. Bret then rose to his knees and bent over me for a kiss of his own, my musky essence still on his amazing tongue.
I stared at them in turn as I took each in my hands and circled their tips with my thumbs to spread glistening pre-cum over their velvety bulbs. Neither looked away as their groans filled my ears when I started sliding my hands up and down along their veiny beauties.
My dark, long-haired Bret on my left. My strong, green-eyed Cole on my right. Both of their hard chests shimmered with a sheen of sweat as my strokes and tugs quickened. I loved how they felt against my skin. How the ridges of each disappeared as their lengths grew and hardened even more.
My hands quickly tired with so much manhood within them, but I wasn’t about to stop. Not after the pleasure they’d given me. Not when my belly tightened with each tug of their glorious rigidity.
They both leaned over and grabbed the headboard above me for support. Hips bucked faster and faster. The bed swayed and rocked in rhythm to their pounding. All I had to do now was simply hold on as they thrust against my tightening grip.
“Oh, Stella,” Cole panted. “Fucking your hand is the next best thing when I can’t have your mouth or pussy.”
“Essie,” Bret hissed, a flush creeping across his skin as his dark stare connected with mine. “Your touch is what I always crave.”
And with several brief thrusts, my breasts were coated with hot seed that ran down and pooled in the narrow valley above my belly. A burst of activity swirled in my womb as Cole reached between my legs and pinched my nub. My release responded with an immediacy I hadn’t realized was imminent.
But all the contracting was short-lived. As we snuggled together beneath the coverlet, the hands of my husbands stroking my stretched flesh, they dissipated and all activity stilled for the night.
Yet for the first time in a month or more, I drifted off into peaceful repose. Free from the aches and pains of this pregnancy.
Surrounded and cocooned by love.
Chapter Four
Cole
I’d forgotten how easily eggs stuck to the frying pan.
And how bad they smelled when they got burnt.
My brothers and I bumped and shoved around each other as we navigated our way around the kitchen as quietly as possible. The scent of burning eggs, however, caused a bit of an uproar when I’d quickly jerked the cast-iron skillet from the stove – and burned my hand without a potholder.
When I’d awakened this morning before the crack of dawn to see our wife still sound asleep for the first time in months, I’d awakened Bret to slink together from the room as silently as possible so she might rest a bit longer.
But as Evan and Drew came down the stairs one-by-one with little Meg in tow, the time to act was limited. And with my exclamation, it disappeared altogether.
“Fuck!”
At least the skillet full of eggs landed right-side-up when it hit the floor. I shoved my hand into the sink of water as Evan calmly scooped up the dropped pan.
With a potholder, no less.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Meg parroted as her pa settled her in his arms.
“Ooo,” Bret waved a finger toward my face instead of his daughter’s. “You’re going to be in big trouble when Essie hears about the words you’re teaching her daughter.”
I snarled from more than just the reprimand. “Yeah? Just wait ‘til she hears the words you’re teaching her.”
“Ella’s stirring,” Drew warned as he scurried back into the kitchen and grabbed a plate and utensils to set on the breakfast tray.
Evan quickly scraped off the less-burned eggs from the top of the pan and onto the plate before plopping on a piece of the now cooled ham. Some fried potatoes and a biscuit landed beside it. I snatched up the special tray Drew had crafted for Stella’s first convalescence and made for the bedroom door.
“Wait…coffee,” Bret called, juggling Meg on one hip and following with the entire pot.
Even he had remembered to use a damn potholder.
The stinging in my hand was forgotten when I opened the bedroom door to find Stella donning a dressing gown over her beautifully nude body. I’d never tire of seeing every inch of our wife buck naked. Just thinking about her glistening body sliding beneath or on top of mine instantly made my cock hard. Every. Single. Time.
Her eyes twinkled with restful mirth for the first time in months. “What’s this?”
“Breakfast in bed,” Drew called from behind.
“So crawl back in bed,” I ordered.
Bret dumped Meg beside her mother once she wormed her way back under the covers and accepted the tray. But instead of fitting it over her rounded belly, I had to rest it beside her before handing over the plate.
“Mmm, it smells good.”
I grinned sheepishly. “The eggs got a little overdone.”
“And none of us make biscuits like you anymore,” Drew said as he sat at her feet.
“Sorry ‘bout the cold ham and potatoes,” Evan confessed.
Bret filled the dainty cup. “But the coffee’s hot.”
The fine china had miraculously survived the long trip here in one of Stella’s many, many trunks. One thing I’d never forget about that time was how she fought and finagled to get me to cart every single one of them all the way from Fort Union back to Carston Ranch.
And I couldn’t forget that determine glint in the little spitfire’s blue eyes. Even now, when her dander got up, that look made me hard enough to drive in a railroad spike with my cock.
Stella buttered the biscuit before popping a nibble in Meg’s little mouth as if she was a baby bird. “Breakfast in bed…to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Just thought you could use a good meal before…” I rested my burned hand on her belly. “You know.”
Her delighted expression fell. “I’m afraid last night’s activities didn’t have the desired result.”
Bret snatched Meg away before she dumped the plate across the bed as she tried to climb her mother’s mountain. “So no contractions then?”
“Oh, there were a few.” Our sweet wife actually blushed. “Some rather pleasant ones.” Her gaze traveled between each of us, finally landing on Evan. “But nothing else transpired after they faded away.”
The look they shared was heavy. Of all the times my brothers and I had made love to Stella, Evan had yet to join into our ravenous playtime.
I didn’t begrudge him, but the lack of a deeper more physical connection between the two weighed on our bride. Even though she no longer voiced her concerns, her desire to break down his barriers still shone in each gaze and glance she cast his way.
