by Anthology
“You wax everything?” I whisper to Carly.
“I’ve used the lotions before,” she answers with near terror in her eyes. “Not a good experience. I’ve waxed a few times, but Jase …” She pauses, her face starting to turn pink. “He’s good with a razor.”
“Nice.” I smile. Very nice.
The of age and none pregnant Steel women drink champagne. The rest of us drink sparkling juice.
Bella is in heaven, and she does a million toasts. Some come very close to being inappropriate.
I wonder where she gets that from, I joke to myself.
Throughout our heavenly experience, Momma Joe takes tons of pictures and has others take pictures, too. Namely, Taelyn.
When I offer to take a picture, Joe totally ignores me and hands Taelyn the camera.
I feel bad for her.
It’s odd. Joe, never makes any of us feel less loved than the other, but today … Today I swear it’s like Taelyn is the red-headed stepchild.
I’m worried about her, but I know it’s not my place to say anything.
Zandor will tell me what I should do, and he won’t tell Momma Joe that I think her behavior is odd.
9
MY TOOL
Zandor
Sitting at the kitchen table, my brothers and I are eating Momma Joe’s lasagna and garlic knots when my phone chimes.
-Is Momma Joe okay?
- Good evening, kitten. She’s with you, so I assume you’d know better than I. What’s going on?
- Just a weird feeling.
- Are you feeling extremely sensitive right now?
It takes her several minutes to respond.
-No!
I can’t help chuckling.
-Enjoy.
-Taelyn and her seem to be off, Zandor. Any reason?
-I love you.
-Ugh!
- Enjoy the spa, Kitten.
I sit back and chuckle.
“Everything good?” Jase asks.
I nod. “Of course.”
After they eat, it’s time to say good-bye to them for a couple of hours.
I go to the basement and grab a box, carrying it upstairs and into the now empty playroom. I set it in the middle of the floor and look around.
It’s empty and, in just a couple of months, it is going to look like Jase, Cyrus, and Xavier’s family rooms—wall to wall with toys. What they don’t buy, Momma Joe does.
I want it to be … different. I want it better than she had it growing up, for her and me.
In the garage, I grab an old toolbelt that Falcon left behind when he was helping me out with the bathroom remodel. Who the fuck am I kidding? He did it, and I stuck around and learned something. What I learned is I look good in a toolbelt.
I put it on, making sure there is a hammer and a few nails stuffed in the pockets, and then I walk back into the playroom.
I open the box and start pulling out pictures, laying them out around the perimeter of the room.
Family. Hers, mine, and us. Lots and lots of us.
I want this room to be about how our child came to be, and he came to be because of love.
I lose track of time, getting lost in placement, switching it around again and again.
When I hear a gasp, I look up.
“What have you done?” She immediately has tears in her eyes, emotions boiling over.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” I tell her, walking over to her.
“Zandor …” She shakes her head, more tears falling.
I hold her tight as she cries.
When she steps back, she’s smiling and shaking her head. I wipe her tears away.
“You are amazing,” she says, sniffling. “Momma Joe told me to—”
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” I reach out and push a blonde curl away from her face.
Her head falls left. She opens her mouth to speak, yet nothing comes out.
“The first time I opened up to you about what I need sexually, you were hesitant. I told you I saw in you the same, and you asked me: What if you’re wrong?”
She shrugs. “You weren’t.”
“I knew I wasn’t wrong about you. For a moment, though, I was wrong about the false confidence you tried to exude.”
“I told you I didn’t want all of it. The kink. The clubs. The-”
“Yet you accept it, embrace it, and enjoy it. You’ve shown me otherwise. I made you come on a dance floor, surrounded by people. You allowed yourself to be completely consumed by the pleasure I was giving you. You allowed my hand to be down your pants in the lobby of a hotel. I fucked your tits, and your tongue lapped at my cock before I was ever inside you. The way you sucked my cock, taking it nearly all into your mouth to please me … and in turn, it pleased you.”
God, I want her, but not now. Not tonight.
“I bound your arms the very first time I fucked you. I licked cream from your body and fucked your pussy with fruit, and then ate it out of you. We’ve done that so often. It’s insanely hot every time.”
She nods.
“I touched an untouched part of you, not giving you too much, allowing you to take what you could handle. I’ve pushed you, and you’ve fucking taken it all.”
Christ, I’m hard.
“There are still times when I need to let you know I’m in control, and times when I need to let go.”
She looks past me and around at the room. I see sadness and possible regret in her eyes.
I cup her chin, bringing her eyes back to me, and smile. “You were right. I need to give up a little control now.”
“No … I mean, yes, but …” She looks around again. “I didn’t want it all to go away. I love feeling the way you make me feel, Zandor Steel.”
“It’ll never go away. But you’re right; our child doesn’t need to be face-to-face with our sex life daily.” I smirk. “I mean, I think maybe we should soundproof our room.”
