“Oh, yes. Preston, that feels so good.”
“It sure as hell does.” His words told her how much he was enjoying being inside her body. He moved in her, not in the same nearly frenetic pace Charlie had used, but with a firm, steady rhythm that shook her and the bed. In and out, over and over, he pounded into her, filling her, stretching her, sending her arousal into orbit.
When her arms gave out, he grunted, and she whimpered. With her bottom raised high because her head and neck were on the bed, his angle had changed and his cock butted against the entrance to her womb.
The stinging of her ass and the twinge of pain from having her cervix contacted only made her hotter and wetter.
“Please….please.” She’d already had one stunning orgasm but needed another. When he moved one hand down, she flexed her body so he could more easily reach for her clit.
“Your ass is so nice and pink and hot, kitten. You feel better than anything I’ve ever known.”
Samantha couldn’t answer, she could just feel. The scent of sex, of perspiration, filled her and pushed her closer to the edge. The presence of her other lovers, lying on the bed on either side of them, watching, just made everything more. The sound of Preston’s body slapping against hers as he fucked her, and the way his scrotum brushed lightly against her, was like an extra-sweet topping on this wondrous dessert she was being served.
“Come with me, kitten. Let’s fly.” He stroked her clit and then pinched it, and every thought, every breath, suspended as her climax hit.
Rapture drenched her, inside and out, over and over and Samantha knew, with every fiber of her being, that no matter how logical she chose to be, in the end she would never be able to do without these men and the pleasure they gave her.
* * * *
“What do you think he’s going to do?”
Derek met his youngest brother’s gaze. Looking at his brothers was so much like looking in the mirror at himself. Though they weren’t identical, they were, all three, blond haired and brown eyed. Like Mom. In Jamie’s expression he saw the grief, and the confusion he himself had been wrestling with since they’d learned their mother was dying. The revelations about their biological father—or fathers—that she’d shared had completely derailed them emotionally.
The last thing they’d needed was one more thing to deal with. Life doesn’t care if we’re struggling with crap when it gives us more crap to deal with. His mother’s words coming back to him nearly made him smile.
He focused on his brother’s question. “I have no idea how that son of a bitch thinks,” Derek said.
They were in the den, the same place they gathered whenever the urge struck to watch whatever game they could tune in on the television. On Mondays, at least since last year, that was usually Monday Night Football on ABC. There was no game on tonight—the season would start for that show in a few weeks when the Minnesota Vikings met the Detroit Lions. They hadn’t bothered to look for another game. As well, none of them had made plans for the evening, so that they could spend the time together. Tonight the television remained off. Instead, he and his brothers were having a meeting, because they had a decision to make, and they needed to make that decision soon.
He moved his gaze from James, who looked really worried, to Keith, their middle brother, who appeared mad as hell.
“For the most part, we’ve managed to stay clear of him for more than a decade.” Keith closed his eyes and sighed. “I really wish we’d been successful in talking mom into divorcing the prick. Then we wouldn’t be having this problem at all.”
“No kidding,” Jamie said. “But we didn’t.”
“No, we didn’t.” Derek picked up his long neck, took a good drink, and then set the beer bottle down. “I know we talked about going slowly on the other. Investigating the Kendalls, learning as much as we could about them before we made our next move. Mom wanted us to meet them, and we gave her our word that we would at least do that much.” Derek’s throat closed up, and he had to take a moment to get his emotions under control. “God, I miss her so much.”
“Yeah. Me, too, damn it.” James sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He’s trying to beat down the urge to cry.
Derek and James both tended to be more emotional than Keith, but that didn’t mean that Keith wasn’t grieving the loss of their mother just as deeply as they were.
Of the three of them, Keith was the most likely to punch someone, or something, when he was upset.
“Tell us again what Ron said when he called you at work today.”
“He said that his new receptionist, Cerise, came to him in tears, confessing that she’d breached confidentiality about three weeks ago, just after the reading of the will and just after she got hired. He felt we should know, because as far as he could tell, the only information she’d given Mort was about the letter Mother had him send on her behalf to Texas.”
“Cerise couldn’t have read it, because Mom told us it was in a sealed envelope.” James said.
“That’s right, and Ron confirmed the letter was sealed when he mailed it. He didn’t even know what mom wrote. Anyway, Cerise had second thoughts right after she told Mort as much as she did, because he pressed her to tell him what was in the letter and didn’t seem to believe her when she said she didn’t know. She gave Mort the names of the men to whom the letter was sent, and she gave him the address. She said when he persisted, she got frightened, and left.”
“And she only just confessed that today?” Jamie asked.
“Apparently,” Derek said.
“Well, fuck.” Keith looked at him. “The last thing we want is for Mort to somehow get it in his head he can contact those people down in Texas.”
“Exactly.” Derek shook his head. “I have a bad feeling about this. We don’t know these Kendalls, what manner of men they are.”
“I’m with you. Mom thought they were men of integrity but a lot can happen in more than thirty years to change a person—persons.” Jamie sighed.
