Chapter 18
18
Pace
“Justice,” I say, clearly enunciating the name.
Black, shrewd eyes look into mine as Effie cocks her head. “Pretty bird?”
“No.” I hold the treat just out of her reach. “Justice. It’s the baby.”
“Baby.” Effie inches closer to the treat, bobbing her head with a trilled, “Baby bird.”
Chuckling, I concede, “Yes, you’re my baby bird. Justice is our baby boy. Can you say Justice?”
She lifts a foot toward the treat, straining. “Baby bird. Fucking baby bird.”
“Fair enough.” Sighing, I relent, giving her the treat and scritching her ruff. “You’re probably not the only one around here who’ll need to get used to the concept of justice.”
And that’s not the only concept that’s taking time to adjust to. It’s been less than forty-eight hours since I found out I have a father, and not the corpse being collected by the Barons.
The real one.
Every spare moment I get, he pops in my head. That day at the gym, when he was sparring with me, I didn’t take the time to really look at him. Talk to him. Know him. And even though a part of me is achingly curious, a bigger, much stronger part of me mostly just feels pissed the fuck off.
I’d never leave Verity here with that monster.
“They’ve been in there a while, right?” Wick glances over at the bathroom door. The shower slowed about fifteen minutes ago, then turned back on. Then shut off again.
Wicker obviously took a shower down the hall because he’s got a towel around his waist, and I can smell the soap on his skin from across the room. Carefully, he places his knife and gun in the weapons compartment under the bed.
After alerting the Barons and leaving Rory and Tommy to deal with the exchange, we came upstairs to prepare for bed. We knew Lex would want to check Verity out, make sure the baby didn’t suffer during the scene downstairs, but Wick is right, they’ve been in there a long fucking time.
“Night, Effie,” I say, running my finger over her beak and dropping the cover over the cage. “Maybe I should go check?—”
The door opens before I get the sentence out, and Verity and Lex emerge from a cloud of steam. Their skin is pink from the shower, and they’re dressed for bed, Lex in a pair of gray boxers and Verity wrapped in a white robe. While the tight line that normally creases Lex’s forehead is smoothed, Verity waddles out with short, tense steps.
Wicker props his hands on each hip, accusing, “You fucked.”
“Not her pussy,” Lex replies, snaking his arm around her waist.
“Her ass?” I ask, aware of Rosi’s tongue darting out to wet her lips.
Lex ignores us, pressing a kiss to Verity’s temple, and Wicker glares. “Her tits? You fucked her tits! Jesus Christ, why the hell didn’t you let me watch?”
“Because it wasn’t about you,” Lex says, rolling his eyes. “But I did save her for you.” He squeezes her side. “Didn’t I?”
Verity swings a glassy gaze on me. “He didn’t let me come.”
The dilated eyes. The pink cheeks. Her clenched legs.
Approaching her, I don’t think twice about grabbing the tie of her robe and tugging it free. It parts slowly, revealing her belly first, and then her tits, and I exhale shakily at the sight of her. I’ve watched this amazing body of hers grow throughout the whole pregnancy, but it still doesn’t fail to fascinate me. Her areolas are darker than they used to be—almost as brown as my own skin. Her belly is rounded, the skin taut and smooth, and although I’m getting impatient to meet the baby inside of it, I won’t deny a part of me will miss my slow, quiet morning ritual of rubbing a special cream for stretch marks onto it.
“But you want to,” I wager, parting the robe to see her bush. The hair there is thin and delicate and soft. She still doesn’t shave for me and when I push my fingers into it, venturing into her folds, I find her slicker than ever. She whimpers, face dropping to Lex’s shoulder, and my cock leaps eagerly.
Lex gestures behind me. “Pull out the compartment at the foot of the bed.”
Wick and I glance at one another, both aware of the function of that particular feature. Moving quickly, each of us grabs a handle and pulls the drawer out.
It’s a purple velvet kneeler.
“Well, that’s convenient,” Verity says, taking it in. It’s mostly a bench with the cushion hitting just below her knees.
