by Jess Bentley
“You know that’s not true,” Emmet objects. I shoot him a look to beg him to be quiet. I know he’s feeling the urgency, but she’s in there. She’s just… I don’t know. Cautious? Worried it all might have meant something after all?
“This is supposed to be over,” she says weakly.
“It is not,” I reply automatically. It’s far too late for that now.
She finally looks at me, really looks. Her eyes fill up with hot tears that tremble on her lower lids, spilling immediately onto her cheeks.
“We had an agreement,” she continues, but I can hear the uncertainty in her voice. “It’s done. The deal is done.”
Emmet leans in, catching her eye again. His hands slide up her legs just to feel her, I know. Just to pull her back from wherever she’s gone.
“Deals get renegotiated all the time, Bella. This isn't over. Not by a long shot.”
“Just pick,” I offer.
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
“Write the end of the story,” I suggest. “Who are we now? Do you really just want to walk away? Like nothing ever happened? Like we’re not in a ‘talking relationship’ or anything?”
“What does that mean?” Emmet interrupts.
“Never mind,” I brush him off. “Come on, Bella. Maybe this started as mission, but… I feel it. Emmet does too. I think you do too.”
She looks at him with questions. “You feel it?”
He shrugs. “Oh, yeah. I’m completely undone around you, Bella. All I can do is ‘feel it.’”
“Oh,” she chuckles, sniffling. Her small smile gives me hope.
“It’s all up to you, fairy princess,” I assure her. “You write the story. You get to decide how it ends.”
Chapter 41
Bella
Far down the beach, I almost think I see them. The sand is hazy, the heat moving the air back and forth so that it's hard to tell where the ocean ends and the land begins. Here, I can listen to the sound of the waves, the cries of the birds, and the wind through the grasses that line the sheer white cliffs at the back end of the beach.
Mountains rise high in the distance, green and drastic, lush and dangerous all at the same time. Everything in New Zealand is just a little bit more extreme, more magical. We've gone days without even seeing another person, just sheep and odd-looking bugs and strange sounds at night.
Emmet adores it. Dillon is… Well, he's being a good sport about it. Every few days we trek back to Dunedin and explore the nightlife, let people recognize us, and generally do whatever we want. It seems to satisfy his urge for spectacle.
I hold their hands, both of them. We kiss, sometimes rudely, in front of everyone. New Zealanders aren't overly polite. They take pictures, make jokes and comments, egg us on. They love the American celebrities being so transgressive right in front of them. In a way, they seem to feel like they own us a little bit, since we were so careful until we got here.
And I do wonder what's going on back home, but not enough to try to find out. We've only got a few days left of our no cell phone oath. Afterward, we will find out everything. We won’t be able to avoid it. Every hashtag, every pictorial, everything that Hannah freaked out about since we've been gone. What Xavier at Random House thinks of my book, if it hasn’t been taken for a movie deal first.
But for now, it's just us in our own gorgeous, private heaven. Anything we want to do, we do. There’s no one here to tell us otherwise. And so we are going to do it.
It's them. I'm sure of it now. They’re on horses, cantering calmly along the wet sand, firmly packed by the water. The third man rides between between them on another, darker horse.
I stretch out on the hammock, flexing my fingers, flexing my toes. These moments of serenity, when I'm by myself with my thoughts, calm and happy… I've never felt this way before. I'm safe. Without the cell phones, there's no chatter to interrupt that feeling. I'm suntanned and satisfied. Filled with emotions that I simply let roll through me like the waves on the ocean, inky blue to jade green. One right after another they come, unceasing, as warm and salty as you can imagine.
At they draw closer, I leave the hammock and step to the edge of the canopy, shading my eyes at my hand and waving happily. I see Emmet wave back at me. He may have been watching me this whole time. He does that.
He's a whole other kind of person here. Not different, just so much more. In Chicago, so much of him was always longing for privacy and the freedom to be the man he is. What I knew of him there was the only part he thought he could show. Here, he’s downright silly. He's sexy and funny and romantic. He's perfect.
Dillon is eager to get back, I can tell, but not because he misses it. He's looking forward, thinking of all the things we will do together. There’s a whole world for us to explore, full of cities and sights and tastes. People to meet. And he is excited to share it with me, he tells me, spinning out tales of all the places we’ll go. All the parties, all the good food and music. All for me.
Little old me. Bella and her beasts. Cinderella with a twist.
As they advance, my heart begins to beat faster, just like every time. I can't wait to touch them again, to hear their voices and taste their soft and hungry kisses. I'm on fire constantly, gradually learning how to mount my desires and emotions, like riding a horse — the one that Hannah was probably referring to when she said I didn't know how to handle men.
Seems she's going to be surprised.
“You're back!” I call out when they’re close enough to hear me. It makes them happy. That's all I want.
They swing down from their horses, looping the reins around the support posts of the enclosure. Dressed all in white, trousers and open neck cotton shirts, they look like they have just stepped out of a fairytale. They're both smiling at me, deeply and truly, sunburnt with dimples that stretch all the way up to their eyes.
“Of course we’re back,” Dillon grins. “Had to come get our Princess.”
