26. Marie
26
MARIE
When Hugo’s knuckles brush against my cheek as we kiss, my heart squeezes. I love them, but I’m not ready to say it out loud. I can’t. Not when a bigger secret looms in the back of my mind.
I’m pregnant. And I can’t say that right now. I can’t drop that bomb while two thirds of them are asleep, and I can’t single out Hugo to hear it first. That would feel…wrong.
So the two truths remain locked inside, coiled in my chest. A gun ready to go off.
Hugo breaks the silence, voice low and cultured in that accent of his. “You’re not here, Marie,” he observes quietly, head tilted. “Would you prefer to talk?”
I swallow, glancing out the window. Anywhere but his searching green eyes. “Yeah. I think I need that.”
Hugo sits back. I’m not sure when we moved from the huge ottoman to the even bigger couch, but here we are. My body still tingles with aftershocks from everything we shared earlier—my muscles are pleasantly sore, skin sensitive. The memory of all four of us tangling together sets off a flutter of warmth in my belly. Yet worry for what comes next—the future, my father, this entire arrangement—simmers under the surface.
Hugo’s presence is…calming, in a way. He is unshakable. No matter the situation, Hugo is calm, cool, and collected. It’s not a mask, either. He was the same way the night Crow attacked me. I wonder what it’s like to be that serene.
He murmurs something in French—perhaps a soft question. I don’t quite catch the words, but the tone is kind, a gentle coaxing. I want to pour out my fears, but I’ve already told him what I can. The truth is, his answers, though soothing at the time, open up so many more questions about how this relationship can function in the real world.
What will people say about us? How will it affect my father’s church or their clientele? What will my boss say?
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg of problems, because the biggest one has taken root inside of me. But I hold that back.
“I’m just overwhelmed,” I admit. “This is all so new. And…so intense.”
Hugo nods, crossing one ankle over the other in a casual motion. “I know. It’s a significant step, letting yourself be with three men, especially men like us.” His lips twitch in a slight smile. “We’re a handful individually, let alone collectively.”
I snort quietly. “That’s an understatement. I just keep thinking…how do we keep it from falling apart? I mean, just that I can’t…figure out how to handle it all at once. What if it’s all too big, too complicated?”
He’s silent for a moment, regarding me with those intelligent eyes. “Life is rarely simple, especially for us,” he says. “If we want this enough, we’ll find a way.”
A comfortable lull settles. I exhale the tension in my chest. “Thanks,” I say softly. “I appreciate you letting me talk without freaking out.”
He shrugs with a refined grace. “I’m not known for freaking out, love.”
I smile, hugging the blanket to me. “How did you decide this was the life you wanted?”
“I met them. We clicked into place. No regrets. Though sometimes I question my sanity when Trick does something rash.”
A faint laugh bubbles up from me. “Yeah, he’s the biggest handful out of the three of you.”
“Come now, love. I’m the biggest handful .”
I snort another laugh and rest my chin on my knees, letting the conversation wash over me like a balm. “Thank you for making me feel safe. For letting me talk things out without judging me. You make me feel like…like I don’t have to hide who I am. Or what I want.”
“Speaking of what you want,” he says softly, “is there anything else you need tonight? We’re here for you, Marie.”
A wave of longing ripples through me. This arrangement of ours might be new, but the sense of belonging I feel is stronger than any fleeting doubt.
“I, um…” I start, but I can’t voice the big secret. Instead, I close my eyes, letting out a trembling exhale. “I just want to be sure we can hold it together. That we can handle whatever my father or the town or anyone else throws at us.”
Hugo’s lips quirk. “Don’t underestimate us. Or you, for that matter. You’re stronger than you realize.”
If only he knew about the baby. If only I had the courage to reveal it. But not now. The moment is too delicate. Instead, I shift forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”
He cups my jaw gently, eyes darkening. “Of course.”
My pulse thumps, the closeness drawing me in. I let myself lean forward, capturing his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. He returns it, letting out a low murmur that rumbles in his chest.
Heat flutters in my belly. The kiss deepens, my hands sliding to his shoulders. He stands, guiding me with him, and we end up pressed against the large window that overlooks the river. Moonlight shimmers on rushing water like a private audience. My breath quickens. Even after everything we did with the other two, my body still craves contact.
Hugo seems to sense this. His hands cradle my waist, gathering the blanket in one fist until it slips away entirely, leaving me in just Sam’s T-shirt. But then he gently tugs at that too, and I slip it off.
“Mon Dieu,” he breathes, scanning my curves. “You’re exquisite.”
A flush heats my cheeks. “We just—weren’t we done?”
“We might have more left to give to the night. If you’re willing.”
My heart leaps. I nod, hooking an arm around his neck. We kiss again, deeper, my hips arching toward him. The glass behind me is cool, contrasting the warmth of his body. He braces on the window, caging me with his body.
But I’ve never felt more free in my life.
He lets me explore him, every flat plane, every angle. Those delicious lines above his hips that become a V that points where I want to go. I take him in my mouth, and a stream of French curses pours out of his. His skin tastes different than Sam or Trick, and I crave each of their tastes.
“I must have you, love,” he utters as he pulls me to my feet. Hugo takes my hand and leads me to the couch. He kisses me and leans forward until I lie back with him on top of me. When he takes one of my legs over his forearm, he plants a kiss on the inside of my knee before he slides inside of me.
“So full,” I whimper. I’m sore from the other times, and now, with him stretching me with every stroke, it’s almost too much.
“So tight,” he counters. “And wet. And hot.” Hugo plunges deep, then pauses, coming near enough to kiss. “And perfect.”
