by Cara Adams
“What time does rush hour start around here?” Willow replied.
“Six forty-five maybe. Definitely before seven.”
“We’ll leave at six. We want to be right out of town before the traffic slows down. The earlier we leave the more likely we are to arrive home before rush hour as well,” said Hawthorne.
Cadfael and Dylan discussed which vehicle they’d take, Rhion promised to see it was gassed up and the tires checked, and Dylan was already tapping out a text message to Maelor. Hawthorne hid her grin and headed into the office. She needed to spend some quality time with Google Maps and the list of realtors. She was surprised how easy it had been to gain their consent. And she wasn’t complaining about having to take the men. Although she didn’t believe for a moment Jackson Hamilton cared at all about her, she was more than happy to have a couple big men to carry out the trash and scrub the bathroom. Ha! She wondered if Dylan had guessed she was serious about making them work. Well she was. They’d be sweeping, scrubbing, and carrying for three days. And likely taking turns at driving as well.
* * * *
Maelor woke up at 10:00 p.m. as he usually did when on the early shift, and got everything ready for his day. His final piece of preparation was usually to run up and down the stairs of the professional suite in wolf form as he’d been doing the time he’d frightened Hawthorne. But when he stripped his sleep shorts off and picked up his cell phone to turn off his alarm, he noticed a message waiting for him. Curiously he tapped it and found out he and Dylan were escorting Hawthorne and Willow back home to prepare their house to be sold. “But I don’t even know where they live, far less how to get there?”
More importantly, he had to swap his sleep patterns back to the more normal way of sleeping at night instead of in the afternoon. His usual method of doing this was to stay up as late as he could manage to remain awake, and go to sleep in the new time setting. That was out. He’d already had seven hours of sleep. Well, he’d go back to bed and try for another hour or two. He reset his phone alarm for four just in case he did fall deeply asleep, before climbing back into bed. He lay there for an hour or more thinking about Hawthorne and imagining all the interesting things he could say and do with her by his side twenty-four-seven. Maybe he and Dylan could even entice her into their bed despite her sister being present.
Maelor surprised himself by managing to doze and drift restfully for another couple hours, before taking his wolf run up and down the stairs, showering, getting dressed, and packing a small bag for the road trip.
At five thirty he texted Dylan. Where are we meeting?
Reception.
Maelor took the stairs down. He, like most of the managers who had apartments in the professional suites, was on the eighth floor. Running down to the fourth floor seemed like good exercise to him, even though he knew most of the other people here always took the elevator. Apart from Cadfael. Their Alpha was notorious for making everyone walk.
Maelor was the first one to reach the foyer of the professional suites. He leaned against the wall, figuring likely he’d be stuck in a car sitting for most of the day so he might as well stand now. Once again he wished he knew where they were going so he could look up the best route to follow. He understood that his romance—if it could even be called that when they hadn’t been on a real date yet—with Hawthorne was in its very early stages, but still, it seemed a fault on his behalf that he didn’t even know where she lived. Or used to live.
The elevator dinged and he turned then hurried across to hold the doors open. But Hawthorne had only her backpack and it wasn’t even as full as when she’d arrived.
“You haven’t packed very much,” he teased her.
“It seemed stupid to bring clothes with me. I’ll use the ones there. I’m really tired of the T-shirts I have here. I’ll throw them in the trash as soon as I have the rest of my clothes.”
“I guess. I can see you must be tired of them after a few weeks. I usually get sick of living out of a suitcase by the time my vacation is ending.”
Willow arrived next, escorted by both Cadfael and Rhion, and Maelor hid a grin to see them appear in the elevator. That was one change Willow had made. Rhion had never been able to convince Cadfael not to take the stairs, but it seemed Willow had managed to do so.
Right behind them came Dylan. “I left the truck on the upper level of the parking lot. Dakota said the security team would keep an eye on it for us.”
