Gemini (28 page)

She wrapped her fists around him and opened her throat to let him slide down. Even then, she couldn’t take all of him—he was just too big. But he filled her mouth and entered her throat. He groaned with the excitement of it, giving her little thrusts. He was close to coming, and, with a growl, he pulled back.

Then Quinn was there next to him. “Me, too, babe.” She looked up at the two handsome men, their brawny bodies glistening, their cocks thrusting out, wanting her. Jace lifted her a little and turned her, so she faced Quinn and Clay better, so her legs straddled Jace as she faced away from him. He maneuvered a little more, then pressed her hips so she sat down, impaled by his cock. Quinn and Clay each took hold of one nipple and played with her while she went from one to the other, sucking cock. She kept one hand on each, moving her mouth back and forth.

They were all very happy. Jace was groaning as he pumped into her. Quinn and Clay murmured sweet words, praising her, words that caught in their chests when she took them deep. “Baby. That’s so fucking good. Babe—”

Jace had reached around and was playing with her clit now, driving her up in a way that was distracting her from the two cocks in front of her. “Jace—”

“I’ve got you, baby.”

“Oh, God. Fuck me. Two of you. I need—”

They seemed to understand. Suddenly, she was lifted and turned. Jace propped back against the edge of the tub, and many hands lifted her so she straddled him, impaled this time from the front. When she came down on him, that huge cock filling her, her ass was exposed to the men behind her.

They didn’t mind. She heard masculine grunts of appreciation then felt slippery fingers playing with her. Both of them, she thought—Quinn and Clay circling in, reaming her, their fingers fucking her deep.

“Oh,” she moaned. She was so full of Jace as he rocked up into her, but she needed, needed…

Yes
. There it was. A big cock at her ass, stretching her, filling her.

Jace arched back, spreading her further open, leaving her defenseless. Like an offering to his friends.

They took her. One at a time—Clay first, she realized, hearing his grunt as he went deep. She arched, riding down on Jace’s cock and opening herself to Clay. He sank into her, covering her tits with his hands, pinching her nipples and, while Quinn urged him on, fucked her wild.

She came hard, stretched as she was by Jace, each thrust from Clay stimulating her clit around that other cock. She was so far gone she was barely aware, only just feeling that final, hard thrust, hearing the roar of his come as if from a distance.

Even before it was over, before she could lift her head from where she’d collapsed on Jace’s chest, that other cock was inside her. Quinn, filling her. He lifted her up, suspending her with those powerful arms, making room for Jace to start seriously fucking her even as he did himself. Jace came forward, fully onto his feet, and wrapped her legs around his waist.

They took turns for a long time, one of them fucking into her, filling her deep, while the other withdrew. She’d thought she was done,
done in
, by that over the top orgasm Clay had given her. But he stood at her side now, watching. She opened her eyes from where her head rested on Jace’s shoulder, and she saw that he knew before she did what was going to happen.

She moaned, disbelieving. Still, she felt it rise. The thrill of Jace’s cock inside her, filling her pussy, rubbing her clit. Then Quinn, taking her ass, that gritty, gripping, edgy buzz. Just a whisper of it at first. But it built. Even as she shook her head, even as she denied it, the power of it gathered. Her body quickened and she cried out. More, as Clay reached for her tit and tugged at her nipple in time to those fucks.

Like a tsunami, it all rose together—the wild stimulation of every sexual nerve, the electrifying excitement of the men who fucked her. She heard it in their groans and growls, in their curses and commands. She felt it in the tension of their bodies, in the power of their thrusts. Even Clay added to it, pulling at her tit in time to those wicked thrusts, together now, rough and deep.

She threw back her head and wailed, her consciousness splintering as the climax roared through her. Quinn and Jace pistoned into her, both clutching her, arching to get that last millimeter of penetration. They both fucked her wildly, howling out as their own orgasms crested.

They all came together, clenching, crying out, the two men blasting their cum in shivery spasms deep inside her. She whimpered with their last shudders, over-sensitized now, too tender to touch. Clay rescued her, lifting her from the others, gentling her down into the water, safe in his arms. Jace and Quinn both collapsed, half out of the tub, winded and drawing in rough breaths.

Gradually, things slowed. Gemini’s brain started working again and she became aware of her surroundings. Clay held her securely, lolling back against the tub. Quinn and Jace sank into the water, finding comfortable ledges to support their slack, fucked-out bodies.

Under the water, Quinn found one of her feet and pulled it to his thigh, just keeping hold. On her other side, Jace tangled fingers with hers.

She felt Clay’s lips curl against her temple and knew without looking that satisfied smiles settled on Quinn’s and Jace’s faces, too.

And hers.

Sometime later, strong arms carried her to Jace’s bed. She slept there, curled in his arms, endlessly content.

That fall, as the aspens lit up yellow and whispered around them, Gemini married Quinn Cavanaugh, Clayton Wilder, and Jason Parsons. Chris Norton’s partner, an ordained minister, officiated.

Not that it was an “official” ceremony. That had happened a few weeks earlier, when she’d become Gemini Cavanaugh. Though that wasn’t official either—she’d taken Walker back as her last name, and she was going to hold onto it. The guys had some plan for what Jace called a “rotational marriage.” After a handful of years as Quinn’s legal wife, it would be Clay’s turn, and finally, Jace’s. It just wasn’t practical to change her last name every few years, though she’d let the men think she was a good little wife in that regard if they wanted to. In their heads.

Quinn had gone first because he’d won the arm-wrestle. It had mattered.

