by Mari Carr
They’d still looked like they were floating the next morning when they tracked her, Roman, and Tate down in Roman’s room. Luca said it was their way of apologizing for the stun gun/Baby Shark torture, while Selene and Oscar insisted it was the least they could do to thank them for organizing such a beautiful wedding. The party had been elegant and, more importantly, fun.
Scarlet had to admit that as far as apologies and thank-you gifts went, this luxurious, romantic cottage overlooking the sea certainly fit the bill. After the whirlwind of the past few weeks, it was lovely to be able to have an opportunity to unwind, and Scarlet had come to realize there was no one on the planet she’d rather spend time with more than Roman and Tate.
While she’d promised herself to simply let go and enjoy this week, every time she thought about saying goodbye to them next Monday morning, her stomach clenched and her chest tightened.
Roman swung the door open and gestured for her to enter first. He and Tate followed as the three of them walked in and soaked up the beauty of the place. It was an open floor plan, the kitchen, dining room, and living room, all one big area. One entire wall was sliding glass doors and windows that led to a large deck overlooking the harbor. Scarlet could imagine the three of them sitting out there on the cushioned rocking chairs, bundled up in blankets and watching the sunrise as they drank their morning coffee.
The living room was furnished with a plush white couch and love seat as well as an oversized brown leather recliner. There was a large bearskin rug lying on the floor in front of a gas fireplace. She’d double-check later and make sure it was faux.
Tate slid close to her and placed his arm around her waist when he noticed what she was looking at. “We’re definitely breaking that in later tonight.”
Roman chuckled. “Selene suggested that the first thing we do upon arriving was to make a list of all the sexual positions we wanted to try. She insists that will ensure we have no regrets later when we return home and realize we forgot something particularly kinky and fun.”
“I caught a glimpse of your cousin’s list with Luca and Oscar when I was doing guard duty at the hotel. It was extensive and required quite a bit of flexibility and physical strength,” Tate said. “I’m in if you two are.”
Scarlet dropped her purse and laptop case on the dining room table. She flipped open her work bag and sorted through the handful of different notebooks, trying to decide which one was most appropriate for a sex to-do list. “Bet we can top theirs,” she said with a laugh, only half joking.
Or maybe only a quarter.
No, she decided. She wasn’t joking at all. She wanted that list. It called to her draftsman list-making heart. She selected plain black moleskin. Making a little black book seemed appropriate. She grabbed a pen and turned to the kitchen, planning to lean on the island counter separating the kitchen from the dining area to write her list.
Then her gaze landed on three cream-colored envelopes.
Her heart stopped. The envelopes were embossed with a triquetra.
“Tate, Roman.” Her voice was strangely flat. Probably because amid the jumble of emotions she couldn’t decide where to land. Her name written in bold hand on one of the envelopes.
Roman and Tate stepped around the island to join her and stared, neither of them reaching for their own envelopes.
“Do you think…” Tate looked up at her.
Scarlet was touched by the hope in his tone. Because it was clear his mind had gone to the same place as hers, and it appeared they both wanted the same thing.
“Perhaps…” Roman started. “Perhaps we weren’t reading as much into Sebastian’s comment after the wedding as we thought.”
Scarlet thought back to the reception. It had been nearly three a.m. and most of the guests had turned in. She’d shed her heels and had her feet propped up in Roman’s lap, the three of them drinking the last of their third—or maybe their fourth—bottle of champagne. That was on top of all the curated, signature cocktails. She loved those moments right at the end of an event when she was flush with accomplishment and hadn’t just transitioned into cleanup mode.
She’d loved sharing that moment with the two of them even more.
Tate—who’d been off duty as of eleven-forty-five when Montana took over—had been toasting Scarlet, proclaiming her the greatest general in the history of strategic management. They’d been tipsy and giddy, running on fumes and fueled by alcohol. None of them had managed to grab more than a few hours’ sleep the night before the wedding, and the hour-long nap she’d managed in the afternoon hadn’t been enough to offset that.