Maelor went ahead of the others and swiped open the door to the fourth-floor parking lot. Sure enough, in the front row was a sturdy-looking, white long-cab pickup. It was a good choice. The seats were large enough to be comfortable for a long drive, and there was more than enough space in back for the women to bring plenty of things here with them. He supposed any furniture they wanted they’d be getting shipped here. Or maybe they’d be putting it in storage. He hadn’t really thought about that. If he and Dylan were going to live with Hawthorne likely she’d want her own furniture, and he and Dylan both had one-bedroom apartments. Well, they’d have to get a house. He’d just have to hope the commute to the mall wasn’t too horrendous. I suppose I’ve been spoiled by living on-site and not having to commute until now. Being with Hawthorne will be worth it though.
Dylan drove, with Hawthorne riding shotgun, to tell him which roads to take. She’d evidently done her homework because they were out of the city faster than he’d expected and onto the highway. Once the driving was easy he asked, “Where do you live? Where exactly are we going?”
“North. It’s not all that far over the border into Michigan. It’s about five hours driving, plus we’ll need to add stops on top of that time. We were heading south, hoping for warmer weather, but we didn’t get very far,” said Willow.
“Well that was mostly because we were using a complicated route. We’d catch a bus for a little while, then stop off to go in a slightly different direction. That’s the only reason we got away from Bailey. He was used to us being very logical and linear thinkers. Only by moving out of character could we sidestep him,” added Hawthorne.
“I’m glad your plan worked.” Dylan’s voice was full of heartfelt emotion. That was how Maelor felt as well. Bailey had brought Hawthorne to them and for that reason alone they had to be grateful to the vindictive bastard.
Maelor was surprised how smoothly the road trip went. The two women had done their homework and their navigation was accurate every step of the way. They all talked together like good friends. Maelor also felt he was really getting to know both women so much better, and also seeing a side of Dylan he hadn’t known before. The man had quite a deep, dry humor that made him chuckle.
It was early afternoon when Maelor pulled up outside the Cunliffe house. It was an older clapboard, with a neat yard, white-painted walls, and gray shingles.
He and Dylan got out and leaned against the truck as Hawthorne pulled a parcel out of her backpack then she and Willow walked across the street to the neighbor’s house.
After a few minutes the women stayed to talk to the lady across the road, while the man came over and shook their hands. “Bob,” he said.
“Dylan.”
“Maelor.”
“You’ll be pleased to know there’s been no sign of that Hamilton man or anyone else. Willow just said he’s in jail. Best place for him. I don’t abide a man hitting on a woman like that. It’s not right.”
“I never met him but I don’t like him,” said Maelor.
“Thank you for looking out for the house while they were away,” said Dylan.
“Not a problem. I remember their folks. Good people, the Cunliffes.”
The women joined them then and opened the house. Willow took a roll of trash bags from her backpack, and she went around collecting the items Hawthorne read to her off a list. Maelor was surprised. They had everything worked out and only very rarely one of them said, “Oh look. I forgot about that. Do we want it?”
Once the items on the list were stacked by the front door, the tw
o men were set to cleaning the house while the women disappeared into their bedrooms to pack their clothing. That night Hawthorne and Willow slept in their parents’ bed while the two men slept in the women’s rooms. Maelor had thought it might be sexy being in Hawthorne’s bed, but so much of the room had been packed up it felt blank and empty, almost as if it wasn’t hers anymore. Which he supposed was the truth. Anyway, he was tired and slept heavily.
By the time the realtor arrived the next afternoon, Maelor and Dylan had taken out bags of trash, taken other bags to the local thrift store, and had scrubbed the house from top to bottom. Everything the women planned to keep had been locked in the truck, and he had to admit, seeing Hawthorne in a pretty blouse and skirt with sandals on her feet made all the hard work worthwhile. Also the brown dye was fading from the sister’s hair, the red more prominent every day, and that made Hawthorne even prettier in his eyes.
“The house looks real nice. We should have no trouble getting you a good price,” promised the realtor.
