by Dee Palmer
I take the dress from its covering and marvel at my friend’s enormous talent. She hasn’t done anything like this since college, and it’s stunning. A boned silk bodice with detailing sliced out down the side, mostly hidden by my arms but sexy as hell. The full skirt is a soft netting and organza, layered and abundant, flaring out wide and wonderful. I feel like a princess.
I take a quick shower and step out just as Tiffany knocks on the door. She wants to help me get ready. Her face was a picture of horror when I explained that I was going to do everything myself. Seriously, people need help getting dressed? It’s a dress and make-up and hair. I was sure I could manage. I was wrong. There was no way I could pull off this kind of sorcery.
“Oh wow…” I look at the girl reflected in the mirror. It’s not me, it can’t be. She’s beautiful. Not that I’m a troll, but this woman looks like she’s from a movie. Flawless, glowing skin, soft pink lips, and smoky eyes, the size of which I’ve only ever seen in a cartoon. “Wow!” I repeat, and my fingers reach to check that the image is real and I’m not, in fact, still dreaming.
“Had good source material, Tia. I think your men will be pleased.” Tiffany wiggles her brows mischievously.
“Sod them, I’m pleased. Look at me!” I smile, stunned at the transformation. She piled my masses of chestnut waves low on the back of my head and threaded pearls and tiny white roses into the messy twist. Tendrils frame my face.
“Come on, let’s get you in the dress.”
I stand and walk over to where she has the bodice open and ready for me. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder at me in the mirror and can’t help flashing Tiffany another wide, grateful smile. I drop my dressing gown and step into the dress, lace panties and stockings my only concession to underwear.
Moments later, we are standing at the top of the stairs and I’m gripping her hand, mine with white knuckles, for support.
“Ready?” She asks.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like this is legal.” I let out a laugh that is a little high pitched.
“A piece of paper doesn’t make a marriage, Tia. This commitment you all are making is deeper than any institution. Legal or not, the weight of this decision is the same. I’d be shitting myself.” She nudges my side, and I exhale with a relief filled chuckle.
“Oh good, it’s not just me then.”
“Definitely not just you. Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you down the aisle?” We start to carefully walk down the sweeping staircase and toward the closed doors of the Orangery,
“No, I got this.” I give a confident nod and tight smile, “The only people who have ever had my back are standing at the other end. No one deserves to be by my side other than them.”
“I understand.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I understand, completely. All right then, give me the nod when you’re ready.”
“Right.” I close my eyes and let the peace that I know is lurking in the wings to take centre stage. I’m more than okay with today. I’m blessed, and I am more than ready for the rest of my life to begin, with these two wonderful men as mine, my husbands. I nod to Tiffany, and she pushes the mirrored double doors wide open.
She scurries off to her seat, and I take my first step inside and then the next. The music starts but all I hear is the blood rushing in my ears. I look up and all the air leaves my lungs. Atticus is in navy Armani; Logan is in black Cavalli, and my god, they look lethal. Their eyes bore into me, and even from this distance, I can see the desire, adoration and love. So much love, my heart swells painfully in my chest, constricted by the silk ties in this bodice. I press my hand to my heart, suddenly overwhelmed and unable to breathe. This is ridiculous. My feet won’t move, and before I can express my reason for the hesitation, Logan and Atticus are at my side, hands entwined with mine, squeezing reassurance and whatever I need into that simple contact.
“We’ve got you. Tia,” Logan says.
“Always,”
I let out a little laugh, releasing whatever was holding my future hostage. I take a step forward and don’t look back, steadily walking up the aisle with both men at my side, exactly where, in their handwritten vows, they both promised they would always be.
Always.
“I don’t want to leave them.” My vision wavers, and I’d like to think it was the result of being overwhelmed and exhausted from the most wonderful day, but I know that’s not the case. The ceremony was beautiful, simple and perfect. The reception was relaxed and fun. Dubious dance moves and cringing speeches aside, it was the best day of my life, outside of actually waking up from my coma.
