CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Colt
I didn’t give a shit about money. I had enough to purchase my land and I was patient in building my house. I had simple needs. But I could get used to the private jet. While I had no idea exactly how much money Lacey had, she was certainly a millionaire. I knew, from those damned tabloid magazines, how much she made an episode. Unless she was an idiot with her finances, she didn’t need to work. It wasn’t her money that funded our trip back to Montana, but Gabe. Her brother-in-law was as eager to see Lacey happy as we were.
Well, maybe not quite as much. But he was probably eager to get her out of his house. I understood his interest in getting his new wife all to himself. Once he offered his help in getting Lacey back, I looked him up online too. I’d been on technology more in the past week than I ever wanted. I was just looking forward to returning to quiet. With Lacey.
And doing it via private jet only made it all the better.
We could have inducted ourselves into the Mile High Club on the way, but I wanted no one around when we fucked her next. Not even a flight attendant. So she’d settled between us in the luxurious seats and we’d made out like teenagers.
By the time we drove back to Bridgewater and to Micah’s house in town—it was closer than my cabin—we were all beyond eager.
“I want you too much to pretend to be a librarian,” she murmured as I tugged her behind me up the front steps. Micah unlocked the door and turned on the light—it was after ten and the sun had set an hour ago—and waited for us to clear the door, kick it shut and lock it.
“No pretending,” I said as I stopped in front of Micah’s big bed.
He closed the bedroom door, too, even went over and lowered the blinds on the windows. The idea of someone watching us have sex not once, but twice, made me want to go to the jail and beat the shit out of the guy…again. I’d punched him. Matt had let me get one good swing in before they hauled him off the ranch and to jail.
While we would never be inhibited with Lacey, neither Micah or I were exhibitionists. I didn’t want anything we did seen by anyone else. I wasn’t ashamed. I was protective. And after what we’d been through, very protective.
“Tonight, we want you. All of you. You said you love us. Yes?” I asked.
She nodded, but knew we wanted the words since she said, “Yes.”
“Like you said, this has happened fast. Really fast,” Micah said. “We have all the time in the world to get to know each other. Did you know I hate cilantro?”
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Um, no.”
“One more thing you know about me then. We want to marry you, Lacey Leesworth,” he told her. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t asking. You’ll know when we ask.” I saw the heated gleam, knew I couldn’t wait for the right time to do so. “Tonight though, we’re making you ours. Taking you together.”
“Claiming you,” I added. “And we’ll take our time to get to know each other, outside of the bedroom too.”
“Okay,” she murmured. Her eyes were bright, her lips plump and red from our kisses. She’d had on a t-shirt and shorts in LA and hadn’t changed. The air was cooler here and it was time to warm her up. And I didn’t mean with a sweater. “But you should know, I don’t like country music.”
I laughed at her revelation. I hated country music, but I knew Micah had a station programmed into his truck’s radio. “Fine by me,” I said. “Tell me something else, sugar. Are you wet for us?”
I was done making small talk. I would tell her I didn’t screw the lid back on the toothpaste another time.
Lacey’s fingers went to her shorts, undid the button and slid down the zipper. After she pushed the garment off her hips—taking her panties with it—she raised a brow and said, “Why don’t you find out?”
Oh yeah, she was the woman for us. There was no doubt in my mind. And when I looked to Micah, in his either. She was ours.
***
Lacey
I wouldn’t think about Colt’s words, that they wanted to marry me. That was for another time. I’d just gotten them back. I’d spent a week crying, mad and sad and everything in between. Now I wanted to be with them, between them again. To know that there was nothing between us. They understood the insanity of my job, what being with me entailed. They knew the worst. How much worse could it be to have sex pictures up for everyone to see? I dreaded the day I met their parents because of the scandal. Perhaps that was why they said they wanted to marry me, that I’d have a ring on my finger before we did so.
There was no pretense now. No worries. I could be myself with them. Always. They’d never known me any other way. And so I’d shucked my shorts, stripped off my panties and waited for them to pounce.
They did. It took them all of two seconds. With two big men, I wasn’t sure who lifted me, who put me on the bed, who stripped off my shirt and bra with expert skill—and haste. All I knew was that between one breath and the next, I was naked, both of them were looming over me and a hand was pressed against my pussy.
“She’s wet,” Micah growled.
He slipped a finger inside of me and curled it as he rubbed my clit. I grabbed hold of their arms and arched my back. The touch was ruthless and precise, not a teasing touch, but one that brought me to the brink of an orgasm within a minute.
“You’ll come, Lacey. We need to see it. Hear it. I need to feel you squeezing my finger. Dripping on my palm.”