“The bed was designed for all parts of creation. Sleep, safety, and comfort.” Lex guides her over. “You’re welcome to get in bed and find the position that works best for you, but the Princes who had this built knew what they were doing. Using the end of the bed will take some of the weight off, and by leaning forward…” He trails off, eyes dark.
“We can get to you,” I say, cock thickening. “All of us.”
The roundness of her body, although fucking glorious, is rapidly growing a bit problematic for more than one of us to navigate at a time. If we were more patient men, we’d wait until she’s had the baby to try anything adventurous.
We’re not patient men.
“You mean…” She bites her lip, shooting a smoldering glance between me and Wick. “Like, both of you? At the same time?” Then, she looks over her shoulder at Lex. “We can do that?”
He kisses her temple, watching as her eyes flutter shut. “If you want them to.” He doesn’t tell her that we talked about it last week, Lex deciding that her risk factors this close to the birth are so much slimmer than in her second trimester. He doesn’t tell her that he’s the one who brought the idea to me and Wick. And he definitely doesn’t tell her about the one-hour argument between us over who gets her ass first.
Verity shudders. “We can try it.” Her eagerness is on full display as she shrugs off the robe, letting it fall to the floor. For a brief moment, time stands still. I told her earlier tonight she looked like a goddess in that dress, but here? Naked? Fuck me. She’s so ripe and swollen, full with life—creation—and the urge to sink into her isn’t just a want.
It’s a primal need.
Wick’s towel drops to the ground and he already has his erect cock fisted in his hand. If anyone knows how to take command of a moment like this it’s Whitaker Ashby.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, crossing the distance between them. He places his mouth on hers just as his hand finds her full tit, massaging the supple flesh with his palm. When he pulls away, lips red from the kiss, he tilts his head at Lex. “Did he drink from you?”
Verity chases his mouth, eyes dazed. “Not yet.”
“He will tonight.” To Lex, he commands, “Get on the bed.”
Our brother obeys, climbing up and kneeling at the foot while Wicker hops up on the bench, his cock pointing upward like an arrow poised to fire. He pinches the base, then strokes up. “You’re gonna straddle me like a good girl, and then I’m going to lick your pussy just how you like it.” His eyes meet mine. “She need some lube?”
“For you, no. She’s ready.” I lick my bottom lip. “But for me?” I jerk my chin at Lex. “Toss me a bottle.”
While Lex rummages inside the bedside table, I take her hand and guide her over to Wick, trying to sense any nerves. “I’ll go slow,” I assure her, taking the opportunity to stroke the side of her breast as she swings a leg over Wick’s lap. “Just relax and let us do the work.”
It’s a little cumbersome, and nothing like the rough manhandling we’re used to, but their safety comes first. She places her hands on each of Wick’s shoulders, and with his help, we get a knee on each side of him. Her belly is in his face, and I can’t help but notice how much he touches her there now. He spoke the words earlier tonight, declaring himself Justice’s father, but saying and believing are two different things.
The way he looks at her—worships her—I have no doubt he meant every word.
“That’s right,” Wick says once she’s over him, adjusting. “Good?”
“I think so. I won’t fall?” She looks between him and Lex.
Lex is perched above Wicker, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand on her ribcage and the other squeezing her bicep. “We’ve got you.” He nods at me. “Pace’ll be behind you.”
“I’m right here.” I kiss her shoulder and run a hand down her spine to the curve of her backside. Even her ass is bigger now; her cheeks and thighs are so supple and thick. Shoving my hand into my shorts, I pull out my cock and give it a long stroke.
Wick scooches down, and with two of his strong hands clutching her hips, pulls her pussy right to his mouth. I don’t need to look to know when his tongue makes contact. It’s audible in Verity’s moan, visible in the way her shoulders deflate, hips rocking slightly. The movement topples her forward, but Lex catches her.
Wick groans, long and gruff. “Fuck, Red, you taste so fucking sweet...”
I might not be able to see, but Lex can. His amber eyes are trained downward on Wicker, and when Lex’s hands skate down her arms, they make a detour, giving her tits a squeeze.