She’d woken that morning in Clay’s bed. Sometimes that was decided by arm-wrestle as well, but almost anything could happen. On some occasions, it was what Clay called last man standing. Whoever had the strength left to lift her up and carry her off won the day—or night. Very often, she was in Jace’s bed, because that was where they usually ended up on the nights someone had a little triple penetration on his—or her—mind. Sometime during the night, when Quinn and Clay rounded up enough energy to move, they’d go off to their own beds.

Quinn still worked late at the bar some nights, so often, she’d fall asleep with Jace or Clay and wake up as Quinn carried her off to his bed. She was always ready to welcome him home in the way he loved the best. Clay worked odd shifts too, so, really, she never knew where she might be by morning.

But wherever it was, she was always happy.

And with Clay, that morning, she’d been given the best of gifts. She’d felt her baby move for the first time.

They were having a little boy whose name would be Capricorn. None of them knew which of his three fathers was the bio dad. And none of them cared. Jace gave the final ruling on that. If they needed to know some day, they could find out. Except in the case of, like, a blood transfusion or a kidney donation, it wasn’t going to matter.

Gemini had moaned a little about not having a girl—just to hear them groan, she told the guys she needed more estrogen about the house. But she didn’t really mean it. Secretly, she loved the thought of her men raising up a wild little Capricorn. And whatever they got, they deserved, after the way they’d high-fived each other like champs at the ultrasound.

With faux sympathy, Quinn told her he’d get her a little girl puppy.

They’d decided to stay in Jace’s house. The lot had room for only a small addition, but they loved the setting so much they decided they’d make do. Besides, theirs would be a family who knew how to share.

They were settling their futures in Colorado Springs. Jace was on track for a partnership, but he wasn’t in a big hurry. He worked enough hours now, he said, and time at home was going to be important in the next few years.

Clay had taken training in Denver for a detective role. When he got that promotion, his hours at work would be a little easier to live with.

Quinn loved the bar and wasn’t going to think about giving it up. But he’d promoted Rita to assistant manager, and the evening hours worked for her, so he was covering the early shift more. Rita and her partner had moved into the Mach One apartment. The partner was a baker, and she was helping out Mrs. Konik in the bakery with an eye to eventually taking over there.

Gemini was fully credentialed in the state as a midwife now, but she hadn’t committed herself to a full-time job. The guys weren’t the only ones who wanted her to be home to care for a baby—or babies, as she knew it would be. Plus, she had three men to keep happy. So she donated hours at a free clinic, worked occasionally per diem at a hospital-based practice, and was working out a back-up call arrangement with a couple home birth midwives. She also volunteered at a woman’s shelter.

Christine Brewer had called the week after Clay and Quinn and Jace brought Gemini home. She’d invited Bryce to appear on her show, and he’d agreed to come. But he’d spoken to a silent auditorium. The show had been boycotted that day, though the street outside had been filled with women—and men—protesting his appearance. Women’s groups had organized an effort encouraging viewers to turn off their televisions at one o’clock that day. Dubbing it “Turned-off Tomlinson,” they’d managed to bring the show its lowest rating ever. Though, Christine snickered, soundbites of Bryce floundering as he tried to defend himself had gone viral on social media.

It appeared that Bryce would never regain his credibility in the eyes of the citizenship of California. Gemini was purely happy about it, though Clay muttered darkly about the potential for Bryce’s vindictiveness. But he felt better later that month, when three women from Bryce’s past came forward and criminal charges were filed. Clay allowed at that point that the man would likely be too busy with his lawyers to bother them.

Bryce’s political future was over, and Gemini would never have to see him again. That last was what truly mattered to her.

She still smiled with pleasure every time she noticed the sparkle from her left ring finger—where she wore a diamond even bigger than the one Clay had smashed. It had been a subtle pissing contest, and her guys had been determined to win. She let them have their little victory and, though the rock was a bit of an embarrassment, she had to admit she loved it. That was a thing she kept that to herself. She had enough trouble keeping an upper hand. Or even just staying afloat in their sea of testosterone.

Gemini mostly held back tears as she exchanged vows with each of them and slid a gold ring on each left hand. They did the same for her—the vows, anyway, and rings, three bands that wove together to form one.

They’d made the decision not to hide what they were to each other. They’d invited small numbers of their families and friends. They’d determined to be content with those who agreed to come and accepting of those who chose to stay away.

So as they completed their vows, she kissed each of them—Quinn, Jace, and Clay—as fully as her heart decreed. She turned—Quinn holding her from one side, Jace from the other, and Clay behind her with his hands on her shoulders, and looked to her future.

THE END

Rachel Billings takes her pen name from her hometown. She lives in Western New York now, where she works, writes and gardens. But she still misses the Big Sky.

She comes from farmers and likes to dig in the dirt then sit back and watch things grow. She takes a similar approach to the raising of her three children. Her husband, being a scientist, takes a more methodical approach.

Rachel started writing stories in her head when she was five. They featured spunky girls who performed heroic acts while looking great and earning the admiration of attractive males. In short, they were preludes to her stories of today.

In her day job (which happens to be a night job, too), she works to help women have stronger, healthier, happier lives. In her writing, she hopes to entertain and maybe even enrich women’s lives through romantic and erotic fiction. She considers her work to be fantasy and realizes that some events described may not be physically possible. Not all things should be tried at home.

She has learned that love has power and believes that when two (or four) people love each other, many things are possible. Happiness. Growth. Enlightenment.

For all titles by Rachel Billings, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/rachel-billings