Page 36 of Room Eighteen: My Pain, Their Pleasure

EPILOGUE

TWO YEARS LATER

JESSA

“Are you sure this is okay?”

I’m looking at Killian and Edison holding our daughter, Maeve. She’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and my heart has so much love for her. I find it staggering at times. When my men talked to me years ago about a family, about the mother I would be, I might have accepted it outwardly, but inwardly I wasn’t so sure.

Now I know it was all true. All of it.

I’m a damn good mother and my men, no matter who they are in our bedroom or…elsewhere when we’re alone, are the best fathers a little girl could ask for. They are the kind of fathers who would storm a castle to make sure their daughter is safe. They will pick her up and twirl her around or sit and play with baby dolls and stuffed animals. I even saw Cameron smile over a small, empty teacup last week.

They treat her like a princess, and I am their queen.

It’s more than amazing and I am grateful they didn’t let me push them away two years ago.

Edison’s grin is kind and full of understanding. “It’s more than okay,” she reassures me. “We’ve got this, and you need a night with your men.” She leans into me and whispers, “From what I hear they’ve been kind of crabby. Help them blow off some steam.”

My cheeks heat and even though she has no idea how accurate her words are, they still settle something inside of me. This isn’t just for them though, it’s for me too. I need this just as much as them.

Edison must be a damn mind reader because she adds, “It’s for you too.” She winks at me and straightens up. “Maeve will be safe and happy. Not to worry.”

She takes a step back and then another, slowly slinking toward the door. I want to follow her and snatch Maeve back, but a large hand on my shoulder stops me and I slump backwards against Brooks.

We’ve been waiting for this day and it’s finally here. So, I wave and watch as Killian and Edison leave with a piece of my heart. I realize though, as I turn and see my men, the other pieces are right here with me.

Maeve just turned one and throughout my entire pregnancy I thought I had committed to strangers because I didn’t always recognize my men. They were gentle and caring with me and not just outside of the bedroom. Not all the time, but we certainly played more in the light than the dark. They never made me feel like they were missing out either.

For the last year we’ve started finding the people we used to be together more. Still, there’s one thing we weren’t able to do and now, with Maeve no longer wanting to breastfeed, we’re free to do it again.

That’s why Brooks looks like he’s won the fucking lottery. Tonight he’s tattooing me, the last of my men to leave his mark on my skin. I’m practically squirming where I stand with how fucking excited I am.

The man of the hour holds his hand out to me, his hazel eyes expectant and excited. “Ready?”

How can so much depth exist in a single word? How can it knit together pieces of my frayed soul so easily? How can it beckon my darkness from the recesses it needed to be banished to?

I place my hand in his and nod shyly, “I’m ready.”

Oh, and I am. I look over my shoulder to see Aiden locking the door and Cameron closing the shades. I shiver in anticipation. When we’re standing next to Brooks’ tattoo chair, he arches an eyebrow and I don’t hesitate to strip completely.

He already told me he’s tattooing my back, so I climb onto the chair, which has already been put into the right position, and lay down. When he runs his hand over a spot on my back, I know what he’s touching, and I shiver at the contact.

Before I found out I was pregnant, about a month after I moved into our home with my men, Aiden bounded up to me almost vibrating, “You’re mine tonight.”

I laughed while shaking my head before I teased him, “I thought I was yours every night.”

“True,” he conceded.

Still, he led me over to his chair, stripped my clothes and positioned me the way he wanted me. Face down much like I am now. My voice was hesitant when I asked, “You aren’t going to let me see or choose?”

He slapped my ass, for fun and in warning. “Nope,” he popped the p.

It was only after he was done that he let me look in the mirror. I was so damn turned on that I could barely think straight since my men didn’t touch me the entire session. When I was able to focus, I took in the tree trunk he inked on my skin. All the bark and knots were imperfect, yet so beautiful. He had left part of the bark bare in the middle of a heart made of twined twigs and flowers. It was amazing and I loved it, but it felt incomplete.

I turned to him and gnawed on my lip. “It’s beautiful,” I started, “but it seems like it’s missing something.”

That’s when Aiden stood up, and slipped down his pants and sat there with his cock leaking pre-cum. I leaned down and swiped my tongue along the head, moaning at the taste of him. He spun me so my back was facing him before he brought me down and sheathed himself inside of me.

He pulled his switch blade out of his pocket and proceeded to carve our initials right in the blank spot. Not just his and mine, all of ours, as if our family was picnicking in the woods and found the perfect spot to memorialize our existence.

I came around his length without him moving at all. Then he gripped my hair and stood up, bending me over the tattoo chair and pounding into me until he found his own release deep inside me.

That was the last time I was able to get tattooed since I found out I was pregnant a few months later. When I told my men about being pregnant, I was met with cheering and even a few tears. It was humbling and I felt my love grow for them. They slipped a ring on my finger a week later.

They’ve never let me down, not even for a second. Who could ask for more?

As Brooks works on my tattoo, I force my body to still when all I really want to do is squirm. I have no idea what he’s putting on my skin, but a girl can hope this session ends just like the first one.