Package Deal

by Jess Bentley

  Dillon jumps up and starts shoving things into a knapsack. “What do you need, Bella?” he asks, his face full of worry. “Pants? Got pants, pyjamas, undies…”

  “Are you guys serious?” I ask, propping myself up on my elbows and glaring at one and the other. Then I look down and realize how much fluid we’re really talking about, and suddenly a contraction hits. My breath rushes out of my mouth as I grab my stomach. “You are serious,” I say when I emerge from the pain. “The go bag is in the closet.”

  Emmet runs to the ensuite bathroom and comes back with a hot wet towel, sponging me off while Dillon throws him a pair of thick, soft sweat pants and a tee-shirt for me.

  “I guess we’re going to the hospital, baby,” Emmet smiles, and Dillon runs over and kisses me hard, then holds up the ‘g0-bag.’

  “We’re going to be daddies!” he says, and I struggle to get to my feet and put on the clothes. Dillon tries to run a brush through my hair as I pull the track pants on. I’m scared, but I couldn’t feel more cared for. Emmet is running downstairs to get the car, and Dillon turns to me.

  “You ready for this, my darling?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I smile weakly as he takes my arm.

  ***

  So, I’ll save you the gory details, but I did give birth that night. It was lucky since the babies were early, they were a little smaller than normal. Not that it was easy. But the doctor delivering us was okay with both men being in the room, so I had as much support as a woman could have. And they were amazing afterward too.

  We were all snuggled up on the bed together, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. One baby in each arm, and a man on each side. I know it’s an unusual relationship, to say the least, and we do occasionally get some looks in the street, but I’m not sure why. I would think that every woman would love to have two beautiful brothers like Dillon and Emmet give them their happy ever after.

  We named the twins Henry Anders Riordan and Daniel James Riordan. Hannah sent a big package covered in tons of cellophane and a huge blue bow. We ended up donating the contents to the local Sally Ann and recycling the plastic, but Dillon sent her a thank-you note anyway. It was kind of him, I suppose, but I know that Hannah just wants to get in on my success.

  The novel is done, and I can’t wait until it comes out to the world, so that everyone can learn everything about what it’s like to have your own fairy tale come true -- how things aren’t always what they seem, and wicked witches can be disguised as good fairies. And, of course, that even two men that seem beastly at first can be your Prince Charmings.

  ***

  “Dillon, can you get Henry?” I call. “He’s awake. I can hear him in the crib,” I call out, holding my cell phone to my neck to muffle the sound.

  “Already on my way,” he calls back. I’m so glad I can count on them. While they never seemed like family men from all the stories in the tabloids, Dillon and Emmet have fallen in love with Henry and Daniel.

  As for me, I am surrounded by the masculine. Having two twin husbands, and twin baby boys, well -- such a life would have seemed completely impossible before. But they thrive on creating magic, my husbands. And all their tricks seem to revolve around making me happier and happier. Maybe we’ll try for a girl next time, just to even the score a bit.

  “We’re prepared to offer you a healthy advance on your second book,” I hear over the line, snapping me back to the present. “We just need a precis for the shareholders, so if you can send it back with the contract, we should be able to take this thing to the next level.”

  I try not to let my astonishment and happiness come out too much. I want to seem cool and professional. But as I agree to the terms, I’m dancing around the kitchen, and as Emmet stands at the door, his mouth stretches into a smile and his eyes widen.

  “The publisher?” he mouths at me. He gives me a questioning thumbs up. I nod and thumbs up him back, phone cradled by my ear. He does his own happy dance and as I wrap up the phone call, he hugs me hard.

  “Dillon,” he calls out, and then immediately covers his mouth. “Are the babies sleeping?”

  “Probably not anymore,” I say and then the baby monitor squawks. Sounds as if they’re both awake.

  “Come help me with the babies,” Dillon’s voice comes through.

  We both run up the stairs to share the good news, and are met by Dillon changing Henry’s diaper.

