One Bride for Five Brothers Read online

  She holds up one finger to shush me and I clamp my lips closed immediately.

  “You know what? You are going to go first,” she says in a commanding voice.

  I put my hands up to object.

  “I really don't think that's a good idea,” I say nervously. “I mean, can't one of the other guys warm you up first? Shouldn’t you go slow? Should you —”

  “Stan!” she exclaims. “Get your ass over here and fuck me!”

  My heart is beating faster as she smiles, her cheeks dimpling, throwing her hair back over her shoulder. She looks magnificent, strong and full of herself. As she pushes her skirt down the rest of the way, I see her pink lips protruding from that dark hair, an unmistakable invitation.

  Her fingers drift over her full belly, burying in that sweet thatch. I watch as she spreads herself open with two fingers, the skin so inviting and pink.

  “Stan… I'm waiting,” she sighs. She leans back on the pillows, planting her heels wide apart. Her sex opens like a flower before me, rows and rows of crinkly petals. My mouth waters.

  “It’s my day, though,” I hear Charlie mutter next to me. “But you better do as she says. Hurry up, would you?”

  My body takes over, doing the things that my brain can't seem to get around. She's called to me, and I have to obey. I find myself on top of the bed with her, kneeling between her legs. She's glorious, spread out in front of me, that dark hole winking and inviting.

  She's so wet, she glistens. My cock is already hard, already ready for her. I watch it slide over her lips, puckering the skin slightly as I try to breach the boundary of that impossibly tiny hole. Yet, she accommodates me. She stretches around me, sheathing my cock like a warm, wet mouth, the most inviting passage in the world. Her muscles flex around me, fluttering against my shaft, drawing me deeper and deeper into her. I pump against her hips, plunging to the hilt, filling her over and over again as she arches her back, clawing at my shoulders, commanding me to give her more and more.

  The orgasm is obliterating, shattering me into pieces that fall inside her, that fill her. She reassembles me, and I realize that is not her intention to leave me broken but to leave me better. To make me stronger because she loves me.

  Panting, quaking, I empty myself into her, kissing her mouth urgently, insatiably hungry for her. I feel our bodies interlock like puzzle pieces, truly one flesh now.

  It's absolutely magical, how we all connect. Absolutely perfect.

  For a few long moments, I just lay next to her before rolling off the bed. She points to Hank next and he crawls up obediently onto the mattress, holding her cheeks in his hand so he can kiss her for a long, long time.

  Tim and Tom fist themselves slowly as they watch Hank drilling our princess. Charlie holds onto the bannister of the bed, his eyes rapt with attention. We are enchanted by the sight as Hank takes one of her knees and places it on top of his shoulder, angling her to her side. She moans with delight as he plows her, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets.

  It's like a solemn yet joyous mystical experience. Each of us mount her, one at a time, split her open, and are healed and reinvigorated by her love. She's our princess, our goddess. She is the mother of our children. She's the most magical creature in the entire world.

  Epilogue

  Vanessa

  One Year Later

  Somehow, we got to Germany. I basically had to arm wrestle Stan for the privilege of leaving the house, much less leaving the country, but eventually Charlie talked him down off the ledge. Our lives need to continue, he explained reasonably. And obviously, I'm a lot stronger than Stan is willing to give me credit for.

  He is such a darling. I know that it just comes from a place of wanting to take care of me. And I absolutely love it.

  Well, most of the time. Sometimes I want to kick him in the shins.

  The farm that Charlie had picked out was even better than the real estate agent had described. Three hundred acres on the side of a mountain. It is not only an orchard, but a vineyard as well. They've resumed making sweet wines just like their ancestors. Some of the knowledge doesn't seem to be passed on genetically, so Charlie and Hank have been studying at a fevered pace, trying to figure it all out. At first they were frustrated. I think they really assumed it would come naturally. But they’re catching on, bit by bit.

