36. Parker
Parker
My blood is racing through my body so fast I might vibrate out of my seat.
There have been a lot of solid runs today.
She’s got some fierce competition for sure.
Two other teams have scored over eighty percent.
Yesterday’s practice was almost flawless—transitions smooth, on beat, perfect posture. She’s got this in the bag. I know it.
If only the others were as confident.
“My stomach is in my throat,” Quincy says, leg bouncing next to me.
Laying my hand on his thigh, I squeeze gently. “She’s going to nail it. This routine is packed full of high-skill movements. I’m thinking she’ll get close to a ninety.”
Warren nudges me with his shoulder. “You’ve done a wonderful job with both of them. It’s been amazing watching their progress.”
Grady isn’t here. I wish he could be, but as her officially registered stable hand, he has the most important job of all today.
Fortunately, he’s Tally’s second-favorite person.
His gentle nature is our secret weapon, one that is definitely going to secure the win today.
Even on her crankiest days, he can butter her up until she’s perfectly mellowed out.
The first notes of their familiar music begin, floating like promises on the slight breeze.
I take Warren and Quincy’s hands, gripping until my fingers hurt as we collectively hold our breath.
This routine is seven minutes long. We’re going to have to let it out eventually, but not until they hit the first pirouette.
On beat, they enter the arena in a stunning, collected trot. Moving in a half-pass to set themselves up for a beautiful flying change. The way Tally’s powerful, elegant forelegs skip in time to the jazz composition of “Man I Feel Like a Woman” is entrancing.
They’re at the top of their game today, going for gold, as always. A few more gait changes, and they’re geared for the pirouette, perfectly on time. They’re averaging above a ninety percent right now—beyond what I would have ever imagined.
“They’re killing it,” Quincy breathes out, relaxing at the nine point three that flashes on the screen when Tally finishes her rotation, polished hooves shifting the sand as she lands.
“Never doubted they would,” Warren says, voice full of pride.
A piaffe for the ages, more flying changes done with the finesse people have come to expect from them, and a graceful extended canter to show off before they move into another series of tricky maneuvers. The second pirouette is a little looser than the first, but their overall score hardly changes.
“They’re putting on a show-stopping performance,” a man behind us mutters.
“Both of them have such natural talent, it’s insane,” his buddy says.
“I need to follow all her socials, she’s my new idol,” the young girl with them announces. She’s about twelve, and the admiration in her voice is precious.
I smile to myself as Warren and Quincy squeeze my hands, silently cheering her on.
Hartbrook still claims all the credit for her training, so I have to bite back the sour taste that fills my mouth. When this is all said and done, whether she gets selected to represent the United States in the Olympics next year is irrelevant at this point.
I’ll forever be her biggest fan, gold medal or not.
Well, I may have a few competitors, but I think they all love me enough to let me claim the title.
One last pirouette, a textbook transition to a near-flawless piaffe, and they’ve done it, finishing a solid routine with a ninety-one point seven two. Nearly breaking a world record at your first World Cup is one thing. Doing it in your rookie season is magic. Pure, untamed magic.
The crowd erupts with cheers and a standing ovation. The three of us join, finally able to release our anxious energy. We whoop and whistle, jumping and holding one another.
After the event finishes, the final scores have it. Leah and Tally claim first place. Seconds, that’s all it takes before she’s whisked away for a victory interview. Her first of many, if I have any say in the matter.
“Miss Porter, how does it feel to come out of nowhere and be one of the most well-known names in the dressage community?” the older woman asks, handing the mic to Leah.
“Well, I started this with a dream to qualify for the Olympics. I showed up every day, worked extra hard, and have my horse, Tally, as well as her breeder to thank. Her foundation was great. She had Grand Prix training before I purchased her, which set us up for a beautiful debut season. Thank you, Forrest Dream Friesians, for the partner of a lifetime.” She flashes a vibrant smile at the cameras.
“We understand you’ve been training at Hartbrook. Surely, you’re proud to study under Henrietta Hart and her dedicated team.”
Her face twitches faintly, then shifts, a mischievous smirk taking over. “Actually, I wish nothing but the worst for Henrietta Hart.”
Gasps echo through the arena. The interviewer sputters, “I-I beg your pardon?”
My heart practically implodes.