“Where did it all go? God, I don’t think I want it gone.” She looks shocked and confused by her own statement.
“It’ll never go away, Kitten. But you … You need to go back to the hotel, because—”
“Oh, my God, we’re getting married tomorrow!” She laughs. “I can’t believe you tricked me!”
I shrug. “I love you. I love our child. It was selfish not to consider—”
“You’re not selfish,” she says, hugging me tightly.
“Yes, I am. I’m selfish because I want to watch you smile, and flip through picture books, and talk to our child about the day we married and how beautiful and loved you felt. If we have a little girl, I want her to see how much her mom loves a man deserving of her love.”
I lean in to kiss my wife when I hear Momma clear her throat.
“Busted,” I whisper against her lips.
“Let’s go, Bekah George. You’re getting married tomorrow, young lady,” Momma says in mock annoyance.
To that, Bekah grins.
“We’re really doing this?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes, absolutely.”
EPILOGUE
Standing in front of the small Catholic church my parents dragged us to when we were younger, the one where we said good-bye to our father for the last time, I look beside me.
Xavier is my best man, and my biggest pain in the ass. Next to him is Jase, Cyrus, and Falcon. We are in dark gray tuxes, and yeah, we look fucking good.
The small string section I hired is playing a very slow version of OneRepublic’s “Counting Stars” as the girls start walking down the aisle.
Bella is beaming, and damn does she look older than her age. We will never tell her that she’s walking with X, taking Taelyn’s spot since she wasn’t part of the family when Bekah and I got married.
The sisters-in-law, and then Bekah’s friend Tiffany walk down the aisle next, looking stunning in black.
When I see Bekah, I am floored.
“Fuck me,” I hiss.
“Z, you’re in a church, man,�
� Xavier scolds.
“Well, our Creator made that beautiful woman, so I’m sure He understands,” I say, watching her as she stands at the end of the aisle in a dress that looks like it was made for her. “Momma Joe held back. She didn’t send a picture of that one.”
Bekah’s dad steps to her left and links arms with her. Then I see her mom appear on her right, and they link arms, too.
Bekah visibly sighs, releasing the emotion I know she must be feeling right now. Her parents are never in the same room together, which was ninety percent of the reason we didn’t do it like this to begin with.
“How did you manage that?” Xavier whispers.
“I told them, if they fuck this up for her, they won’t know their grandchild,” I answer honestly. “Didn’t expect them both to walk her down the aisle. That’s a bonus.”
“So, they stay on the Christmas card list?” Xavier jokes.
“No, they finally get added.”
After a very traditional ceremony with lots of photos, we get into the waiting limos. Bekah and I are in our own.
I hold her tight, keeping my lips on the top of her head, knowing that, due to her pregnancy hormones and the emotional day it has been, that’s what she needs.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Thank you for saying yes … again.”
She’s quiet for a moment, seeming a bit tense.
“I love this. I love the reason behind why you did it—for me, for us, for our families—but, Zandor”—she looks up— “I don’t want our vows to negate the promises we made when we got married in Italy.”
My chest swells with pride. “Of course not.”
“And, Zandor …” she says, sitting up and looking really fucking tense now.
“What is it?” I ask in concern.
“I cannot believe you got rid of all our things!”
“I—”
“You could have asked me … at least about that,” she snaps. “I’m not going to want to just go back to before you … kind of sex. I like the way you fuck me and—”
I take her hot, little mouth, my dick now swelling.
Fuck yes, I think as my tongue dominates her mouth.
When I pull back and look at her, she wipes her lips and tries to catch her breath.
“I didn’t get rid of shit,” I tell her. “It’s all in the basement, behind a locked door.”
Her eyes light up. “Thank God,” she breathes.
“Now lay back and let me see that pussy.”
She tries not to smile. Tries.
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THE TWO-NIGHT ONE-NIGHT THREE-WAY
Ryan Ringbloom
1
DRUNK IN LUST
Matthew
High heels click toward me and a sultry blonde unzips her dress, dropping it with a flourish onto the marble floor of the hotel suite. I immediately look away. My enflamed skin must be a close match to the crimson color of her skimpy silk thong. She flicks off the lights, then tugs open the room-darkening drapes, allowing the bright lights of the nearby hotels to fill the room with a flickering neon glow.
“You’re very sexy,” she purrs, moving in closer. I stay stone-faced. There’s a multitude of reasons why her words mean nothing to me. At the top of that long list—Amber, the half-naked woman in front of me, is on the clock. “You look tense. Should we have another drink?”
“No,” I’m quick to spit out. No drinking. A night at home with the woman I loved, two very good bottles of wine, a few shots of Fireball and an inane conversation regarding a sexual bucket list is what landed me here in the first place. Alcohol is most definitely prohibited tonight.
“Well, do you mind if I have one?” She saunters over to the minibar and bends over to sort through the expensive selection inside. She grabs a miniature bottle of Patrón and a small black box. “Vibrators in the mini bar. Vegas hotels are like Boy Scouts, they’re always prepared. This could be fun later.” She tosses a playful glance over my shoulder, pours the small bottle of tequila into a glass, and drinks it straight up.
