by Allie Ritch
“Yes, sir. Well, except for the pasta shells.”
“You a chef?”
Chad beamed at the implied compliment. “No, I work at a recording studio. Fila takes care of most of our dinners, but I enjoy jumping in and cooking sometimes.”
“Delicious.” When it came to food, that was the highest form of praise from my dad. He usually didn’t say anything at all—something my mother made sure to point out to him.
The rest of us echoed his sentiment.
Later, I received the praise for the lemon cake we had for dessert. It was the perfect ending to the meal, and I finally started to relax, though that might have been due to the wine. Charles volunteered himself and Chuck for cleanup duty, and Chad and I spent another forty minutes visiting with my parents before we showed them up to the guest room.
“Fila.” At the doorway, my mother motioned for me to stay behind for a private word.
“I’ll be right there,” I told my husband.
Mom watched until Chad disappeared down the hallway and closed the door of the master bedroom behind him. Then she turned back to me.
“I don’t care for his long hair, but I admit he’s handsome.” She looked at me from beneath neatly plucked eyebrows. “All those muscles—I can see he keeps himself fit. He’s employed full-time, he’s sophisticated, and he knows how to cook and take care of things around the house. You have a good man there.”
It took a moment for me to get over my surprise enough to respond. “Thanks, Mom. I think so too.”
“Mm-hmm. He’s the one you should keep.”
My little bubble of joy burst. “I plan on keeping him, Mom. Him and Charles and Chad. They’re all my husbands.”
That earned me a sour look before my father distracted her with a question about where he’d packed his toothbrush. I used the diversion to make my escape.
Free at last, I returned to the master suite and flopped face-first on the bed. Chad had already changed into pajama bottoms. He crawled over me and straddled my hips so he could massage my shoulders.
“That went well,” he said.
“Better than I expected, though I could have done without the last part.”
His hands froze. “Why? What did your mother say?”
“Don’t worry, hon.” I reached back to give the side of his leg a reassuring pat. “My mom is quick to judge. Apparently she’s already decided she likes you. She told me you’re a keeper—the implication being I should divorce Charles and Chad.”
“Oh no.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” I let out a hard sigh. “Thank you for dinner, by the way. You did a wonderful job.”
He flicked my hair aside and kissed the back of my neck. It occurred to me he’d been on his feet even longer than I had.
“You know, you’re the one who deserves a massage.” I pushed up and waited for him to move aside so I could face him. “Here. Stretch out.”
“Yeah?” He moved into position, exposing the long expanse of his back and nape.
I had to splay my legs wide enough to accommodate his hips, using his firm derriere as a cushion. The position was intimate but not sexual. Although our lovemaking was fantastic, innocent moments like this were what I enjoyed most about being married. I liked that I had the right to touch this gorgeous man whenever I chose.
Chad’s skin was warm beneath my kneading hands, and I could feel how tight his muscles were. Sometimes I forgot how ripped he really was. The physically strongest of my three husbands was also the gentlest, the sexy outer package eclipsed by his poetic soul. I found the combination appealing.
Deepening the massage, I worked his shoulders to loosen him up and give him some relief. His blissful groan was all the reward I needed. I kept it up until I heard Charles and Chuck enter the bedroom. Then I let my hands trail down to his lower back as I twisted around to look at them.
“House is all locked up,” Chuck announced. He was already kicking off his shoes and untucking his shirt.
“And the dishwasher is loaded,” Charles added. “It looks like we survived dinner just fine. I like your father, Fila. He may have retired from the workforce, but he hasn’t lost touch. Of course, I’ll have to withhold judgment until I see him on the golf course.”
Charles had already removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves earlier. Now he loosened his tie and slipped it free of his collar. He met my gaze as he pulled his shirttails free and began popping open the buttons.
“Giving massages, are we? Do I get one too, or is this a private party?”
I tried to smile, but my yawn ruined the effect. “How about I give you and Chuck a rain check? I’m half-asleep already.”
“Me too.” Chuck finished stripping down to his boxer shorts and stretched so hard I heard his joints pop.
Charles kept his gaze fixed on me as he undid his belt with one hand. He wore a resigned grin. “In that case, I’ll accept a rain check for more than one pleasurable activity. Come on. Up you go.” He walked over and plucked me off Chad’s backside to set me on my feet. “Time to get ready for bed.”
“So bossy,” I muttered, but I was glad. I needed help getting over my inertia enough to go change into my nightgown.
Chuck teased me with promises about my dream bathroom as the three of us took turns using the single sink. I brushed my teeth on autopilot and barely had my eyelids cracked open by the time I came back out. Chad climbed into bed first and lifted the covers to welcome me into his arms. Chuck was next, flopped out in that careless way of his. I would have felt bad for Charles, as if he was left out in the cold, except my bossy husband liked to take the edge—the easiest position to get to when he slipped in after late nights of corporate wheeling and dealing.
Although oblivion beckoned, I forced myself to sit up again. Leaning over Chad, I laid a big smack right on Charles’s lips. “Charles, I love you.”
Then I repeated the process with my second husband. “Chuck, I love you.”
Pressed against me, my third husband wore a soft expression.
