Husbandry (17 page)

“Fila.” At the doorway, my mother motioned for me to stay
behind for a private word.

“I’ll be right there,” I told my husband.

Mom watched until Chad disappeared down the hallway and
closed the door of the master bedroom behind him. Then she turned back to me.

“I don’t care for his long hair, but I admit he’s handsome.”
She looked at me from beneath neatly plucked eyebrows. “All those muscles—I can
see he keeps himself fit. He’s employed full-time, he’s sophisticated, and he
knows how to cook and take care of things around the house. You have a good man
there.”

It took a moment for me to get over my surprise enough to
respond. “Thanks, Mom. I think so too.”

“Mm-hmm. He’s the one you should keep.”

My little bubble of joy burst. “I plan on keeping him, Mom.
Him and Charles and Chad. They’re all my husbands.”

That earned me a sour look before my father distracted her
with a question about where he’d packed his toothbrush. I used the diversion to
make my escape.

Free at last, I returned to the master suite and flopped
face-first on the bed. Chad had already changed into pajama bottoms. He crawled
over me and straddled my hips so he could massage my shoulders.

“That went well,” he said.

“Better than I expected, though I could have done without
the last part.”

His hands froze. “Why? What did your mother say?”

“Don’t worry, hon.” I reached back to give the side of his
leg a reassuring pat. “My mom is quick to judge. Apparently she’s already
decided she likes you. She told me you’re a keeper—the implication being I
should divorce Charles and Chad.”

“Oh no.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” I let out a hard sigh. “Thank you for
dinner, by the way. You did a wonderful job.”

He flicked my hair aside and kissed the back of my neck. It
occurred to me he’d been on his feet even longer than I had.

“You know, you’re the one who deserves a massage.” I pushed
up and waited for him to move aside so I could face him. “Here. Stretch out.”

“Yeah?” He moved into position, exposing the long expanse of
his back and nape.

I had to splay my legs wide enough to accommodate his hips,
using his firm derriere as a cushion. The position was intimate but not sexual.
Although our lovemaking was fantastic, innocent moments like this were what I
enjoyed most about being married. I liked that I had the right to touch this
gorgeous man whenever I chose.

Chad’s skin was warm beneath my kneading hands, and I could
feel how tight his muscles were. Sometimes I forgot how ripped he really was.
The physically strongest of my three husbands was also the gentlest, the sexy
outer package eclipsed by his poetic soul. I found the combination appealing.

Deepening the massage, I worked his shoulders to loosen him
up and give him some relief. His blissful groan was all the reward I needed. I
kept it up until I heard Charles and Chuck enter the bedroom. Then I let my
hands trail down to his lower back as I twisted around to look at them.

“House is all locked up,” Chuck announced. He was already
kicking off his shoes and untucking his shirt.

“And the dishwasher is loaded,” Charles added. “It looks
like we survived dinner just fine. I like your father, Fila. He may have
retired from the workforce, but he hasn’t lost touch. Of course, I’ll have to
withhold judgment until I see him on the golf course.”

Charles had already removed his jacket and rolled up his
sleeves earlier. Now he loosened his tie and slipped it free of his collar. He
met my gaze as he pulled his shirttails free and began popping open the
buttons.

“Giving massages, are we? Do I get one too, or is this a
private party?”

I tried to smile, but my yawn ruined the effect. “How about
I give you and Chuck a rain check? I’m half-asleep already.”

“Me too.” Chuck finished stripping down to his boxer shorts
and stretched so hard I heard his joints pop.

Charles kept his gaze fixed on me as he undid his belt with
one hand. He wore a resigned grin. “In that case, I’ll accept a rain check for
more than one pleasurable activity. Come on. Up you go.” He walked over and
plucked me off Chad’s backside to set me on my feet. “Time to get ready for
bed.”

“So bossy,” I muttered, but I was glad. I needed help
getting over my inertia enough to go change into my nightgown.

