by Julia Kent
When had she become “that woman,” the one who wasn’t interested? Every sex toy you could imagine had once lived in her bedside table, and her rich inner fantasy world had created sex positions that just plain old defied the laws of physics. She, Mike and Dylan had collectively explored about half of those—and now...nothing. She was happy to please them, but not really interested in being pleased.
Why? What had changed?
Within five minutes, Mike was pulling in to a small driveway at the edge of the ski resort. “What’s this?” she asked, curious. “I thought we were going in to the city for the night.”
“It’s a surprise,” he said in a low, suggestive voice. As the road narrowed, the brown leaves clinging to trees that should have released their burden by now, large pines appeared, tall and foreboding.
And then—a tiny cabin, the size of a turret, with a winding staircase around the outside. Made of unfinished timber, it looked like a fairy cottage, delicate and sturdy all at once, like a handcrafted home out of a fantasy movie.
“What is this?” she marveled. The cabin was two stories, but small. A wall of glass faced south, and she could see a small deck near what appeared to be the front door. On the deck sat a wooden hot tub, like something you’d see in Finland.
“A new property for the resort. We’re testing out little eco-cabins, to see if we can encourage ski tourism.”
The Jeep came to a halt and they piled out.
“And this is where we’re staying? Boy, this sure is remote,” she said, intrigued. The driveway was a good eighth of a mile, and as she scanned the full circle of the site, there wasn’t any sign of civilization as far as she could see. The cabin itself almost seemed to have sprung up out of nature, Laura’s view took in the timber steps, made from solid logs cut to fit, and the solar panels on the roof.
“Solar?”
“I said it was an eco-cabin,” Mike reminded her. “We have electricity, running water, and a grey water recycling system.”
“Is there a bathroom?”
“Yep. No worries. It has all the luxuries!” he assured her. A deck light glowed and she realized how close to winter they were. It was just barely 4pm and already dusk was settling in. They had to be back at 10am tomorrow. An image of Jillian hit her, how soft her skin was, how her chubby fists felt in Laura’s hair.
“We have everything we could possibly need,” Dylan added, a bit cryptically, hefting some luggage in each hand. Mike grabbed a bag as well, his other hand reaching into his front pocket. Watching him fumble and dig for the keys, Laura saw ample evidence of just how excited Mike was for this night. The two men emptied the Jeep in two trips. Laura hung back as they finished unloading, joining Mike on the front deck when they were done; Dylan remained inside. Mike’s arm slid about her waist, confirming what his jeans had already hinted: this night was planned as a sexfest.
Mike gave her a look of warmth, love and teasing that made her toes tingle and—for one lovely, fleeting second—she felt transformed. All her worries and insecurities disappeared as if desiccated and blown away on the wind, carried off like dust she needn’t ever worry about. The thought of making love with him made her body rev up reflexively…
But her mind quickly ground to a screeching halt. Sex was the last thing she wanted to want. As if dragging her limbs through concrete, she moved toward him, a sense of dread and angst filling her. She wasn’t supposed to feel like this! Making love was what she was supposed to want, right? Stalling for time, she pretended she was still admiring the cabin. She noted there were no curtains on any windows, and why would they need them?
They were completely isolated. Only a deer or a fox would see them if they walked around nude.
Poor deer. Wouldn’t want to see me naked, either, she thought, and then clamped down on the negative words. Stop it! This intrusive voice wouldn’t stop cutting her down, and she wished desperately she could spend the night curled up with her eReader, even here. The only time the voice went away was when she kept her mind occupied with books. Crawling into someone else’s sensual world, where the hero and heroine possessed so many faults, and love overcame all...
“Hey,” Mike said gently, unlocking his knees to level himself with her, hands cradling her face. “What’s going on inside that gorgeous head?”
Panic kicked in to high gear. How could she admit what she was feeling? Impossible. She didn’t want him to doubt that she loved them. Or wanted them. Or needed them. But how could she say what she was really experiencing? The fissures in their relationship that this kind of revelation would bring were just too dangerous.
