Quadruplets Make Six

by Nicole Elliot

  I could feel his massive cock pulsing against my leg.

  Piece by piece, our clothes dropped to the floor, until we were clad in nothing but our skin. His lips were hot on my neck as his hands danced over my ass, grabbing it in handfuls before pinning me to the wall of windows. I felt the coolness of the glass hit my back and gasped. His mouth placed open kisses along my chest as my legs wrapped around his waist. He pressed his body into mine, pinning me to the massive window that overlooked Chicago.

  Then he palmed my breast before pulling my nipple between his lips.

  “Fuck, Graham. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you. Please don’t make me wait.”

  In one fell swoop, Graham sheathed himself within me. His cock pressed against my walls, expanding me as my arousal dripped down his girth. I groaned and whimpered as his tongue lapped at my nipple, sending electricity coursing through my veins.

  I tugged on his hair and crashed our lips back together as his hips began to roll.

  His hands planted onto either side of my head. My arms slid around his neck, clinging to him as his cock filled me to the brim. I reached down and parted my pussy folds, allowing my clit to rake across his tightly wound curls.

  Holy hell, how I had missed this man.

  He pulled me from the glass and held me close as he stumbled backwards. He fell to the couch and planted himself there as my knees sank into the pillowy cushions. I rode his cock as his hands curled into the meat of my hips. I pressed myself into him, my hands sliding down his chiseled arms and raking over his sculpted chest. He was beautiful, with his jaw clenched and his lower lip caught between his teeth. I could feel his dick throbbing against my walls. I could feel his hips stuttering their movements underneath mine. I planted my hands into the couch behind his head and slammed down onto him, breathing in his panting air as our lips hovered over one another.

  “I love you,” Graham said. “So much. Libby. I’m so close. Shit. A little… yes. Oh, shit.”

  I dipped my lips into Graham’s neck as his cock exploded inside me. His hips shook against my body as his fingertips curled deeply into my flesh. I clung to him, burying my face into his skin as I nipped and sucked at his body. The unsung fire crackling in my veins was begging to be free. My clit was throbbing for release.

  Then I felt it.

  I felt Graham’s fingers work their way between my dripping pussy folds.

  “I’m not nearly finished with you yet,” he said.

  In an instant, I was on my back on the couch. My leg was thrown around his shoulder and I was pinned underneath his rock-hard body. His thick cock dove into my depths, pounding into me as my tits jumped in his face. His fingers worked me effortlessly, pressing and rubbing and circling my swollen clit. I gasped and groaned. I fisted the pillows on the couch and rolled my hips into his. He slammed into me, skin slapping skin filling the penthouse as my body arched into him.

  “That’s it. Cum for me, Libby. Let me feel that beautiful body shake.”

  My toes curled and my jaw unhinged as his words heated my core. His fingers pressed deeply into my clit, sending me over the edge. White hot passion coursed through my veins as I panted and breathed his name. My pussy clamped down around his dick, pulling him deeper than I’d ever felt him before. My hands sank into his chiseled thighs, leaving crescent marks behind on his skin as he sucked on my lower lip.

  My body was buzzing with pleasure, and he was the source of it.

  The two of us collapsed onto the couch, panting and heaving for air. I felt his arousal dripping from between my legs as it soaked the couch beneath our bodies. I felt him crumble into me, his entire body shaking as I held him close to my body.

  I lined his neck with kisses as the two of us recuperated.

  “My tolerance isn’t what it used to be,” Graham said.

  “Don’t worry. You’re not alone in that arena,” I said breathlessly.

  “I love you, Libby.”

  “I love you too, Graham. And thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For insisting I get out with you tonight. I’ve… missed this. This connection between us.”

  “I’ve missed it, too,” he said as he nuzzled into my neck. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  I felt his cock growing again against my leg and I grinned into his skin. I giggled as he pulled me up from the couch, our bodies reclining against the arm of it. Our foreheads connected as I smiled, my eyes gazing into the shivering blue irises of the man I’d fully given my life to.

  “Do you regret not having a honeymoon?” Graham asked.

  “With everything that’s happened with Charlotte, not one bit. I like how our story played out. I even thank Tony from time to time.” I laughed. “I don’t need an expensive honeymoon to enjoy my husband,” I said.

  “What if I wanted to take you on one?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It isn’t for another couple of months, but I know you said you always wanted to go to the Maldives.”

  “Graham? What did you do?” I asked.

  “I may have booked us a private bungalow for two weeks.”

  “Two weeks!?” I asked. “We can’t leave the kids for two weeks.”

  “Who said we would be leaving the kids?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I know it’s been hard on you tonight, getting away from them. I wouldn’t do something like that to you. But you deserve a honeymoon, and I want to give it to you.”

  “How would we do something like that with the kids around?”

  “Bring the nanny. We have our own private bungalow, and she’s got one with the kids.”

