Quadruple Duty

by Krista Wolf

  And yes, I wanted the house too. God how I wanted the house! I wanted to be its designer and its decorator and its borderline architect. And if things worked out between them and me?

  I wanted to build my boyfriends something more. To make it not just a house… but actually a home for them.

  For us.

  You’re dreaming, Sammara, I told myself as I drove my jeep down the winding road that led to the lake. You’re buying into something that can’t possibly work.

  I frowned. I was never a defeatist, and that was certainly defeatist talk. But I was a realist above everything else.

  At the very least you’ll have fun.

  Fun. It had been a while since I’d allowed myself the indulgence of fun. The idea was especially exciting.

  You deserve that at least.

  With my hair whipping in the wind, I let my mind wander back to my night with Kyle. Physically we were an amazing fit. I recalled his scent, his touch… how astonishingly hard his body was beneath my roaming hands, and how incredible he felt inside me. He’d been a fantastic lover, and he was only part of what I’d be getting.

  Dakota…

  Ryan…

  I didn’t know them yet of course, but to call them hot was an understatement. Dakota’s size and strength was borderline intimating, but the kiss we shared was so sensually overwhelming it only left me wanting more. Much more…

  As for Ryan… well, he was the quintessential brooding bad boy. The one you knew you shouldn’t date but dated anyway, against everyone else’s advice including your own. Ryan seemed a lot more complicated, but he was also a challenge. A challenge I found myself thinking about more and more as the day wore on.

  What about Briggs?

  That part of the deal seemed strange to me. That Briggs — away on some unknown assignment — had given his blessing in finding someone compatible to be everyone’s girlfriend, including his own. I felt almost like a mail-order bride in that respect, but I guessed I’d have to cross that bridge when I came to it. Yet from the photos they showed me of him, his perfectly-sculpted body honed from long years of the most grueling training possible? Yeah… I didn’t think physical compatibility would be a problem. At all.

  That left the house, which was something I knew I was more than capable of taking care of. And with an unrestricted time table and unlimited budget? I sighed almost orgasmically just thinking about what I could do to it.

  Are you sure you’re ready for this?

  I nodded firmly into the sunset. I really thought I was. On the whole, the entire thing seemed totally ludicrous of course. Batshit crazy, even. But when you broke it up piece by piece, and really analyzed it like that?

  It was almost like I’d been made to do this.

  Minutes later I was turning into the driveway, the house looming before me like a sleepy old giant. It looked well lit on the inside. Warm and inviting. I wondered what it would be like living with four other people. Four beautiful men who were friends, comrades-in-arms, even brothers to an extent.

  Four men who’d be lounging and laughing and having fun. Living out their civilian lives between missions, or between whatever the next duty of their military service called for.

  I envied them as I sat there idling in the driveway. I’d never had a sister, never been as close to someone as these guys were to each other. They had a bond that would always be inseparable; I knew that the moment I laid eyes on them. The way they talked, finishing one another’s sentences. The way they reacted around each other…

  I’d be a newcomer to them. Someone who could never share combat, or their memories of the battlefield. But strangely enough, that was okay. Because the way I saw it — and the way Kyle had described it as well — they needed something more than that at home. Something not associated with the Army, or with being a Ranger, or with faithfully serving the country at a moment’s whim.

  No. They needed something more stable. Someone to center them, to be there for them when they returned.

  Someone who could provide a different kind of love. A softer, kinder side of their lives to round out the rough edges on the opposite end.

  In heart and hearth they needed a girl’s touch. A feminine facet to the bright, sparkling jewel of their masculine existence.

  And, of course, a woman. A woman who could satiate their needs as men, emotionally and physically.

  I wasn’t sure about the former… but the latter part I knew I could do.

  I killed the jeep’s engine. Bundled my coat around my shoulders…

  And walked confidently up to the front door of my new home.

  Thirteen

  KYLE

  She looked totally stunning, even in her simple black dress.

  It flared to about mid-thigh as she walked, riding up higher every time she got up or sat down. I knew those thighs intimately. What they felt like. What they tasted like…

  Slow down, Murph…

  Murphy. It was my last name. It was what my superiors had called me, and even a few subordinates. But not my friends. My friends called me Kyle. My friends and brothers… and her.

  Sammara’s legs were perfect, especially her thighs. And tonight her hair was teased out, her eyeliner flared up at the corners to make her look even more devious and cat-like than she actually was.

  But it was her smile that did me in. Or should I say, did us in… because this wasn’t about me anymore, it was about all of us.

  “So tell me about Briggs,” she said, running a delicate finger along the rim of her wine glass. “What’s he like?”

  Dakota’s grin, which had been plastered across his face all night, just sort of dropped away. The two of us looked at each other in silence for a moment, before my buddy finally attempted an answer.

  “Briggs, huh? Well Briggs… Briggs is…”

  “Intense,” I jumped in.

  Dakota nodded quickly. “Yes, definitely. Intense is the exactly right word.”

  Sammara laughed. Goddamn it, she looked even more beautiful doing that.

  “More so than Ryan?”

  Ryan again. I wished like hell he could’ve made it tonight. But while he was gone, maybe I could repair the rift between them.