I back toward the wooden desk, creeping behind it to protect myself from the inevitable. I just need a few more minutes. My mind whirls. This is a nightmare. One I need to wake up from. My shoulders tense as I rest my elbows on the desk and mash my hands into my forehead. Why does stuff like this always happen to me?
Amber approaches from behind and her hands press firmly into my biceps, only causing them to tighten more. She rolls the chair away from the desk, giving it a push so that it swivels, coercing me to face her. Her fingers dig into my shoulders and she spreads her legs, ready to straddle me. Nope. No straddling please. I jump up from my seat, sending her into an ungraceful stumble. “Oh, shit.” I grab her wrist to help steady her. It’s awkward and my grasp is way rougher than I anticipated. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Her words press out through tight lips. She smooths her hair, taking a breath before forcing a smile back onto her face. “A lot of people are nervous their first time.”
My first time. Jesus Christ. She makes it sound like I’m a virgin. And I guess I kind of am. Not to sex… but to this.
“Here, come with me.” She tugs on my collar, dragging me away from my safe place and over to the edge of the bed. Saliva builds in my mouth, nearly choking me as she pushes me to a seated position. Amber kneels in front of me, yanks off my shoe, and tosses it recklessly behind her. I stare longingly at the place where it lands. I want that shoe back. How the hell will I be able to run the fuck away from here without that shoe?
Jesus Christ. It was just a joke. Too much wine and drunken fantasies over pillow talk. I don’t actually want to be here. I don’t actually want to do this. And I should have said so the second the ridiculous discussion of fulfilling our sexual bucket list was brought up.
But I guess I didn’t think she was serious; either that or I have no fucking balls whatsoever. I reach down and adjust my shriveling sac through my jeans. Nope, I have ’em. I just need to figure out how to use them. I mean, I have a fucking ring, for Christ’s sake. I want to marry Holly, spend the rest of my life with her. The last thing I ever wanted was to be here, sitting on this bed, curling my toes in fear at the touch of another woman being paid to fake an hour of pleasure.
“You ready for this?” Amber coos, scraping her acrylic nails across my heel as she removes my sock. No. I’m not ready. I will never be ready. “Okay, sweetie, why don’t you start unbuttoning his shirt so we can get this sexy man out of these clothes?”
A shaky breath comes from behind and the mattress underneath me moves as she inches her way over. Her fingers tremble as they run uneasily over my shoulders. I can’t turn and look at her even though I know she wants me to. This is fucking crazy. I can sense from her uneasiness that she wants me to give her some reassurance. But this is killing me and I can’t.
Amber finishes undressing my feet. She looks to the woman still frozen behind me and sniffs out a giggle. “Come here, gorgeous,” she instructs, reaching out a hand. “Why don’t we get things started?”
I close my eyes, willing this all to end. This was her idea. Not mine. I’m doing this for her. But is this what she really wants? How can it be? What if it isn’t? I need to speak up. Say something before this goes too far. Make it stop.
But when I open my eyes, it’s too late. There stands a hooker kissing my beautiful girlfriend, Holly.
2
THE PANIC ROOM
Holly
She’s taller than me and her nipples mash into the top of my chest as she cradles my
head and her tongue sloshes into my mouth and slurps. Ew. I’m hit with the bitter taste of Patrón on her tongue. At least I’m thankful that the alcohol may be killing any germs.
With a shaky giggle, I detach myself from Amber’s mauling kiss and glance over at Matthew, nervously awaiting what I’m sure will be a horntastic response.
He sits on the edge of the bed, hands folded, eyes fixed on the mosaic pattern built into the floor. Even when I clear my throat, hoping to coax his gaze up, he doesn’t budge. Is it me? Am I screwing this up? Shit. Can he tell how much I hate this?
Damn that drunken night and that stupid-ass fucking list. It was just talk. I’ve never had a threesome. Imagine what it would be like. But then, as usual alcohol had loosened my tongue and my dirty mouth began to spew out the filth. Maybe we could get a blonde to join us… or a redhead. We could suck your dick at the same time. Would you like that, Matthew? She could play with my tits while I ride you.
Me + Booze = Instant whore. Too much wine had me writing fraudulent checks all night, checks the Bank of Holly would never actually cash.
Or so I thought.
But that night the whorish dirty talk had led to sex so hot, I thought for sure we had melted the steel frame of Matthew’s bed. The idea of a threesome was clearly at the top of Matthew’s unfulfilled fantasies. And whereas I know most women would just roll their eyes and be like, sorry pal, those days are done… I can’t.
Matthew has a ring.
I saw it. By accident. Well, sort of by accident. Giving your girlfriend the key to your apartment and then running late from work as often as he does entitles a girl to a little harmless snooping. Doesn’t it?