Sebastian had stopped by their table to congratulate them all on a job well done just after midnight, when they were taking a break from dancing. Then he’d remarked that the Grand Master had been right about the three of them making a great team. Except the word team had only been spoken on a second attempt. What he’d really said was, “The Grand Master was right. The three of you make a great tr—team.”
It had been a vague comment said in passing. Scarlet suspected Sebastian wouldn’t have said it at all if he hadn’t also been enjoying the mixologist’s creations, but she’d gotten stuck on that “tr” sound just the same.
But Sebastian hadn’t been the only one of the Grand Master’s advisors to mention what a good team the three of them made. They’d talked to Franco before the ceremony and he’d started to say something similar, but that conversation had been interrupted.
The three of them had discussed both comments later that night as they’d lain tangled in each other’s arms, wondering if there had been more to their invitation to take part on the planning team than met the eye. After all, they’d surmised that while Scarlet’s inclusion seemed obvious, Selene’s sister, Theia, would have been a better family representative than Roman. And Tate’s presence had stumped them completely because, despite what had happened in Charleston, the need for a henchman felt out of place.
In the end, Roman had called their conjecture “wishful thinking,” and then he’d kissed her as Tate spooned her from behind, his erection slipping between her thighs. One sexy thing led to another and it was forgotten...until now.
Scarlet couldn’t wait. She opened her envelope, pulling out the letter within. She gasped, then smiled. “Open yours. Fast!” Her hand shook, not with nervousness but excitement.
Roman and Tate both tore into their envelopes, the three of them laying their identical letters down, side by side, on the counter. The three of them had been called to the altar, a week from tomorrow.
Same Bat time, same Bat place.
“A trinity,” Roman murmured. “We’re going to be bound together as a trinity.”
Scarlet laughed, as happy tears slid down her cheeks. She hadn’t been this thrilled since her company landed the job planning E3, the Electronic Entertainment Expo. “You’re going to be my husbands.”
Tate lost no time, reaching for her, pulling her into his strong embrace. “Our wife.”
Roman wrapped himself around her back and she was encapsulated between her men. Their laughter fell away quickly as they sought out each other’s lips. Tate kissed her, then Roman, long, slow, sexy glides with stroking tongues and shared breath. As soon as Tate and Roman parted, Roman twisted her in his arms, kissing her with a passion that made her light-headed.
Tate slid an arm around Scarlet’s waist. “What do you say we move this celebration—”
“Honeymoon,” Roman interjected.
“Pre-honeymoon honeymoon,” Tate amended. “To the bedroom.”
Scarlet grasped Roman’s hand, leading the way to the master bedroom they’d yet to explore. She’d reached for Tate’s, but he shook his head, pointing to where he’d left his duffel and her suitcase.
“Let me grab the luggage,” he said.
“I hardly think we’re going to need any clothes for this next part,” she teased.
Tate grabbed his duffel. “No. But we might want to make use of the lube I packed.”
&n
bsp; Roman chuckled. “Great minds. I might have thrown a tube in my suitcase as well.”
Scarlet laughed loudly and raised her hand. “Me three.”
They walked to the bedroom and Scarlet’s eyes widened as she took in the decor. This room also boasted one wall of windows that overlooked the water, covered with sheer curtains that allowed the sun to stream in and them to enjoy the beauty of the harbor.
The central focus of the room was a four-post canopy-style Alaskan king-sized bed, draped in the same sheer material that covered the windows. A long, wide bench at the foot of the bed was just the right height and size to be of use in executing the items on their as-yet-unmade list. The colors were muted gray blues and white, bringing the colors of the Atlantic into the room. Through an open door, she could see into the en suite bathroom and the huge Jacuzzi tub inside.
The entire cottage was decorated with lovers in mind, romantic, cozy, intimate.