“Deacon Burberry,” the third man says, offering me his handshake. His New Zealander accent is clipped and charming.
I glance at Dillon, wondering how he found a religious leader to perform the ceremony. As though he knows exactly what I'm thinking, Dillon just winks at me. He is the master of the spectacle, the magician, always.
“You got the rings?” Deacon Burberry asks Emmet, who nods and plunges his hand into his pocket, drawing out two gold rings with diamonds as big as pearls.
“You could see these from space, pretty sure. Lost the receipt, too,” he quips.
“Perfect,” the Deacon says. “Let's just get in the water, then. Up to our ankles, sounds good. Let's just bring mother nature right into the middle of it, yeah?”
“Yes, let's,” I agree, charmed and dazzled.
Emmet and Dillon stand on either side of me, taking my hands. They lead me forward and as our toes breach the first wave, I can feel how right this is. Deacon Burberry walks backward in front of us, grinning like a fool, his curly, sandy, salty hair falling over his sky-blue eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, right to there,” the Deacon smiles.
Dillon squeezes my hand, and I look up at him smiling, then swivel my head to look up at Emmet too. My two beautiful billionaires. My two, perfect, fairytale princes, here to make some more magic.
“All right then,” the Deacon begins. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to formalize the union of these two fine lads and this beautiful lady. Are we all agreed?”
“Yes, we certainly are,” we all laugh, offering variations on our agreement.
“Outstanding,” he continues. “Emmet Riordan, do you take this lady to be your wedded lass, now and forever, until the sea dries up under our feet?”
The sun is behind him, haloing his hair as he smiles down on me.
“I do,” he answers softly.
“Well that's settled,” Deacon smirks. “And do you, Dillon Riordan, take this fine lady to be your wedded last now and forever, until the damn sea dries up under your feet too?”
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I stare at him, noting his glistening eyes, his unabashed smile. I feel his love pouring down on me like rain.
“You bet I do,” he answers without a moment’s hesitation.
“And now you, darling… Do you, Isabella Dolores Cage, take both of these fine, strong Riordan boys as your husbands, equal in your love and respect, for all the rest of your days?”
“I do!” It comes out by itself. As does the mist that springs to my eyes.
The Deacon holds up his hands, arms out, as each wave splashes around his muscled calves.
“Then by the power vested in me, by God and nature and all of whatnot, I pronounce thee married! All three of you! Congratulations!”
Emmet kisses me first, laughing into my lips and hugging me so hard he squeezes the air out of me. Thoughtfully, he releases me so Dillon can kiss me as well, not quite before I’m able to catch my breath. I nuzzle his stubbly cheeks and neck, and he puts one hand on the small of my back and kisses my hair, and finally my lips.
For a few minutes we stand there, laughing in the surf, trying to get our heads around what's just happened. The Deacon salutes us as he gets back on his horse and rides off, wishing us well and hoping that we have lots of babies, he says.
“Can I call you Isabella now?” Dillon asks when he catches his breath.
“Um, I think you better not!” I protest. “Nobody has called me that since I was eleven. I didn't like it then, and I don't like it now.”
“Oh, Bella suits her better, don't you think?” Emmet smirks, swooping down for another sweet, lingering kiss. “But… How ’bout Dolores? Can I call you Dolores every once in a while?”
I sigh, giving up. “Fine… if it makes you happy.”
“You bet it does,” he smiles.
The sun is hot and bright, and under the enclosure we find the champagne in the small, vintage metal cooler, the plastic glasses, the creamy blue cheese and crusty bread. We don't need much, even though we have everything in the world. Champagne and sun, love and promises.
It's all a perfect fairytale, made just for us.
As we drink our champagne, I try to remember every moment. Without a cellphone or laptop, I haven’t been able to write anything down while we’ve been here. I think I’ve committed a lot to memory, and I really hope so. I don’t want to lose any of it. Not a single second. I think there will be so many more stories here to tell.
Extended Epilogue
Bella
It was enough going from just me in my bed, a virgin at that, to three? And now there’s… five.
But it’s not what you think. Sure, you have me and the usual suspects, Dillon and Emmet, but the other two in the bed are actually still firmly and sweetly nestled in my tummy. Yes, I’m pregnant! With twins. And it’s wonderful to finally not only be married but to make a little family, odd as we may be.
Twins clearly run in the Riordan genes. The multiple pregnancy has made things a bit more complicated than it might be otherwise, but we’re taking it in stride. Luckily money is no issue, and neither is attention, since there will always be a pair of arms to take a baby when necessary. That being said, we’ll have a nanny on staff because there are times we like to be alone, too.
Like right now for example.
“Are you sure it’s okay, for the baby?” Dillon asks, looking at me tenderly, while his hands belie his words. He can’t stop them from running over my body. I nod and reach for him. Undoing his belt-buckle, I smile in anticipation for the pulsating monster I’m going to free.
“I know it is, don’t worry,” I reassure him. “The doctor said we’re good, until I’m in labor.”
And thank God he said so, too. Doing it with these two sex gods has always been off the charts, but with the pregnancy it’s even better. My nerves are so sensitive these days. To have them both at once? How could anyone give that up?
