by Charlie Hart
“You ready?” I ask, running a thumb over her hard nipple, and yet, I already know she is. Her hands move to my cock, her legs are spread, and her eyes closed as waves of passion wash over her.
“Yes,” she whimpers as I guide my cock into her tight pussy. “Oh, Fal,” she moans. And I pause, not wanting to hurt her. I cradle her face with one hand, my other hand firmly on her hip.
“I don’t want to cause you any pain.”
“Then come inside of me already, because the wait is pure torture,” she gasps.
And so, I do as she asks. With as much control as I can muster, I thrust inside her, filling her with every inch that I am, and she cries out as my cock takes hold of her body.
“Fal, oh Fal,” she moans, and I move against her, knowing it’s just going to get better from here on out.
I move as slowly as possible, not wanting this to end right after it started, but dammit, her body is divine. Her legs wrap around me, her arms around my neck, she clings to me, as if at her core she knows exactly what she means to me.
Everything.
“Oh fuck, Tia, you get me so damn hard.” I pull out, then thrust again, staking my claim on my wife. I know I’m going to come harder and faster than I’d like.
But then, Tia is coming too, and her body opens in a whole new way as an orgasm washes over her. I thrust against her again, wanting her body to memorize my cock, not wanting her to forget this night for the rest of her life.
I find her hand, lacing our fingers together, wordlessly taking my wedding vows all over again.
I am yours and you are mine. Forever.
Chapter 11
Tia
Fallon is gone from my room when a ray of morning sunlight streams through the sliver of the heavy curtains. I roll out of bed and open them completely, letting the warmth fill the room. It’s the first time I’ve seen the sun not hiding behind the heavy grey clouds since I’ve been here.
I take my time showering and getting dressed. I can smell something cooking from the kitchen, and I have no doubt the other men have already been up for hours. I wonder if Fallon has spoken to them.
There’s no doubt that they know what happened between us last night. And I’m a little nervous facing them. Sex is expected. It’s not that. But I’m worried about hurting the other’s feelings. And maybe slightly worried that they’ll expect me to jump in each of their beds as well.
Which I will. At some point.
I formed a connection already with each one of them. But it’s nothing like the intense heat that burns straight to my core every time I see Fallon.
A little sigh escapes my lips when I think of the man and all the things he did to my body. And I want more. More of him. More of what happened last night. The sex, and the cuddling afterwards.
Who would have thought Fallon could be so sweet?
Loud voices boom below me. Angry voices.
Shit.
I shiver, knowing I’ve hidden up here long enough.
The men are in the kitchen when I come downstairs, and they all fall silent when I enter.
Emerson gives me a small, strained smile before turning his back to me, and stirring a pot on the stove. Arms crossed over his large chest, Giles give a nod, no judgement in his gaze. Salinger and Huxley sit at the table, not meeting my eyes.
Banks, who’d been hunched over some papers he was reading glances up briefly, and mutters a quick, “Good morning,” before burying his nose back in his work.
Across the room, Fallon watches me, and there’s only a slight hint of the man he’d shown me last night in his cool blue gaze.
I sigh and sit down at the end of the table. “I guess we should talk.”
Huxley grunts and leans back in his chair, one brow raised.
“You have nothing to explain,” Fallon says.
“No,” I agree. “But I think we need to talk about what happens now.”
Even Banks looks up at that.
“No one will force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Giles says, giving a pointed look at Huxley.
“I know. But I don’t want any of you to feel...”
“Excluded?” Huxley says, leaning his forearms on the table, jaw clenching despite the strained grin he gives me. “Because I was feeling a little left out last night.”
“Huxley,” Giles warns.
“What? Can’t I be honest? She belongs to all of us, not just-”
“I don’t belong to anyone but myself,” I say harshly.
“I didn’t mean-”
“I know what you meant.” I breathe in deeply and try to collect my thoughts, and not let my emotions determine my next words. “And I know you’ve all been very patient over the past few days.”
Maybe too patient. If they’d just taken me the way Lilah and Kate’s men had that first night, maybe we wouldn’t be having this awkward conversation.
“You’re my husbands.” It’s weird saying it out loud. I glance around at each one of them, my chest squeezing with emotions that are slightly different for each one. “And that means...”
“Sex,” Salinger offers, humor flickering in his gaze, which is better than the anger I’d seen when I’d first come in the room.
“Yes,” I say on a sigh. “Sex.”
I see Fallon tense, and possessiveness pulls his features tight. Even if this is uncomfortable for him, he isn’t my only husband. With a small shake of my head, I continue, “I want that...connection with all of you. I just need...”
God, this is difficult.
“We’ll give you whatever you need,” Emerson says, placing a bowl of stew in front of me, then cupping my jaw and making me look up at him. “We have a lifetime together.”
My heart skips a beat as his touch warms me. Despite the same muscular build as Fallon, the two men are nothing alike. While Fallon is all control and borderline arrogance, Emerson has no interest in having power over others. And in this moment, I’m grateful for it.