Better to keep it to herself.
A shaky, deep breath and she caught his eyes, making herself fake a brightness and freedom she definitely did not feel. “Just…thinking about Jillian.” Not a lie. Well, not...technically.
“You can think about her tomorrow,” he said in a dark, steamy voice, his lips taking hers. His hands were on her, fingers sinking in to her waist, lips owning her and then his tongue seeking to find her, all the motion so fast she felt a fire flare within, making every cell warm instantly.
As his tongue traced her teeth and his arms tightened around her, whatever train of thought she had until that moment died quickly. Melting into his arms, she was dimly aware of a light vanilla and sandalwood aroma mixing with the taste of Mike, making her wonder… Their sex life as a triad had morphed over the past year. Sometimes she slept with Mike. Sometimes Dylan. Sometimes both. No one seemed to get jealous or bitter or angry: they made it all up as they went along. Often if she was with one of them like this, the other would join in, a second set of warm hands were on her, always very welcome if not expected. A flash of memory, of Dylan’s palm on the small of her back, then riding down to grasp her ass, made her smile through Mike’s kiss, which seemed to ignite him. Her mind began to nag more and more insistently, urging her to note the absence of Dylan’s hands on her, and finally made her break away from Mike and ask, “Dylan? What is he—?”
Smiling, Mike pushed the door to the cabin open. As she turned, she saw the answer.
Candles.
Hundreds of them. Dylan had been lighting them, encircling the interior of the round little house, a glow that warmed her further. How precious. How startling and wonderful. As dusk settled in out here on the deck, the warmth the candles cast over the interior made the cabin seem like a sanctuary.
She and Mike stepped through the door just as Dylan crossed by it, pecking a quick kiss on her as he walked past, his target the fireplace. The care they’d taken to set up this moment made her appreciate both men.
Mike stared down at her, eyes ablaze. “Some wine?”
“I’d love some,” she replied, giving his arm a caress of thanks, of affection, of appreciation. She took in the rest of the interior. Sexfest, indeed. The bed was enormous—bigger than a California King—and dead center in the middle of the circular room. A cream-colored net, suspended from the ceiling, draped down over the huge, down-comforter-covered mattress, more pillows sprinkled about than an entire Bed, Bath and Beyond could even contain. Underneath the scented candles’ perfume, the room smelled like the fresh cedar the cabin was made of, a scent of comfort.
Mike brought her a shining wine glass half full of a lovely rosé. She gulped half down without thinking and he chuckled. Eschewing alcohol because she was nursing, she hadn’t had more than a sip here and there since Jillian had been born. Drinking so much so fast would hit her hard. Loosening up couldn’t hurt, right? “Same old Laura,” Mike laughed. Her lack of appreciation for good wine had been a joke when they’d met, and now it was a running tease between them.
The answering laugh came out of her unbidden, her muscles relaxing, the room like something out of a fantasy, all a pale, creamy glow, with the darkened forest peeking in through the wide windows like a protective mother, tree branches embracing the tall, circular building. It really felt as if this cabin had grown out of the ground like a tree, the knots in the wood visibl
e in the walls, the scent of cedar filling the room.
Laura sipped the rest of her glass and said nothing when Mike, after pouring a glass for Dylan, refilled hers without asking. The three stood and faced the large picture window, eyes unfocused and lost in the splendor of the view as the dusky, pink-streaked sky faded with a sepia tone.
It was the most time she’d spent just being with them since the baby had been born.
The baby. Jillian. Motherhood. For a short half hour she’d somehow pushed all thoughts of the baby aside and taken halting steps toward just being Laura again.
And it had felt good.
Reproach and guilt poured in. She batted it away. Jillian was fine. Fine. Alex and Josie could manage just fine.
Fine.
And she still felt good. She felt damn good.
