by Tate James
“Alright, good plan.” I nodded, then eyed up my two new husbands in their ridiculous bondage outfits—ridiculously sexy that is. Oh, and husbands ... That word again. “Now, which one of you two is going to clean out my pipes? I get the feeling we may not get another opportunity for a while, and dear lord, save you if I am stuck feeling this unsatisfied for much longer …”
“You still want to screw after seeing your dead grandmother's ghost as she warned you about cuntmuffins? Holy crap, Sugar Tits, you're hardcore.” Reg slicked his hand over his hair and grinned at me. “Fuck, you're as bad as I am.”
“I'm sort of … operating under the notion that this is all a drug induced dream.” I flashed Reg my best take-no-shit smile. “Might as well get some D while I've got the chance. Lord knows my pipes had basically zero running water before meeting you guys.”
Reg laughed and slung an arm around my neck, running his tongue up along my jawbone. It should've been gross, but … it was actually pretty flipping hot.
“Threesome?” Reg said with a quirk of brows. “Like in the bathroom the day after we met?”
“Do you want me to kick your ass?” I asked him with a sassy bump of my hip. I wasn't kidding—I really did believe that at some point, my ass would wake up on Gram's couch, my mouth tasting of last night's wine, my head spinning like crazy. Because that was my life—normal, average … well, maybe even a little below average? I'd never been special or good at anything in my life. I was about as run-of-the-mill as they came.
Adopted.
I was so not going to delve into that shit.
Nope.
How the hell am I adopted?! Why would my parents not tell me that? Where the bleeping fudge did I come from?
If I were to stand there and psychoanalyze, I'd probably realize that I was trying to screw these guys to get my mind off my grandmother's words. I wasn't necessarily hurt by them; being adopted didn't bother me. But … I also didn't like being lied to—especially not about a subject as sensitive as, say, not being fucking human.
“I think you promised me a blow job?” Shane asked, climbing onto the bed and sitting up on his knees, freeing his cock from his pants again. It was a shock every time, seeing his junk all tattooed and shit.
“Bleeding hell,” I whispered under my breath, and I swear, I heard Britt say British somewhere in the mansion. Maybe being a spirit elemental meant I was psychic or telepathic or some shit? I hadn't exactly asked many questions about my own power.
Reg swatted my ass as I crawled up onto the bed. I didn't know a lot about threesomes—that was more Britt's thing—but I had some idea of a position we could try. I was hoping the guys would just get it so I didn't have to explain.
“I just want to warn you that I'm not as, er, talented as Reg …” I started, but Shane was gently fisting his fingers in my hair, making my scalp tingle. He was being firm, but not domineering. And I liked it.
Shane put the warm head of his cock against my face, traced my mouth with the tip, sliding pre-cum across my lips. I could taste the salty sweetness of him, and it turned me on like fucking crazy—especially when I felt the mattress shift with Reg's weight.
My black vinyl skirt was pushed up with a crinkling of cheap fabric and I wondered for a second why the hell the boys all got real leather and I got this shit … bastards … oh. But then I felt a warm hand cupping my cunt, squeezing tight.
“You are soaked, Sugar Tits,” he said, and I could just imagine him grinning dickishly at me. “As a water elemental, I must say, that's fucking hot.”
I couldn't exactly drum up a response because Shane was sliding into me, the thick length of his shaft heavy against my tongue. With my hands on the bed, I was balancing on all fours. It was kind of awesome, knowing I didn't have to do any of the work. Good. At least then Shane wouldn't see that a dude was better at BJs than I was.
“Relax, honey doll,” he said, his voice soothing along my skin like a balm. “You're so tense.”
“No, stay tense,” Reg said, as I felt him sliding his cock between my folds, wetting his shaft with the molten desire from my body. “Stay real fucking tense.”
Caught between a rock and a hard place.
Heh.
Well, it was funny to me.