“Chad,” I told him, “I love you.”
I received a chorus of “I love you’s” in return.
All was right with my world. Cuddling between my favorite men, I drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Nine
Chad woke me the next morning with a rousing French kiss. Between my legs.
I wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it or how he’d even pushed up my nightie and gotten me positioned without waking me, but my vagina was sopping wet and swollen by the time I came to with a gasp. His body created a mountain beneath the sheet. My knees formed the peaks on either side of his head since he’d thrown my legs over his shoulders. I pushed back the covering so I could see him and speared my fingers through his silky curls.
As I watched, he flicked his jade eyes up to look at me through his lashes and puckered his skillful lips around my clit to suck me. I kicked my head back into the pillow and groaned before I could stop myself. Then I remembered my parents were right here in the house with us.
“You have to stop.”
In response, Chad swept the flat of his tongue up my slit and circled my clit again.
“Ah!” I bit my lip and bucked my hips. “Please. My parents will hear us.”
This time he let me pull his head away, though he wore a quizzical expression.
“We’re married, my love. I assume your parents know we have sex.”
“Not with them right here in the house.” The idea was mortifying. And frankly, I wasn’t sure my father had figured out that little fact of life. To him, I was still his little girl.
He slid up my body to kiss my mouth, letting me taste my arousal on his lips and tongue. “You’ll have to be quiet, then. We’ll have respectable, missionary-style sex like good little newlyweds.”
“Chad, that’s not—” Whatever I was going to say was overridden by my moan.
In a single move, he shoved down his pajama bottoms and notched his morning hard-on against my opening. H
e slipped his cock inside me with a smooth, luscious stroke. Once hilted, he held still, giving me time to stretch and cream to accommodate him. He used the pause to worship my breasts with his hands and mouth.
“‘A woman waits for me,’” he said, quoting the Walt Whitman poem by that name. He spoke the words in a hot whisper against my breast as he drew back his hips. “You’re the only woman I want, Fila. I cherish every day and night I find you waiting for me in our home, in our bed.” His return thrust was slow and deep.
I clutched his buttocks for purchase. It felt as if I’d fly apart if I didn’t hold on to him.
“‘Without shame the woman I like knows and avows’ the ‘deliciousness’ of her sex. You should never be ashamed of us or the pleasure we share.”
I was beyond shame now. Chad rode me with well-oiled pumps of his cock, making sure to penetrate me fully with every incursion. He filled me near to bursting, my pussy a taut ring around the base of his cock. The glide of his shaft felt so good I caught myself holding my breath every time he retreated, anticipating his snug return. Meanwhile, he kept talking, reciting bits of the naughty poem until his words aroused me as much as his pillaging erection.
Chad picked up his pace and added a little shimmy of his hips to stir himself inside me. “‘I am for you, and you are for me, not only for our own sake, but for others’ sakes…’”
For his sake, he’d better finish what he’d started. We may have been in a “respectable” missionary position, but I felt wild and desperate. Preliminaries to my climax—hard ripples up and down my sheath that made my muscles latch on to his stony length—had me aching for that final moment of completion.
Chad’s control rivaled Charles’s today. Although he sounded breathless and grunted between lines, he still had enough brainpower left to speak. He picked up speed and force, taking me for a final ride.
I spread my thighs wider to accept him and keened under the pounding. “Please!” I was almost there. Just a few more strokes.
He released a strangled laugh and took my head in his hands so I had no choice but to meet his direct gaze. “‘I listen to no entreaties, / I dare not withdraw till I deposit what has so long accumulated within me. / Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself.’”
I had a split second to see his green eyes gloss over and go blind with pleasure. Then, just as he stiffened and began to come, the dam broke inside me. Only his mouth capturing mine muffled my scream as my womb shuddered and clenched. I swore we climaxed together at the exact same time. Each gush of his ejaculate seemed to pour from his cock in sync with the sucking convulsions of my channel.
I lost track of how many reps my intimate muscles executed. The final contractions of my orgasm seemed to happen in slow motion, twice as strong as the others. Heat bathed my inner recesses as my husband finished draining his river of cum.
It took a conscious effort to unclench my muscles enough to loosen my hold on him. The twinges in my thighs made me bite my lower lip.
Chad withdrew and shifted to my side, still so close we were stretched full length against each other. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “That was beautiful.”
I was too out of breath to answer with anything but a smile. The humble tenderness I saw in his expression was almost too much for my heart to handle.
He ran one finger along my jawline. “We came together, mon amour.”
“In more ways than one,” I said.
“True.” He rested his hand on my hip to keep me close.
When my senses finally recovered from the overload of bliss, I glanced around and confirmed we were alone in the bedroom. Charles, of course, must have left early for his golf game. I checked the clock and saw I’d slept later than I’d intended.
I faced Chad again. “You’re usually the first one downstairs in the morning. I’m surprised you stayed in bed.”
“I couldn’t resist.” He kissed my lips with an echo of heat. “Besides, I thought it better to linger and let Chuck go down first so he can spend some time with Minnie. I’m flattered your mother likes me, but this is about all of us. She needs to see how great he and Charles are too.”
