Epilogue
Joelle
The house smells like birthday cake and warm cider. Balloons brighten the corners, flanking colorful banners. My son, our son, as Wade and Caleb now call him, turned two today, and he was spoiled rotten.
Little C is curled in Wade’s lap, his chubby fingers clinging to the pages of a picture book as Wade reads in his slow, steady voice that could soothe the growl out of a thunderstorm.
Caleb watches from across the room, a gentle smile playing across his lips.
Sometimes, I catch him looking at his gruff brother, who has softened over the past year, with so much love it takes my breath away.
Their bond is strong. Stronger since I arrived on the ranch, worn down and desperate, and found two men who needed love as much as I did.
Janey sits beside me at the table, cupping a mug of tea in both hands.
She’s been so supportive of my new relationship, despite the unusual circumstances.
She’s still confused by our arrangement, and I’ve learned to dodge the pointed questions and let her guess at whatever she thinks happens behind our bedroom door.
Yesterday, she joked that she wouldn’t mind two handsome, rugged cowboys spoiling her rotten, and I told her to stick around; we’ve got more single men on this ridge than she realizes, and at least two of them turn into bashful idiots whenever she walks past.
“This cake is so good,” Rick says around a mouthful.
“Thanks,” I smile.
Eli grins with telltale wickedness. “No wonder Wade and Caleb have put on weight since you arrived.”
I flush, wondering if it’s the cake or all the breast milk they’ve been enjoying. They have bulked up, packing on muscle in all the right places. Just thinking about their work-hardened bodies makes my pussy squeeze, and a slow pulse of heat spreads through my body.
A gust of cool air sweeps in when the door opens.
Two broad silhouettes fill the doorway, boots and hats dusty, shoulders wide enough to block the light behind them.
Their strides shake the floorboards. The Fletcher cousins, Mason and Brookes, stride in with the kind of easy swagger that runs in their bloodline.
Mason’s tall and sandy-haired with a jaw square enough to cut lumber.
Brookes is darker, with tousled curls and smirking eyes that scream trouble.
They greet Caleb with a back slap that sounds like someone chopping wood, nodding to Wade, who continues to focus on Little C’s bedtime story.
“Sorry we’re late,” Mason drawls. “Someone took forever pickin’ out the right shirt.”
“That someone was you,” Brookes deadpans.
“Damn right. We spend all day covered in grime and sweat. A cowboy has to look good at social functions.”
“We appreciate your effort,” Caleb says. My gaze flicks to Janey, whose jaw has fallen at the sight of the Fletchers.
“We heard somethin’ about cake and beer.” Brookes drops his hat onto the counter and swipes his hand through his messy curls. They’re so much like Caleb and Wade that it takes my breath away.
“There are crumbs left if you’re fast,” Caleb says, spooning in a huge mouthful and grinning.
“Don’t listen to him,” I say, lifting the cake dome. “There’s plenty left.”
Except neither man is looking at the cake.
Both sets of hungry eyes are lasered onto Janey.
She stiffens like she’s been caught doing something scandalous and sets her tea down with careful, exaggerated calm.
Then, without moving her head, she darts me the sharpest look—a clear don’t you dare encourage whatever this is.
I smile as I cut two large slices because I know a plot twist when I see one.
Mason’s already strolling closer, leaning one hip against the counter like it’s a bar in some dim saloon. “Ma’am,” he says to Janey, voice smooth as honeyed bourbon. “You always smell this good, or you put on somethin’ special for tonight?”
Brookes huffs a laugh. “Ignore him. He practices lines in the mirror.”
Mason elbows him. “At least I got lines.”
Janey’s face goes pink as the sunrise. “I don’t… smell like anything,” she mutters.
“It’s cake,” Eli interrupts with a grin. “You smell like cake.”
“Good enough to eat.” Mason’s tongue swipes over his top lip, and every man in the room shakes his head.
“You’ve got to watch that one,” Caleb advises. “His special power is getting women on their backs with their legs in the air.”
“Not in front of our son,” Wade says, closing the book. He lifts Little C, who tucks himself into his father’s shoulder, “Alright, partner,” he murmurs, “let’s get you to bed before this descends any further.”
Little C gives him a sleepy hum, oblivious, and snuggles deeper into him, and for a moment, everything around us fades. I watch Wade carry our son down the hallway, Caleb trailing close behind them, and a warm ache settles in my chest.