My breath hissed out in a strangled moan as Reg slid his cock into me, the exhale making Shane growl like a … well, a dragon. There was something about the fact that these guys could turn into beasts that was sexy as all get-out, like they were monsters on the cusp of breaking loose, using what little willpower they had to hold back.
That was about the last sentient thought I had as Shane and Reg began to thrust, their bodies moving in and out of me, making me wonder why the hell I'd never tried this before. It was a lesson in exquisite torture, a taboo sampling that had my brain shutting down and my body taking over.
My runes flared, bright enough to cast shadows in the room, and I could only fucking pray to whatever god the elementals worshipped that Gram would stay the fuck out of here.
“Oh yeah,” Reg moaned, grabbing my hips in just the right spot, just over the bone. The feel of his fingertips pressing into my skin made my back arch, my ass pressing into the hard, hot heat of his body.
The position I was in could've be construed as … vulnerable? I felt anything but, like I was the one being serviced. Yes, Shane's hands were in my hair, Reg's holding my hips in place, but I still felt like they were mine.
Uh-oh.
Fucking shitballs.
There I went again, getting all possessive over dudes I didn't even want to be mine.
Shane was the first to come, and the hot saltiness of him coming in my throat made me forget to question what was happening. I swallowed and as he pulled away, I reached a hand out and dragged him down to me, using the straps on his chest to bring his face to mine.
Shane leaned down and let me kiss his mouth, the taste of his body still clinging to my lips. His tongue took over the interaction, bringing soft moans from my throat, drawing them straight into his.
Fortunately for him, Reg didn't finish quite as quick, working my body with a quick, but steady rhythm, bringing forth that orgasm I was so desperate to get. After all, maybe when this was over I'd wake up and find out that I was alone again. No Britt, no boyfriend, no money, no job, just … me.
Maybe I'd rather deal with cuntmuffins and plumbers than go back to that shit …
“You ready, ST? Because I'm like, thirty seconds from blowing my load.”
I pulled back from Shane's lips and saw him flash a grin.
“Ain't he a dumb shit?” he asked, pulling away and tucking his cock slowly back into his leather thong—right at eye level. I think that's what did it, the accent and the view—well and the fact that I was getting my ass pounded hard.
My fingers curled in the NASCAR bedspread and my back arched, drawing a sharp groan from Reg. I think we came at right about the same time, but it was hard to be sure because as soon as I felt that release, that uncoiling of energy from the base of my spine, my runes flared and literally blinded me.
Lightning crashed inside the bedroom and another fucking pipe burst in the ceiling.
“Fucking hell, ST!” I heard Reg shout, stopping the rainstorm of water before it hit either of us. I collapsed forward and rolled onto my back, turning over and looking up at a sheet of water, frozen in midair. As I stared, it retreated right back into the hole in the ceiling.
The lightning had set a small fire, but I supposed it wasn't that big of a deal considering I was dating a fire elemental.
“Christ on a cracker …” Shane murmured, hoisting me up into a sitting position and nodding with his head in the direction of the flames. “Can you put that out, doll?”
“Me?” I asked and Shane raised both dark brows at me. I was still lying there, panting, trying to put myself together and he wanted me to do magic. “I don't fucking know how!”
“I heard about what happened at the sex shop,” Reg told me, looking for the
briefest of moments like he might actually be serious about something. But then he just grinned like an asshole. “Stealing that woman's energy and putting it back. Come on, this is easy shit. Just dig deep, ST.”
I sat up, all sex muddled and hazy in the brain, and I stared at the small fire on the rug, the runes patterned across my skin glimmering metallic.
Dig deep, my ass, I thought as I looked inside, searching for that bit of something I'd found when I was at the clothing store. Instead, all I got was this violent rush that swept over me and made me gasp.
“Shit,” Reg said, and I noticed the color draining from his face. When I opened my eyes back up, I saw several more lightning bolts slam into the carpet inside the room. Inside. Lightning. Shit and fuck. “We need Warden,” he told Shane, and I managed to glance back just in time to see his face twist with frustration.
“Fuck Warden,” he said as I stared between the two men and tried to figure out what was going on.
