by Vanessa Vale
He gave the women a nod, then strode into the kitchen where the dishes were still being washed, letting the door swing back and forth behind him.
“Borstar is based in Texas, I think,” Kitten said. “Their offices are closed this time of night. I’ll contact the HR person tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Jamison stood, lifting Kitten over his shoulder as he did so, and grabbed the whipped cream off the table in front of Cord. “I’m taking this. Thanks for the idea.”
Kitten’s calls to be put down were ignored as Jamison strode from the room. He didn’t close the front door behind him, knowing I would follow. I looked to the others, who were grinning. Sutton would connect with Archer and the men would be vigilant. Kady was safe with her men and Kitten would be safest with us. Especially between us. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t worry and that was why Jamison had carried her off. He wanted her distracted and knew just how to do it. I couldn’t agree with him more, especially since the quickie had done nothing to ease the ache in my balls. They were heavy and full of cum for her already.
I shrugged, then followed, my hard dick leading the way.
14
PENNY
“What is this place?” I asked, putting my hand on the back of the passenger seat, looking out the front windshield. Jamison turned off his truck.
After eating at the diner in town for a late breakfast, we’d driven out of town, the opposite direction of Steele Ranch. He’d turned off the main road five minutes ago, followed a dirt road for another few, before turning into a short driveway.
We were closer to the mountains here, the setting lush and green. A river was to our right, the water flowing high and hard from the runoff coming down through the canyon. Directly before us was a house. An old, two-story farmhouse. Crisp clapboard siding, a front porch with a swing, a steep metal roof. It was reminiscent of the house in the American Gothic painting, only larger. Based on the size, I estimated it to have at least four bedrooms. Yet it was quaint and charming. Even from the truck, it had a welcoming, lived-in feel to it. In the distance, I could see another house, so it wasn’t as isolated as Steele Ranch.
“This is where I grew up.”
“Your parents’ house?”
“That’s right,” Jamison said, taking off his seatbelt and getting out of the truck.
By the time I got mine off, he had my door open to help me down. He took my hand and led me toward the house, Boone following right behind.
“I thought they moved to Alabama.”
“They did. I bought it from them.” I stumbled at the words and Jamison stopped, looked down at me. His hat cast his face in shadow. “What?”
“You have this beautiful house and yet you live at Steele Ranch. Why don’t you live here?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
He started walking again and I followed along. He’d been waiting for me?
“You didn’t even know about me a month ago. How could you have been waiting?”
Unlocking the front door, he pushed it open, waited for me to enter first. The floors were wood, the walls a soft cream. Directly before me was a stairwell with a banister perfect for sliding down. A formal living room was on the left, a central hallway that led to the back of the house in the middle and a dining room to the right. There was some furniture, a couch and a large bookshelf, a sideboard. Curtains hung at the windows. The floors were bare. It seemed Jamison’s parents had chosen to leave some pieces behind.
With all the windows closed, the house was warm, the air a touch stale, but the interior was spotless. It appeared as if the owners were away for the weekend instead of living elsewhere.
“This house is meant for a family,” Jamison told me, taking off his hat and hanging it on the newel post, as if he’d done it a hundred—a thousand—times before. “A big one.”
“One we want to have with you,” Boone added.
I spun on my heel, looked up at him. Unlike Jamison, he never wore a hat. His hair was so dark, almost black and I knew exactly how it felt between my fingers. He’d shaved this morning, but the hint of his whiskers would appear in a few hours. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with the name of his medical school on the front. Casual, laid back. Yet his look was anything but.
He was serious. His words were serious.
“You want us to…what? Live here?”
He nodded.
“What about your house?” I glanced over my shoulder at Jamison. “Or your cabin at Steele Ranch?”
“That cabin’s for a bachelor. It’s too small for a family,” he said. “I’ve lived there because it’s easy.”
“We can live in my house if you want. Hell, we can build a house on Steele Ranch land if you want, but this place…I grew up coming here. Loved it. The noise, the chaos. Something was always in the slow cooker and the house always smelled so good. Like pot roast.”
I didn’t say anything, just glanced between them. They wanted to live here. In this house. It was tangible—and blatant—proof of the forever they wanted to have with me.
“What’s going on in that gorgeous brain of yours?” Boone asked.
“I believed you,” I said on a big exhale. “I did. But this…it’s real. You’re serious.”
Jamison huffed. “Kitten, I should sit on the steps and take you over my knee. What do you think we’ve been doing with you?”
“Well, um…getting to know each other?” I replied.
“You were going to say fucking,” Boone countered, crossing his arms over his chest.
I shook my head. “No. It’s more than that.”
“That’s right,” Jamison said moving to lean against the wall. I recognized his casual stance, but it was anything but. When he was bothered by something, he grew quieter, not louder. “It’s more than fucking. It’s loving. We’ve been loving you.”
Blood drained from my head and I had to sit down. Loving. On shaky legs, I moved to the steps, sat down on one of the worn pine treads. I had to imagine how many times Jamison and his brothers had flown down these steps to get some of that pot roast.