“Ah!” she cries out, throwing her head back, and I’m right there, sucking a kiss into the junction where her neck meets her shoulder.
“He any good at that?” I wonder, nipping at her earlobe. “Wick’s sucked my dick a few times, but it was mostly just so I’d suck his. No skillmanship whatsoever.”
The hand on her hip lifts, Wicker’s middle finger extending.
I bat it away.
“So, so good.” From a glance, I see her forehead knitted up in pleasure. “It’s like he’s kissing me. You know… you know how he kisses...”
Fuck, that does sound good.
“It’s both gentle, but firm. Little licks, the swirl of his tongue, and then he—” she moans, “sucks.”
She leans forward, rocking her hips into Wick’s mouth. Seeing the opportunity for what it is, Lex dips down to lift her tit to his mouth. His tongue finds her nipple first, giving it a slow, slick lick, before he finally latches on.
She gasps, arm flailing out to find purchase, and I offer my own hand up, surprised at the strength in her grip. “Oh my fucking—” Her words cut off into a strangled cry.
I stand back for a moment to observe them, getting harder and harder as my brothers share her body like this. If tonight proved anything, it’s that whatever we do—scheme, fight, kill, love, or create—we do it together.
“Suck harder,” she whispers, holding her tit higher for Lex to suckle. “It feels so good.”
I can almost taste the release, but that’s not what draws the surge of pre-cum to the head of my cock. That happens when Wick’s hands move around her ass, his long fingers pulling her cheeks apart for me. He’s never been able to deny me what I want.
I push her hair aside and kiss her across the shoulder blades, then down her spine. Placing my hands over my brothers, I spread her wider, revealing the only hole of hers I haven’t had the chance to burrow into.
Kissing the smooth skin of her inner cheek, I lick inward, broadcasting my intent and giving her a chance to stiffen or pull away. When she doesn’t, I swipe my tongue over the tight ring of muscle, indulging in her sharp, stunned gasp.
“Pace! Oh, fuck, Pace…” She lurches forward, and both Lex and Wicker groan. It puts my tongue close enough to Wick’s that we mingle, drawn into a slick, heady kiss, right against her taint.
Unable to take it, I jolt my hand toward the bed, searching for the bottle of lube. “I’m too hard to be still tonight, Rosi. I need to move. You can handle it?”
“Y-yes,” she stutters, her body close to becoming overwhelmed. “But hurry.”
“As fast as I can without hurting you or Justice,” I say, pouring a liberal dose of lube in my hand. I get my fingers good and slick before gliding them over the puckered hole. She flinches again, but this time less dramatically.
There’s a moment when I slip the tip of my finger in that she tenses.
Wicker senses it instantly, his rusty voice insistent. “Bear down into it, Red. It feels weird at first, but once you stretch—yeah, just like that, baby. Breathe for us.” I get all the way to the second knuckle as Wicker coaches her through it, his hand making soothing patterns on her hip. He’s saying, “His dick’s gonna feel so good once you’re ready for him. You’re gonna feel him so deep, Red…”
It takes a while to get a second finger in alongside it, but when I do, I twist and curve, stretching her out slowly. Wick’s left hand suddenly drops her cheek and grabs for my cock, giving a long, measured stroke.
“Goddamn,” I hiss, thrusting into his fist.
It takes a minute to understand what he’s doing—synching me into a rhythm—and my fingers, three at this point, move in time with it, gentle but deep. Lex’s eyes meet mine over her shoulder, his lips spit-shiny as he warns, “Get her nice and loose if that look in your eyes means what I think it means.”
He’s right.
I won’t be able to be slow and gentle.
When she’s good and stretched, I nudge Wick’s hand away and slot my head at her entrance, and the next time she thrusts back, I push in, intending to seamlessly keep the pace.
But she fucking screams.
I freeze, terrified I’ve hurt her, but the first strong tremor, ass clenching like a vise around me, makes it obvious she’s not hurt.
She’s coming her fucking brains out.