“There’s another possibility,” Keith said. “Mort tried threatening us with a lawsuit to get what he felt he was entitled to have. Ron shut him down, because the trust wasn’t set up by Mother, but by her grandmother. Since the bastard is such a greedy SOB, he might try to shake down the Kendalls.”
“Well fuck me, I never thought of that.” Derek ran a hand through his hair. “If the men are happily married, with careers, children…the threat of having our existence made public could be something they’d want to avoid.”
“Exactly. While we don’t know these men, I don’t feel right about letting our trash sully their front yards.” Keith got up from his spot on the sofa and paced.
“All right. I’m in agreement with you on that. Jamie?”
The youngest met his gaze, and then blinked. He hadn’t been completely successful in stopping the tears. But that was okay. They were close enough, and had a good enough relationship, that genuine emotion was understood between them, not ridiculed.
“No, we can’t let our mother’s husband spread his crap to the Kendalls. I think we should call them.”
“So do I. But let’s hold off just a few more days. That investigator we hired promised to have a report for us by Friday. Let’s see what he has to say. If the Kendalls come up looking okay, then we call them. The very least we can do is warn them about Mort. The man is poison. How he has managed to get away without being arrested so far is fucking beyond me.”
“Yeah. Okay, let’s see what the PI has to say, first.” Keith wandered over to the window that looked down over their posh New York neighborhood. They’d chosen to share an apartment, because pooling their resources made sense. They were more than just brothers. They were best friends.
“Mom sacrificed a lot for us. It would have made her life one hundred times easier to have aborted us.” He turned and faced them. “I know we were all in shock when she told us about who our father really was.” Keith shook his head and laughed—a rueful kind of laugh that Derek apprec
iated. “Father? You know, I can’t imagine Mom being with two men.” He shook his head as if that fact didn’t matter. “Mostly, though, I was relieved to discover that prick’s blood was not ours.”
“We all were,” Derek said. “In a way, I figure these Kendalls—even if they turn out to be less than Mom believed they were—have to be better than Morton Robbins.”
“Amen.” Jamie nodded. “And if we call them, and like them, we’ll meet them. Let them know that what we plan to do has nothing at all to do with them.”
“No, petitioning to the court to change our last name to Merrick-Kendall has nothing to do with them, and everything to do with turning our backs once and for all on that prick who made our mother’s life a living hell.”
Derek met each of his brothers’ gazes in turn. They were Merrick-Kendalls, even if the court denied their request. They were brothers—and they would stick together. Always.
Chapter 14
Preston lay on his right side, supported his head on his hand, and simply watched their woman sleep.
Their woman. Like his brothers, he’d begun to doubt they would ever find her.
On the other side of her, Taylor was snuggled close, and sound asleep. Charlie lay on his left side on the other side of Tay, and he, too, watched Samantha.
Tomorrow night, Charlie can have my spot next to her. They’d discussed the matter beforehand, of course. When it had been the nebulous future. With husbands who were two—be they twins, brothers, or best friends—sleeping arrangements were simple.
Husbands kept their wife between them, always.
With triplets the arrangement would have to be different. They’d discussed the matter with their fathers and their uncles, Gerry and Pat. There were, the older men said, two options. They would simply rotate, so that their woman had the opportunity to snuggle and be snuggled by each of her men in turn. The odd man out each night could either sleep beside a brother, or in a separate bed in the bedroom.
He and his brothers had chosen to stay, all three of them, in the same bed. Of course, they’d needed a larger bed than the norm for their house. Their uncle, Gregory Jones and his son—their cousin and very good friend Jeremiah—had built this bed to accommodate four adults. Aunt Kathy, Gregory’s wife, had made three sets of linens, and two duvets to fit it.
This was, in fact, the very first night they’d slept in not only this house, but this bed.
He and his youngest womb-mate were both night owls. Only Taylor was the early bird among them.
He cast a glance at the clock on the table beside Charlie. It was 2:00 a.m. Preston grinned. He was often still awake at this time. They’d all three fallen asleep around ten.
No wonder he was wide awake now. He raised one eyebrow and then nodded to the door. Charlie grinned and nodded back.
Preston edged out from beneath the blankets and then tucked them around Samantha. She moaned and wiggled, and Taylor pressed against her and drew her close—all without either of them waking up.
They were, all three of them, used to sleeping alone. It amazed him that they could so easily adapt to having Samantha in the bed with them.
We are meant to be.
Preston took a moment to snag his boxers and put them on, noting his brother did the same. Once they were downstairs, he sighed.
“I think we wore her out,” Charlie said, his voice quiet.
Preston lifted up the coffeepot. Charlie nodded. He filled the coffeemaker with water and put on a small pot to brew.
“We’ll have to be careful not to do that,” Preston said. “We should take turns, letting her have some private one-on-one time with each of us.”
“Agreed.” Charlie watched the coffee drip for a few minutes and then met his gaze. “I never thought we would actually find her—a woman who suited us so well.”
“Neither did I. Now that we have, I have this kind of desperate fear clawing at my belly. Fear that we won’t be able to keep her.”
