Three Men and a Woman: Evangeline (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (29 page)

“That’s right, Ev. Good idea. Get yourself ready. Be good and ready. Because when I shove my cock up your ass, I’m going to be fucking you hard. I’m not going to hold back, waiting for you to come. Keep your hand right there, ’cause you’re going to be on your own.”

He rubbed himself as he spoke, his harsh breath matching the way he handled his cock. His hand jerked, rougher than she ever would have thought to be. It was hot, hot, hot to watch.

Evangeline went with the devil that had taken her over. She rolled to her knees, turning her back to Chase, spreading her legs, letting him have a view of exactly what he wanted. She lifted up, turning at the waist so she could see him.

His gaze was right where she’d expected. She put her hands on her ass, fingers spread, nails pressing in just a little. Then she moved her hands and opened herself for him. He cursed again, not holding back now.

The tube of lube was at her knee. Mesmerized, he followed her hand with his eyes when she picked it up. She opened it and stayed turned enough that she could see him, could watch the way he watched when she pressed it into her opening. She squeezed, not holding back, so she moaned a little with the cold intrusion.

Chase growled, all but tearing at his cock now, swearing at her more.

She went down onto the bed, her head and chest on the mattress. She kept her ass in the air and arched her back, offering him what he wanted, presenting herself. Touching her clit, letting her red nails show, she started stroking herself there.

Evangeline believed what he’d said. He was so hot now that when he fucked her, it would be hard, rough, and fast. So she didn’t hold back as she worked herself. It didn’t take much for her, either. She’d loved the tease, loved driving him as she’d done, loved anticipating the thrill in what was about to happen.

She started moaning, rocking a little, beckoning him. She started chanting his name in need.

She groaned in relief, in wicked expectation, when he came onto the bed behind her. She cried out when he placed his cock at her opening.

But all he did was hold it there, just beginning to press in. He didn’t give her what she wanted, what she needed—that hard, hard fuck.

He was toying with her. He pinched her ass then soothed with little slaps. He made a fist and knuckled into her pussy, stretching her wide. He tortured her until she was the one cursing in need.

His hand crept up her spine and wrapped itself into her hair. With a steady tug he brought her up. She was arched back, her ass positioned perfectly for his hard fuck, her head back almost against his shoulder, her breasts thrust out. He kept hold of her hair with one hand and used the other to cover one tit. His forearm pressed into her other, chafing down on that distended nipple. Then his fingers grasped the nipple of the breast he held and bit down hard.

She was helpless, nearly coming already, defenseless against what she knew was next.

He held there, letting the tension rise for both of them. She could feel the strain of his body, hear his harsh breath—a sound that matched hers.

Then, with a feral growl, he pushed in. Slowly, so she felt every bit of his girth, so he knew every bit of her stretch, he penetrated her. He stopped again when he had that widest part of himself right at her sphincter.

Her breath huffed out. “Chase. Chase.” Beyond her control, her fingers worked her clit. She needed him. Oh, how she needed him to fuck her.

“Yes. Yes, baby.” He clutched brutally at her nipple, then gave her what she wanted. What she needed.

He went all the way into her, shoving his cock deep once, hard, so she felt his hips snug up against her ass, so she knew she had all of him.

Then he fucked her. Fast and hard, just like he’d promised to do. Flailing into her, roaring out the utter thrill of it. Taking, taking for himself. Using her for his pleasure.

But he wasn’t alone in the glory of it. Evangeline was so primed, so full of hot-needy-turn-on, so overwrought with his extreme passion and her own over-the-top excitement that she was right there with him. She rode his hard fucks, rocking and flexing to take all of him, jerking her tit against the pull of his fingers, rubbing her clit to that final ecstasy.

It was as fast as he’d predicted and more cataclysmic than either of them could have known. Her body bucked, spasming helplessly as he thrashed into her. She moaned and then screamed at those last hard lunges. She wailed as he growled out his come, guttural exhalations torn from his throat, harsh contractions of his body, and that hot flood of cum deep inside her.

He collapsed down on top of her, laid out flat on the bed, as the throes of their passion ended in helpless shudders and waning moans. He still filled her, his cock still big if not hard, still claiming her. He had his hands clutched over hers on either side of her head.

With his thumb, he rubbed that ring on her left hand.

She was his. Theirs.

If Saturday had been all about Evangeline and her three men binding themselves to each other, Sunday was all about the guys getting to know Maisy. Nothing said that to her like the fact that they were out of Chase’s house that morning without anyone’s hard cock making itself at home anywhere in her body.

Chase might have had expectations, initially. She’d woken in his arms, dawn light just beginning to brighten the room. He leaned over her, his hand drifting, stroking her neck and then caressing her breasts. His hand went lower, and she felt his fingers circle that bruise he’d left there.

It was sweet, a slow wakening to his soft, loving touch. But then she became aware that his intent changed—not loving so much as
clinical
. That he wasn’t caressing her so much as
examining
her.

She slapped his hand away. “Stop that.”

“What? You told me you’d never not want me to touch you. What happened to that?”

“You weren’t touching me. You were…
palpating
my uterus
.”

He sighed heavily and rolled over, turning his back to her. Not feeling he was the one who had a right to be cranky, Evangeline left him in bed. She showered and dressed and then found Giovanni in the kitchen with a pot of coffee ready and the makings of a breakfast strata underway. He told her around soft kisses that Briggs was on his second cup of coffee but working at his laptop in his room. Evangeline gave him a hand with putting the strata together, and the two of them sat at the kitchen island with coffee and
The
Sunday Times
while it baked.