“Let me explain. Henrietta Hart charged me triple, knowing full well that I was a nobody. The fact that she did so with no faith and no intention of actually taking my training seriously is where the issue lies. However, I had the fortune of being assigned to the best trainer she had on her roster. She was just too stubborn to see his genius. Parker Jones, I love you. Thanks for doing everything in your power to see me succeed. Our hard work paid off.”
“I—” the interviewer attempts to say something, but Leah grabs the mic from her.
“To anyone watching that has a dream, let it be known that my boyfriends and I are opening our own facility. And yes, let’s get that out there now, I said boyfriends.
Three of which happen to bear the Hart name, but have no ties left to Henrietta.
They don’t know it yet, but I’ve been working diligently for the past couple months to secure a location.
If Alabama isn’t good, we’ll relocate, but for now, we’ve got about one hundred acres of land ready to go near a pretty neat Italian restaurant. We should be operational next year.”
The poor interviewer looks like she’s about to faint. “I-uh… Thank you, Miss Porter.”
Me, on the other hand? I’m stuck in place.
“She bought us land?” Warren says, barely audible.
Quincy lets out a low whistle. “And claimed us in front of the world. You know Henrietta was watching that.”
“I’m going to marry her.” Warren sighs.
“Not if I beat you to it,” Quincy quips back.
I roll my eyes. “None of us need to marry her to be a family. I also highly doubt she’d want to be a Hart.”
“No shit, none of us do,” Warren snips.
Quincy tilts his head. “What if we all take her last name?”
“She’s not exactly close with her family. What if she doesn’t like her last name?” I shrug.
“How about we go ask her?” Warren says in a way that silently calls us all ridiculous.
“Right, she should probably be part of this conversation.” I motion for them to follow me out of the stands, now that the commotion has died down.
We find Grady in the stables, alone.
“She’s at the h-hotel. S-said she needed to g-get ready.” He scrunches his face dismissively.
His innocence is adorable. The rest of us immediately understand and help him finish up so we can go celebrate.
Once we’re done, we head to the hotel and make a beeline for our room, stopping dead in our tracks at the sight that greets us.
Leah, scantily clad in lingerie that should be illegal, holding an envelope.
“Hi,” She says, chewing her lower lip. “Hope you don’t mind I made a little scene up there.”
“Just a little,” Warren rumbles, stepping up to her. “What do we have here?”
“Oh, nothing. Just the deed to our new property, the home of our soon-to-be training facility.” She smirks, pressing her breasts together.
“You were serious,” I say on a moan, claiming part of her space.
“Mmhmmm.” She bats her eyelashes, pressing against my chest.
“Okay, is someone going to fuck her now, or do I have to thank her for all of us?” Quincy asks, already undoing his pants.
Leah chuckles, shifting to a gasp as I reach around to unclasp the bra of her little leather ensemble.
“Oh, we’re going to make sure she’s properly thanked.” Nipping at her neck, I savor the heated sound she makes as I spread her out on the bed.
In a blur, every article of clothing in the room falls to the floor. There’s not an ounce of restraint to be found here. Not tonight.
Grady kneels between her thighs, removing the little skirt, leaving the black fishnets on. “B-beautiful,” he growls out, lips pressing softly against her hip.
Her shaky gasp sends a rush of blood to my dick, as if it had room for any more.
“We’re so proud of you.” Warren slides next to her, stealing a desperate kiss, swallowing her sounds as Grady’s tongue makes contact with her clit.
His movements are well-practiced by now, swirling in a way she loves. I pluck at her nipple while he works, ghosting my teeth across her tender skin. In record time, she’s coming undone, rasping out our names while Grady chases her orgasm.
“Damn, you’re getting good at that, Hulk.” I chuckle, and the bashful smirk he gives me goes straight to my painfully throbbing cock.
“Parker, please help me with our men.” Leah breathes out, eyeing the impressive collection of erections in the room. “I need a minute, and really want to know what I missed out on in the hotel in Georgia.”
I bite my lips, brows waggling at the three of them. “Well, boys, let’s give our wife a show.”
Her eyes widen, lips parting on a gasp. “Wife?”
“We’ll talk about that later. For now, Parker has some more… important things to deal with,” Warren answers, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. “Come here.”
Trembling with the need to obey his every command, I move to sit beside him. Without hesitation, I kiss him hard, gripping his cock with the ferocity he craves.
He hisses against my lips. “You’re our naughty boy, aren’t you?” He groans as I drag my thumb over his tip, collecting a bead of precum.
“He sure is,” Quincy takes a seat next to him. “Show her how bad you are.”