  “Are we still speaking in hypotheticals?” I asked.

  “Were we ever?”

  A massive smile crawled across my cheeks as I threw myself at Graham. He chuckled into my skin as I wrapped around him, wiggling in his lap and squealing with delight.

  “We’re going to the Maldives,” I said. “As a family.”

  “I wouldn't have it any other way. But there is one thing we have to fix before we go.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  I watched his eyes darken as he picked me up from the couch.

  “We need to work on this tolerance thing. I intend on taking full advantage of our nanny being there, and these fifteen-minute sessions are not cutting it.”

  “Then I guess we should get a start on that,” I said with a grin.

  “I guess we should.”

  He walked me into our bedroom for the night and lowered me to the mattress. Our lips connected once more as fire shot through my veins, his cock pulsing quickly against my thigh. His hands traced the outline of the stretch marks on my stomach as I jumped at his touch, fighting between pulling away and pressing into him for more.

  His tongue slid along the roof of my mouth, causing wetness to pool between my legs again.

  “I love you,” I said breathlessly.

  Graham pulled his head from me and opened his eyes as his hand cupped my cheek.

  “And I love you, Libby. Forever and for always.”

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  Baby For The Mountain Man

  A Secret Baby Mountain Man Romance

  Nicole Elliot

  Hi Kittens!

  Be prepared for broody, mysterious guys with dark pasts, and the women that break down their walls.

  xxx

  Nicole

  One

  Ava

  “Miss? Miss, can you
hear me?”

  The voice sounded so far away. It was hard to hear past the torrential downpouring of rain and the running rivers in the middle of the mountains. All I wanted was to get away. To step out of my car in the middle of somewhere untainted with my unhappiness and take a breath. It was stifling, being around my family. And I was done with all of it.

  “Come here. I’ve got you.”

  I felt my body being picked up. I felt the rain battering down onto my shaking form. Where was my car? How did I get here? Where in the world was I?

  “Holy fuck, you’re freezing.”

  The voice was low. Rumbling. Like tires over a gravel driveway or the thunder off in the distance. I could see a mass of dark hair, soaked to an angular face that I couldn’t quite make out. I wanted to answer the man. To tell him I was fine and that I just needed to get back to my car.

  But the only thing I could do was tremble with the cold.

  I didn’t know how long we walked and I had no idea where I was. I tried to lift my hand and cling to the body that was carrying me, but instead I laid there. Limp in his arms. My entire body hurt. My skin was cold. My head was heavy and my heart was alone and my future seemed bleak. Running away from home wasn’t supposed to end this way. I was supposed to make it to California. I was supposed to start my new life. I was supposed to travel long enough to get away from my family’s traditional grasp, so I could dictate whatever it was I wanted from my life.

  I didn’t want to live off their money and sit like a pretty little peach. I wanted to live.

  I wanted to thrive in my life. Not survive. I didn’t want to wear the dresses and put on the makeup and live in the heels. I didn’t care about business transactions and marrying young and filling a house with children. All I wanted was to live my life on my terms. All I wanted was to wake up in the morning and have an actual smile on my face.

  But instead, I was stifled. Instead, I was expected to smile for the cameras and act a certain way. Instead, my father dictated every moment of my life in order to be the daughter he always envisioned he would have. It was sickening, and I hated it. He dictated my fashion sense, he dictated my schedule, and he dictated my future. I was to woo a well-to-do man, marry young, bear him children, and keep his house. I was to bring honor to the family name by allowing the money my father had garnered over the years to take care of me.

  Like living off my father’s bank accounts was somehow honorable.

  And every time I fought back, I was called selfish. Ungrateful. Unforgivable. Every time I voiced a different opinion or picked out a different outfit, I was called unruly. Every time I denied a blind date or intentionally screwed one up or refused to go to whatever formal function it was my father had roped me into, I was the wild one. I couldn’t be myself unless it was the image my father had painted for me from the time he found out I was a girl.

  And I hated every second of it.

  “We gotta get you warmed up.”

  That voice peeled me from my thoughts. Pulled me from my memories and reminded me of the present. My body was shaking uncontrollably as my back descended onto something. It was warm and soft, like a couch, or possibly a massive chair. I curled up into a ball as my teeth began to chatter, and I grunted with the pain in my stomach. It felt like my muscles were on fire even though they were encased in ice. It felt like someone was stabbing me with eight-inch icicles right in every pressure point on my body.

  I could feel tears rising to my eyes as a swelling heat began to beat down against my face.

  “What the hell were you doing out in this kind of storm?”

  It was a good question, and one I felt needed to be answered. I could hear the rain whomping the structure I was in. I could feel the electricity of the lightning crackling across the sky. I could hear the rattling of the windows as the thunder cracked right above our heads.

  The storm was getting worse, and I had no idea how the hell I was going to get out of it.