  But for the most part, it's storybook perfection. The house is almost two hundred years old. It's white stucco, with walls almost two feet thick. The thatch roof was freshly replaced before we got here. The stables came with three sturdy horses as well as new farm equipment. It’s a beautiful mix of old and new.

  And even though it looks like a storybook, rustic homestead, we've got satellite television and internet access and everything. Basically the absolute best of both worlds.

  But somehow, the air is different here. It's cleaner, I think. The orchard and vineyard are watered from a stream that comes off the mountains. The sky is about as blue as anything you've ever seen. It’s an absolute fairytale.

  And it turned out I really didn't know as much German as I thought. A couple years in college getting A's for grades didn't actually translate to being able to go to the local town and get bread and sausage from the toothless little old ladies who man the market stalls. They look at me like I belong here, since I suppose I don't stick out with my blonde hair and blue eyes, and they just start chatting away in German. When I don’t answer immediately they blink, confused, as I just stammer apologetically. I just repeat my simple requests with a few words, sprinkling the word for please liberally, hoping it all works out. “Bitte, bitte, bitte.”

  So far, it has.

  One of the most wonderful things is the views. After buying some coffee and local cheese, I drive our VW back up the side of the mountain to the house. The views are breathtaking, with farms laid out over the foothills like a patchwork quilt. Sheep and goats dot the landscape, with big eyed cows trudging through the picturesque pastures, their bells ringing.

  As soon as I park at the end of our lane, Tom trots out to take the packages from me. He gives me a lingering kiss before taking the bags and turning back toward the house.

  “They're here,” he whispers, giving me an excited smile.

  “Now?” I ask, my voice choking.

  “Tim snuck out first thing. He wanted to surprise you. Act surprised!”

  My heart leaps in my chest. It's happening. It's really happening.

  On unsteady legs, I climb the stairs to the front door. I take a deep breath before pushing it open and crossing the threshold.

  “There you are!” my dad yells out from next to the fireplace.

  “Here I am!” I announce, excitement bubbling over. I could just cry, I'm so happy.

  My mom grins at me widely, then looks out the window, scrapes her gaze across the ceiling, and shrugs one shoulder. She gazes down at the tiny bundle of blankets in her lap and shakes her head in wonder.

  Darting across the room, I kneel at her feet, opening the blankets to place a kiss on my baby’s sweet, velvety head. He's sleeping and wriggles peacefully when he feels my touch. Before looking up at her again, I inhale deeply, hungrily absorbing more of that sweet, sweet scent.

  “Well, hello there, baby Earl,” I whisper. “Did you meet your grandma? Isn't she the best?”

  Mom looks at me with tears in her eyes, her lips pressed together in a wordless smile.

  “We wanted to name him after dad,” I explain, though I realize she's figured it out. “I'm so happy you're here to meet him!”

  “This one is pretty special too,” my dad coos softly from next to the fireplace. I stand and walk over to him, aching to take the baby in my arms but forcing myself to let him hold her. It's good for them to hold their grandbabies, though I miss them terribly when they're even just a few feet away from me.

  “Bella can be a little fussy,” I shrug.

  He gazes down at the infant in his arms, rocking her slowly from side to side.

  “Oh, you're not fussy are you?” he says to the baby. “You just need a grandpa to hold you, right? You can stay here all day, baby Bella.”

  Automatically, I hold out my arms, and then let them drop. Dad winks at me and pivots away, indicating clearly that he is not ready to give Bella up just yet.

  The fire crackles in the hearth, a constant presence in our lives now. It’s like something out of a picture book. Two love-struck grandparents cradling two well-loved babes.

  “Vanessa?” comes a voice from the kitchen. It's Hannah, the housekeeper. She gestures to me, beckoning me over.

  “I’ll be back,” I explain to my parents, though they don't seem to be paying any attention to me at all. I guess they'll be just fine, cuddling with their grandbabies in our cozy living room.

