Page 196 of Craving Consequences

Morning breaks the way it always does, with a soft hush and the whisper of stillness I know isn’t going to last. Filmy sunlight spills through gauzy curtains, painting the room a pale gold. It stretches across the tangle of legs woven around me across the mattress.

Two years and they still sleep the exact same way. Even during the eight months where I was so big and full I could barely see my feet, Van wedged himself into my chest like it was the only home he’s ever known. Lachlan still cradles my stomach. It’s softer than it used to be. Slightly lumpy and lined with stretch marks that both swear they love. But it no longer strains or kicks them.

I miss the kicks.

I miss the feel of life growing inside me. I know both men have been making noises to do it again, and I am so tempted, but I want to enjoy the tiny monster we already have. The two foot tall demon with my hair and my eyes, andabsolutely nothing of her fathers. But I would like to give her a sibling, or two.

Lachlan stirs against my back. His lips find their favorite spot at the nape of my neck.

“Morning,” he murmurs, somehow always knowing when I’m awake.

I tip my head back on his shoulder and my mouth is immediately claimed.

“Morning,” I reply, smiling up at him.

His brown eyes search mine in the hazy light. “Love you.”

Heart kicking as it does every time, I tilt my face for another kiss.

At my front, Van shifts. His face nuzzles my left breast, nips on my nipple through my t-shirt, sends warm tingles down my spine.

I moan and thread my fingers through his hair. The three interconnecting rings on my finger glint amongst the dark strands as I hold him to my chest.

“Think we have time for a quickie?” Lachlan’s already slipping his hand under the hem of my top.

“Yes,” I plead, my own fingers hooking into the sweats hanging low on Van’s hips.

We do not have time when the high, demanding shriek echoes like a bomb in our solitude. It rattles through the speaker perched on the end table, spiking the red light to the top.

“I’ll get the princess. You take care of the queen,” Van says, lifting his head and kissing me once hard before rolling off the mattress.

Lachlan does not argue as I’m liberated from my top. I’m on him before it hits the floor. I climb his beautiful cock and slide down, taking my pleasure while Van’s quiet murmurs spill from the speaker followed by our daughter’s excited babble.

Lachlan’s groan fills my ears as I take him deep. We may have to be quick, but I relish the weight of his hands on my waist, the rise and buck of his hips meeting my every grind.

“Yes...” I wheeze when he slams up harder. My back arches with the sharp spark of electricity cutting up my body. “Again. Fuck me.”

He does not disappoint.

He pushes up, arms coming up around me, pulling me down full on him. His mouth finds my breasts as he rolls his hips. The depth has my head falling back and my core fisting every inch of his cock. My clit grinds into his pelvis, sending fire pulsing up my spine.

I dig my hands in his hair and hold him captive to my chest as he palms and licks my breasts.

“So good,” I gasp. “You feel so ... God ... don’t stop!”

His fingers close down on my ass cheeks and he pulls me harder down on him as I whine his name and cum.

I feel him fill me a second later with a snarl of my name.

He stays buried inside me, our chests rising and falling in uneven pants. His lips ghost my shoulder, my collarbone. Making their way up the column of my throat to find my lips.

The kiss is slow and far more intimate than what we just did. It’s poetry and secrets. It’s everything I see in his eyes when he looks at me.

“Love you,” he whispers.

I brush a hand through the wavy strands falling over his eyes. “Love you.”

With a final kiss, we pull apart and find our clothes. He takes my hand as we leave the seclusion of our bed and start the climb down to the kitchen where Van sits across from a sour faced one year old.

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