“Me, too. She completes me, and knowing that you and Taylor respond to her just as well really is a dream come true.”
“We have to make sure she gets what she needs from each of us,” Preston said. “We really need for her to know that we are one hundred percent behind her career goals, whatever they may be.”
“Yes. I was also thinking we could trade off nights in Austin, if we had to,” Charlie said. “I don’t want her to be alone there any more than necessary.”
“She’ll be several years pursuing her degree, and then studying to pass the bar,” Preston said. “She could do that closer to home, but if she is determined to go to UT in Austin, then we’ll have to come up with a game plan.”
“She’ll insist on working to support herself, too,” Charlie said. “I doubt very much that she’d accept financial help from us. The only thing I mind about that is she’s going to wear herself out.”
“It’ll be our job to see that she doesn’t.” Preston never once questioned the discussion they were having. They’d met the woman on Sunday and this was very early Tuesday morning, but there were no doubts in his mind or his heart.
Samantha Kincaid was meant to be theirs.
The coffee finished brewing, and Preston poured them each a cup. They sat for a long time in mutual silence, sipping and thinking.
“Mother and Grandmother have surprised me,” Charlie said.
“Why? You heard the story of how our great-grandmothers Sarah and Amanda arranged for Aunt Kate to be sent here, because Gerry and Pat had fallen for her. They’d given them a lecture about promising to marry her, and I’m sure they saw to it the three of them had some ‘alone time,’ so they could build their bond.”
“Oh yes, I knew all that. I just guess I thought Mom and Grandmother Chelsea would be more…forbidding.”
“That was a hell of a stern lecture we got earlier, wouldn’t you say? If we screw up with our Samantha and end up not marrying her, there will be hell to pay. And we’ll be the ones paying it.”
“I do not even want to contemplate our not marrying her—familial retributions aside.”
“Then I guess we’d better make sure we do.” Preston refused to consider, even as an academic exercise, that they would fail. He’d already seen some pretty reliable indicators that Samantha was fast becoming theirs.
Not just the fact that she opened herself up to having a physical relationship with all three of them. But that she felt compelled to fight for justice on behalf of their parents. Whether she knew it or not, Miss Samantha Kincaid was already in love with them and committed.
The image flashed in his mind of the moment when she’d surged to her feet, moral outrage shining from her like the brightest torch of justice. She sure was something when she got her Irish up.
Charlie must have been thinking the same thing. “She’s going to be a real bulldog in the courtroom, isn’t she?”
Preston grinned. “I’m looking forward to watching her be just that.” He set his cup in the sink and turned to his brother.
“She’s already in love with us.” Preston was certain of it. “Our battle is going to be to present her with a case for our staying together, forming a family. Making a family. This case is the most crucial one of our lives. If we don’t win this one, no other case we handle will ever truly matter.”
“Then we better make it air tight, because I don’t want to think about losing.”
Preston clapped him on the shoulder and then led the way back upstairs, back to bed. He touched Charlie on the arm and pointed, telling him without words that he could slide into the bed next to Samantha, taking the place he’d so recently vacated.
Charlie dropped his drawers and wasted no time doing just that. He moved carefully and silently, sidling up to their woman, who was currently fast asleep on her stomach.
Preston slid into the bed on the other side and resumed watching her. She moaned, and turned, and snuggled up to Charlie. She inhaled, said his brother’s name on a sigh, and settled back down.
The
re are no doubts in her subconscious that she belongs with us, not a one. But their woman had a better than average brain, a very formidable will, and it was those two things they would have to appeal to.
They had to find the perfect argument to convince her that she could successfully have a family and a career.
Charlie was right. It was the most important “case” they would ever take on.
* * * *
They’d been making notes and discussing the case for nearly two hours when the phone rang. Preston picked up.
“Kendall residence.”
Samantha was torn between pretending she wasn’t there in case the call was personal, and snooping shamelessly.
“Yes, sir. She’s right here.” Preston handed the receiver to her. He winked, and she had to fight her blush.
“Good morning, Sam,” her father’s voice boomed. “Brian has had a bit of success, and so have I, in our quest for information.”
“Good morning, Dad. I didn’t expect to hear from you this early.” Her father usually had a leisurely breakfast at home before going to his office in the courthouse around eleven. He’d be there earlier on days he had court, of course, but otherwise, he kept a much later schedule.
Samantha looked at the clock on the mantle. It was just after noon here, which made it eleven in Connecticut. She thought he must have called her as soon as he got in. Then she recalled that the night before, he’d told her to call him in the afternoon. Something’s up, and I don’t think it has to do with any information he might have uncovered. Knowing her father, she let him state his case, which he would likely do very subtly.
“I’ve actually been here for a couple of hours. I remembered where I’d heard of that firm, Peter Nolan Associates. I pulled out my notes on that paper I wrote on nuisance suits. His was one of the firms that had been brought before the New York Bar Association for investigation of questionable practices. There were a couple of cases cited, but no clear evidence was found of wrongdoing, so the association never proceeded.”
Their Lusty Little Valentine [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 14