Chuck teased me with promises about my dream bathroom as the
three of us took turns using the single sink. I brushed my teeth on autopilot
and barely had my eyelids cracked open by the time I came back out. Chad
climbed into bed first and lifted the covers to welcome me into his arms. Chuck
was next, flopped out in that careless way of his. I would have felt bad for
Charles, as if he was left out in the cold, except my bossy husband liked to
take the edge—the easiest position to get to when he slipped in after late
nights of corporate wheeling and dealing.

Although oblivion beckoned, I forced myself to sit up again.
Leaning over Chad, I laid a big smack right on Charles’s lips. “Charles, I love
you.”

Then I repeated the process with my second husband. “Chuck,
I love you.”

Pressed against me, my third husband wore a soft expression.

“Chad,” I told him, “I love you.”

I received a chorus of “I love you’s” in return.

All was right with my world. Cuddling between my favorite
men, I drifted off to sleep.

Chad woke me the next morning with a rousing French kiss. Between
my legs.

I wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it or how he’d even
pushed up my nightie and gotten me positioned without waking me, but my vagina
was sopping wet and swollen by the time I came to with a gasp. His body created
a mountain beneath the sheet. My knees formed the peaks on either side of his
head since he’d thrown my legs over his shoulders. I pushed back the covering
so I could see him and speared my fingers through his silky curls.

As I watched, he flicked his jade eyes up to look at me through
his lashes and puckered his skillful lips around my clit to suck me. I kicked
my head back into the pillow and groaned before I could stop myself. Then I
remembered my parents were right here in the house with us.

“You have to stop.”

In response, Chad swept the flat of his tongue up my slit
and circled my clit again.

“Ah!” I bit my lip and bucked my hips. “Please. My parents
will hear us.”

This time he let me pull his head away, though he wore a
quizzical expression.

“We’re married, my love. I assume your parents know we have
sex.”

“Not with them right here in the house.” The idea was
mortifying. And frankly, I wasn’t sure my father had figured out that little
fact of life. To him, I was still his little girl.

He slid up my body to kiss my mouth, letting me taste my
arousal on his lips and tongue. “You’ll have to be quiet, then. We’ll have
respectable, missionary-style sex like good little newlyweds.”

“Chad, that’s not—” Whatever I was going to say was
overridden by my moan.

In a single move, he shoved down his pajama bottoms and
notched his morning hard-on against my opening. He slipped his cock inside me
with a smooth, luscious stroke. Once hilted, he held still, giving me time to
stretch and cream to accommodate him. He used the pause to worship my breasts
with his hands and mouth.

“‘A woman waits for me,’” he said, quoting the Walt Whitman
poem by that name. He spoke the words in a hot whisper against my breast as he
drew back his hips. “You’re the only woman I want, Fila. I cherish every day
and night I find you waiting for me in our home, in our bed.” His return thrust
was slow and deep.

I clutched his buttocks for purchase. It felt as if I’d fly
apart if I didn’t hold on to him.

“‘Without shame the woman I like knows and avows’ the
‘deliciousness’ of her sex. You should never be ashamed of us or the pleasure
we share.”

I was beyond shame now. Chad rode me with well-oiled pumps
of his cock, making sure to penetrate me fully with every incursion. He filled
me near to bursting, my pussy a taut ring around the base of his cock. The
glide of his shaft felt so good I caught myself holding my breath every time he
retreated, anticipating his snug return. Meanwhile, he kept talking, reciting
bits of the naughty poem until his words aroused me as much as his pillaging
erection.

Chad picked up his pace and added a little shimmy of his
hips to stir himself inside me. “‘I am for you, and you are for me, not only
for our own sake, but for others’ sakes…’”

For his sake, he’d better finish what he’d started. We may have
been in a “respectable” missionary position, but I felt wild and desperate.
Preliminaries to my climax—hard ripples up and down my sheath that made my
muscles latch on to his stony length—had me aching for that final moment of
completion.

Chad’s control rivaled Charles’s today. Although he sounded
breathless and grunted between lines, he still had enough brainpower left to
speak. He picked up speed and force, taking me for a final ride.

I spread my thighs wider to accept him and keened under the
pounding. “Please!” I was almost there. Just a few more strokes.

