by Lily Harlem
“Mmm,” he said, leaning forward and touching his nose to mine. “Now that’s the best Christmas present I could possibly get.”
Liam stirred beside us.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I said, looking round Quinn.
“I wasn’t really asleep,” Liam said.
“No, that’s why you were snoring.” I smiled, stood and stretched out my aching back. Linked my fingers and pushed them above my head to unfold my shoulders. Both men’s eyes slipped to my swollen breasts, several cup sizes bigger than when we’d gotten together. “But that’s okay, Liam, I guess I wore you out earlier…”
“What?” Quinn snapped his attention to Liam.
“Sorry, mate,” Liam shrugged. “Ariane got back from postnatal clinic with the good news and we couldn’t wait.”
“Luckily the twins had a very long sleep after lunch.” I smiled at the memory of Liam making love to me so slowly and gently that I had to remind him it was okay for him to move once he’d eased himself in, that I wasn’t about to break or snap if I took a fraction of his weight.
Quinn stood, cradled Rebecca in one hand and slipped his fingers through my hair. He held the back of my skull and looked down into my face. “I’m looking forward to my turn.” His voice was husky and his eyes took on that dark, desire-heavy look I adored and had missed over the last few months. Carrying twins had put a halt to all our bedtime activities in the final weeks of pregnancy.
“You’ll have to wait just a little bit longer,” I said, stepping backward.
“Why? The girls are out for the count.”
“Ten minutes, then I’ll be back, I promise.” I slipped my feet into soft Ugg boots.
“Why, where are you going?”
“I need to pop down to the gallery and see Derek, he rang earlier, he’s had a busy day, people buying last-minute presents. I’ve shifted another three paintings.”
“That’s great,” Quinn said, giving a slow approving nod.
“Tell him about the other bit,” Liam said.
“Oh yes, and one of his arty friends is visiting from London, he’s got a small gallery just off Covent Garden and Derek says he’s keen to fill some of next year’s exhibition slots with Welsh artists.”
“So what are you waiting for?” Quinn said, jerking his head toward the door. “Sounds perfect.”
“I know, I really ought to go and see him.” I grinned.
“Yes,” Liam said. “Of course you should.”
“But I’ll only be ten minutes.”
“That’s perfect,” said Quinn. “Gives us time to put these two in their cots and get a nice bath run.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to my commitment ring. It wasn’t a wedding ring, but the hospital chaplain, an old, wise, seen-everything-before woman, had performed a commitment ceremony for the three of us just before I’d fallen for the twins. We all considered it to be binding as husband and wife, the only difference being there were two husbands and only one wife in our relationship. “See you in a few minutes,” I said, grabbing my winter coat and rushing from the room.
Ten minutes later I sped up the lift with my mind whirring excitedly and a deal set up for a March exhibition in London. I’d have to get my artist hat on as soon as possible and produce more pictures if my career kept up at this rate.
I stepped into the apartment and was met with blissful silence except for the distant hum of pouring water. I paused at my room, sneaked open the door and checked on the girls sleeping in their cots. We all tended to sleep in Liam’s room now. Quinn’s had never felt the same after the whole, terrifying incident with Jed, and mine made the most sense for the girls, for now.
I curled my fingers around the wooden rail of Sophie’s cot. Her tiny hands were flung over her head and her long dark lashes hung heavy on her cheeks. I moved over to Rebecca, she much preferred to be swaddled and was wrapped tight in a white blanket, her rosebud mouth still gently sucking in and out as though she was dreaming of being at the breast. I inhaled their perfect, sweet baby smell and felt my heart pour over with love. Sometimes my feelings were too big and I couldn’t hold them all in and I found myself staring into space, or smiling widely for no reason at all, I was so besotted with four people, four people each one perfect and flawed and mine. I was unable to contain my emotions when I thought of us all sharing our lives together.