  “Ryan’s intensity is different,” I replied. “He’s just looking out for us in his own way. Please don’t take offense.”

  “Oh, I haven’t.”

  “Briggs is… well… he’s intense in other ways.”

  “Dark ways,” Dakota added.

  Sammara giggled and tipped her glass back. She was three drinks in and was feeling no pain. “Oh I don’t know,” she said. “In all the photos I’ve seen? He’s cute.”

  Cute. Briggs. I almost choked on my steak.

  “He looks pretty harmless. To me, anyway.”

  Again, Dakota and I exchanged glances. He looked mortified.

  “Well maybe not harmless,” Sammara corrected, “but definitely sweet. He has an honest face. The look of someone with a big heart.”

  I wasn’t sure about his heart, but Briggs was definitely honest, and brutally so. She’d nailed that part at least.

  “Alright,” she smirked. “Out with it. Why the silence? Why the secret glances?”

  I hesitated again, so Dakota tried taking over.

  “Look, he’s a great guy,” he explained. “No question about it. And you’re going to totally love him, just like we do.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “No problem,” Dakota said hastily. “It’s just that… well…”

  “It’s just that his job is probably the most complicated,” I finished for him. “Of all three of us.”

  Dakota pushed his potatoes around with his fork. I could tell the more we didn’t say about our friend, the more Sammara wanted to know. Or rather, needed to know.

  “Briggs is on assignment more than any of us,” I went on. “He does top secret stuff. Takes missions that others refuse. They use him in a pinch because they know when they go to him, whatever it is is going
to get done.”

  “Sounds like my kind of man,” Sammara said approvingly.

  “He’s everyone’s kind of man,” said Dakota. “And that’s the problem. He’s never around.”

  I wanted to go on. To tell her how our friend’s track record led to him being abused more than used by our beloved superiors. I wanted to talk about the in-depth conversations I’d had with Briggs, the ones about getting him out, about forming his own mercenary company rather than work for the ones sanctioned by the US government.

  But I couldn’t talk about any of that. Not now, anyway. And I wouldn’t want to, even if I could.

  Besides… this was a supposed to be a first date.

  “Enough of all that,” I countered. “What do you think of the house?”

  Sammara swallowed her last sip of wine. I watched her mouth curl into an uncontrolled smile.

  “I did some research,” she said. “Your house was built in 1852 by a man named Augustus Emilio. He was a banker turned investment maven turned art dealer. He died without heirs in the 1880’s.”

  “Wow,” Dakota whistled. “You found that all out in a single afternoon?”

  “Yes, and it wasn’t too hard. Anyway, the place sat empty for God knows how long. Which is both good and bad, because while there’s a lot of environmental damage, from what I can tell the interior is nearly flawless. It still has almost all the original fixtures, and—”

  Leaning in quickly, I kissed her. It happened so abruptly her lips were still moving against mine, whatever sentence she was about to finish trailing off into a soft moan.

  I slowed the moment down as I probed deeper, slipping my tongue against hers. Sammara’s eyes — which had initially gone wide — drooped back to a sensuous, half-closed gaze, her blue irises unfixed as she began kissing me back.

  The world around us dissolved away. The restaurant, the people… for a moment nothing existed but this woman’s lips, her mouth, her beautiful face cupped gently in my one hand. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to go on kissing her, right through dinner and the ride home and straight back to bed again.

  Finally I pulled back, leaving her flushed and dreamy and breathless. When Dakota’s fingers tilted her chin in his direction, she barely noticed. She was still looking at me.

  Then he kissed her… and I saw her whole body go limp in his arms.

  Visions of Erika flashed through my mind — fevered images of our shared ex girlfriend in various states of bliss and euphoria. Her face looked a lot like Sammara’s did right now. Soft. Lineless. Lost in the hedonistic pleasure of being kissed, touched, loved…

  Erika…

  There were a lot of things about this woman and Erika that were similar. Her intelligence, for one. Her sarcastic sense of humor, the fire that burned behind her eyes that always seemed to indicate an inherent lust for life.

  Come to think of it, Sammara had virtually all the same traits Erika did. And of course, physically? They were both equally gorgeous. Like blonde, Nordic goddesses.

  It’s almost uncanny.

  Sitting there watching Dakota kiss her, I felt that strange twist of excitement and satisfaction again. It was something I hadn’t felt in years. Something I never realized how much I missed.

  Taking her together. Doubling up on her…

  The memories were vivid. Erika, spread out naked across my bed. Dakota on the other side, undoing his belt. The three of us, smiling that shared, secret smile. The one reserved only for us.

  Drawing straws. Flipping coins, to see who went first.

  God, had it really been that long?

  Entering her from behind, while he took her from the front. Listening to that first gasp. The sounds she made…

  I let myself get lost in the flashbacks. Even while watching now.

  Passing her back and forth… over and over again…

  When they eventually broke apart, Sammara was red all over. Her white skin was pink, her expression ablaze with arousal. I smirked at her knowingly. Silently I dared her to go another week without bedding me. Without bedding us…

  She blinked and came back to Earth, almost like she remembered what she was about to say. “I— I was…”

  “Relax,” I shushed her. “Take it slow. We’ve got time.”