Since there was no precedent for such a wedding, it went off without a hitch. Until now. I’m having a mild panic attack at the thought of a week away from our babies.
“They will be fine, my dear.” Ivan holds a sleeping Arran, and Susan cradles Aurora who is fighting the pull of sleep. Susan tries to reassure me. “Every parent feels like that, but you deserve a break, you all do, and we have all the help I’ll need.” She smiles at a nodding Mary who has jumped at the chance to stay in the townhouse and help with the grandchildren. “I don’t think Vegas is the place for babies.” She chuckles and gives a conspiratorial wink.
“No, I don’t suppose it is.” I wipe the tears wetting my cheeks and welcome the strong, sure arms around my waist. Logan kisses the top of my head.
“It’s six days, Tia, and they will be joining us in St Kitts for however long you want.” Atticus takes my hand and kisses the tips of my fingers, his reassuring smile going some way to ease my anxiety.
“I know, I know. Just…ah!” I scream as, in a blur of movement, Logan spins me in his arms. He hoists me high and drops me onto his shoulder. A loud slap on my arse silences my objection but not my cry of outrage. “What the hell!”
“Come on Mrs Kraus-Matthews, time to join the mile high club.” Logan turns and walks down the steps to the waiting taxi.
“You really think three of us are going to fit in the airplane toilet,” I mumble, grunting with each step.
“Who said anything about toilet? We’ve got the Kraus Bombadier 7000,” Atticus calls after us, grabbing the remaining bags and giving the babies one final kiss.
“Atticus, your dad… Guys, Mary is right there, for the love of—”
“Oh my dear, if I were twenty years younger, I’d be so jealous.” She gives a hearty chuckle and knowing smile. I have to do a double take from my awkward position. I feel the instant heat in my cheeks.
“Now that I’m blushing, we can go.” I groan as Logan slides me from his shoulder down the firm front of his body.
“That’s not blushing, but if you really want to…” He grabs a fistful of my arse cheek through the silk slip summer dress I changed into for the flight.
“No, no, please, let’s leave while I still have a modicum of self respect left.” I hold his hands against my cheeks to prevent their advance any further.
“Bye, Mary, Ivan, Susan. Call anytime, for any reason. I will have my phone in my hand the whole time.” I lean out of the window as the car pulls away. Two deep voices fill the cabin as multiple hands pull me into the vehicle.
“Oh no you won’t.”
I don’t know what I’m more nervous about, the fact that, although this is a very luxurious plane, it is the first plane I’ve been on, or the fact that I have both Atticus and Logan staring at me as if I’m breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I sit in one of the large single cream leather seats in the main cabin and expect at least one of them to sit beside me. I should know better by now. It’s either both or its neither. The result is a shoulder-to-shoulder wall of molten manliness opposite. I swallow the dryness in my throat and take a sip of the champagne the steward offered before take-off. My own body is just not up to the job of providing moisture to anywhere other than between my legs. I cross my legs and squeeze to try and ease the ache.
“Nervous?” Logan asks.
“First time on
a plane remember? Of course I’m nervous.” I take another sip…gulp.
“Riiight the plane.”
“Shut up.” I narrow my eyes at Logan and then fire a look at Atticus when he chuckles. “Aren’t you nervous?”
“I’m a lot of things, Tia, but nervous isn’t one of them.” Logan pulls at the material that looks way too tight at the crotch of his jeans. The outline of his impressive cock caged against his thigh makes me whimper. “It’s been a long month and as long as pretty boy here doesn’t touch my junk, I think this is going to be fucking phenomenal.”
“Oh, no pressure.” I shake my head, trying to calm the bubbling nerves with my light tone.
“Scared you might like it?” Atticus quips.
“Scared you might. Public school boy like you probably has more experience with other guys equipment, so I want to make sure you know exactly where I stand on this. Touch my dick…you die, and I win.”
“You know there’s going to be a very thin membrane between us at some point. Stop being such a homophobe.”
“Look, Atticus, if you want me like that, I think this is the perfect time to come clean. Tia will understand.”
“You’re funny.”
“You’re both hysterical.” I chuckle and smile because I could listen to them banter all day.