Leah breathes rapidly with undivided focus as I kneel, taking one in each hand. I alternate between using my mouth and steady strokes while they moan, loud and unrestrained.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe this is my life.” Leah lazily rubs her clit, eyes hooded. “Please, someone fuck him.”
Grady is behind me a breath later, hand sliding up my back, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
Unlike his cousins, he’s tender and attentive.
I quake each time he takes me. Not that I don’t enjoy the sloppy, rough experience I get with Warren and Quincy, but something in the way Grady makes every time special does me in.
He starts with his fingers, getting me as prepped as possible while I take his cousins deeper.
Entranced, Leah moans, face flushed, and continues to work herself. As Grady begins to sink into me, I lean away from Warren and Quincy, letting out a garbled sound.
Leah slips to the floor and claims my lips, silencing my madness. “So bad,” she whispers against me.
Grady grunts as he pumps deeper. When Leah slides her soft hand under me and takes hold of my cock, my eyes roll back.
“Fuck,” Warren hisses, thrusting into my waiting mouth. He lets me drag my tongue along the barbells under his shaft once before driving into my throat.
Leah moans. “You’re all so hot, it’s so unfair that I get you all to myself.” Shifting next to me, she opens wide to swallow Quincy.
I’m not even the slightest bit upset that she’s stopped touching me. The squeaks she makes as he grabs the back of her head and hammers into her throat are erotic as hell. Grady bottoms out in my ass, reaching over to slip his hand between her thighs so he can work her clit.
Before long, the sensations become too much for her to bear.
She pulls free from Quincy’s hold to catch her breath. “Please, someone fuck me.” The needy whine that follows her words has Warren and Quincy springing into action.
Together, they lean me back, helping Grady position so that I’m sitting on him in reverse. He’s deeper than ever, growling in my ear while I clench. Warren takes Leah by the hand, helping her lean forward so she’s lined up with my cock.
I’m not going to survive this.
On her knees before me, pussy dripping and ready, she slides slowly down my length until I’m so deep I fear I’ll hurt her. Choking on a groan, Warren offers his cock like a delicacy, and she takes it eagerly.
Grady’s movements push me into Leah further than I would have thought possible. Between them, I’m turned into a crazed sex toy. Moans bordering on screams erupt from me until Quincy approaches my side, silencing me with his cock.
My consciousness exists on pleasure alone.
Warren wipes tears from Leah’s face, forcing himself into her until she chokes. “Fuck, this throat is heaven. Both of you are filthy sluts for our cocks aren’t you?”
Leah tries to respond with a muffled moan, tightening around me. Grady pinches my nipple between his fingers, rolling his hips until I see stars.
It’s too much, in the best way.
I plummet over the edge, shuddering as I come buried in Leah’s silky perfection. I squirm on Grady’s cock as she comes undone around mine. The aftershocks of my orgasm nearly wreck me as waves of his cum fill me.
Leah whimpers, nearly choking on Warren’s release as it spills down her throat. The sight, paired with his frenzied string of curses, almost makes me come again.
Quincy is the last to fall, hissing, fist clenched tight in my hair while I swallow everything he’s got.
We collapse into a pile of panting limbs and soft, satisfied chuckles.
“So, wife, huh?” Leah breathes out between her heaving breaths, head resting on my thigh.
Grady makes a huffing noise behind me that can only be interpreted as confusion.
“We want to change our names.” Warren sits up on his elbows, addressing the room. “There’s got to be a process. People do it all the time.”
“We figured, if you want, we’ll all be Porter’s, like an unofficial marriage,” Quincy explains, breathless, curled around Leah.
“S-sounds p-p-perfect,” Grady replies.
I had no doubts he would agree. The man barely relates to his last name as it is. Our attention shifts to Leah, eagerly awaiting her response.
“I love it.” She grins, eyes hooded over.
“That settles it then, first, we shower, then we sleep, and then forever begins.” Warren gets up and extends a hand for Leah.
“Deal,” she replies.
We all follow to the bathroom and exchange soft kisses and tender touches as we clean each other.
Once we’re curled up in bed, the peace that settles in the air is nearly tangible. Understanding blankets the room—confirmation that this has all been worth it. Through all of the headaches and heartbreaks, we’ve come out on top. The Olympics aren’t ready for the Porters, but they’d better be.
Because we made it.
All thanks to the pink-haired heroine curled up in the middle of us.