“You never said—”
“What?” Boone asked, walking over and squatting down before me so we were at eye level. “That we loved you?”
I nodded. Tears burned the back of my eyes and I blinked them away, yet Boone still blurred before me.
“We told you with every touch, every hug. Kiss. With everything we are.”
The tears fell then, hot, down my cheeks. When I wiped them away, blinked, Boone held something before me.
A ring.
“Oh my god.”
“We can go to the courthouse, make this all legal, but it won’t make a difference. Not to me.”
Jamison pushed off the wall, moved to the steps, sat beside me so our sides touched.
“A piece of paper doesn’t mean anything.” Jamison turned, put his hand on my chest so his pinkie rested on the swell of my breast. His touch was reverent, not sexual. “It’s what’s in here that matters.”
Jamison reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a ring of his own. Both were simple bands, nothing fancy. Jamison’s was gold, Boone’s platinum.
“Marry us, Kitten. Be our wife. To have and to hold and everything else,” Boone said.
“Babies. Lots of them.”
“And pot roasts.”
“Lots of them,” Jamison added and I couldn’t help but laugh.
The tears were still falling now, but joy filled my heart. I’d never felt so happy, so whole. So…complete.
“I…I love you. Both of you.”
I’d never said the words before. There hadn’t been anyone who I’d felt enough for to have earned those words. Who deserved them. I thought I loved my mother. I’d ached for her acceptance, her approval, for my entire life. I’d craved love from her. But since I’d never received it from her, not once had I ever felt that she loved me, and I never had it for her in return.
But what Boone said was right. They hadn’t said
“Those are the words I’ve longed to hear. Hoped for. I’ve waited for you, the woman we’d share, love and grow old with, for thirty-eight years,” Jamison said. “I love you, too.”
“Ah, Kitten, I love you, too,” Boone added. “Marry us.”
I nodded, my throat clogged with tears. They waited, as usual, with their never-ending patience for me to pull myself together. “Yes. God, yes, I’ll marry you.”
“We claimed you that first night and you have been ours since then. When we took your virginity, we told you forever then and meant it when we filled you with our cum, with our baby.” Boone slid his finger on my ring finger.
I didn’t know I was pregnant. Not for sure. But he believed we’d made a baby. With all the love between us, I had no doubt it was possible. I felt no different, but we’d know in a few days.
Jamison took hold of my hand, slipped his ring on so the two were side by side. Proof that I belonged to both of them.
“You’re ours, Kitten,” Jamison said, his tone vehement. He took hold of my chin, kissed me.
It went on and on, hot and with lots of tongue. My hands found their way into his hair and I held on. He stood, scooped me up and carried me up the stairs, not once breaking the kiss. I had to wonder if I would always be carried off to the nearest bed. By the time he laid me down on a soft mattress, I had my legs wrapped around his waist, my ankles hooked at the back.
He lifted his head and I looked into his gray eyes. Saw the heat, even the smile there. I loved the way the corners crinkled, the way his look softened just for me. “When I was a teenager, I dreamed about fucking a woman in this bed.”
The walls were a soft blue, the bed narrow. “This is your bedroom from growing up?”
“Yup,” he replied, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
“You dreamed about fucking a woman in this bed, or did you dream in this bed about fucking?” I asked, trying to get clarification.
He stilled, frowned. “Definitely both.”
He stood to his full height, Boone moving beside him. They loomed over me as I lay on my back. Big, virile men with very obvious bulges in their jeans. And those bulges were all for me. I knew what they felt like in my grip, what they felt like in my mouth, and deep inside my pussy.
“You’re every man’s fantasy, but you’re ours,” Boone said. “And it’s time for us to claim you together.”
I arched my back, clenched my pussy. “I know you just had me last night, but yes, I want more. I’m…insatiable with you two.”
Boone leaned down, put his hand beside my head and kissed me. He kissed differently than Jamison. More insistent, intentional, but gentler somehow. He tasted different, too. I liked both of them, needed both of them to feel complete.
“This means you’ll take both our cocks. I’ll be in your ass, take that last virginity, while Jamison’s fucking that sweet pussy.”
I moaned at the thought. I loved ass play. Loved that they used their fingers, the plugs on me. God, having it in last night while we had the big group dinner had been so hot. It was like we were sharing this dark secret only the three of us knew about. It felt intimate. And the sensation? Exquisite. Turned out, it made me come. Hard. And to think of Boone’s big cock deep inside me there…I squirmed.
“Yes, please. I want that so much.”
He kissed me once more, his free hand going to the buttons on my shirt, getting them all undone and deftly opening the front clasp of my bra. His nose nudged the lace to the side and he had his mouth on my nipple, strongly pulling on it in the way he knew I liked. It was as if his action sent a direct message to my pussy to get all wet.
Jamison’s cell rang and a second later, so did Boone’s.
I watched as he clenched his jaw, closed his eyes for a moment.
“What?” Jamison growled, Boone’s cell still ringing.
“Yes, she’s with me. Boone, too.” There was a pause. “Who? You’re fucking kidding me.”
Boone’s eyes met mine before he pushed off to stand. His cell had stopped ringing, most likely whoever Jamison was speaking with knew we were all together.