“Glad you think so, princess, because we’ve just hit cruising altitude and you can take that seat belt off right now.” Atticus kills any humour with the sensual weight of his command.
“Oh!” It’s more an exhale than an audible word. The sound of un-clicking belts and blood rushing in my ears blocks out whatever the captain is saying over the speaker. I take both hands that are offered to me and am pulled with more urgency than force from my seat. They surround my body on either side. Logan’s other hand sweeps around the front of my waist and his lips are instantly on my neck. I tilt my head and sigh. Atticus’s free hand caresses my cheek for a moment before his lips replace his fingers and work their way to my mouth. Their bodies press against me, and if Atticus wasn’t stealing the very breath from my lungs, I would be struggling to breathe from the pressure of solid muscle moulding around me.
My fingers twitch to touch them but neither will relinquish their hold. I groan with frustration, and it takes only a moment to acknowledge that this is going to go one way…their way.
They move my body this way and that between them, always touching, caressing and kissing. I feel dazed, a little delirious, and a lot drenched. I gasp when I feel the coolness when they break contact and each takes a step back. I sway and place my hand to my chest. I can feel my heart pounding beneath my fingertips. Darkly erotic, intense, incendiary eyes fall on me, and it’s a small comfort that they are both heaving in large lungfuls of air, the only indication they are just as affected as I am.
“I can’t breathe,” I puff, and it’s an effort to drag more oxygen in. My brain is fried, processing all these new sensations.
“Maybe if you lie down, that might help.” Logan’s voice is husky, and he drags his bottom lip between his teeth so slowly I swear I can hear each individual hair on his scruff scrape over his teeth.
“Lie down?”
“In the bedroom,” Atticus explains.
“There’s a bedroom?” I feel like an idiot repeating every word, but honestly, it’s a miracle I can speak at all.
“It’s a long flight to Vegas, and this is our wedding night. Of course there’s a bedroom.” Atticus takes my hand and strides the short distance to the back of the plane. I glance back at Logan, who is hot on my heels and grinning like the preverbal cat. I suck my bottom lip in because I know who’s got the cream in this situation. I have to be the luckiest girl on the planet.
The room is compact but there’s a bed, and although it fills the room, it doesn’t dominate. No, that would be the remit of my husbands. My husbands. Pinch me.
It takes seconds for hands to strip me bare, and if I wasn’t on fire, I would shiver from the chill of the air conditioning and the scrutiny of four hungry eyes. My skin prickles with gooseflesh but I’m burning up, and they remain fully dressed.
“Um, clothes guys?”
“As you wish.” Logan says and they both pull at their ties, loosening buttons, and unhooking belts and zips.
“Oh my god, this is actually heaven isn’t it?”
“Not very likely, angel, not considering what we’re about to do.” Logan smirks.
“Well, they were right about one thing, hell is pretty fucking hot.” I fan myself even as I shiver with a fresh crop of goosebumps.
“And about to get hotter. On the bed, princess, head over the edge.” Logan tips his head, as if I didn’t know where he meant. I sit and slide back on the sheet, spin, and drop my head back on the bed. They both groan, and I can’t fight the smile that spreads across my face. I did that.
“Heads or tails?” Logan winks at me as he flips a coin nice and high.
“Heads.” I let the weight of my head slide just over the edge of the bed and lick my lips in anticipation.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to get both, just want to know where I’m starting.” He’s already lost his suit trousers and shucked his shirt from his back as he spoke. Naked and glorious, the bed dips with his weight as he positions himself near my feet, which are flat on the bed with my knees pulled up. His hands rest on my kneecaps and he eases my legs open and wide. I’d be surprised if I haven’t left a wet patch on this fancy golden silk sheet. A shadow falls across my face as Atticus leans over and blocks the spotlight. His solid erection looks fucking enormous from this angle. His hand moves languidly up and down his cock, and his smile gets wider and more wicked with every stroke.
“If there’s anything you’re not comfortable with let us know,” he says.