  “Can you grab Daniel?” he says, and I lean into his crib and pick him up. He snuggles right in, little face screwed up with the effort of being awake.

  “Is he wet?” asks Emmet. He has a diaper ready in his hand.

  “Man, you guys are on it,” I smile, and lay Daniel’s little body on the changing table, and Emmet takes over.

  “Well, tell him,” Emmet prompts.

  “Oh right! Dillon! I got a great advance for my next book!”

  “Isn’t mommy the smartest?” Dillon croons to Henry. “Isn’t mommy the best writer of them all? She sure is! She sure is!” Henry laughs at his antics. Dillon picks him up and walks over, and Henry stretches out his arms to me. I take him and breathe in the sweet smell of baby, and Dillon kisses my cheek tenderly. “You’re a superstar, Bella. I’m so proud of you. And, I can start planning the book launch party.”

  “Ahh! Thank you! I’m so excited.” I spin Henry around as he laughs some more, and soon we’re all dancing in the room, trading partners and babies, grinning and cheering.

  I know it was a huge surprise to everyone that the first book did so well. It seems to be the ‘Eat, Pray, Love,’ of its generation, striking people at the core with the possibility of magic in their lives, once they accept their authentic selves.

  I bet Hannah is furious, I think. It’s not the first time the thought has flitted through my head. We still haven’t talked, and we probably won’t ever again. She’s still pissed that she couldn’t lay claim to my book. Apparently all the leeway and clauses that she had placed in my contract were enough to disabuse her of the notion that my book belonged to her.

  I never went over the terms that closely, but the things I thought she had given me as perks were really just measures to keep me at a contractor type status, and so her attempt to snowjob me and claim my work as belonging to the company had ultimately brought her down. I had the best lawyer money could buy, as well as the will of the people on my side.

  I guess people did really fall in love with the person, the ‘character’ I let them know during the love story with Emmet. And since we all fell in love for real, they weren’t ever let down, except for the ones who can’t understand that love can exist between three.

  Eventually TurnPost ended up settling the countersuit and left me with control over my words, which is all I ever really wanted anyway. The settlement was a benefit, but since marrying the boys, I don’t really have a need for any more money. Still, a portion of it took us on a vacation to Fiji and that’s nothing to scoff at. After all, I do like to contribute to the household, and give my husbands, who give me so much every minute of every day, a little magic back.

  DELETED SCENE

  Bella

  Dillon leans on his arm against the wall, giving me one of those sexy, disarming looks that somehow slides its way down my body right into my panties. My knees give out slightly, and I shuffle a little on my feet to try to hide it. For some reason I don’t want him to know the effect he has on me.

  “Maybe we should go upstairs,” he says softly, reaching one hand out to me. His forearm is strong, veiny, tanned. He’s rolled up the dark blue sleeve of his shirt to just the right point where I’m dying to see more. The collar of his shirt is open too, and hints of his chest are showing. I want him bad. I might as well just admit it to myself even if I don’t want to admit it to him.

  Something buzzes in my back pocket. I’m so lost in desire for him that it takes me a minute to realize it’s my phone.

  “Just a sec,” I say, as I look at the screen. It’s his brother, Emmet. The other
most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life. “It’s your bro. He wants to know what we’re doing.”

  “Yeah,” Dillon, says, turning. He walks over to the bar cart and pours a couple drinks. “He said he’d try to come by if he finishes his meeting early enough.”

  My stomach jumps. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? “He did?” I ask nonchalantly.

  Dillon walks back over, a drink in each hand. “Yeah, sure. We like to share. Didn’t he mention that?” He hands me one. I take it with both hands and sip it gratefully. The brown liquid burns a little and then the fumes filter through my mind. It feels good.

  “I-- I -- I think he might have said something,” I stammer. Fact is, even though I thought it might be a joke, I’ve been dreaming of nothing else but to be shared by these two twin brothers. But as a virgin, the whole sex thing is new to me, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself.

