by S. E. Law
“But what should I do?” asked Amy, tears pouring down that beautiful face. “I love working with kids, and my degree is in Early Childhood Education. How am I going to explain this to other employers? Word travels fast in New York, and everyone’s going to know why I was let go.”
But that’s when I stepped in. I took her small hand in my own and gazed deeply into those cornflower blue eyes.
“Sweetheart, we’re men of means. You don’t need to worry because Ryan and I will take care of it. Just lie back and take care of yourself, okay? You’re pregnant, and I don’t want you to worry your pretty little head about this because this is not the time to get stressed out. Just take care of our babies, and we’ll be good.”
Amy sniffled a bit, but took my advice. After all, she doesn’t need her salary from the daycare. Ryan and I moved her into our penthouse as soon as we learned she was pregnant, and take care of all the bills too. In short, Amy was only working for fun, and there was no need to worry about finances.
Soon, she was back to her glowing, happy self, and within a few months, our babies were born. It was the best day of my life, bar none. When little Tracy and Trevor were placed into my arms, I began shedding tears. As alpha males, we don’t cry ever, but when I looked over at Ryan, I could see that today was the exception. His handsome face was filled with emotion as the two tiny, squirming bundles waved their little fists. He then burst into tears unexpectedly.
“There, there,” hummed Amy, exhausted but also glowing with happiness. “These are your daddies, Tracy and Trevor. Aren’t you so glad to meet them?”
“Yes sweetheart,” I growled, speaking for my children. Then, I pressed a grateful kiss to her forehead. “You’ve given us the best present ever.”
“We are forever in your debt,” vowed Ryan before handing little Tracy back to her mother. “We love you, honey. You mean the world to us.”
Our woman was absolutely incandescent with joy, and the next step was to get married. It was the only thing that made sense after all, given our commitment to one another, and the fact that she’d already given us twins.
“Will you?” I asked late at night, clasping her hand in mine. “We love you, Amy, and it would mean the world if you made us honest men.”
With that, Ryan whipped a velvet box out from the bedside table and popped open the lid to reveal a unique diamond ring. We chose one huge, three-carat sparkler at the center, flanked by two smaller one-carat stones. It’s a fitting representation of our union, and our fiancee gasped before slipping the gorgeous gems onto her finger.
“Yes, Raider. Yes, Ryan. I would love to be your wife, and give your more children too. I’d love to have a dozen with you, in fact,” she admitted with tears in her eyes. “Can we get married on Valentine’s Day?”
“Whatever you want,” growled Ryan, pressing a kiss to her hand. “You mean everything to us, and you’ve given us so much already. We adore you, and Valentine’s Day sounds apropos.”
When the day came, the ceremony was perfect. We showed up at City Hall, and Amy was married to me, as Ryan watched as best man. No one suspected that the three of us were actually a trio, but it’s fine. What matters in spirit counts more than what a piece of paper says.
But there was still the issue of her work because we didn’t like the fact that our wife had been slighted by that ridiculous day care center. As a result, when we got home, I presented our new spouse with a sheaf of papers.
“I know this isn’t very romantic, but it’s something that Ryan and I have been working on for a while now, honey. We know that you’re dedicated to your job, and that getting married doesn’t mean you’ve turned into nothing but a baby incubator. We want you to pursue your professional dreams, and to be a successful career woman,” I growled.
Ryan stepped in then.
“We’ve purchased a daycare for you,” he said. “It’s called ABC Tots, and we bought a new building for the program to be housed in. You’ll be located right around the corner from our penthouse, and your old college friend Carly has agreed to be Vice Principal. You’ll be Principal, of course, although Carly’s agreed to step in as Acting Principal if you get pregnant again. After all, it’s only right. We’re paying her an arm and a leg for the job.”
Amy’s eyes grew wide and her mouth opened in a round “O.”
“Oh my goodness, are you serious?” she gasped, staring at the deed in front of her. “I can’t believe … well, you bought an entire day care for me!”
“We did,” I affirm. “It’s worth it, Amy. You mean the world to us and we want you to have options. We’d love for you to get pregnant again, and to have more babies until we’re fielding a football team. But we don’t want you to feel like you gave up your life for us, or for our kids. It is possible to have everything, especially when you have two husbands who support and adore you.”
With that, Amy threw her arms around us, and we entered the next chapter of our lives. After all, Ryan and I read the signals correctly. By showing our wife that it’s possible to have it all, Amy has never been healthier or happier. In fact, she’s nine months pregnant right now with our second set of twins, and her tummy is enormous. She’s going to deliver any second, but not until Ryan and I finish with her.
At the moment, she’s sitting up with my hardness stuck tight inside her dark star, gyrating a bit as Ryan gently points his staff at her tiny kitty. It’s difficult because her stomach bulges out, and he’s trying to get into a mostly-inaccessible space. But sure enough, my friend does it, and soon both of us are thrusting in and out.
“Shit, I can feel you through her v-walls,” I groan.
“She’s so tight,” Ryan grunts back, a vein pulsing in his neck. “Is it possible that your holes have shrunk because of pregnancy, honey?”