Tate stepped up behind her after tossing his duffel on the floor next to the bed. His hands gripped her hips for just a moment before sliding up and under her sweater. He lifted the cashmere as Roman stood facing them, watching.
She lifted her arms as Tate continued pulling her sweater up and over her head. Roman’s eyes were dark with passion, and Scarlet shivered in anticipation. Sex between them was still new, the three of them only coming together twice. Once, while locked in Walt’s bedroom and once the night of Selene, Luca, and Oscar’s wedding, though that had been more drunk fumbling and laughter than proper sex.
Their first time had been part of a game, an explosive, frenzied distraction from the “Baby Shark” torture. The second time had been the same—frantically passionate, fueled by too much champagne and the belief that it would be their last night together.
She could already tell this time would be different. The finish line on their relationship was no longer in sight. They had the rest of their lives now and instead of grasping greedily, trying to fill every moment with as much as they could, this time they could savor, explore, learn...fall in love.
Though their acquaintance had been relatively short, both men had already claimed a piece of her heart. Scarlet was a good judge of character. Her first impressions of Roman and Tate had told her they were open, compassionate, intelligent, driven men. Everything she’d learned about them since then proved that right.
She’d felt an instant physical attraction, but that had grown into something so much more over the past few weeks as they revealed more and more of their true selves to her.
And now...now they were hers.
Tate expertly unfastened her bra with a quick flick of his fingers, the lace joining her cashmere sweater on the floor. When his hands drifted lower to unzip her jeans, she placed her hands on his wrists to stop him.
“What about the two of you?” As much as she loved the way Roman was devouring her with his eyes, she wanted to see, wanted to touch them, just as much.
“We’ll get there,” Tate murmured, his lips pressed against the side of her neck, the warmth of his breath tickling and teasing. Her nipples tightened, budded, the impact not lost on Roman, whose eyes drifted to her breasts, a knowing grin tilting the ends of his lips.
“You’re beautiful, Scarlet,” Roman said. “Let us look at you,” then he added the word, “fiancée.” She was certain no term of endearment had ever felt so moving as that.
Scarlet’s hands dropped away from Tate’s, allowing him to slowly peel her jeans down over her hips and legs. She toed off her shoes as she kicked free of the denim. Then she stepped away from Tate, twisting away from them so that both men had a bird’s-eye view of her ass as she bent over to remove her socks.
Rising, she turned around to face them, her hands resting by her sides as she let them look their fill, amazed at how powerful, how cherished she felt in that moment.
“Your turn,” she said to Tate. Her gaze slipped to Roman, who stepped closer to their lover, unbuttoning Tate’s warm flannel shirt before slipping it over his arms, baring his six-pack abs, taut stomach, muscular pecs—he was a walking, talking billboard for male perfection. Tate had a Marine tattoo, the words Semper Fi emblazoned on his right shoulder. On the left, a smaller tattoo, a triquetra. Both tattoos symbolic of what mattered to Tate, what made him the man he was, the man standing before them.
Roman ran his hand over Tate’s chest, then unbuttoned his jeans, slowly sliding the zipper down. Tate was already hard, his cock outlined beneath the denim. She and Roman shared a smile when his dick popped free, the head poking out of the top of his boxer briefs. Both men worked together to divest Tate of the rest of his clothing.
Scarlet savored every peek of newly revealed flesh. Once she’d looked her fill, even going so far as to circle him, her hand lightly caressing his hip, his back, the top of his thigh, she turned her focus to Roman.
“Allow me.” She tugged his sweater over his head, then unfastened his belt, his dress slacks. While she and Tate had traveled in more casual clothing, Roman, ever the professional, had opted for a more polished look. Roman’s body was fit, lean, more runner than weightlifter. Unlike Tate’s bare chest, Roman had a light smattering of hair, something Scarlet took advantage of now, playing with it just before lowering her head to stroke his brown nipples with her tongue.
