Rough Exile

Bron let go of me and rolled to his other side, stealing most of Ilya’s blankets. Ilya yanked them back. The room wasn’t freezing, but without the heat of Bron at my back, I felt bereft.

Ilya’s gaze was soft, content. “You’re going to stay with us,” he said, as though predicting the future. “You’re not going to go back to those horrible people.”

“Those ‘horrible people’ are my family members. And they’re not horrible—they just take me for granted.”

“Well, maybe I can send them money to hire someone. It doesn’t need to be you helping them. You belong here with us.”

“First, you trick me into marrying you, and now you’re trying to get bossy with me about staying? What if I want to leave?”

His jaw flexed, and his eyes narrowed. He rolled me over onto my back and lay on top of me, pinning my arms and pushing between my thighs until his morning wood threatened to make me even more sore.

“If you refuse to stay, I’ll hold you captive on that island for the rest of your life. If you stay voluntarily, I’ll let you visit your family once in a while, when you can convince me to let you out of our bed.”

“Will you bickering puppies keep it down?”

”Is he always this much of a grump in the morning?”

“You’ve been around long enough. You should know he’s like this all day.”

Bron turned back toward us and propped his head on his hand, glaring at us both. “The two of you are going to need to learn respect for your elders if this is going to work.”

“It’s time to get up for breakfast, anyway. Do you want me to fetch your cane, old man?” Ilya teased.

“Absolutely. Get me a cane and we’ll see how much you like me using it on you.”

Bron grabbed Ilya’s hair and pulled him close, biting his bottom lip and then kissing him ferociously. Ilya smiled against his mouth and kissed him back.

“If I’m not needed for the next few minutes, may I be excused? I really need to pee.” I smacked at Ilya’s chest, and he slowly slid off me and onto Bron. The sight of the two of them together, making out in bed, naked and tangled in our sheets, slowed me down on the way to the bathroom. Watching them together could definitely become my new favorite pastime. I wished I had a phone so I could take pictures or maybe a video I could save for later.

Then again, that might not be a safe idea in Russia. I’d have to ask them what the actual laws were.

I padded into the bathroom and used the facilities, then checked out the bruises I’d acquired during our long, entertaining night together. Sure, I’d had threesomes before, but most of the time the guys tried not to touch each other. I enjoyed this way of doing things much better.

By the time I returned to the bedroom, the two of them were lying side by side in bed with enough space between them for me to crawl back in, and they were talking about trying new feed for the chickens, of all things. It was sweet as it was, but then I spotted the fact that they were holding hands.

Ugh. My heart.

I started sorting through my clothes, trying to decide what to wear.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to see if there’s food. I’m starving.”

“You didn’t eat very much at supper last night,” Ilya said.

“The surprise wedding made it hard for me to appreciate the cuisine.”

“It was good,” Bron said helpfully. “I think I’m still full.”

“That doesn’t help me now.”

“That sounds like poor planning. You should always eat if you have a chance to eat.”

“Quit lecturing me and get dressed.”

I chose a dress that was brunch appropriate and threw it on the bed, which meant it was also half on Bron.

”Is this for me?” He slid it up his body and held it in place. It was like a little clothing mohawk down the middle of his torso that ended at the top of his thighs.

“Absolutely. I figure since I’m the only wife in this relationship, I’d better pick out everyone’s clothes from now on.”

“I have excellent taste in clothing,” Bron said, sounding slightly affronted.

“Who told you that? Probably some girl who was trying to get into your pants.”

He frowned at me, and I could tell he wasn’t sure whether to take me seriously. That someone like him might care what other people thought of his fashion sense made it difficult to hold back a laugh. Teasing him was too much fun sometimes.

Without warning, he tugged me sideways over his lap and sat up long enough to swat my ass a few times, then let me go. The casual spanking had done just enough to wake everything in the lower half of my body, and my nipples really hadn’t minded being chafed on his leg hair.

“I can see spanking her will not achieve the desired effect,” he mused.

Ilya shrugged. “That effect seemed like fun.”