Sophie and Rebecca weren’t identical twins and already showed signs of being very different in both their looks and their moods. Two eggs, fertilized by two sperm, so we’d been told. But I knew we’d never get a genetic test, the chances of one of the girls being biologically Liam’s was remote, very remote, but it was nice to think one of the babies was his, although which one was hard to tell. But it was probably for the best, their fathers loved them both equally, fiercely, and I already felt sorry for any guy who’d be brave enough in years to come to try to take them out on a date.
I flicked the baby monitor on and reached for the remote unit, then tiptoed from the room and pulled up the door. My breath quickened as I pushed down the handle into the main bathroom. It had been a while, but I couldn’t wait to be properly, physically loved by my husbands once more.
A fog of steam swirled out of the bathroom and the scent of berries and cinnamon flooded my nostrils. Several candles shivered around the enormous bath and Quinn was already submerged to his chest in bubbling, frothing water, his hands stretched out on the tub sides.
“Hi,” I said, propping up the baby unit on the sink.
“Hey, yourself,” Quinn said, taking a drink from a tall glass of iced water. “How did you get on?”
“Great, got an exhibition in Covent Garden to prepare for.”
“Excellent.” Quinn beamed at me.
Liam stood in his boxers by the mirror, he turned to me with the same gentle, loving expression he’d had earlier. “Then we have even more to celebrate. Shall we take off these winter clothes?” His fingers reached for the bottom of my sweater. “You’ll get far too hot.”
I let him peel off my sweater and undo my bra. As he slid it down my arms my breasts hung heavy and my nipples felt large and sensitive. For some reason I pressed my palms over them, feeling exposed and self-conscious under both of their sudden scrutiny.
“Come on, baby,” Liam said, wrapping big fingers around my wrists and pulling my hands away. “You know we think you’re even more beautiful now that you’ve made us fathers.”
“Yeah,” said Quinn. His jaw was tense and his brows hung low. I saw him shift in the water. “You look stunning, soft and ripe and full of love.”
“You, baby,” said Liam, “are our wife, the mother of our children and the woman of all our wildest, dirtiest fantasies.” He tipped my face to his. “We love you, we want to be with you, naked, and we want to show you how much we adore you.”
“Come on in,” Quinn said, holding out a hand. “The water’s lovely.”
I pressed a kiss to Liam’s lips and then undid my jeans. I shimmied them down my legs and wriggled out of my knickers. I took Quinn’s hand, needing the balance as I stepped into the steaming, swirling water.
As the deep heat embraced me, I sighed and settled between Quinn’s legs. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his scratchy chin to my temple in a long, indulgent kiss. “You feel lovely,” he said on a sigh.
Liam kicked off his boxers and I studied his beautiful body as he stepped in at the far end of the bubbling bath. For the millionth time, I thanked the Lord for the final clear scan we’d celebrated the same week we were told I was carrying not one but two babies. It had been a sure sign that we—Liam, Quinn and Ariane—were meant to be, meant to be together.
Liam sank into the water and as I watched the level rise several inches, I pointed out my foot for him to take in his hand. He cupped my heel and then stroked up my leg, a heavy look of lust and desire on his face as he leaned forward and began to caress my inner thigh.
Quinn carefully supported a full breast in one hand and sent the other on a t
rail toward my pussy. As his fingers dipped into my folds and swirled lazily around my clit, I rested my head into the dip of his shoulder and thought how lucky I was. My girls had two adoring fathers and their lives would be all the richer for it, the same way mine was for having two hunky husbands to look after me, care for me and make me feel like the most adored, satisfied woman to have ever walked the planet. There was definitely something to be said for being shared and I, now I’d experienced it, wouldn’t have it any other way.
The End
About the Author
Lily Harlem is an award-winning author of erotic fiction. She lives in rural Wales with her husband, two children and a host of rescued pets.
Before turning her hand to dirty stories, Lily worked as a trauma nurse on the outskirts of London. Now with a desk overlooking rolling hills, and not a hospital gown in sight, her overactive imagination has been allowed to run wild and free. Lily hopes her readers enjoy the sensual romance in her stories as well as the colorful characters and happy endings.
Lily welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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