Tate shifted closer, running his hands over her ass, as Roman lifted his to cup her breasts, to pinch and play with her nipples, just as she continued to play with his.
“Bed.” Roman’s voice was gruff with desire. He reached for Scarlet’s waist, turning her and pressing her down onto the mattress. He followed, caging her beneath him, kissing her roughly. Roman had proven himself to be a patient lover the past two times, but now it appeared he was too hungry for finesse.
Scarlet heard Tate rifling through his bag, but she didn’t open her eyes, too carried away by Roman’s kiss. She felt Tate’s gaze on them, but he didn’t seek to interrupt or to join. She recalled their first time together in Walt’s house, how moved she’d been simply by watching Tate and Roman kiss.
Roman broke the union of their lips with a slight start. Scarlet opened her eyes and saw that Tate had moved behind Roman.
Roman had confessed after the wedding that she and Tate had been his first ménage and that Tate was his first male lover. She’d been shocked by that, considering Roman was a legacy, while she and Tate were not.
While Tate and Roman had kissed and touched, they’d yet to consummate their own relationship. So far, all penetration had been her pleasure. It was apparent from Tate’s position beside the bed, he intended for that to change this afternoon.
Tate’s eyes collided with hers, and she grinned when he gave her a quick, covert wink, wiggling the tube of lubrication in his hands.
Roman glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t skimp on the lube. We have plenty.”
Tate and Scarlet both laughed, but the sounds soon morphed to moans when Roman turned and resumed their kiss, while Tate took his time preparing Roman for sex.
Scarlet considered breaking off their embrace to move into a better position for watching her two men, but Roman’s kisses were addictive.
“Jesus,” Roman muttered, his lips moving against hers.
“What’s he doing?” Scarlet whispered.
“Three fingers,” Roman said through gritted teeth. “Three…” His words ended on a groan. “So fucking…God! So fucking good.”
She heard the sound of a condom wrapper and she shifted to the side slightly, still torn between wanting to be an active participant and being a voyeur. Then, once again, the reality of what her future held struck again. She had years to be with them, but there was only going to be one first time between her husbands, and she wanted to see it.
“Wait,” she said, as Roman gripped his cock, guiding it toward her opening. “I want to watch.”
Roman had clearly played this out another way, but he didn’t attempt to stop her as she shimmied out from under him, moving to the center of the bed and propping h
erself up on the pillows.
Tate shook his head in obvious amusement. “You okay there? Need us to pop some popcorn or something?”
She gave him a regal wave of the hand, a queen gesturing for her subjects to amuse her. “Continue.”
Tate gave her a mock salute before turning his attention back to Roman.
Roman’s eyes drifted shut as Tate gripped his cock, dragging the head of it along the slit between Roman’s legs.
Roman moaned. “Tate.”
Scarlet sat up straighter, then crawled on her knees until she was closer to them. While she wanted to watch, she needed to touch as well. She cupped Roman’s cheek and turned his face toward her, kissing him softly. Then she reached out to stroke her hand over Tate’s tight, firm ass.
“Do it, Tate,” she whispered, giving his ass a squeeze as she pushed him the few inches required to close the distance between him and Roman.
Roman stiffened as Tate pressed the head of his dick just inside his anus, then he cursed, pleasure and pain merged together in his tone.
Tate tightened his grip on Roman’s hips as he slowly, inexorably pushed in until he was fully lodged in their fiancé’s ass.
Roman released a long breath, his eyes closed tightly. Scarlet watched as he fought to adjust to the unfamiliar invasion.
“Okay?” she asked, her mouth right by Roman’s ear, so close that she couldn’t resist nipping the lobe playfully.
“So fucking good,” Roman said. “Tate?”
“Yeah?” Tate asked.
“Move. Now.”
Tate didn’t need to be told twice. He retreated from Roman’s ass and when he returned a second time, it was faster, with more force. Her men moved together then, Roman shifting back toward Tate’s inward motions.