“Who the hell is Warden and why are we fucking him?” I demanded, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps as prickles of pain coursed all over me. “What's happening?” My skin was lit up like a bloody Christmas tree, with little tiny spider legs of electricity pulsing and dancing in the gaps between the runes, almost as though the gaps were left specifically for this electricity to fill.
“Honey Doll, you just need to calm down. It'll be alright.” Shane’s syrupy voice dripped over me, soothing a little of my panic and making me take more notice of the scowl on Reg's face as he stomped out the little fires caused by the lightning.
“Maybe I did it wrong?” I murmured. It had seemed so easy at the sex shop. Just … look inside, find the glowing ball thing and voila. “I'll try again …”
“No!” Shane and Reg both screamed at the same time as a dozen more bolts of lightning hit the carpet all around the bed and my body convulsed. It felt like I was being hit by a Taser. Or … I imagine that's what it would feel like. As I said, my life was below average, and I really hadn't been hit by any Tasers before to compare against.
My muscles all seized up and my skin felt like it was burning. Like I had just been shoved into a rotisserie oven which was a little ironic, given I'd just been spit roasted and enjoyed it a whole hell of a lot more than whatever was currently happening to me.
“Shane, we need Warden,” I dimly heard Reg repeat to Shane. The pleading edge to his voice was not something I'd heard from the water elemental before, and it spiked my panic higher. My jaw was locked up hard and I couldn't speak to ask what the fuck was happening, so could only lay there on Shane's NASCAR bedspread while the electricity on my skin wrecked fuck knows what sort of havoc to my insides.
“We don't need him,” Shane snapped back. “Just go get Billy and George. Between the four of us we can ground her.”
“Shane—” Reg started again.
“Go! Now!” Shane boomed the command at his … partner? lover? … I really needed to work out what they called each other.
“Don't worry, sugar,” he murmured to me when Reg slammed the door behind him, “we just need all the elements here to balance you out and then you'll be right as wind.” He lay on the bed in front of me, our faces just inches apart, but I noticed he didn't make any attempt to touch me. Smart move. This shit hurt like a raging bitch.
It could only have been a matter of seconds and the door burst open once more, with my three remaining husbands all piling into the room.
“Shit,” Billy swore, throwing an angry look at the back of Shane's head. “Shane—”
“No!” Shane snapped, sitting up and whirling to face the fire elemental. Whoever thought air would be a weak element had clearly never met Shane … fuck, seriously? I didn't even know Shane's surname! “Everyone just help ground her; it shouldn't be that hard with all of us here.”
I couldn't see what their responses were, but the four of them fanned out around me in a sort of sex fetish group hug or something. From my awkward position it looked like they were joining hands as they started to chant in their magical language.
Oh fuck, this is totally a dream… right? BDSM dressed sexy hunks of men who fix toilets and chant in magical languages?
Either it was one hell of a drug induced dream, or I had gone certifiably crazy and was currently running down Main Street with my knickers on my head.
As they chanted, the little swirls and loops of electricity dancing over my skin seemed to lift off a little bit and hover over the surface. My four husbands increased the speed of their lilting words, and I could feel the magic being poured into me, pulling the shattered pieces of my soul back together and easing the pain.
My jaw freed up just a fraction and I sucked in a gasping breath, my eyes pleading with George to keep going. He was the one located in front of me and his gaze stayed locked on mine as they chanted their magic words, his warm wood colored eyes reassuring me that I would be okay. George would never let anything bad happen to me.
After what felt like half a year, the lacework of glowing electricity hovering above my skin sort of intensified then, in a sharp stab of pain, sucked back inside and left me panting as the pain dissipated completely.
“Blossom?” George asked gently, brushing a soft hand through my hair. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I whispered, facedown on Shane's bed. “What the fuck was that?”
When no one answered me, I pushed myself up to sit, so I could give them all the stink eye.
“Someone start talking now, or else …” I growled the threat, not really knowing what I would do to follow through on it, so of course Billy called me on it.
