They let go then, Ben growling and thrusting up into her, flooding her cunt with his hot cum. Austin, convulsing in his release, clutching her hard while he rammed his last thrusts into her, blasting his cum into her ass.
Even Lincoln let out a victorious cry, working her tits to the last. As Austin collapsed, Linc pulled her forward into the comfort of his arms. He lay back with her tucked against his chest. Ben curled behind her, draping a possessive arm around her waist. The huge bed had room for Austin, too. He lay across the bottom, wrapping an arm around her calves and nestling his head into her thighs.
She kissed Linc’s shoulder, entwined fingers with Ben, and slid her other hand along Austin’s hard jaw to hold him.
They lay together as their breathing eased, all totally replete, totally content.
* * * *
Two weeks later, on a Saturday afternoon, Lincoln Banks sat in a lawn chair next to his friend Austin. They were spectators at the Ultimate regional championship game.
Linc had never watched a game before, other than idly looking over a casual pick-up game he happened by a time or two.
This was something different. The play was sharp and smart. The players were serious, if still having fun and maintaining that goofy-sweet commitment to “spirit.”
Still, the draw was in observing a particular player. Her long legs and toned body were a pleasure to watch—she used her body athletically and gracefully. Her tight ass was muscular, sweet, and frequently fondled by another particular player. She played with enthusiasm and cheer, laughing frequently, like a well-pleased woman should.
If one was lucky and knew to look—and Linc was and did—one could sometimes get a hint of a little hardware tucked into that sports bra underneath her Sugar Daddies T-shirt.
Two nipple rings.
Oh, not just any nipple rings. These involved eighteen karat and significant stones. What had started out as a jest had taken on a life of its own. She wore one ring on her finger and the others on her nipples. It was a surprisingly powerful, erotic mark of ownership, and he’d noted that, when one man happened to have a nipple in his mouth, it tended to be the nipple that wore his ring.
It was Linc’s ring on her finger. She was Delilah Banks now, much to his everlasting, masculine, prideful delight.
They’d shot for it, odds and evens, Austin and Ben and Lincoln. They’d each thought they’d win, had counted on it. Austin the engineer had expected to outthink them, using math and odds-ratios and whatever shit. Ben had figured he could Jedi knight out a victory.
But the CEO knew people. Oh, he didn’t win their shoot-outs every time. Over the years, he’d bought more than his share of rounds and taken duty as designated driver most of the time.
His buddies considered it his bad luck. He considered it an investment.
So when it counted, when, for example, it was a question of who got first shot at Delilah when she came to town, or who married her first, he knew their patterns.
Austin and Ben had been truly surprised at the outcome. Not the CEO.
They’d agreed to rotate. The plan was that in a handful of years there would be a legal divorce and a new marriage. Theoretically, the rings would rotate, too. And the truth was, he wouldn’t mind having it be his own ring in his mouth when he took a good hold on one of her hot nipples.
But mostly, he was just hoping to keep them all happy enough that they’d coast cheerily along as they were. He wouldn’t fight it if one of the others wanted her to have his name for a while—honor would demand that he acquiesce. He had his CEO ways though, and he thought maybe he could keep them distracted.
Already, he had them secured in his home. He’d be building on. He’d bought two lots when he’d first built, thinking he wanted his space.
He did. He just hadn’t known exactly what he wanted it for.
Delilah needed a studio. Howard’s Katie was going to come back to work eventually, and ABL’s temp had worked out just fine—a guy, and they were going to offer him a permanent job.
Delilah had decided to give up employment and work on her craft in basket weaving. Austin had suggested it to her, once Linc had put the thought in his head.
It was all part of his master plan. True, he considered her a real artist, and he was more than happy to give her the opportunity to explore her talent in that way.
But their girl would have her hands full—well, not just her hands—keeping her three men happy. She really didn’t need the distraction of a job.
There would be babies soon—maybe nine months soon, as he’d convinced her to have that IUD out the day before their wedding. Motherhood—if that wasn’t a thing he longed to see, her belly filling with a child that belonged to them all—would demand a lot of her attention as well.
So he had the addition all figured out, and already an architect was working on it. A studio with lots of light and open air for Delilah. A suite for each of the guys. And family space—a kind of nursery and the potential for kids’ rooms to grow into. A childproof rail around the deck and pool. A little yard with grass and room to throw a ball.
Yep, he had his life ordered just fine.
When the Sugar Daddies won, the victory celebration included him watching as two men kissed his wife.
Neither held back on tongue.
And neither did he, when it was his turn. He caught her hand by the ring on her finger, the way he liked to do. And pulled her hard against his chest, so he could feel those other two symbols of ownership. Three men. One woman. Delilah.
THE END
WWW.RACHELBILLINGSNY.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel Billings takes her pen name from her hometown. She lives in western New York now, where she works, writes and gardens. But she still misses the Big Sky.
She comes from farmers and likes to dig in the dirt then sit back and watch things grow. She takes a similar approach to the raising of her three children. Her husband, being a scientist, takes a more methodical approach.
Rachel started writing stories in her head when she was five. They featured spunky girls who performed heroic acts while looking great and earning the admiration of attractive males. In short, they were preludes to her stories of today.
In her day job (which happens to be a night job, too), she works to help women have stronger, healthier, happier lives. In her writing, she hopes to entertain and maybe even enrich women’s lives through romantic and erotic fiction. She does consider her work to be fantasy and realizes that some events described may not be physically possible. Not all things should be tried at home.
She has learned that love has power and believes that when two (or four) people love each other, many things are possible.
For all titles by Rachel Billings, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/rachel-billings
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Three Men and a Woman: Delilah (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 25