I lay there, shirt opened, watching as Jamison glanced down at me even as he listened.
“We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
He ended the call.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“You’ve got a visitor at Steele Ranch.”
I frowned. “Kady?”
Jamison slowly shook his head. “That was Sutton. A woman showed up at the ranch with a handful of men in stiff suits and sunglasses.”
I popped up off the bed, my fingers flying to fix my bra and shirt. Nothing made me lose interest in being taken by both my men at the same time. But this did. “My mother. My mother is here.”
15
JAMISON
It’s not often a guy’s cock blocked by a member of Congress. I hoped it was the first, and last, time. As I drove down the Steele Ranch’s long, dusty driveway, I flicked my gaze up to the rearview mirror, checking on Kitten. She’d been quiet, looking out the window the whole way. Her relationship with her mother had come to a head and I hoped this would be the showdown Boone and I had been waiting for.
A parent had to cut the fucking apron strings at some point, but because Nancy Vandervelk hadn’t yet—the perfect example of a helicopter parent—she perhaps assumed she could maintain control over her adult daughter as well. Kitten had enabled her mother to do so. Until now.
Now, she had us. She had the power of the Steele name, even if it wasn’t hers legally. She had the backing of Kady, Riley and Cord. The other men on the ranch. She had a family. Not a blood one, but a group of people who truly cared about her and her well-being.
And she had money. Money to live her life where she wanted, how she wanted. And when we took her to the courthouse to be legally wed, she’d take Boone’s name. What she didn’t know was that he was rich as fuck. He had Copper King money in his past. His Butte predecessors had made fortunes in the copper rush in the 1800s and generations after that were smart enough to invest the money, to make it grow. He knew what it was like to have woman after him for his money and he hid the wealth well. Kitten didn’t give a shit about it. She hadn’t from the start.
But he’d tested her that first night in the gas station, to see if she was more interested in a Jaguar in her garage than anything else. She’d passed, and claimed Boone’s heart then and there.
She didn’t need her mother in her life. If Nancy Vandervelk was going to be a stone cold bitch, then Kitten could just send her on her way.
I had a mother. So did Boone. Both of them were eager to hop on the next flight and meet our Kitten, hug her right up and never let go.
But this meeting, all of it, was up to Kitten. If she wasn’t ready to deal with her mom, I’d be disappointed, but I’d be patient. Family was great, but they were hard on the emotions.
All that mattered was that Kitten was safe and happy. And that Nancy Vandervelk’s job kept her two time zones away.
I parked to the side of the main house, two identical black SUVs were parked out front and I had no intention of blocking them in. If they wanted to leave, and take the Wicked Witch of the East with them, I wasn’t going to stop them. Two suits stood on the front porch steps, the woman herself or the rest of her entourage not visible.
I glanced over my shoulder at Kitten.
“Ready?”
Boone unclipped his seatbelt, spun around. “We can leave. Jamison can turn his truck around and head right on out of here. She may have come all this way, but you don’t have to see her.”
She smiled at us. “Thank you for that. But she wouldn’t have come here if it weren’t important, at least to her. She won’t linger.”
But the fallout might.
“Trust me. She likes a lot of concrete.” She opened her door, and we followed, flanked her as she walked around to the front of the house. “Let’s get this over with.”
PENNY
It had been sixteen days since I’d seen my mother last. Yes, I knew the exact count. Since I was ten, I’d been parted from her more than I’d been with her, so it wasn’t anything new. But I was. New, that is.
I wasn’t the same woman who’d driven up to the ranch with my belongings in the back of my car. I knew now that I truly was a Steele. I looked nothing like my father—nor my mother, for that matter—but I had his spirit. I knew it, felt it on the ranch. The freedom, the open spaces, the opportunities to stretch and grow, to be whatever I wanted. It wasn’t stifling or confining. That was all intangible. Just like my feelings for Boone and Jamison. The love I had for them wasn’t measurable, it wasn’t a thing. It existed, without being seen. I knew they loved me. I knew they would be there for me no matter what. To take my burdens, to even carry them for me.
I felt the weight of their rings on my finger. I was unused to the feel of them, the sight, but it was a reminder of that love. A tangible reminder. So was the baby most likely growing inside me.
“There you are,” my mother said, coming out onto the porch, her heels clacking on the wood boards. She had on one of her power suits, as if she’d just walked out of a committee meeting and not the front door of a ranch house in Barlow, Montana. Her dark hair was perfectly groomed, her makeup subtle and understated.
Sutton followed behind, but lingered by the door. He didn’t look happy, but he never really did. He was probably the perfect person to wait with my mother because he could have withstood any interrogation she may have attempted. Out of all the men on the ranch, he’d survive unscathed. Patrick and Shamus would be crying by now.
“Here I am,” I replied neutrally.
I remained at the bottom of the steps. While she had a height advantage, I had no reason to get close to her. It wasn’t as if we hugged. And her security men stood on either side of her. She appeared unapproachable, not superior as she wanted. She only looked that way when I let her have that edge over me. Not any longer.
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