“Or else what, Firebug?” he smirked. “What will you do if we don't start talking?”
“Or else …” I racked my brain. I'd already promised not to run again, and honestly I couldn't even if I tried—not in my current state. “Or else all of this,” I indicated my still soaking crotch, “is closed for business.”
Billy's gaze darkened in challenge and Reg snorted a laugh.
“Let's not go making threats we have no intention of keeping, Sugar Tits,” Reg snickered and I turned my death glare on him.
“Oh, I am dead serious, Reginald Copthorne,” I assured him. “I let it slide on the roof when that slutty chick mentioned 'the other one' but shit just got real. I felt like I was about to fucking die and y'all are keeping secrets from me.” Pausing, I sucked in a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the trump card I was about to play. “I thought we were supposed to be married now? Married people don't keep secrets. Not big ones that impact their wife.”
Fucking. A. I almost choked on that word, but it hit home. Even Billy looked sufficiently chastised.
True to my run of luck though, just as I thought I was getting through to them, the door to the bedroom flew open, almost knocking over the little display of race cars on the shelves near the door.
“There you all are!” Reg's mother exclaimed, sweeping into the room in her stylish hunting outfit. Bitch. “I've been looking for you everywhere; do you have any idea how rude this is?”
The scathing look she gave me said just who she considered to be the rude one here. My eye twitched a little with the desire to slap this bitch and tell her where to shove her judgements but a small part of my brain recognized that this woman was, in fact, my new … mother-in-law. Gag me with a fucking spoon—am I really buying into this crap?!
“Boys, why don't you head back up to the roof so your … spirit and I can get to know each other?” The sharklike smile curving across her face said she would rather tear my eyeballs out with her perfectly manicured nails, but none of my husbands seemed to pick up on that.
“Sorry, Ma.” Reg shrugged, the movement nice and fluid and easy. Gah, those muscles, those beautiful, beautiful muscles. “Ari actually needs to speak with the Head. We just found out about some cocksucker—er, sorry, cuntmuffin—that wants to try and kill her; we wanted to ask if you or Charlie or any of the others knows anything about it.”
> The irony of Reg calling anyone else a cocksucker was not lost on me, and despite my resolution to stay mad at them, I couldn't help the small smile pulling at my lips. Or the pooling heat between my legs as my mind replayed the image of Shane's inked up dick between Reg's lush lips.
Reg's mother snorted a rather unladylike noise and curled her lip in disbelief.
“Oh really? And who would want to kill this girl already? She's not even complete.”
What the hell did that mean?
“Someone literally called cuntmuffin.” Reg shrugged and Shane whacked him in the shoulder.
“He means Kuntemopharn. Have you ever heard that name before?” Shane asked, and the Copthorne matriarch's face seemed to drain of color.
“You know something,” I observed, narrowing my eyes at her. “What do you know?”
“Where did you hear that name?” she whispered, her eyes huge in her perfectly made-up face as her hand fluttered near her neck. “Because whoever told you he was a danger, they were lying—he's dead. Has been for a long time.”
“I'm inclined to trust my source,” I snapped, feeling a bit defensive of my dead grandmother. How dare this bitch tell me Grams was lying. Could ghosts lie? Or was that faeries? I didn't know—I was just a barista, not a folklorist.
“I think you've been misinformed, but if you don't believe me, you can see for yourself.” She pursed her lips and gave a decisive nod. “Come on then.”
Joan Copthorne spun on her riding boot heel and stalked out of Shane's bedroom, clearly just assuming we would all follow her like puppies. Which we did, but that wasn't the point. This wasn't about her; I just really wanted to know what the fuck kind of creature was out there calling itself cuntmuffin—dead or alive.
The library was exactly what I would have expected, given the ostentatious décor of the rest of the house. It was a near perfect replica of the library in Beauty and the Beast—or at least it was in my head. The shelves of books were stacked from the floor to the soaring, vaulted depths of the ceiling, with long ladders on sliding rails dotted around the room.