One Bride for Four Ranchers

And what the hell would that make me?

I swear the testosterone from the kitchen follows me as I shut my bedroom door and then lean against it. The cool wood feels good against my too-hot forehead.

Good God. What did myself into, coming here?

How can I be so attracted to four different men? One of whom I’ve known for all of five minutes? Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones?

I sigh, frustrated. Then I head for the shower. I’m tempted to try a cold one and see if that helps my heated libido. But I’m not brave enough to endure the cold water. Not tonight.

So I step into the nice, warm shower. The water slides down my skin, doing nothing to quell my desire.

I could almost understand myself if I were only attracted to the triplets. Heck, they did all look alike. At least, until you notice the details in how they hold themselves, how they act. But throw in Tyler as well, and I struggle to find a good excuse for my feelings.

Why the hell did he have to come home tonight?

I scrub my hair furiously and try to let the fruity smell of the shampoo relax me. But it doesn’t work, and I step out of the shower onto the bathmat just as frustrated as when I went in.

I’m pregnant with Clay’s baby. He should be the man that I want—the only man I want. If I’m going to explore being with any of the Hollister brothers, it should be Clay. And only Clay.

I dry off, and wrap my hair and the big, fluffy towel. I brush my teeth and finish getting ready for bed but decide against putting on pajamas. It’s hot, and it’s not like anyone’s going to just walk into my room. The Hollister brothers are, in a lot of ways, sin in skin. But they are also gentlemen.

At least, the three I know pretty well are. But I can’t imagine the fourth brother has fallen that far from the family tree.

I slide between the sheets and take another deep breath. How have things gotten so twisted up in my head? In my heart? I can admit to myself, in the dark and in my own mind, that I want all four of those men. And I didn’t want them only on some kind of weird, rotating basis. The idea of all four of them touching me, kissing me. It is almost more than I can stand.

I slide my hands under the sheet, and massage my breasts. How would it feel if it were Clay and Trey’s hands instead of mine?

I cup my breasts and pinch my nipples, then massage myself. But in my head, the two brothers are on either side of me in the bed. Both of them giving their full attention to one of my breasts. Their hands massaging, their tongues teasing, their lips suckling.

I slip a hand down between my legs. God, we aren’t even in the room with me and I’m already so wet. And I imagine a third Hollister brother, Joshua. His intense gaze locking on me as he kisses and licks my sex. Would he be as deliberate, as methodical in his actions as he is and everything else he does? I moan at the thought. I start to rub my clit, slowly at first, wanting to make this last. I can almost hear the brothers in my head murmuring. Encouraging me to let go. Encouraging each other to make the whole thing more pleasurable than I can even imagine.

And then the fourth brother pops in my head. I don’t know him at all, but that touch of mystery only adds to my excitement. He wouldn’t be gentle, nor would he be content to wait to take his pleasure until after I’m done. He would take exactly what he wants.

Tyler would be kissing me at first. Wetting my lips and pleasuring my mouth. And then he’d kneel over me, while the other brothers continue to work my body, he’d be pushing his cock between my lips. He’d say nasty things, dirty things, while he slides his cock over my tongue to touch the back of my throat.

I touch myself more furiously, and squeeze my breast with my other hand. I’d be close, so close. But Tyler wouldn’t hold back. Even as an orgasm rolls over me, he’d keep forcing his cock down my throat. Until he finally reaches release, and shoots his sticky white cum into my mouth and throat. And then he’d tell me to swallow it.

And then Clay would be next, settling between my legs. Pushing his cock into my pliant, needy body. Another brother—Trey, takes Tyler’s place at my mouth. Barely giving me enough time to catch my breath before slipping his dick between my lips. They turn me onto my side, and then Joshua—seemingly quiet Joshua—would slip behind me. He plays with my ass, pushing a long, thick finger inside, and then—

The orgasm crashes into me, drawing a startled moan from my lips. My whole body shakes with pleasure, even as my pussy closes around nothing but air.

I take a long, haggard breath. And I can feel my face heat in the dark. An amazing fantasy, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.

But what was I thinking?

I shake my head in roll over to my side. It’s a nice fantasy, but there is no way it will ever come true.

I wake late in the morning, after tossing and turning most of the night. Sunlight streams through my curtains, and I blink against the light. For the first time in a very long time, my morning sickness doesn’t seem to be waiting for me the instant I’m awake. Thank God for small favors.

The temptation to hide out in my room is strong, but I can’t do that. For one, I’m never going to finish the story I’m here to write if I don’t do a couple more interviews. For another, I can’t let myself be that much of a chicken.

And… I have to eat breakfast. I know from experience that skipping meals brings the morning sickness on, and worse, makes me faint. I’m not allowed to faint in front of these men. Not again. Besides, skipping meals can’t be good for the baby. I might be lost as to what I’m going to do when he or she gets here, but I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he or she is safe and healthy.

I throw on my freshly washed jeans and a T-shirt and pull back on my slightly muddy sneakers. That’s one thing I’m really starting to like about the country—casual is so much more comfortable than dressing up.

I walk down the stairs slowly and try to gather my continually scattering thoughts. Is this already what they call pregnancy brain, or is this Hollister brain?

Truth is, I probably have enough material to write several features on the Hollister boys. But I’m not ready to leave yet. And really, I can’t leave yet. Not until I tell Clay.