“And we’ll persuade you otherwise,” Logan adds. I don’t believe he’s teasing.
“Oh really? Holy fuck!” Logan drags his tongue from my soaking entrance to my clit with the perfect toe-curling amount of speed and pressure. “Well, you can be quite persuasive.”
“Enough talking,” Atticus taps my cheek, and I open my mouth. He smears his wetness across my lips, and I chase the liquid with my tongue and lap it into my mouth. I reach up with one hand to wrap abound the base of his thick cock, and my other hand drops to Logan’s unruly mane between my legs. Atticus pushes his hips forward, slides his cock right to the back of my mouth, and with no effort at all, I relax my throat and take him all the way down.
The feast begins.
Logan works his magic tongue like I’m a gourmet meal-for-one, and I endeavour to do the same as Atticus starts to fuck my face, his hands supporting my head or positioning it to get a better angle. Either way, he feels good. Logan’s hands are stretching my thighs as wide as the tendons will allow, and they start to tremble with the first spark of pleasure striking my core. My whole body jolts and deflates when Atticus withdraws and Logan sits up.
“Switch,” Logan states.
“Switch.”
“Did you just tag team on me?” I try to sit up but firm hands rest on my tummy and shoulder.
“There’s no I in team, baby girl.” Logan grins.
“But there is a ‘me’, and I really wanted to come just then.“ I narrow my eyes at them both as they smoothly change positions.
“And it’s all about you, princess. Trust us.” Atticus’s hands stroke along my sides, down my legs and up the inside of my thighs. Prickles race and dance across my skin where he lightly touches.
“I do, but I was about to—” I know I’m pouting, but months of sexual frustration will do that.
“We know,” they declare, and it feels like I’m missing some weird telepathy thing they have going on. Logan takes his position at the end of the bed and they share a knowing glance. I knew it!
“Feeling a little out of the loop here with all the furtive glances, guys. Care to enlighten me?”
“You’ll be enlightened, and there’s nothing sinister, I promise.” A
tticus replies.
“So tell me then. It feels like this is scripted, and I wasn’t given my copy.”
“Oh angel, don’t pout. It’s no big deal. We had a rough idea of how this was going to play out, that’s all,” Logan explains. “We wanted this first time to be memorable, and not because neither of us knew who was going to be doing what…first.”
“Didn’t want a fight to break out and kill the mood,” Atticus adds.
“Oh, oh, that makes sense. Sorry, it’s just all kinds of weird, you two having this connection.”
“You got that spot on, babe, but it’s very much a work in progress.” Logan strokes my cheeks, and his finger trails along my lips. I take the opportunity to open my mouth and suck the digit inside. His pleasure rumbles from his chest. Atticus continues to explain, since Logan is now a little distracted.
“We can sit down and discuss this further if you want, Tia.”
“Oh god, no. Sorry, please, please carry on and let me come this time.” I release Logan’s finger and snap my head up to meet Atticus’s playfully raised brow.
“We’ll see.” Atticus grins from between my legs, and I drop my head back at the futility of thinking I having any say in this.
“You in a hurry, Tia? Got somewhere else to be?” Logan asks.
“Just a month of sexual frustration that would have the Pope questioning his vows.”
“Do you trust us?”
“Yes.”
“Then lie back and stop with the questions. But open that mouth, nice and wide.” Logan nudges his cock against my lips and just like Atticus, the tip glistens and drips onto my waiting tongue. My hand curls in a tight fist, and a deep groan escapes from deep inside his muscular chest. He guides himself into my hot, wet mouth, and I hum as his long, thick length fills every bit of space. Meanwhile, Atticus is lapping his tongue along my silky soaking folds. His finger gently probes my entrance, and in what I’m sure is a deliberate move, he plunges two fingers inside me, clamps his lips around my clit, and sucks my lost climax from its embers. My tummy tightens and my jaw twitches to allow me to scream or bite down; I opt for neither because Atticus eases off before my orgasm takes hold. Logan pulls out of my mouth almost to the tip and plunges back in, again and again, and just like last time, the instant my thighs start to judder they stop and switch.