That might have been smart thinking except for one thing. “My mom is up?” Of course she was. My mother was always an early riser. “And Chuck is the only one with her? He can’t fix anything for breakfast except scrambled eggs and cereal.”
I bolted upright and scrabbled out of bed, nearly unmanning Chad in the process.
“Was your mother expecting a gourmet breakfast?” He followed me into the bathroom and watched as I raced through a shower. “This isn’t a culinary competition, Fila. I’m sure Minnie found something to eat, and the important thing is that Chuck gets to spend some one-on-one time with her. When Charles and Art get back from golf, I’m hoping to have the same with your father. I really haven’t gotten to talk to him as much as I’d like.”
I jumped out and dried off so fast I nearly buffed my skin off. “Trust me, honey. My dad isn’t the one you have to worry about.”
Chad shot me a look, but he must have realized further discussion was useless. He gave me a quick kiss before I bolted for the closet.
I arrived downstairs in record time and followed the soft drone of voices to the kitchen. Instead of finding my mom and husband huddled over cereal bowls in the breakfast nook, I discovered them standing in front of the kitchen window deep in conversation. They didn’t notice me, so I cleared my throat.
“Good morning.”
“Hi, hon.” Chuck turned to me with a welcoming grin. “Minnie and I were discussing the yard.”
“The yard?” I was sure I must not have heard him right.
My mom answered for him. “I was advising Chuck on the best place for a swing set in the yard. You weren’t born yet when your father put up the first swing set for your brother. He positioned it too close to Mrs. Stankova’s fence. I can still remember watering the garden and hearing a thud before little Josef started wailing. It was nothing but a bruise, but I was sure he’d cracked his head open. I gave Art what for and told him to move the set before he got our son killed. You can never be too careful. Not that I believe in childproofing everything in sight, mind you. My grandchildren know the difference between their things and Grandma’s things. It’s all a matter of rules and consequences.”
“Okay.” I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. “What’s this about a swing set? Oh, does Joe want to visit with the kids?”
“Have you invited him?”
Although my mom kept her tone neutral, I sensed the reprimand. I hadn’t invited any of my relatives to my wedding or my house—a fact she wasn’t going to let me forget anytime soon. The simple question made me feel guilty.
“Not yet,” I admitted, “but I’d love to have him and the family here soon.”
“We want to get the renovations done first.” Chuck jumped in to save me.
“Mmm.” Mom’s expression didn’t change, but she didn’t argue. “It looks like you’ve almost finished. This house will be a great home for children. Chuck already showed me which room you plan to use for the nursery, which is what got us talking about toys and swing sets. I look forward to having more grandchildren.”
“Whoa, I—”
“We’ve got the space for it in the backyard,” my husband said. “It’s just a matter of positioning. Chad also wants an herb garden so we can have fresh seasoning, but I’m thinking we could put that in the side yard.”
“Hold on.” I threw up my hand and tried to breathe though my heart palpitations. “I realize you’re excited about this, but aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves? We agreed children are a few years off.”
Several expressions flitted across Chuck’s face.
My mother nodded. “You’re wise to wait.”
“What?” Chuck and I blurted the word at the same time.
I couldn’t believe she’d sided with me, and my husband had clearly expected her to push for grandbabies too.
/> “Why do you say that, Minnie?” He looked at her like she was the head matriarch, which I suppose she was.
“You’re still young. There’s no rush. Having children is the biggest commitment you’ll ever make. Besides, there are benefits to being a more mature parent. What you may lose in energy, you’ll make up for in patience and life experience. I was a much better parent with my second, third, and fourth children than with the first. All that on-the-job training, yes, but I grew up too. Art and I were just kids when we started out.” She got a faraway expression, coupled with a small smile.
My parents had become…well, parents, when they were in their early twenties. Although that wasn’t unusual, I remembered what I’d been like at that age. Now that I was in my thirties, that seemed very young to me.
“Good points.” I was glad to have the support, especially since I could see Chuck was giving serious thought to what she’d said. Wanting to get off the topic of babies, I clapped my hands. “So did you two eat yet, or should I make something?”
“I’ve only had espresso. Your…Charles offered me some before he and Art left for their golf game.” She released a put-upon sigh. “It’s amazing how much time grown men can waste hitting a silly little ball.”
Bracing myself for the usual tirade about my dad and golf, I proceeded to pull out the frying pan to make omelets for us. Since only four of us were home, we could fit at the table in the breakfast nook, which Chuck set while I handled the cooking. I sent him to fetch Chad so we could eat.
My mom paused in her antigolf harangue as soon as Chuck left the room. “I like him.”
“Chuck?” I smiled. “Me too.”
“He was so cute this morning. After Art and Charles left, he offered me my choice of toast or cereal. He’s just like your father. Handy around the house, but useless in the kitchen. I bet he burns everything too.”
“Except when he grills.” I answered on autopilot, distracted by her about-face. So now an inability to cook was cute, not the act of a helpless pet?
“Chuck is going to be a great father someday,” she continued. “You should have heard him talking about his dreams of a family. And he clearly adores you. Oh, he doesn’t come right out and say it like that. Men like him and your father never do, but he’d be lost without you.”
