Stroke of Luck

Austin hadn’t bothered with a towel, and his naked cock nestled against her ass. Then his hand stroked lightly over her breast, and she knew it wouldn’t take much for her to suggest they hop right back into bed.

“I’m … uh … looking for my dress, but I don’t see it.”

“Ah, yes. Well, that would be because you and Quinn were a little anxious to get started on the honeymoon last night, and you shed it at the front door.”

A memory flashed through her of Quinn holding her pinned against the door, then driving into her with a savage thrust. Then he’d pounded her fas

t and hard against the wooden surface until they’d both shuddered in release.

It had been primal and exhilarating. A powerful wave of arousal swept through her, and she nearly spun around to grab Austin’s cock and start pumping it.

Instead she drew in a deep breath.

“You really don’t remember what happened last night?” Quinn asked, now wearing a pair of jeans and pulling on a shirt.

“I remember everything until we left the other hotel where we played poker, but after that … just fragments.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Quinn asked. “I don’t want anything hidden from you. Like the fact the three of us had sex last night.”

Austin pulled her tightly to him, his lips brushing her ear. “I sure hope you haven’t completely forgotten the first time I made love to you.” His lips trailed down her neck. “And then when I held you while Quinn—”

“Austin. Give her a minute to breathe,” Quinn said.

She remembered now. Being on the floor on top of Austin, then Quinn prowling over her and making love to her from behind. Her intimate muscles clenched at the memory, wanting him inside her again.

“All right. If you insist.” Austin turned her around and kissed her, then let her go. “But if you need a reminder of what it was like, sweetheart, just let me know.”

His wide grin and the twinkle in his teal eyes made her laugh.

“I promise. Right now, I’m going to get dressed. I assume my undies are with the dress?”

“Well, your bra is,” Quinn responded. “You gave your panties to Austin as a gift.”

“Oh, right.”

She walked out of the bedroom and crossed the living room to the front door.

She picked up her discarded bra and slid the towel down around her waist while she pulled the lacy garment on. She dropped the towel to the ground and slipped her dress on, then zipped it up.

She bit her lip. “Uh … my only other panties are the black ones I wore in the pool yesterday. I hung them to dry in the bathroom, but I didn’t see them there when we showered.”

“I sent those out with the other clothes to be cleaned.” Austin grinned. “Sorry, they’re not back yet.”

Both men now stood in the living room, fully dressed. And both were staring at her skirt, knowing there were no panties underneath. She turned back to the door, not quite ready for another onslaught of male hormones, so she picked up the other clothes lying there. She draped Quinn’s shirt over her arm. She remembered him peeling it away last night. Then the suit jackets scattered across the entrance floor. She picked them up and hung them in the closet. She noticed a pink rose in the breast pocket of each, and she pulled them out.

“Are these supposed to be boutonnieres?” she asked, heading to the bathroom to put them into a glass of water. “They look pretty sad.”

There was no foliage or baby’s breath to adorn them. They’d gotten a lovely wedding bouquet for her from the chapel or a florist. She was surprised they hadn’t gotten proper boutonnieres, too.

Austin laughed, and Quinn joined in.

“What’s so funny?” she asked as she followed them into the living room. She sat on the couch and gazed from one to the other. Quinn sat beside her, Austin on the armchair.

“When we went to the second chapel to get married—”

“The second chapel?” she asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t think that the guy would agree to marry you and me,” Austin explained, “right after performing the ceremony for you and Quinn. So we went somewhere else.”