But our wife didn’t have a chance to answer because climax came, and Amy literally passed out. Her hugely pregnant form didn’t move because it was skewered on our two meatsticks, yet we could still feel her holes clamping and spasming even as we jetted our baby batter into her sweetest spots.
And that’s the story of our family. In every way, pregnant or not, working or not working, Amy belongs to us. This sweet blonde was built for Ryan and me, and we look forward to sharing the curvy girl for the rest of our lives.
The End
Want to hear about Natalie and her introduction to special holes drilled in the wall? Then pick up your copy of Sugar Walls here.
If you like washing machines that go thump and MMF bisexual romance, then you’ll love Naomi’s story, Please and Tease, available here.
I was headed to prom when my boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend! To make it all better, a gorgeous dad steps in to claim his Forbidden Fruit. Kristy’s story is available here.
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Next up: A Sneak Peek of Made for Them. I never expected to get pregnant, but which gorgeous twin is my babydaddy?
Sugar and Spice
By S.E. Law
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About This Book
Sugar and Spice taste so nice, especially when they’re mixed together.
I’m a romance author who’s never been with a man.
It’s crazy since I write over-the-top steamy scenes that would make you gasp with shock and pleasure.
But one day, my dream comes true.
Kade and Brandon are two handsome male models who make my mouth water. They’re built like Greek gods with wide shoulders, broad chests, and two certain *somethings* that make me beg for more.
Even better, one tastes like sugar, and the other spice.
But can we make it work after I discover I’m pregnant with their baby?
It’s time to hit the spice rack! If you love bisexual MMF romance, then this story will get
your motor going. Jane is an innocent, but she’s quickly introduced to the dark side by handsome male models who approach her at a romance convention. Warning: swords cross in this book, but it’s what makes things tasty! No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA.
101
Jane
It’s an odd thing – to be a romance writer with no real romantic experience. But here I am, a twenty-five year-old wallflower finding success in writing steamy erotic romance novels. I have an active imagination that is fueled by reading quality erotica and watching a dirty video online every so often, so I’m not completely ignorant as to what happens between the sheets. Given that I’m doing relatively well in the world of erotic literature, I’d venture to say that my readers enjoy what I imagine. The super-hot, crazy billionaire with an alpha-male personality is always romance gold. Heck, I’d like to meet someone like that myself one day.
But over the years, I’ve learned that readers are often quite curious about the authors they read. If they like you, then they’ll eat up your biography and buy every one of your books. But if they found out that Jane Morgan, erotic romance writer, is an inexperienced virgin … well, that would be very interesting, to say the least.
Which is why I’m a little nervous to be at this romance convention in Vegas. It’s going to be filled with hard-core readers who know exactly what they’re talking about.
“How do you find inspiration?” or “Is there someone that gives you ideas for scenes?” are questions that I know I’ll be fielding at this convention, but I can’t exactly tell them that I’ve never so much as seen a man’s rod in person, let alone deep throat it. I’ve thought about making up a boyfriend – he’s absolutely gorgeous in my mind – and telling the convention goers that he’s the source of my inspiration. But what if it goes wrong? And if I’m being honest, I find it hard to believe a truly handsome man would go for a thick and curvy girl like myself. Not many men go for the plump body that I sport because it’s a far cry from the stick thin figures gracing the covers of magazines.
Sure, I’ve come a long way from the lonely student that wrote steamy fiction in her spare time, or even from the dead-tired waitress that stayed up well into the night crafting filthy scenes from the depths of her mind, but the potential questions really make me nervous. What if readers ask detailed questions about my experiences in bed? What will I say?
I’ve thought about telling a vague truth: I have an active imagination. It’s technically true, but it lacks the sexy lifestyle that my readers likely imagine of me. They want someone glamorous like Danielle Steele or Jackie Collins. They would be disappointed to find out that my steamy scenes are concocted from basically thin air, and that I’m making it all up. It takes the zip out of things.
Maybe I’ll go with the third option and tell the fans that I can’t reveal my sources. This is a safe option, but it is a total buzzkill. I hate to disappoint the people who love my work, especially since by nature, I’m a people-pleaser. It’s weird to behave like a top secret agent, when really, I just want my readers to be happy.
A knock on my hotel door pulls me from my reverie and opening it reveals my best friend and publicist, Mattie. She’s my complete opposite in appearance and I know that if we hadn’t been paired up as college roommates freshman year, I never would have thought to be friends. She’s beautiful in a Vogue cover kind of way – legs a mile long and long blonde hair thrown carelessly over her shoulder in beachy waves. With the way she looks, people never assume that Mattie would have a heart of gold, but she’s the nicest person I know. She flashes me a smile and makes her way into my room.
“Time to get ready! We’re going to the hotel bar.” Mattie is practically bouncing. Her personality comes out a lot when she gets excited and she’s been excited for this Vegas trip for weeks, even if it’s for work.
“Jeans and a t-shirt aren’t good enough for a hotel bar?” I ask with confusion. It’s what I’m most comfortable in, after all.
“No. Absolutely not. Cocktail dress. The hot blue one. Chop, chop, Jane.”