They ate as a foursome out on the deck, after Briggs had been called down and he’d greeted her with his own kisses. Chase had come on his own, neatly dressed and quiet. Gio watched with interest the pointed
lack
of kisses from that source. But Chase relaxed after a bit, and during the meal, all three of the men tended to her as they always did, small touches and attentions that assured her of their constant awareness of her.

Their conversation, however, was focused around Maisy. They were hungry for stories of her—Gio asked what she liked to do, Chase wanted to know what her temperament was like, and Briggs was all about what she liked to read. Evangeline told the story of Maisy’s birth again with slightly grumpy prompting from Chase. If Gio and Briggs were aware of unhappy undercurrents, they were wise enough to keep quiet. She described how and when Maise took her first steps and what her first words were.

And she was corralled out to her car early enough that she’d be collecting Maisy long before the girl would be ready to give up the pleasure of her sleepover wrap-up.

Giovanni drove Evangeline in her car. She’d learned from Briggs that a pilot apparently always thought that he or she was best qualified to be at the wheel of any vehicle whatsoever. Gio rolled his eyes that such an explanation might even be necessary.

Chase and Briggs followed. They drove Briggs’s new toy—a Porsche Cayenne. He’d be spending much of his time on the farm, he figured, and so a SUV only made sense, right?

And Lord knew, no average SUV would suffice.

They dropped Evangeline at Charlene and Ted’s house while the three men drove up to the farmhouse. She would walk up the hill with Maisy.

And tell her—something.

Charlene and Ted’s place looked exactly like what it was—the site of a wild, child-centered sleepover festival. Blankets and sleeping bags were scattered willy-nilly, mostly centered around the big screen TV in the family room. Some of them still contained sleeping toddlers. Paper plates and empty bags of chips littered the floor. Ted was passed out on a couch, and Charlene was in the kitchen flipping pancakes, surrounded by children. Maisy was among them, almost happy enough to see her mother that the disappointment at her short morning-after didn’t show.

“Hey, baby girl.” Evangeline lifted Maisy into her arms, prolonging a hug that she was acutely aware would be the last while Maisy belonged only to her.

Maisy was game, affectionate and attached as she was. Only Charlene noticed, sensitive to something different in Evangeline’s hold on her daughter. It was possible she’d also spotted the ring on her left hand, though Evangeline had guiltily but carefully turned the eye-catching-in-the-extreme setting toward her palm.

Charlene raised a brow. “All okay?”

“Um-hmm.” Evangeline could only be glad that the other woman was well distracted by clamoring children. She hadn’t had to be born with her own big sister to know that the attentions of one could be both a blessing and a curse. It was entirely possible that word about her house—and garage—sitting empty all night had gotten around. The Victorys talked to each other
a lot
. “Thank you so much for having Maisy over.”

“Thank you, Aunt Charlene.” Maisy knew her manners, and the Victorys were, after all, family. They’d become aunts and uncles to Maisy years before.

Evangeline set her girl on her feet and they said their good-byes. They grabbed Maisy’s backpack on their way to the door, though it was a sure bet that Charlene would find a pair of socks or a favorite tee shirt or a couple books to return later.

Mother and daughter held hands while they started up the drive. Maisy chattered about the sleepover most of the way. But before it was too late, before they topped the rise and Briggs’s car—carmine red, because, well, after all—would come into view, Evangeline squeezed her hand.

Maisy understood the signal and quieted.

“I have some men at the house.”

“The ones who’ve been kissing you?”

Oh, how the Victorys talked. Evangeline could and would trust that none of the adults had spoken directly to Maisy about seeing her with Chase or, who, Briggs? But there were always children underfoot, and no doubt they had inherited their parents’ predilection for “sharing.”

She wouldn’t start out by lying to her daughter. “I’ve kissed them, yes. Their names are Briggs and Chase and Giovanni.”

“I like Briggs best.”

Evangeline laughed. “Why? You don’t know any of them.”

“You read me his books. He’s a famous writer. Keith said so.”

Nothing to do but sigh at that.

“I’ll like all of them. I promise.”

Evangeline knelt right there in the driveway, in sight of the house where no doubt three handsome, extremely likable men watched. She held Maisy’s arms. “You’re the best, you know? The best girl in the world.”

Maisy fell into the hug, though she probably had more interest in meeting Briggs. “All moms say that.”

Evangeline held her close, thinking of some moms who didn’t. One mom in particular. “Do you think? I’m so glad.” And she was, ever so grateful for the love that surrounded her daughter. Of all the gifts Miss Victory had given a lonely young woman and her baby daughter, that was the most precious. “In this case, it’s true.”

Maisy pulled back, ready to move on. “Let’s go see them.”

Evangeline stood and took the girl’s hand. “Of course.”

The door was open for them by the time they got to the first step. Maisy stopped and looked up at Giovanni, who pretty much filled up the doorway.

“Are you Briggs?” she asked, suddenly having not a shy bone in her body.

“No,” he answered gently. “I’m Gio.”

“Do you write books, too?”

“Nope. I fly airplanes.”

Giovanni smiled into Evangeline’s eyes as Maisy bravely tried to cover her disappointment. “Oh. That’s good, too, I guess.”

“I’m glad to meet you, Maisy.” He crouched and put his arms out, and Maisy went to him. When he stood, he had her wrapped in his arms.

He closed his eyes to the pleasure of the hug, and, when he opened them, Evangeline felt just a little bit excluded. He kept Maisy in his arms as he turned into the house.

“That’s Briggs there,” he pointed out. “She likes that you’re a writer.”

“I hear you’re a good reader. It’s nice to meet you, Maisy.”

Briggs stepped close and held up his arms. Maisy went in to them like she’d never known a stranger in her life. Briggs held her gently but buried his face into her hair, and Evangeline knew he was breathing her in.

She stayed back at the door, feeling uneasy, like she was intruding.