  Just add that to the list of things to stop lying to myself about, I suppose.

  “So text him back. You can let him know we’re at my place,” he says smoothly. I nod and quickly fire off a text. Just as I’m pressing send, he leans in, and as his fingers go into my hair, he softly kisses my lips. He tastes of a combination of whiskey and salt. His lips are soft, wet, and a little cold from the ice in his drink. I’m stunned and motionless for a moment, then I begin to kiss him back, my tongue tentatively tracing his. He stops, then takes my drink which I’ve been holding, and puts both aside, on the kitchen island.

  In one smooth movement, he takes me in his arms and props me up on the island. The marble is cool against my legs, against my ass, and his hands are hot. They roam over me, awakening each part of me they touch, making every cell in my body want him. He tips up my chin, covers my mouth with his, and his kisses grow faster; more voracious. I can’t help but respond. My hands tangle in his hair, then slide over his wide shoulders and down his back. The muscles of his back move under his shirt and I find myself pulling the fabric up out of his pants. I need to touch his soft skin.

  “Easy, Bella. Shouldn’t we wait for Emmet?” he asks, grinning wickedly. Then he pulls me toward him and devours my mouth with kisses. I’m moaning, melting into him, sliding my fingers under his shirt to feel those muscles move. Yes, Emmet. I want Emmet too.

  I don’t know how long we’re kissing but at some point I feel fingers slide up my leg, when Dillon’s fingers are already occupied, one hand on my cheek and the other cupping my breast, fingers closing around my nipple. I look over his shoulder and I see Emmet. He must have let himself in? He gives me a panty-melting look as he trails his fingers further up my thigh. Dillon turns to him.

  “Hey man,” he says to his brother.

  “Are we ready to go upstairs already?” Emmet grins. “I know I am.”

  Dillon doesn’t have to be asked twice, so when I nod, he spins me around and into his arms. Emmet leads the way as Dillon effortlessly carries me up the stairs down the hall, and into the bedroom. We fall onto the bed, while Emmet is taking off his shirt slowly. It’s a kind of reverse striptease, because he’s staring at me when he does it. He looks so handsome in his pressed shirt, gold watch, and pale chinos. Or should I say, both in and out of them. I watch as he bends, angles moving under his skin, and steps out of the pants, then throws them over a chair. Now he’s in just his shorts. They’re boxer briefs, hugging his lines.

  I crook my finger at him. “Don’t keep me waiting.” I don’t know where I got this confident persona from… probably a result of having two gorgeous men act like I’m their prize. Speaking of which, Dillon has slipped off my top and is working on the bottoms, while Emmet lies down beside me in bed.

  I’m surrounded by masculinity. Muscles. Clean, musky smells. Stubbly cheeks framing soft lips. And most of all, their hard, throbbing, shafts, pressing against me, wanting to press into me. As they descend on my nipples, each sucking one, I lean my head back and moan. Someone’s fingers slide down over my mound and slide inside, stroking me. Another hand is circling my clit. I writhe, unable to control my body. I want both of them as much as I can have, at once.

  And I want it now.

  I’ve never felt like this about a man before. Or, I guess I should say, about two men. I’ve always stayed innocent. My virginity wasn’t something I was saving for something special, for marriage or anything. I just knew that getting involved with men was more trouble than it was worth. That being with a man led to pain, most of the time. Nobody was worth that pain.

  But I never counted on two men wanting me at once.