Speaking of things that felt good...Dylan’s arm found its way around her waist and he kissed her neck, the scent of wine and citrus mixed with his earthy, spicy aftershave. A deep inhale and another kiss, this one below her ear, and she felt her heart pick up, her body responding with a finely-tuned keening that made her feel empty, wanting him in her. The sudden rush of warmth and eagerness surprised her, making her smile, for it also pleased her.
Maybe more of the old Laura remained than just her wine cluelessness.
Maybe she really could find her way back, for one night, to the way they were.
Dylan turned her toward him, finished his glass of wine in one big swig, and with a tight power in his face that she would have thought was anger if she didn’t know otherwise, reached for her hand. He pulled her toward the bed. He didn’t ask.
This wasn’t up for discussion.
Mike—to Laura’s deep amusement—finished the rest of his wine with an audible gulp and joined them. The air in the room was suddenly cold and hot at once, the candles making the bed seem to float in the middle of the room. Acutely aware of every muscle in Dylan’s hand, the way the hair at the top of his chest peeked out from the V of his shirt, how Mike’s tall, lean body cast a shadow in the ever-darkening room, Laura felt transported. Loved. Wanted.
Desired.
Four hands made ready work of removing her clothes as Laura closed her eyes, so vulnerable and accustomed to the two men, yet hesitant and a bit shy. Dylan eased her heathered-lilac shirt up over her head, hands sending the shirt to the ground, then cupping her full breasts with a sense of want she could feel in her core, her body tightening and opening at the same time, ready for what he so desperately seemed to want to give. Mike’s fingers pulled at the zipper at her waist, letting her skirt drop to the ground. She slid her shoes off, now in her panties and bra, hating how awkward and self-conscious she felt.
It had been so long. Her fault, entirely—Mike and Dylan had asked plenty of times for more sex, though over the last month they’d backed off, probably tired of her endless rejections.
Mind looping with all these thoughts, she couldn’t just relax.
Even worse, she struggled to hide that fact. Because who gets uptight and awkward around the men you’ve pledged to love forever? Their bond was sacred, the three connected and forged into one soul, it seemed. If Laura had been told two years ago that she would soon meet two protectors who would love her forever and unconditionally, and would give her the greatest gift ever in baby Jillian, she would have scoffed at the sheer impossibility of such a life.
Yet here she was, now, living it. With Mike’s intense eyes raking over her nearly-nude form, Dylan’s hands effortlessly unclasped her bra, sending shivers down her spine as he moved the lingerie across her shoulders and let it slide, useless and unwanted, to the ground.
She froze, and it wasn’t from cold. Looking at Dylan, Mike frowned and reached down, one arm going under her knees, the other under her neck and then—she was in his arms.
“Put me down!” she gasped, impressed by the feel of hard muscle against the back of her knees. You would think she weighed nothing, the way he held her, as if she were a hundred pounds lighter.
“I’m about to,” he murmured in her ear, eyes closed off, making her feel unsettled. What was this? Depositing her on the bed, Mike nodded to Dylan, who appeared at the headboard with a small box, the size of a laptop computer.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
And then silk scarves appeared, the same color as the netting that surrounded her now that she was on top of the down comforter. The feel of the feather bed beneath her nude skin was like being reborn, the comfort and sensuality a balm that cut through her trepidation.
“What’s this?”
“You tell us,” Mike said, sitting on the bed next to her. A chill poured over her exposed skin, knees bent and thighs pulled up against her waist. One nipple stretched, lazy and languid, toward the bed spread, her body on display for her fully-clothed and—she now saw—very determined men.
“Tell you...what?” she asked, sitting up, pulling her knees to her chest. This felt wrong. Different. Not what she’d expected.
Dylan fingered a silver silk scarf, pulling it between his fingers, the action so powerful and suggestive she found herself licking her lips for no conscious reason. “Shall I be Gideon?” he asked, looking at Mike.
“Sure. And I can be Cooper.”
Fuck.
They knew.
“Been reading my eReader?” she squeaked, taking a stab in the dark.