  She looked back at me quizzically. “What?”

  “The house,” I said simply. “Briggs. Ryan, even. All of these things will come in due time. There’s no reason to rush them.”

  She was still glassy-eyed. I could see the delicate flesh on the side of her neck pulsating, her heart still beating rapidly. But she nodded.

  “Okay.”

  I smiled at her. “I know you’re a lot like me. The kind of person who has to be constantly moving, your mind always racing, planning, thinking about what you’ll do next.”

  Sammara laughed. It came out nervous and adorable. “You just pegged me, actually.”

  “I know. And it’s cool. That kind of person gets shit done. It’s probably one of your most awesome traits.”

  Dakota slid an arm around her. He pulled her a little closer against him. “One of them, anyway.”

  “Just realize,” I went on, “that we’re in it for the long game. We want you Sammara. As a girlfriend, a lover, a partner — as everything. But we also want you to feel comfortable. From this point on, our home is your home. Dig your toes into the carpet. Get grounded. Feel welcome. All that happy stuff. Get it?”

  She shuddered head to toe, probably a left over reaction from all the kissing. It was a cute shudder.

  “I get it.”

  “Not yet you don’t,” I said. “But you will. Which is why we’re going home now, so we can all kick back with some drinks, chill out on the couch…”

  She looked back at me with one eyebrow raised.

  “And see if your taste in movies doesn’t get you thrown out in the cold on day one,” I winked.

  Fourteen

  SAMMARA

  They were incredibly sweet, Dakota and Kyle. From opening every door for me to helping me delicately in and out of the big Hummer, my two dates were a pair of impeccably-dressed, perfect gentlemen.

  Kyle I knew well enough, or at least I figured I did. He was charming as always, yet every sideways glance he threw me was a not-so-subtle reminder that yes, he’d been inside me. It was sexy. Secret. Every look was smoldering, and it made me hot.

  As for Dakota, he was the type of guy you met and then five seconds later felt instantly comfortable around. A genuinely fun person with a great sense of humor. Still, beneath that innocent farmboy exterior? I also got the sense of something else. A shadow of determination and power that only came from precision, military training.

  Dakota was hard but sweet. Strong on the outside, and tough as nails. But on the inside?

  On the inside he was a big, grinning mush.

  For the entire night they showered me with attention, asking about me, my life, my business, my childhood. It was like having a really great first date, only there were two men at the table instead of one. Double the conversation, double the handsomeness.

  Double everything…

  At first the whole thing was a little intimidating. But after a few glasses of wine, and opening up to each other? All that went away. The guys made me feel special and welcome, from drinks to dessert. The ride there and back was filled with casual laughter, flirting, even some more of the amazing kissing they’d shocked me with, right there in the restaurant. I’d never been adverse to PDA’s, but making out with two men at the same table? Well, that apparently tended to draw some looks.

  In the end it was like we’d known each other for weeks instead of hours — a very good thing. They went out of their way to make me feel totally safe and comfortable, and even more so once we’d arrived back home.

  Home.

  Now there was a strange thought. I could imagine living in the mansion for sure — it was my dream house, actually — but the idea of everything happening so fast was a little too much to take in
. I had to keep reminding myself it was just a trial. That all of this was okay and within the scope of my own set of rules — rules I’d specifically laid out to ease any backwards transition. Rules that would allow me to bow out gracefully and go back to my apartment at a moment’s notice, no hard feelings.

  That never happened though. We arrived back at the house and dropped seamlessly into the living room, which was filled with a comforting mix of modern and antique. I sat between my two dates on the couch, lounging around, yawning sleepily until just before midnight when I decided to turn in.

  “See ya in the morning,” I smiled, bouncing up from the couch and kissing them each on the cheek. They looked a little disappointed, but I wanted to end things sweetly. Plus, I wanted to try out my bed.

  The room they’d prepared for me was better than I expected. They’d given me one of the masters — a spacious, paneled room with my own attached bath. The bed was an antique four-poster masterpiece, but the linens were new; it was obvious the guys had taken time picking out something they thought I might like.

  This is pretty sweet, I thought to myself. Sweet and thoughtful.

  The bedspread was white and fluffy and comfortable-enough looking, and they’d even gone with some frilly lace bed skirt. The sheets were silky, but they weren’t anywhere near the thousand thread-count Egyptian cotton I’d spoiled myself with at home. But all that could be remedied tomorrow. Hopefully without hurting their feelings.

  I brushed my teeth looking into a 200-year old mirror, wondering absently about all the past residents who’d done virtually the same thing. It was one of the things I loved about places like this. The rich history, the idea that the very walls have seen things long since gone. It gave me a sense of awe. A sense of peering backward through time.

  I combed out my hair, slipped into my most comfortable pair of nightclothes, and rested my ass on the bed. The house was silent. Deathly quiet. Just outside my window, I could see the wind blowing the boughs of an ancient willow tree in the silver moonlight. Some of the leaves skimmed over the surface of the lake, creating tiny ripples on the glass-like surface.