He gives a small smile before dropping his hand and saying to the men, “This only works if there’s no jealousy between us.” He looks pointedly at Fallon. “Any of us.”
Fallon’s nostrils flare and I see something dance across his expression that makes me wonder if he won’t be the hardest of the men to please.
Emerson is right.
And it’s my duty to make sure I don’t do anything to stir it within the group.
Chapter 12
Fallon
I know Emerson is right. Jealousy is like a cancer that will grow and threaten our family. I’ve heard stories that warned us about the complications that arise between men.
The success rate of these types of marriages is high, but only when the husbands are in sync with each other. A few years ago, I’d heard rumors of a bloodbath in one of the houses. One of the men had gone into a jealous rage, killing the other men, and trying to escape with the woman into the wilderness.
Officials had caught him, found his wife in a cabin twenty miles from here. He was tried and prosecuted, and the woman put back in the lottery. But they’d found her the night before the new ceremony hanging in her bedroom.
I didn’t understand the jealousy until now. Not that I have any intentions of violence towards the others. But I get the possessiveness that man must have felt. The need to keep her as his own. I’ve never been very good at sharing. And I have a feeling it’s going to be a hard lesson to learn.
I know the men are pissed at me. Not because I had sex with Tia, but because it wasn’t discussed ahead of time. But fuck, am I really supposed to have a goddamn conversation with them every time I want to hookup with my wife?
“Fallon,” Giles’ deep voice stops me at the front door.
“What?”
He lets out a sigh as he approaches. “Where are you going?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Now I have to check in with you?”
His brows shoot up at me, but I don’t need him to tell me I’m being a class-A dick. I know it. Of eve
ryone in this house, Giles and I have the most history together. Both good and the abhorrent. And there’s a knowing in his eyes, one that sees right through my bullshit.
“Don’t leave it like this.” He gives a shake of his head and drags a hand over his dark red beard, then walks away.
Giles has always been a man of few words. But when he does speak, I’ve learned it’s best to listen.
Tia’s laughter floats through the house, followed by a deep chuckle that could only be Huxley.
My stomach tightens at the sound.
Do the right thing, my brain demands.
Inhaling a deep breath, I move towards the den, gritting my teeth when I see Tia curled up on the couch beside Huxley, their heads close together as he whispers something in her ear.
She lets out another laugh, and smacks his arm, her face reddening from whatever was said.
I clear my throat, making them both turn.
Tia’s brows scrunch together and she gives me a worried look.
“Can I talk to you a minute?”
Huxley flings a lazy arm over the couch and grins, “Sure thing, boss.”
“With Tia.” I swear my back teeth are going to crack with how hard I clench them. I could get used to sharing her with Giles and Emerson. Two men I respect. Hell, I may even be fine with Banks and Salinger. But Huxley has a way of getting under my skin.
I don’t trust the man. And thinking about him touching Tia makes my blood boil.
When Huxley doesn’t move, I add, “Alone.”
Tia gives him a forced smile, one that holds more meaning than I’d like, and says, “Sorry.”
I swear, just to piss me off, he leans over and brushes his lips against hers.
“I’ll find you later,” he says to her, and then grins at me as he walks past.
When we’re alone, Tia stands and crosses her arms. “Do you have to do that?”
“What?”
“Be so intimidating all the time.”
“If the man’s intimidated, that’s on him, not me. I just asked to talk to you.”
She gives a frustrated little huff.
It’s cute the way her lips purse at me when she’s upset. I move around the couch towards her. Now that we’re alone, my only thought is to have my mouth on hers, my hands buried in her hair, and her body pressed against my own.
“Fallon,” she says my name like a warning, and puts her hands to my chest. “You wanted to talk.”
“There’s a hundred other things I’d rather be doing.” I wrap my hands around her waist and pull her against my already raging hard on.
She sighs, but I feel her body melt against mine.
“Fallon,” she says my name again as I brush my lips against her slender neck, feeling her tremble. “Talk, remember.”
I give a small grunt, and pull back slightly, but I don’t release her.
“What did you want to say?”
“That I’m okay with everything.”
“Everything?” Her eyes narrow.
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
“With...” I drop my hands, then turn and drag my fingers through my hair. “With the others.”
“You’re okay with the others?” she repeats my words, her tone deadpan.
I turn back to her, and see a flicker of anger in her eyes, ready to turn to wildfire if I’m not careful with my next words.
“I’m just saying, you have my permission to be with them.”
“Your permission?” Her mouth hangs open in a small O, and a blaze of heat rises in her cheeks. Face red, she says evenly, “Well, I’m glad I have your permission.”
“You’re angry?”
“Huxley was right. You really think you’re in control here.”
“He said that?” I may have changed my mind on the violence bit. The man’s face will be having an imprint of my right fist if he doesn’t watch his tongue. “What else did he say?”