I don’t know why, but that word makes me uncomfortable right now. It’s not that I think sex is sinful or whatever. I don’t. But at the moment, I don’t feel perfect.
I’m holding back two truths that threaten to ruin everything. How can I be perfect?
“What truths?”
I blink at him. “What?”
“You say you hold two truths?—”
“I said that out loud?” Shit.
His lips curl into a smirk. “Oui. But now is not the time for talking, if you do not wish it to be.”
“No, please don’t stop.”
With that, he reaches beneath to change our angle and starts up again. Relief washes through me, followed by something big and wicked. I might not deserve what’s coming, but I don’t care. Not right now when it’s so close I can taste it.
“Couldn’t wait for us, huh?” Trick rasps, voice threaded with a playful complaint.
I let out a flustered laugh, pressing my forehead to Hugo’s chest. “You guys needed your rest.”
“We heard you talking,” Sam says as he comes closer. “And…well, we got lonely and couldn’t let you two have all the fun.”
Hugo glances at me, question in his eyes. Is this okay?
I read it loud and clear. My heart flutters as I nod.
He slides out of me, takes my hand, and we rejoin them in the bedroom. It’s easier than doing anything with the four of us on the couch. But this time, Hugo doesn’t just stand on the sidelines, waiting and watching. He guides me not to the bed, but to the leather chair in the corner where he sits and pulls me onto his lap, facing him.
Mischievously, he taunts them, “Now you two can be the watchers.” And with that, he thrusts up into me.
Delirious, delicious pain. The kind that sets you on the edge of climax and keeps you there until you can’t breathe.
I grip his shoulders for balance and stare into his eyes, searching for answers. He knows I’m keeping secrets, and yet he doesn’t demand them from me. Instead, he seems to understand the need to keep them. If I knew he was keeping something from me, I’d go insane. But he takes it in stride, just like everything else.
I’m pulled from my reverie by the large hand sliding down my spine. It’s all I can do not to shiver. Trick purrs in my ear, “We know what you really want, Marie. And we want to give it to you.”
Riding Hugo after everything else tonight, I’m almost out of breath. “What’s that?”
His hand doesn’t stop at the top of my ass or slide over to my hip. It follows a straight line down, pausing just above my most sensitive place. “You want to take all of us at once, isn’t that right, baby girl?”
The thought alone makes me shudder.
But it’s true. I’ve always wanted that with them. I’m just not sure if I can take it. “Yeah, but?—”
“Don’t worry. We’re gentle with first timers.”
Sam appears in my vision, behind the chair over Hugo’s shoulder. He’s naked and hard, and his eyes are on my mouth. “We’ll be careful, baby. I vow it.”
There’s something about a man like Sam saying something that reassuring that tells you everything is gonna be alright.
“Okay,” I whisper, and the relief in the room is palpable.
Trick’s finger is suddenly wet as it traces over me there, and soon he presses inward, making me gasp. “Breathe, baby girl. It’s just the tip?—”
“Oh God.”
“—of my finger.”
“I don’t know about this.”
“All you gotta do is say stop.”
I swallow and nod, and the next thing I know, his finger is in me. It’s a strange sensation—good, but strange, and it makes me twitch.
Hugo murmurs something in French as his eyes roll back, baring his throat to me. I take the opportunity and bend forward a tad to lick him there. Which opens me up for Trick, apparently.
Then, it’s not his finger anymore.
My breath speeds up as a weird sense of panic rushes in. But Trick takes his time, easing in as Hugo rambles in blissful French, and Sam strokes himself while he watches.
Sam cautions, “Slow your breathing, baby. If it hurts, say so.”
“No, it’s just…a lot.”
“Want me to distract you?”
I lick my lips, knowing exactly what kind of distraction is on offer. I don’t even finish the whole nod before he’s in my mouth over Hugo’s shoulder.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Trick mutters behind me as he sinks in all the way.
It’s decadently too much, the three of them. To be this full, this satisfied, this complete. How have I gone my whole life without this?
Despite the earlier exhaustion, our bodies respond, each of us drawing energy from the group’s synergy. Everything is careful, slow, laced with affection. Each of them murmurs praise, worship, curses, and things in other languages I don’t know. My head spins from the layering of sensations, from the knowledge that these men are my men.
Even if only for tonight.
But that worry melts under the pressure of kisses and caresses, replaced by a momentary bliss. Heat pools deep inside of me, a wave of cascading pleasure as they push and pull, as I unite the four of us with my body. Time seems suspended as we exchange touches, building each other up to the crest of ecstasy once more.
I orgasm, moaning on Sam’s cock, while the three of them take full control. Trick pushes, Hugo dips, and Sam guides my head, his fingers woven into my hair. But I want them to come too. So I suck harder on Sam. I flick Hugo’s nipple piercings. And I arch myself to take Trick deeper still.
He’s the first to go, pulling out to come on my back. Sam’s next, shooting down my throat. Hugo ramble-murmurs, “That’s it, love, drink him down, oh, fuck,” right before he comes too, his arms wrapped tight around me.
When it finally ebbs, we collapse in a tangled sprawl on the bed, or half on the bed, half on the plush rug. My legs are shaky, arms draped over Sam’s shoulder, Trick’s hair tickling my side, Hugo’s hand still resting on my hip. We’re a muddle of satisfied bodies, hearts pounding in unison. I let out a trembling sigh, the heat of the night settling into a pleasant glow.
My mind floats, each breath carrying me further from the anxiety of the day. Even thoughts of Dad recede, the pregnancy reveal overshadowed by the warmth of these men.
Tomorrow, maybe I’ll tell them. Or soon. But not tonight.