Husbandry (2 page)

My skirt hit the carpet seconds later, looking far too
delicate next to his hefty boots and tools. Then the world tilted, and I wound
up flat on my back in bed. I lifted my hips so he could peel me out of my
stockings and underwear, which wasn’t easy since I’d grown so warm.

The mattress dipped as he came over me, and his smoldering
body heat blanketed me before his skin even made contact. Chuck stretched his
full length over my body. He massaged my breast and devoured my lips until I
was so dizzy I was glad I was lying down. I ran my fingers over his back and
shoulders, marveling at how big and strong he was compared to me.

I snaked a hand between us to grasp his jutting cock and
traced the distended veins running along the shaft. Here was the real miracle
of construction—nature’s engineering at its finest. A drop of precum welled up
from the slit. I brushed it with my thumb to spread it over the smooth cap,
which elicited a loud groan from my husband.

He rewarded me with a questing finger that tickled my clit
before he slipped it lower between my labia. I squeaked in startled pleasure
when he thrust that rough digit into my channel. Then I moaned when he set the
heel of his hand at the top of my slit and began stroking his finger in and out
of me. He soon added a second finger to the first.

I opened my thighs farther, which was all the encouragement
he needed. Assured of my readiness, he shifted his hips and replaced his
fingers with the fat head of his cock. There was a great deal of pressure before
the crown popped past my outer ring of muscle, followed by the feel of him
sliding in to the hilt.

He didn’t give me any time to adjust before he began rocking
that hard length in and out. Pleasure blossomed, and it didn’t take long before
I grew so wet I could hear a whispered suck and squelch as he worked me. The
sawing motion of his long cock raked pleasure across my most sensitive nerve
endings.

I clung to his shoulders and lifted my hips to meet him.
Perspiration broke out across my body—a result of exertion and the heat
blasting through my core with the rising friction. We were both breathing hard,
and I could hear the soft scratching of his leg hair against the coverlet we
hadn’t bothered to turn down.

His green gaze caught mine and held. “I can’t wait to make a
baby with you.”

Even distracted by the coiling tension in my womb, I knew my
eyes must have popped wide. We’d discussed having children, so I already knew
he wanted kids. I just hadn’t realized how much. Now the desire was blazoned
across his face—a primitive drive to procreate that made my pussy flutter
around his invading cock.

Images flashed through my mind of him cradling a baby with
green eyes like his and wisps of hair the same light blonde as mine. Of him
building a tree house and giving piggyback rides to a little girl or boy. I’d
never thought such homey fantasies had a place during lovemaking, but I now
discovered they had an instinctive sort of appeal.

I liked the idea of him filling me with his seed, mixing his
essence with mine to create something uniquely ours. Just not yet. We planned
to wait until the house was done and we had time to grow into the marriage. For
now, my birth control would make sure we stuck to the plan.

“I know,” he said. “Not yet.”

He seemed to read my thoughts, or at least my expression. I
could tell he was disappointed.

I tangled my fingers in his choppy curls and pulled him down
for a kiss. Our tongues dueled until his increased pace made the position too
difficult to hold. His cheek was rough where he dropped it against my neck, and
the threat of whisker burn made me hyperaware of the teasing rub of his chest
hair against my sensitive nipples. Both sensations combined to whip me more
quickly toward the crest.

A shift of his knees gave him better leverage and caused him
to penetrate me more deeply. Each forward plunge drilled pleasure into my
clasping sheath, causing my pussy to clutch and drag at his shuttling length.
He pumped into me with mounting urgency and grunted on every in-stroke until
there was hardly a beat of silence in between.

I slid my hand down to where his lower back flexed and gave
up trying to keep pace with his furious thrusting. His iron-hard cock rasped
and teased every nerve in my channel until I thought I couldn’t take any more.
He didn’t make me wait.

With a final lunge, he brought me off, causing my vagina to
contract around his length. The hot pulses of his orgasm accompanied mine so
that I felt like my sheath was sucking the cum right out of him. His groan of
ecstasy made me come long and hard before my climax faded. He fell boneless on
top of me, crushing me against the mattress.