“I bet they say that to everyone,” muttered Willow.
“Very likely, but it does look good,” said Dylan.
“Lock the house up and let’s go,” said Maelor.
“Now?” asked Willow.
“You’ve gotten everything you want? Done everything you need to do?” he checked.
“Yes, but it’s a bit late to head off now,” argued Hawthorne.
“We’re only going as far as the local Country Inn. Bob told us they do a mighty fine steak there and we’ll book some rooms for the night as well. Then tomorrow we’ll head back to the mall.”
He watched Hawthorne’s face as he spoke and saw the secretive grin just turning up the edges of her lips the tiniest bit. Good. He’d get Willow tucked up nice and safe in a room, and then see if Hawthorne would let him and Dylan play with her some. Even a kiss would be progress, but he really hoped they got farther than that.
Chapter Three
Hawthorne had never seen such a large potato in her life before. She’d chosen it to go with her steak, and it came stuffed with coleslaw and coated in melted cheese. “Look at the size of it! I should have said we’d share one,” she said to Willow.
“Ask for a to-go box. It’ll do for your lunch tomorrow as well.”
“Oh, good plan.”
She’d seen Maelor and Dylan flicking glances at each other all night, and wasn’t at all surprised when they saw Willow safely into her room first before sweeping her with them across the hallway and into their room.
“I thought I was sharing a room with Willow?”
“You can if you want to. But we’d much prefer it if you shared a room with us,” said Dylan.
“Uh-huh. And what do you plan to do?”
“Whatever you’ll permit. We would never do anything to hurt you, you know that, don’t you?” asked Maelor.
Yes, she did. Somehow she always seemed to say unkind things to him, yet she didn’t mean to.
Dylan turned her to face him and kissed her. And oh, how he could kiss. He nibbled and licked at her lips until she opened them, and then he stroked inside her mouth so gently and sweetly she had to grab his head to hold him still until he’d fulfilled her properly. By then Maelor had stepped up to join them. He pressed his body against hers like a blanket of heat, before the two men swung her around and Maelor cupped the back of her head with one hand, and her chin with the other, and kissed her so deeply she had to clutch his shoulders because her knees had melted with lust.
Dylan pulled her back to sit on his knee, as he sat on the bed. Maelor pushed her sandals off, then unbuttoned her blouse. As each button exposed her skin, Dylan kissed the fresh expanse of her flesh. Hawthorne’s brain kicked into gear. Two people could play that game. She tugged at the buttons on his shirt, opening it wide and stroking his abs. She tilted her head backward and when Dylan took advantage of her movement to lick the tops of her breasts, she slid her hand between them until she found one of his nipples and rubbed her palm over it.
Now Maelor pushed her back onto the bed so she was lying down, and lay beside her. He was so big that even though his body was higher up the bed than hers, his feet hung off the end of it. She crawled closer to him and rolled his shirt up, stroking his chest and finding his nipples. Maelor’s hair and eyes were black and his skin quite tanned, even his chest. Perhaps he ran around topless a lot in summer. Maybe she’d ask him about that sometime.
Before she had a chance to explore him farther, Dylan had pulled off her skirt and settled behind her, his hands on her bra.
“If my bra is coming off you both have to take your shirts off properly,” she said.
“Can do,” said Maelor and his shirt went flying across the room. She heard a thunk, and realized he’d kicked his shoes off as well.
Then both men pressed their bodies tightly against hers and four hands were stroking her skin everywhere. She wanted to play, too, but was busy feasting her eyes on their magnificent bodies. They were both built very nicely, with taut chests and bulging arm muscles. She’d pretty much expected Maelor would be muscular, since he worked as a security guard and needed to stay fit. But Dylan’s job was predominantly a desk one, and there was no sign of fat or flabbiness about him either. Woo-hoo! Who’s a lucky girl then?