  I saw a shadowy figure bent over an orange flame. The heat was growing, turning the icy droplets of water on my skin warm. I felt my body slowly uncurling, like a flower being released to the morning sun. My bones ached and the tears wouldn’t stop falling, but somehow I was alive.

  Even though I had skidded off the road, I was somehow alive.

  I could still remember the argument with my parents that morning. How angry they were that I wasn’t going on a date tonight. I told them I was done with their antics. That I had no reason to marry and that I wasn’t going to until I fell in love with someone. They chastised me and called me names. Told me that I needed to be grateful for the life they had provided me like my brothers were. I told them that my brothers were happy because they got to dictate their lives. They got to do what they wanted and work in whatever fields they wanted and make money for themselves.

  My father told me that was what men got to do. Women, on the other hand, needed to be grateful that someone was willing to provide for them.

  I’d had enough of that talk. My father’s words were like a slap to my face. He told me that I wasn’t able to rule my own life and run by my own rules simply because I was a woman. Because somehow, in my father’s mind, I was feeble. Unable to take care of myself. Incapable of surviving in the harsh world he went into everyday, so my mother wouldn’t have to. And maybe that was fine for some women. Maybe my mother was just fine with keeping a house, staying beautiful, and always keeping her makeup perfect.

  But that wasn’t me.

  I wanted more.

  So, I packed up my stuff and left. I waited until my father went to smoke cigars with some work peers, I packed up everything I could into the suitcases I owned, and I tossed them in my car. My mother was too busy picking out my dress for my date tonight that she didn’t even hear me leave. I sat in my car for ten whole minutes, wondering if anyone would come out and look for me.

  But they were all so preoccupied with the pathetic lives they had fallen into that no one noticed my absence.

  It didn’t matter. I was going to set off and do my own thing. I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life, but I knew I wanted to do something. I had enough business knowledge from listening to my father ramble on to be of use to someone. Maybe I could open my own business. An independent business for independent women wanting to create a new life for themselves. I dreamed about it as I wove my way out of town. How I would decorate my store. What services I could offer women transitioning into a harsh world from a family who kept them from it. I dreamed of a life where I could walk onto stages and give lectures to thousands of people. How I could use my life story to inspire others and create easy-to-follow programs to help people reclaim their lives again.

  But the daydreaming caused me to take some wrong turns, and I found myself trapped in an endless maze of nameless roads.

  “Here. This should help.”

  I looked up from the fire as my vision began to clear. I wasn’t even aware that I was still crying. The hope I had this morning when I ran away from home had quickly turned to fear. If my parents found out I had run away and somehow managed to track me down, I would be done for. I’d be under lock-and-key for the rest of my life. I would never hear the end of it and I would be married off to the first man who decided he could tolerate me. I would never get another chance to convince my family that I could make it in the real world. That I could make my own empire and create my own life and live it by my terms.

  Because doing that just this morning got me a broken-down car and a near-imminent death.

  I felt a large pair of hands tucking the soft blanket around my body. The fire continued to roar in the fireplace while my vision slowly began to clear. I looked around the part of the room I could see and was dazzled by its beauty. I was lying on cherry mahogany hardwood floors and was surrounded by the softest furniture I’d ever laid eyes on. I was lying down on cushions that felt like clouds and looking up at high-vaulted ceiling that would make my mother envious.

  It was a beautiful h
ome. Very reminiscent of a cabin.

  “Where am I?” I asked.

  But instead of the voice answering me, it stayed silent.

  “Hello?”

  I rolled over onto my back and caught the eyes of the man taking care of me. His amber-colored eyes took me by surprise with how guarded they were. He had dark grown hair that was shaggy around his forehead and a strong jawline that caught my stare. Even with the lack of a smile upon his face, I could tell he had dimples. Deep-set dimples on both of his cheeks that probably lit up his eyes whenever he chanced to smile.

  He was beautiful. Breath-taking even.

  “Where am I?” I asked again.

  “My home,” the man said.

  “Where is your home?” I asked.

  “Not too far from where you crashed.”

  I watched him get up from beside me and venture over to a chair. For the first time since I had become aware that he existed, I got a full look at his stature. He was massive. Broad in his shoulders and strong in his legs. His chest was stacked with muscles and his neck was pulsing with veins. Even though he sat down in a chair with his long legs spread, it felt like he was looming over me.

  Except his presence wasn’t uncomfortable.

  It was more… protective.

  “Is my car okay?” I asked.

  But this time, he didn’t answer.

  “I just… had a lot of my stuff in there. Is it all going to be okay through the storm?”

  And still… silence.

  I was thrown off by it. He had been so willing to talk earlier when he didn’t think I was listening. Had he been talking to himself? I could’ve sworn he had been talking to me. Actually trying to hold a conversation with me. His voice had been steady and powerful. Commanding, but calm. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to keep asking him questions. But I knew what it felt like to be forced to do something I didn’t want to do.