Dylan snapped the silk like a cord, making not so much a sound, but a gesture that left her confused. He didn’t answer her question, but instead asked one of his own, dark hair mussed, mahogany eyes bold and in control. “Do you want a contract?”
“Contract?” Laura repeated, brain on fire.
“And a safeword?” Mike crooned.
“A what—?”
“Because Laura,” Mike said, interrupting, his own hands now filled with a different silk scarf, this one bright, China red, “we’re the ones who should be your book boyfriends.”
“And only us,” Dylan growled.
Book boyfriend? How did they know that term? How did they know what she’d been reading? Did they read her eReader and find all those erotic romances on it? Gideon? That meant they’d read Sylvia Day’s BDSM books. Cooper? The extraordinary Dom? Oh, God—they’d found Their Virgin Princess—and oh, holy mother of—what was Mike pulling out of that box?
Was that a vibrating butt plug and a bottle of lube?
Uhhhh. Her mind went blank. Completely, hopelessly empty.
Both men now sat on opposite sides of her, twenty throw pillows in various hues of cream piled around them, the netting thrown back so that they lived in a little bubble. A tense, sexually-charged bubble of her own making.
“So, I can draw up a contract if you’d like,” Dylan said.
“Why would I want—”
“Because, Laura.” Mike cut in, his face serious. “You’re getting every fantasy tonight. Right now. Here. You get to have ultimate control by handing over every shred of it to us.”
Every cell in her body turned from hot to cold, her skin like a live wire.
“I don’t—they’re just books,” she laughed, her voice tinny and utterly unconvincing. The promise of what they were offering was readable on their faces, both men hard and ready to play out what she’d only read. What they, too, had read. It made her wet to think about it, and she squirmed, trying not to be obvious. “Just something to read while I’m bored,” she choked out.
“We won’t make this boring,” Dylan whispered in her ear, making her jolt. They were serious. This was real. What they offered her was...
Impossible.
Neither of them had shown the slightest inkling of interest in BDSM in the bedroom before. Why now? What was this?
“I, I’m sure you won’t,” she stumbled, face bright red with a flush of embarrassment and incredulity, breasts smashed against her knees, her panties her only clothing, “but we don’t need this to be intimate,” she said, her voice trailing into a hush as she gestured toward the box by Mi
ke’s hand.
“We don’t need it,” Mike agreed. “But you want it.”
“I never said that!”
“You didn’t have to.”
An excited rush of embarrassment filled her. Telling her deepest desires to Mike and Dylan should be part of their relationship, right? If you can’t share that central part of yourself with the person(s) you choose to spend the rest of your life with, then who can you share it with? Inhibition was normal; being mildly shy and a bit hesitant made sense, because sexual fantasy was a funny thing. Dreams and wishes didn’t have to make sense. They were hers. And if they asked too much of her guys, or seemed silly or self-indulgent or—her greatest fear—were something they found unappealing, then the risk of asking and being rejected was too much.
Letting the mind wander to places where you lost all control, where a man wanted to dominate your body and completely pull your sexual strings muscle by muscle, gasp by gasp, was a kind of world that she should be able to access with a single request to her men.
So why was it so hard to look Mike in the eye right now? Or to even glance at Dylan? They offered her a willingness to give her some wonderful sex play that she’d been too...something...to request.
And now...they’d read her mind.
Or, at least, her eReader.
“Laura,” Dylan said gently. “We love you. We want you. We desire you. Tonight isn’t just about the sex. It’s about being intimate and feeling whole with you.” He took her chin in his hand and tipped her eyes up to meet his, pupils dilated and so full of heat she felt her skin tingle. “When I touch you, the connection makes me feel like a better Dylan. Stronger, more real. And when the three of us are together, we go places none of us can go as individuals.”
“Let us make love to you the way you want to be loved,” Mike added, stroking her back.
Bzzzz. The sound of a phone interrupted before Laura could answer. Her phone. The phone! Jillian! Something was wrong with the baby. Laura’s sexual self died in half a second as Mommy Brain kicked in.