Although I couldn’t breathe properly, I didn’t care. This
was my favorite part of making love with Chuck, aside from the wonderful
orgasms he gave me. Face still buried against my neck, he wrapped his arms
around me and held me tight. I felt so close to him as I stroked his back and
wound one of his damp curls around my fingertip. Moments like these made me realize
how lonely I’d been before I was married.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“Love you too.” His words were muffled against my damp skin.

A minute later, the spell was broken. Chuck rolled onto his
back and released a loud sigh that boosted my ego. It sounded like I’d worn him
out. For my part, I felt deliciously loose and well used.

Knowing he’d soon be asleep, I headed for the shower to
clean up. The cascade of warm water offered me a different kind of
bliss—something else I had my handy husband to thank for. He had recently
installed a special showerhead with adjustable nozzles. The massaging jets felt
so good I lingered longer than I needed to.

Chuck was still napping when I returned to the bedroom. The
phone rang just then, and I hurried to answer it before the sound disturbed
him. A familiar male voice greeted me on the other end of the line.

“Hold on,” I whispered.

I had to be careful not to trip on discarded clothes as I
tiptoed out of the bedroom. Once I reached the hallway, I closed the new
squeak-free door behind me and moved far enough away that I wouldn’t wake my
husband.

“Hi, baby.” I clutched the phone in one hand while I held my
towel in place with the other. “I didn’t expect to hear from you this early.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m actually calling because I need a
favor.” Charles spoke with his usual take-charge tone. “I left a couple of
files at the house this morning. Is there any way you can bring those to me? I
really need them.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

If this had been a regular occurrence, I supposed I would
have been irritated. But Charles rarely forgot anything, and I knew he was
working far too hard lately. Since I was mellow with postcoital afterglow, I
decided to cut him a break.

“What do these files look like?”

He described them to me. “I’ve got to go. I’m getting an
incoming call. Thanks, hon. Appreciate it.”
Click.

I shook my head at the phone. I wasn’t really mad, but he
was going to owe me for this one.

Slipping back into the bedroom, I took my time getting
dressed. I already had plans for this evening. I wouldn’t have time to come
home from Charles’s office to change, so I’d have to be ready to leave straight
from there.

Once I was done, I took the time to write a quick note
explaining where I was going. There were leftovers in the refrigerator, so
Chuck would be all set. I left the letter on the pillow next to my sleeping
husband.

All my life, I’d been told I took after my Grandma Filomena.
My parents recognized the resemblance from the start, which was why they’d
named me Fila. Although my grandmother had been a prim and proper lady for most
of her life, she’d hidden a very progressive, very wild woman underneath. After
my grandfather died, she’d taken several young lovers, with whom she’d been
quite…active. I remembered the last thing she told me before she passed.

 
“Every woman should have two husbands,”
she’d announced.
“One for romance and one
to be a good father and provider.”

I’d laughed at the time. Little did I realize how true that
statement would prove to be.

Had Grandma lived long enough to see the creation of Genetic
Harmony Inc., I had a feeling she would have gone husband shopping too.
Instead, I—her namesake—had wound up there, although in the end I hadn’t walked
away with two husbands. I’d walked away with three.

Personally, I blamed inflation.

Despite my attempts to live a proper life and blend in with
my conservative family, I must have inherited Grandma Filomena’s wild streak.
Genetic Harmony had obviously dug up that streak and factored it into the
equation. The laws sanctioning polygamy among consenting adults had made the
marriage legal.

That didn’t mean I was entirely comfortable with the
arrangement. Or that I’d told my relatives. Even my neighbors didn’t know I had
three spouses. You might wonder how that was possible, but it was easier than
you might think. They simply hadn’t seen more than one husband at a time. That
was all it took when your three husbands looked exactly alike.