“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one that signed up for this? You took the vows.” Her own hands are balled into little fists. “You had a choice.”
Her words are blows, knocking me down. Because I hear the hidden meaning. We may have chosen her, but she didn’t choose us.
“You chose to come here.” I hold her gaze, and try not to be affected by her words.
“I did. And I’m glad. I care about you. All of you. I do.” She looks on the verge of tears, but she holds them back, straightening her spine. “But you...you need to accept the way things are. Or you’re going to find yourself alone.”
I know she’s right. Hell, I’ve already ostracized myself with the men. But I can’t help feeling her words are a rejection.
“Fine.” I start for the door. “You want space. I’ll give it to you.”
“Fallon...”
I ignore her, storming back into the living room, and finding Huxley leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with a giant smirk plastered across his face.
“Nice job, Romeo.”
It takes all my self-control not to smack him in the jaw as I pass, but I manage to leave the house without inflicting any permanent damage on anyone or anything. Except maybe my own heart.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 13
Tia
Without Fallon around, the tension in the house is almost nonexistent. The men are relaxed, and the easy flirting between us isn’t strained. No one is here to look over my shoulder.
But he’s been gone all day, and I’m starting to get worried.
“He just needs to let off some steam,” Giles says, when he catches me by the window. “He’ll be back.”
I give him a small smile. “You act like you know each other.”
Giles stands beside me, arm brushing against mine. The soft light that floats through the window make the freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheek more apparent.
For such a big man, there’s a softness to him that Fallon doesn’t have. His eyes, a green that in this light almost looks gray, go distant for a moment.
“We’ve known each other since we were kids. Same class. Shared a dorm room when we were transferred to the facility for training.”
“Has he always been so...”
“Impatient. Arrogant. Moody...” He raises a brow. “Yes, yes, and yes.”
I chuckle. “I was going to say stubborn.”
“That too.” He grins, staring out at the snow-covered lawn. “But he’s a good man. Loyal to a fault. His parents...” There’s a catch to his voice.
“You know his parents?”
“They were like a second family to me. His dad still is. But they never believed in this-” He motions around the room. “They believed a woman should only have one husband. I think some of that rubbed off on Fallon. But he wouldn’t have taken the vows if he didn’t think he could abide by them. He may just need some more time than the rest of us.”
My chest squeezes at the affection I hear in Giles’ voice for Fallon, and my respect for the man increases.
“And you?” I ask, watching him.
One side of his mouth quirks up. “What about me?”
“You’re okay with this? With...”
“Sharing you?” He turns and reaches out, brushing his knuckles across my cheek. “Yes, Tia. I’m more than fine with it. Because it means being with you. And I know that there are things I can’t give you. Things that the others can.”
My heart misses a couple beats as I hold his gaze. Gentle. Kind. Thoughtful. The man is all those things and more.
I lean up, resting my hand on his chest and brush my lips against his. It’s warm and soft, and I feel my body begin to tingle, anticipating more.
There’s a cough behind us, breaking the moment.
I hadn’t even noticed Banks sitting on the couch, a dozen books piled around him. Glasses sitting on the end of his nose, he gives a slight frown before burying his face back in a book.
Giles gives me a crooked
smile and sighs. “I think-”
The front door flies open, and Huxley and Salinger come in, shaking snow off as they carry in a bunch of boxes and set them on the floor.
Emerson who was in the kitchen, most likely preparing dinner, comes out to join us. He’s self-appointed himself the house chef, and I’m grateful for it. Despite the few cooking classes I was made to take at boarding school, I can still manage to burn toast. I always preferred books over domestic duties, which is why I think Banks and I have more in common than he cares to admit.
We might actually have an intelligent conversation if he ever took his nose out of a book long enough to talk to me. Even now with all the commotion, he just keeps reading.
“What is all that?” I ask.
“Supplies,” Huxley says, pulling out a smaller box from one of the larger ones that contains cans and other nonperishable food items. With a mischievous grin, he hands me the smaller box. “And a gift.” He leans closer, and whispers, “You might want to open it when you’re alone.”
My cheeks warm, because I have no doubt the gift is of a sexual nature.
“Thank you.”
He nods, and then says to Giles, “We can take these down to the storage space in the basement.”
“This is a little excessive. It’s more than we need,” Giles says, dark red brows pulled down.
Huxley shrugs. “Better to be prepared. You never know...”
The men hold each other’s gazes and I swear a silent conversation goes on between them. Eventually Giles nods, and picks up one of the boxes.
As the men take the boxes downstairs, I sit beside Banks and pick up one of his books.
“Multivariate statistical analysis.” I give a low whistle. “Sounds like a fun Sunday read.”
He grunts and takes the book from me.
“What are you working on?” I pick up another textbook and flip through the pages.
“Something you wouldn’t understand.”
“Right, because I’m just a woman,” I snap back, shutting the textbook with a thud.