  That changes the equation. Completely.

  ~~~

  Read on for more exciting bonus content from Jess Bentley!

  A PERFECT SEAL

  Copyright © 2017 Jess Bentley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Prologue

  Pierce

  New York City, 2014

  The water sluices over my skin, hot and steaming. Like it’s purifying me. Taking me away from what happened at the party.

  Fists flying, bone crunching against cartilage. My brother’s face, bleeding. Not by my hand — or I don’t think so, anyway. I can’t remember. It all fades when I think about it too hard. I didn’t even want to be there, in the fluorescent lit hotel ballroom, even though it was a party for my college graduation. For my new job at Cochran Securities. None of it seemed like an accomplishment, especially not the job. I’m Pierce Cochran after all, and it’s not exactly surprising that my father hired me at his firm the second I got out of school.

  Everyone I loved was there. My mom, my dad. My younger brother, Logan, who got out on leave for this very occasion. And Arie. Beautiful Arie. Teasing lips and sweet, wide eyes. She was the only one I wanted to see.

  The blood runs through my fingers.

  When I walked in the room, I wished I was anywhere else. I set my own ass up for all this bullshit. The fight, the harsh words. The embarrassment. If I had to guess, this is why I’m currently standing in the shower of my hotel room, washing blood from my fists.

  My hands ache. My shoulder muscles are in knots.

  I close my eyes and lean my head against the shower wall. It’s cool against my throbbing head. I try to piece together the events of the night. But it’s all smoke and haze, slipping through my fingers like the red blood and water of the shower.

  There was whiskey, then more whiskey, and gin with Dad. The final encore was a trio of vodka tonics. That really fucking finished me off. The alcohol took things from reasonable to unreasonable. And Arie. I kept staring at her. Watching her. Going over the supple lines of her body in my mind. I went to her and tilted her head towards mine, telling her that tonight was the night. It needed to be the night. But we fought, like we always do about this one damn thing. She’s been saving herself for marriage, and I’ve been patiently waiting for almost ten years for her to give it up. I think I stalked off to play pool with Logan when she told me ‘no,’ yet again.

  Pool with Logan. Lining up my shot and trying to get just the right spin, then whiffing royally thanks to my drunken vision. Logan snickers, then takes aim, sinking three balls with a satisfied grin. He’s kicking my ass, and I hate losing to anyone, let alone my little brother.

  Then I look up and see Arie slowly slipping off her sweater, exposing her smooth, glowing shoulders, and the curve of her firm breasts under a thin blue sundress. She’s driving me crazy, making it impossible for me to focus on the damn game. She looks at me with a stare so dirty, I could have fucked her right then and there; I imagine filling her perfect little mouth with my thick cock.

  And seconds before, she’s telling me we were waiting. Still waiting.

  She does this to me, especially when she’s been drinking. She teases me, even though she has no intention of foll
owing through. She makes me want to just… throw her down on this pool table and fuck her in front of everyone. And yes, I know just how messed up that is.

  Everything that happened after that is a blur of fists flying and breaking glass.

  Two frat boys I don’t recognize saunter into the hotel bar where we are having my party. They’re definitely not with us; they look like they’re on vacation from Iowa, or another flyover state. They definitely aren’t from the city.

  The heat of the water burns against my broken, bruised skin, but it eases some of the pain in my throbbing muscles. I watch as blood pools at my feet, and my mind starts to put the pieces of the puzzle back together.

  Did I hit them first, or did they hit me?

  The guys walk right up to Arie, and they start chatting her up. One pushes a lock of her curly black hair out of her face, while the other runs a finger down the bare skin of her arm. My vision starts to go cloudy with rage.

  I set my cue down on the side of the table and take a step in their direction.

  Logan puts a hand on my arm. He tells me to stop and take a breath, to think through what I’m about to do, but when I lock eyes with Arie, I know there is no going back. Then I see one of the frat guys reach down and grab her ass.

  And I see red.

  The last thing I remember before waking up on my hotel bed is the sound my fist made when it connected with the taller kid’s jaw.

  Even without clear memories, my body bears its share of physical reminders of what happened. My abdomen and chest are covered in bruises, and I can feel more on my back from where I was probably sucker-punched in the kidneys. I begrudgingly turn off the water, and grab one of the plush hotel towels to dry my hair. When I brush the towel against my head, it hurts, and when I pull the towel away, it’s stained with blood. I reach up and find shards of glass in my hair, as if a beer bottle were broken over the top of my head.