I sigh and accept defeat. Mattie doesn’t have to work hard to convince me of anything because she’s pretty much always right when it comes to clothes. Maybe this is an extra-fancy bar and I’d look out of place in my jeans and sneakers.
Sighing, I grab a navy dress from the hanger in the closet and move to the bathroom to get changed. Mattie smiles encouragingly at me as I close the door. I know she doesn’t care if I were to change in front of her, but there’s something hugely vulnerable about changing in front of a person with a body of a goddess. My thick thighs and round belly don’t compare to the smooth planes and tight butt that Mattie has worked hard for.
When I come out of the small bathroom, my blonde friend lets loose a low whistle. I refrain from rolling my eyes, knowing she’s just being nice.
“We’re meeting Kade downstairs, remember? Ready?” she chirps.
I almost choke on my tongue. Oh, shit. Kade. Tall, muscled Kade, whose figure graces the cover of my last book. He’s a professional male model, and obviously stunning. I bite my lip as I bring his latest cover photo to the forefront of my mind. He was shirtless obviously, his black hair a dark contrast to the bright, yet deep, blue of his eyes that practically popped off the cover. He was expensive too – two thousand dollars for just that one photo – but Mattie convinced me hiring him was the right move. She was right too. The book flew off the shelves. Turns out that not many women can say no to a chiseled chest and washboard abs.
With Kade’s presence at the convention, Mattie believes that book sales will reach new highs. He’ll be sure to incite some excitement, for sure. He’s going to be posing with me at my signing table, and fans will be able to take pictures with his brawny self. I’m already preparing myself for the endless squeals I’ll be hearing when he interacts with the horny fans that are sure to flock to him. It’s a sacrifice I’m more than willing to make though because he’ll siphon the women away from me, which is a good thing. Sometimes, I get nervous when I’m the center of attention.
Meeting Kade tonight, though, was not something I had counted on. I feel unprepared and a bit nervous. Do I know how to act around a Greek God? His abs look to be chiseled out of stone and I find myself wondering if the pictures do him justice. I stop in front of the mirror, my nerves forcing my hand to fiddle with the brown curls framing my face.
“How do I look?” I ask, feeling awkward.
Mattie raises a single eyebrow.
“Girl, you look real sexy. You’re a knockout tonight.”
I look back to the mirror, my brown eyes taking in the voluptuous breasts that appear so much larger than their Double D size. The dress clings to my figure, making my ass pop – a feature I previously felt shy about. I do look kind of sexy, which is a thought that has me a little astonished.
“Come on!” Mattie is getting impatient. The girl loves her martinis. I barely have time to slip on my pumps before being dragged out the door.
When we get to the bar, I look around quickly. It’s dim inside, with music playing and a bunch of people standing around with drinks in their hands. Immediately, I notice its lack of a certain hunky model. I may have never met Kade in person, but there is no way I’d ever forget his face. We make our way over to some bar stools, and get comfortable. Of course, this being a romance convention, there are a lot of women here, but that’s okay. I’m comfortable with an all-female crowd. They are my fans, after all.
Suddenly, the chatter comes to a halt, and the reason for the hush over the room is obvious: Kade has arrived. He’s absolutely gorgeous, standing at the entry to the bar. He’s got a solid black t-shirt stretched across his broad chest and dark wash jeans accentuate long legs. I swallow heavily, my cheeks flushing. Oh my god, he’s even better in person than on the cover of a book. I unabashedly stare at the Greek God standing there, and frankly, it’s hard to ignore the growing heat between my legs.
But then he sees Mattie and waves. His grin is en
ough to light electrical fires in the room, and I blush heavily.
“Hey,” he says after coming over to stand by us. “How are you Mattie? Nice seeing you here.”
Mattie, being the beautiful person that she is, grins right back. In fact, she’s acting like a completely normal person, which astonishes me. How is she able to focus?
“I’m good,” she says. “Oh and Kade, this is Jane, the author you’re here to work with. Jane, this is Kade, male model extraordinaire,” my friend adds by way of introduction.
I manage a nod in Kade’s direction, but don’t attempt to talk just yet. I feel his eyes on me for a beat longer than necessary. His eyes flash and my breasts heave a bit. Oh shit, I’m losing it. I take a deep breath and look around, trying to appear nonchalant. He and Mattie make chitchat while I smile inanely in an attempt to be normal.
I’m still trying to get things under control as Kade sits down next to me and orders a drink. I’m steamy and wet down below, desperately trying to focus on communicating like a normal human being. But this man is far from normal.
“So, Kade, how did you get into modeling?” Mattie asks. I think it’s pretty obvious – if you look like that, you’re a model. I pinch my lips together to avoid saying something stupid in front of him.
“It was just something that I was offered a few years ago,” he explains casually. “I never had plans to do it, but I’ve had some fun experiences because of it. I’m actually a personal trainer and just do some modeling on the side.” He speaks with an air of confidence that I haven’t heard in another person before. It’s almost cocky, but not so much that he seems like a jackass. He knows he’s attractive and well-versed, and clearly uses it to his advantage.