  “Hi, Hannah. You have everything you need?”

  She nods with her hands on those wide, plush hips, looking around the kitchen. She appraises the stacks of bowls and platters, the mounds of food that spill over every counter.

  “Thank you for the sausages,” she says in a thick accent. A few strands of gray hair have escaped from her normally super-tight bun, and I see she's really outdone herself.

  “I think everything looks amazing,” I nod. “You really know how to make a beautiful buffet.”

  “Danke, danke,” she mutters. She glances over at the rustic table, where there is a towering cake smothered in ivory buttercream. Despite her usually cranky demeanor, I see she's very proud of herself.

  “The cake is especially amazing,” I praise her. She sniffs in response, pretending not to care what I think. This is just how we deal with each other, I guess.

  “Well… I want everything for to be perfect for you, Frau Vanessa. Everything in the world,” she says stiffly.

  I’m not sure if I can handle this embarrassing avalanche of emotion from her.

  But just drive the point home, I give her a hug from behind. I feel her stiffen in my arms, but I don't let go anyway. She's just going to have to suffer through it, because I really am grateful.

  “All right then. I'll be right back,” I tell her, steeling myself mentally. “Ask the boys to help you with this, okay? I don't want you to have to take all this out onto the veranda by yourself.”

  “I don't need help!” she huffs. “I can do it myself!”

  Carefully I back away and out of the kitchen, hustling back to our room. I've embarrassed her enough for one morning.

  But I understand where she's coming from. She's proud and stubborn. She likes to do things on her own, just like me. It's taken a long time for me to allow other people to help me with anything. A very long time. I constantly have to remind myself that it's not a sign of weakness, it's merely sharing the burden with these generous, loving men who would rather help me than do anything else in the world.

  I close the rustic door behind me, breathing in and out as calmly as I'm able. All I have to do is put on the dress. Just put on the dress.

  “Put on the dress, Vanessa,” I tell myself out loud.

  It is spread out on the bed in front of me, a beautiful handmade like lace gown in cream with a row of pearls at the bodice. Handmade Irish lace falls in a cascade of flowers dotted with tiny crystals. In the sunlight, it seems to glitter. It's a perfect fairytale gown.

  “Would you like some help with that?” comes a voice.

  Hank steps into the room from the sitting room at the far corner. We converted that to a nursery, but this room is ours. It’s a large chamber with an enormous bed in the middle, a king and a half. A custom made bed where we can all enjoy each other's company, every night. Usually we sleep in one giant pile, arms and legs tangled, completely satisfied and safe as long as we are all together.

  “Actually, yes,” I admit.

  I step out of my simple housedress and stand there in just my slip for a moment. Hank eyes me hungrily, just as passionate about my body now as he was the very first time. He never seems to waver in his lust. He is as constant as the sun.

  “You’re starting to show,” he smiles, biting his lip.

  “Do you think so?” I ask, turning slightly to see my outlines. I suppose he’s right. My belly is already rounded and full. There’s no sign it’s twins again… but then again there’s no sign it isn’t, either. Could be.

  “When do I get you to myself again?” he murmurs as he picks the dress up carefully off the mattress.

  “Only the rest of your life,” I reply sweetly.

  He winks, grinning. “Good answer.

  I step into the glorious dress and allow him to fasten the buttons one by one. Each button sends a chill through me, a nervous electrical current. But the time he's done, I'm sizzling.

  His hands drift over me as I stand in front of the mirror. I look like something out of a magazine. The pregnancy glow makes me shine. That, and an internal joy like I’ve never known.

  Hank is gorgeous in his fitted blue suit, all shaven and respectable looking. There’s a soft knock on the door and it opens. Tim and Tom arrive, snapping their lapels down smartly.

  “You guys look amazing,” I gasp, struggling to breathe. The three of them in a row are simply breathtaking. So handsome, so strong. They wear those custom-made Armani suits with ease, just as much ease as red flannel, toolbelts, and blue jeans.