It’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven. Over and over and over again.
Speaking of which, Emmet is standing in the doorway. “Hey, I was out swimming. Are you guys getting started without me?” he growls.
He tosses the beach towel he was holding over the doorknob. “Wait up.” He strides over to the bed, and with his bathing suit bottoms, it’s easy to see that he’s already growing long, thick, and hard. Just the way I like him. I hold out my hand to him and he takes it, then jumps in behind me, curling himself around me like a big spoon.
“You did check this all with the doctor right?” Emmet starts in. Between them, they’ve asked me this for the fiftieth time. “We’re good?”
“Yes, of course, I wouldn’t do anything to endanger our babies!” I say, looking at him sternly, but soon my stern face dissolves into a moan as Dillon starts kissing down my swollen stomach to my hips. His lips are warm and soft, his hot breath against my skin giving me goosebumps. He starts to tease my waiting pussy by running across it with his mouth, giving it a short lick with his tongue, then trailing across my hips, while I squirm eagerly. It’s a sweet torture, being tantalized by Dillon. Emmet takes the opportunity to put his arms around me and cup my newly heavier breasts. He’s tweaking my nipples with his thumb and forefinger as he kisses the back of my neck.
“Fuck, Bella, you’re so sexy pregnant,” he breathes. “You’re always hot, but you’ve never been hotter.”
It’s paradise.
I love to grind my backside into Emmet’s front, letting his shaft rub against the smooth skin of my ass, feeling his desire for me. A low growl emerges from him as he returns the favor, sliding his thickness around and between my cheeks. He fits me so perfectly, as Dillon does. They’re my bookends, my counterparts.
Dillon’s tongue snakes its way between my nether lips, circling my clit. He covers my sex with his mouth and sucks on it gently, pulling the flesh between his lips. The pleasure is so intense I cry out and Emmet pinches my nipples and bites my neck in response, heightening the already stratospheric feelings.
“I want it,” I mewl, as their soft, hot bodies move against mine. “Don’t make me wait!”
“You be a good girl,” Emmet says against my ear, his lips tickling me. “We love touching you. Your new body, your amazing curves.”
I can’t take it, I have to have them both. But they make me wait, savoring their time with my body. Finally Dillon’s finger slips inside me, curving just enough to hit the point of greatest pleasure, and he moves in rhythm with his mouth against the bloom of my sex. I lean back toward Emmet and he takes my nipples between his lips, grazing them with his tongue and teeth. I feel the pressure build inside me and before I know it my heightened senses are at their peak, and the twinge inside me turns into a torque of pleasure.
“Wow,” Dillon smiles at me when my screams subside into cries and whimpers. “That must have been a good one.”
“Amazing,” I sigh happily. “I don't know how I lived without you two.”
“Well let’s not waste any more time,” says Emmet as he spreads my cheeks. “I’m going to be gentle. You’re eight months, and I don’t want to knock anything out of place.”
“It’s fine,” I grin, wiggling closer to him. “Do as you like.” The fact is, I need him inside me. Soon it’ll be too hard even to position all of us in bed together. We need to do this while we can!
“I’m going to fuck your tight pussy this time,” Emmet says.
“I want you to,” I return, as I feel myself get even wetter. “Come here, Dillon,” I say, and he moves so that he is on his knees near my face. His body is perfect: thick, cut legs lead to narrow, muscular hips accented by a perfect V, a narrow waist opens to broad shoulders by way of an eight-pack of abs. And of course, the centerpiece, his dusky cock, thick with veins. On its own accord my hand reaches for him, and the skin of his member feels like a caress against my palm as my fingers tighten around him.
Just then Emmet squeezes his massive cock between my legs, and rubs my slit with the velvety head. I moan, filled with desire and anticipation. To be filled by them both..
His breath catches in his throat as I wrap my tongue around him, reaching out and grabbing his firm ass cheek to pull him closer to me. The head is in my mouth, pulsating and thick, and then I feel Emmet enter. Soon they are thrusting into me in rhythm, and in turn, I am opening like a flower for them. Each nerve ending in my body is on fire, filled with light, and my eyes roll back in my head in the deepest pleasure.
Emmet’s thrusts become wilder, harder, and as he reaches around my leg to rub my clit with his palm, just as he presses into my puckered hole with his thumb. The orgasm hits me all of a sudden, just as Dillon cries out and floods my throat with his seed. My channel undulates over Emmet’s shaft.
“You’re coming on my cock,” he murmurs before jerking his own prize into me. “It feels so amazing.” When he pulls out and I see the last stream of pearlescence arc over and onto my leg. I reach back and hold him as he quivers the end of his orgasm.
“You’re so wet,” he says dreamily, his hand coming to rest between my legs. “Wait, you’re actually really wet,” he says, suddenly sitting up. “Um, babe…”
“What?” I turn to him and he motions to the bed. “Did I squirt?”
“I think it’s more than that,” Dillon says, leaning back and looking. “Did… could…”
“Did my water break?” I ask, looking from one to the other.
“I think maybe?”
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.”