He released a strangled laugh and took my head in his hands
so I had no choice but to meet his direct gaze. “‘I listen to no entreaties, / I
dare not withdraw till I deposit what has so long accumulated within me. /
Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself.’”

I had a split second to see his green eyes gloss over and go
blind with pleasure. Then, just as he stiffened and began to come, the dam
broke inside me. Only his mouth capturing mine muffled my scream as my womb
shuddered and clenched. I swore we climaxed together at the exact same time.
Each gush of his ejaculate seemed to pour from his cock in sync with the
sucking convulsions of my channel.

I lost track of how many reps my intimate muscles executed.
The final contractions of my orgasm seemed to happen in slow motion, twice as
strong as the others. Heat bathed my inner recesses as my husband finished
draining his river of cum.

It took a conscious effort to unclench my muscles enough to
loosen my hold on him. The twinges in my thighs made me bite my lower lip.

Chad withdrew and shifted to my side, still so close we were
stretched full length against each other. He tucked a stray piece of hair
behind my ear. “That was beautiful.”

I was too out of breath to answer with anything but a smile.
The humble tenderness I saw in his expression was almost too much for my heart
to handle.

He ran one finger along my jawline. “We came together,
mon amour
.”

“In more ways than one,” I said.

“True.” He rested his hand on my hip to keep me close.

When my senses finally recovered from the overload of bliss,
I glanced around and confirmed we were alone in the bedroom. Charles, of
course, must have left early for his golf game. I checked the clock and saw I’d
slept later than I’d intended.

I faced Chad again. “You’re usually the first one downstairs
in the morning. I’m surprised you stayed in bed.”

“I couldn’t resist.” He kissed my lips with an echo of heat.
“Besides, I thought it better to linger and let Chuck go down first so he can
spend some time with Minnie. I’m flattered your mother likes me, but this is
about all of us. She needs to see how great he and Charles are too.”

That might have been smart thinking except for one thing.
“My mom is up?” Of course she was. My mother was always an early riser. “And
Chuck is the only one with her? He can’t fix anything for breakfast except
scrambled eggs and cereal.”

I bolted upright and scrabbled out of bed, nearly unmanning
Chad in the process.

“Was your mother expecting a gourmet breakfast?” He followed
me into the bathroom and watched as I raced through a shower. “This isn’t a
culinary competition, Fila. I’m sure Minnie found something to eat, and the
important thing is that Chuck gets to spend some one-on-one time with her. When
Charles and Art get back from golf, I’m hoping to have the same with your
father. I really haven’t gotten to talk to him as much as I’d like.”

I jumped out and dried off so fast I nearly buffed my skin
off. “Trust me, honey. My dad isn’t the one you have to worry about.”

Chad shot me a look, but he must have realized further
discussion was useless. He gave me a quick kiss before I bolted for the closet.

I arrived downstairs in record time and followed the soft
drone of voices to the kitchen. Instead of finding my mom and husband huddled
over cereal bowls in the breakfast nook, I discovered them standing in front of
the kitchen window deep in conversation. They didn’t notice me, so I cleared my
throat.

“Good morning.”

“Hi, hon.” Chuck turned to me with a welcoming grin. “Minnie
and I were discussing the yard.”

“The yard?” I was sure I must not have heard him right.

My mom answered for him. “I was advising Chuck on the best
place for a swing set in the yard. You weren’t born yet when your father put up
the first swing set for your brother. He positioned it too close to Mrs.
Stankova’s fence. I can still remember watering the garden and hearing a thud
before little Josef started wailing. It was nothing but a bruise, but I was
sure he’d cracked his head open. I gave Art what for and told him to move the
set before he got our son killed. You can never be too careful. Not that I
believe in childproofing everything in sight, mind you. My grandchildren know
the difference between their things and Grandma’s things. It’s all a matter of
rules and consequences.”

“Okay.” I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. “What’s
this about a swing set? Oh, does Joe want to visit with the kids?”

“Have you invited him?”

Although my mom kept her tone neutral, I sensed the
reprimand. I hadn’t invited any of my relatives to my wedding or my house—a
fact she wasn’t going to let me forget anytime soon. The simple question made
me feel guilty.