?Isla?
I wear the dress I brought specifically for Christmas.
A sleek, simple black number with thin straps and a modest neckline that still showcases my breasts, but not so much that Mom would yell at me. The hem falls above my knees in a cute flare that sways around my thighs when I emerge to a cabin full of people.
All familiar faces I haven’t seen since my last visit. People from Walker’s side of the tree. People I’m not close with just based on the facts they have on me and their understandable desire to stay away.
But a few smile and give me awkward hugs. Walker’s Aunt Jordan looks me over from her seat by the fire. Muddy brown eyes shrewdly taking me in.
“What part of the country do you live in now?” she drawls.
“Leave the girl alone,” Grandma Lee mutters, never looking away from the knitting needles between her gnarled fingers. “It’s not like you’re sending her a Christmas card. It’s none of your business where she lives.”
I’ve always liked the eighty-year-old. There may be some debate about whose family tree she’s from, but no one has the courage to ask her. So, she comes to every event and tells people off.
I strive to be just like her one day.
The two begin their bickering and I move away. My gaze scans the room, searching for my boys when I spot them in thefar corner, half hidden in the short alcove Walker used to keep his fishing poles. I would have missed them if I wasn’t looking for them.
They watch me the way a fox watches a hen. The unwavering focus turns my knees to jelly and my pussy tightens around the plug.
Nick motions me over and I obey without hesitation. I move through the crowd without breaking eye contact and don’t stop until I’m standing before them.
“You look beautiful, baby,” Nick murmurs, hooking my middle and pulling my back to his chest. His erection grinds into my ass.
The firm, unyielding presence of it almost makes me chuckle.
The man is insatiable.
Apparently, so am I when I have to resist the urge to reach for him.
It does make me wonder if this is sustainable. Just how often can three people fuck until it becomes too much?
Dom answers that question when he leans in and kisses me. Full and straight on the mouth. There’s no pretense. No hiding the fact that I belong to them. We’re fairly hidden but it would only take one person to glance over and catch me in the center of this huddle.
And I don’t care.
In this moment when he’s taking slow, thirsty sips of my mouth and Nick is nuzzling the curve of my shoulder where it connects to my neck, there is nothing else.
“You’re coming home with us after this,” he murmurs in between languid strokes. “We’ll grab your stuff, but you’ll be sharing our bed before New Year’s.”
Breathless, head a foggy swamp of desire, I forcibly break the kiss and struggle to find words for whatever I meant to say.
“Is that too fast?” I finally wheeze. “Maybe I can move nearby—”
“No,” both men say in unison.
Despite the reclaiming of my mouth by Dom and the tightening of Nick’s arms across my abdomen, I chuckle.
“What if this…” I stop myself from voicing the fears in my head.
I partially have no choice when Dom’s head snaps up, the warning painfully clear on his face. His dark eyes narrow, practically daring me to finish. But I swallow it down.
“As soon as we leave,” he remarks slowly, clearly over the din of music and the chatter. “You’re coming home with us.”
There’s no avoiding the anxious gnawing in my belly, the fear that they’re making a mistake. I don’t know how to tell them they should do a trial run before committing to a disaster like me.
Dom touches my cheeks. His palms cradle my face and rescue my bottom lip from the abuse of my teeth.