Four hands were touching her skin, stroking and petting her. She didn’t have to look to know that Dylan was the more possessive one, and Maelor the more worshipful. She really needed to watch her mouth around Maelor. She had no idea why she said sharp things to him. She really liked him and wasn’t usually harsh in her speech. But things just seemed to slip out of her mouth when she was with him, and they didn’t sound as she’d intended them. Oh well, keeping her mouth shut right now would work. Although their hands did feel very nice.
Dylan was teasing her hips and belly and she could guess where he’d be touching her next. She turned slightly to use both her hands on him, tugging at his belt and unsnapping the button at the waistband of his pants. Then she wiggled the other way and did the same with Maelor. Maelor pressed his big hand on her shoulder, urging her to lie flat. She was fine with that plan because now her hands could stroke the men on either side of her, and she had access to their skin from the faces all the way down to inside their pants. Boxers or briefs? I’m about to find out.
Maelor sucked her nipple into his mouth, and then sucked harder, pulling the entire areola in. “Momma Mia, that feels good.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said huskily, before bending to suck the other one.
Dylan had a hand on either side of her panties now, sliding them off her hips and down her legs. That was hardly fair. She hadn’t touched either of them below the waist yet. She evidently needed to move a little faster.
She gripped his hair with one hand, holding his mouth at her breast where he was now licking wet lines on her skin in a random pattern that was driving her crazy with need. She stretched out her other hand, running it along Dylan’s side, then over his back. He was all muscle, but moving steadily down her body, so gradually sliding out of her reach. Part of her wanted to say, “Come back so I can touch you,” but the other part of her was enjoying his touch on her skin so much there was no way she planned to stop him.
He licked her belly button, then moved lower, lifting one of her legs so he could touch the line where her trunk and leg joined. She curled her leg over his shoulders, holding him there. When she looked down, the two men were pressed together, each working on her body to drive her lust higher. It occurred to her that this required great trust of the other man, as well as simple cooperation. Each one had to know the other was supporting him, that they were a team, not trying to turn this into a contest to see who could bring her to orgasm first, but rather, to work together so all three of them achieved great pleasure.
That told her a lot about these men, the fact that they were honorable and worthy, putting her pleasure ahead of their own, as well as being good team players. Truly they were special and she was spoiled to
have their attention.
It was right then that Dylan thrust his tongue deep into her cunt and her brain stopped working completely. She threaded her fingers through Dylan’s light brown hair while her other hand kept a grip on Maelor’s silky black locks. She pushed her hips up into Dylan’s mouth and her breasts up into Maelor’s, whimpering, “Momma Mia,” all the while.
Her orgasm was inevitable and powerful, racing through her body like a tornado and throwing her around with its strength. Maelor possessed her mouth again with his, but kept his fingers on her breasts, teasing her nipples as he kissed her deeply. Dylan’s tongue flicked over her clit then along her slit, licking her cream, before sucking her clit again. By the time the aftershocks stopped she lay limply on the bed, flat on her back, completely replete from the climax and exhausted by the emotions still racing through her mind.
Silently the men helped her dress, then Maelor said, “When we get back to the mall we’ll take you on a proper date, but this still counts as our first date.” Bemused, she nodded, and let them take her back across the hallway to the room she shared with Willow. It was only when she was in her bed that she made sense of what they’d said. Apparently they don’t believe in sex on a first date. Well to me, that was sex, but hey, we can play this by their rules. I don’t mind. Momma Mia, what an orgasm!
* * * *
Dylan was driving with Willow beside him navigating. He wondered how he, Maelor, and Hawthorne would set up house. Since Hawthorne hadn’t wanted to keep her family furniture he wasn’t sure if that meant she’d rather buy new things, possibly ones she liked better, or ones with no memories attached to them of her parents who’d died. But either way, since all of them lived in small apartments they’d need to get a much bigger apartment for them to be together, which would mean more furniture. He wondered what Willow had planned about her future living arrangements. Of course, her situation wasn’t quite the same because Cadfael’s apartment was bigger, but nevertheless what she was doing might help him and Maelor work toward decisions themselves.