Courtesy of Genetic Harmony Inc., Chuck, Charles, and Chad
were physically gorgeous and genetically identical. They sported the same curly
hair, green eyes, and square jaw. Their full lips dipped and curved alike and
had the same firm, delectable texture. They were all a full head taller than I
was and had bone structure only a master sculptor could dream up. It had been
love at first sight. Now they were bound to me by three matching wedding bands.

For all that their DNA didn’t differ, though, they were
still individuals. As I walked into Charles’s office downtown, I knew I’d never
mistake him for either of the others. His hair was professionally styled in a
short, businesslike cut, and he’d recently decided to grow a goatee. Although
he kept his facial hair well trimmed, I thought the goatee revealed a peek at
the bad boy beneath the businessman.

He wore a nice suit and tie and an aura of authority. Since
he’d only worked at this company for a little over half a year—almost his whole
existence—he was just a lower-level executive, but he was already maneuvering his
way up the corporate ladder. Courtesy of hitting the gym and playing golf with
clients and the higher-ups, he was leaner and better muscled than Chuck. He
only wore shirts that buttoned, never casual tees, and his whole demeanor was
more aggressive, starting with the bold stare he gave me with his emerald eyes.

That look made my blood flow more hotly through my veins.

“What’s the point of owning a home office if you’re rarely
home to use it?” I handed him the files and tilted my head for a kiss to soften
the reprimand.

As usual, he took charge of the caress, turning the kiss
into something far sultrier than a simple hello. He lifted a hand to grasp my
nape and tugged my bottom lip out of his way to get to what he wanted. Then he
thrust his tongue into my mouth and just took.

The earthy flavor of his favorite drink, espresso, instantly
flooded my taste buds along with a delicious zest that was uniquely him.
Charles liked to play with the edges of my teeth, no doubt flirting with
danger. In return, I teased him with threatening nips. His goatee looked so
soft, but his facial hair was as firm and unyielding as the rest of him. It
scratched my chin and tickled my upper lip as he claimed my mouth.

His cologne had a rich, beguiling scent that did things to
me. It made me want to purr deep in my throat and rub my body all over his like
a cat. My thighs quivered, and a trickle of moisture spilled out to moisten my
panties.

He didn’t release me until he was good and ready, and he
made sure I knew it.

I cleared my throat and scrambled to regain my wits. “And
you wonder why I want you around more? You could have more of that if you
didn’t work so hard.”

Charles had the nerve to laugh. He dropped the files next to
his computer and crossed his arms as he leaned against the edge of his desk. “I
like my work, Fila. I’ll like it even better with a corner office and a better
salary, which I won’t get if I don’t put in the hours.”

Yes, I knew his ambition. His second week on the job he’d
announced he wanted to make VP one day. If I hadn’t known the will of iron
behind his aspirations, I might have laughed. I knew Charles could achieve
anything he set his mind to, but at what cost?

“I’m proud of you,” I said. “I just don’t want you to burn
yourself out.”

“You worry too much.” His expression softened, and he
uncrossed his arms to stroke my cheek with one finger. “I was made for this.
The sooner I get a promotion, the sooner we can pay off the house and start
that family Chuck is so eager for. He’s already talking about safety gates and
how to set up a nursery.”

“What?” I hadn’t realized how anxious my husband was for
children. “We all talked about this. We agreed to wait.”

Charles shrugged. “Chuck
is
waiting. He’s just impatient. Of the three of us, he must have gotten all the
paternal instinct. I want children because you do, but I don’t care if it’s
tomorrow or ten years from now.”

“Still, I don’t want him to be unhappy.” I had no intention
of changing my mind on the timing, but I’d have to talk with Chuck.

“Like I said, you worry too much.” Charles didn’t sound the
least bit concerned. “Once Chuck starts to pick up outside contracts, he won’t
have as much time to think about it. The work will do him good. And speaking of
work, how did today go? Is that jackass in the legal department still giving
you a hard time?”

I noted the abrupt change in topic, but I went along with
it. Since Charles had a genuine interest in office politics, I also gave him
more than the pat answer I’d offered Chuck.