  “Come on then,” Tim winks, the bare notch in his eyebrow twitching. “I think your dad is ready to do his job.”

  “Oh, come on… are we really doing all that?”

  “What can I say,” Tom shrugs. “We’re just a bunch of traditional guys at heart.”

  The sound of my dress rustling as we walk back through the house is like something familiar, and I realize it almost sounds like the twins’ heartbeats, the first time I heard them. That tremendous rustling, that whooshing that changed our lives forever.

  I walk through the kitchen and out onto the back patio, where the whole place has been decorated with garlands of flowers, ribbons, and lights.

  “You guys,” I sigh. “Did you do all this?”

  “Actually, your mom did,” Charlie says, leaning in close.

  I stare over at my mom, where she is standing with Bella in her arms. Next to her, Hannah holds Earl close to her giant bosom, bouncing him and scowling in her own affectionate way.

  I feel a tug at my elbow and look up, startled, to see my dad smiling down on me. He offers me his arm and I slip my hand through it. As if in a dream, he guides me forward to where a pudgy, startled pastor stands there, nervously holding a black book between his hands.

  I hear the quiet strains of a guitar and glance over to see Tom plucking out a melody on a nylon string. Dad and I walk slowly across the patio, until he releases me in front of the pastor. He nudges my chin up so that he can place a single, lingering kiss on my forehead.

  “I'm so happy you have found your bliss,” he whispers, before joining my mother on the side.

  “Ahem, well, so,” the pastor starts. His jowls tremble as he begins talking.

  Though he's nervous, honestly, I could not care less what he says. I'm glad he's here, but I'm even more glad for Stan, Hank, Tim, Tom, and Charlie. They gather around me, blindingly handsome in their matching midnight blue suits. I gaze up at each of their faces individually as the sunlight streams on our mountain palace.

  We exchange rings, binding ourselves to each other for eternity, though we probably didn't need rings to do this. I feel as though I am woven with them, sewn into the fabric of their lives just as they are sewn into mine.

  It's a perfect fairytale ending, and a perfect fairytale beginning too.

  SEXT GOD

  Copyright © 2017 by Jess Bentley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Prologue

  August

  I need you, it says.

  I’ve been waiting to hear from her all day, waiting for the right moment. I know what I need to tell her, and I’m ready to make it perfect for her.

  Tell me what you need, I text back.

  You. I need you, she responds immediately.

  I angle my BMW to the side of the road, parking it under a small group of trees. The street in this part of town is deserted right now. Everybody is having dinner, seeing a show, or safely at home. No one is wandering the warehouse district. It might as well be a ghost town.

  Are you ready for me? I ask.

  I’m so ready, she replies. I’m so wet for you rn. I need you to make me cum.

  That's what I'm going to do.

  I start firing off messages one right after another, not even waiting for her to reply. The floodgates are open. She’s willing and ready, and I need to seal the deal. I need to make her mine.

  That pink dress you sent me a picture of the other day? That’s what I want you to wear. I’m going to get the belt and untie it with my teeth. Unwrap you like a present.

  Pick you up and put you on the counter, push your knees apart. That good?

  Yes! she texts back.

  I am going to to rub your pussy through those white lacy panties, slip my finger inside and feel your hot juices. You're all swollen and pink.

  Going to stretch you open, tease you with my cock, rub it all up and down you until you’re moaning for me. I like to hear your voice. I want you to say my name.

  Just when you're ready to cum, I’m going to stop touching your sweet little clit and get into you. Want to be splitting you open, want to feel how wet you are for me inside. But I won't let you stop, and I won't let you cum.

  Not yet.

  Want to take you all the way there and let you catch your breath, over and over. Take you right to the edge.

  You’re so ready for me, but so tight. I have to get your knee up over my shoulder so I can plow deeper into your sopping wet pussy.

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