This strange, beautiful, unexpected life continues to take me by surprise.
Two men who love me. A child who is worshipped. A house that used to echo and now hums with family. Friends who feel like kin.
And enough chaos to keep it interesting.
And soon, a new chapter will begin.
***
The water is hot and fragrant; drawn the way I like it. The bubbles are soft, and lavender from my garden floats on the surface as candles flicker in the corner.
Caleb set it up. He always remembers the little things.
He appears with a glass of sweet tea. “Sugar for your strength,” he says, pressing a kiss to my shoulder as I sink into the water to relax. This is my time; a form of preparation for what’s to come.
Wade arrives when I’m done with a towel warmed on the radiator. He wraps it around me, brushing my hair back and murmuring, “Ready when you are, pretty girl.”
Tonight we’re embarking on something sacred.
My milk dried up weeks ago in preparation. The ache is gone, but sometimes I still feel the memory of the need and the intimacy from the way my cowboys once fed from me, and I miss it.
But tonight is about the future, so I’m happy to let go of the past.
***
The bedroom is lit by candles, soft country music playing from the old speaker on the shelf. Rose petals are scattered across the bed, a surprisingly tender touch from my cowboys, proof that behind their grit lies a steady kind of love.
They’re waiting for me, stretched out on the mattress in nothing but jeans. Wade lounges with his hands behind his head, watching me like a wolf savoring its dinner. Caleb sets down a worn paperback on the nightstand, his gaze darkening as I let the towel fall and crawl across the bed toward them.
“Goddamn, pretty girl,” Wade growls, attention locked on my naked body.
My breasts are still full and heavy, even though I’m no longer nursing.
Once, I’d felt insecure about the changes to my body, wondering if I’d be enough.
Not anymore. These men always make sure I know exactly how wanted and worshiped I am.
Last month, I had my IUD removed. We’ve been careful since, but not tonight.
Tonight, we’re not holding back.
Tonight, if everything goes to plan, they’re going to fill me with their child.
I lean into Caleb first, kissing him slowly and deeply, my tongue sliding over his as he moans into my mouth. Wade’s rough palm traces a burning path down my back, skimming the curve of my ass until he finds my slick center.
“So wet,” he murmurs. “You’ve been thinkin’ about how we’re gonna fuck you full tonight, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, as Caleb brings my breast to his mouth, tugging gently on my nipple. The sensation is different now, sharper, almost electric, but it still makes my toes curl. “Fill me with your cum,” I whisper, breathlessly. “Put a baby in me.”
“Oh fuck, yeah, sweetheart,” Caleb groans, pushing down his jeans, cock already hard in his hand. “That’s exactly what we’re gonna do. Fill you so deep you won’t know whose baby it is.”
I whimper as Wade kneels behind me, shedding his jeans. He grips the back of my neck, guiding me forward as he presses the thick head of his cock against my entrance. With two hard thrusts, he’s inside me.
“Goddamn, I missed this sweet pussy,” he groans. “All day, I’ve been thinkin’ about fucking you.”
“She feel good?” Caleb asks, stroking himself as I bend to take him in my mouth.
“You want a taste?” Wade replies, voice thick with lust.
“Hell yeah.”
Caleb moves beside his brother, both cowboys looming over me, broad and bare and burning with need. Wade pulls out, letting his brother slide into me. Watching them trade me like this, no shame or hesitation, sends a bolt of heat through my core.
“You’re ours, Joelle,” Wade says, his hand firm on my hip while his brother fucks me. “You hear me. Ours.”
“I’m yours,” I moan, dizzy with pleasure. “Always yours.”
“Flip her,” Wade tells Caleb, and they move me gently.
I lie on my back, rose petals clinging to my damp skin.
I open my legs for them, unashamed and aching.
They take their time with me, tongues and hands, and whispered praise.
I’m trembling by the time Wade spreads me open with his fingers as Caleb kisses the inside of my thigh.
When they roll me to my side, it’s with slow care, easing me into the position they crave.
Caleb slides into me from the front while Wade presses into me from behind.
I’m pinned between their hard bodies, sweat slicked and spread wide, shared between my two cowboys.
They’re powerful but gentle, kissing me and touching me as they move inside me, whispering how beautiful I am, how sweet, how perfect.
I cling to Caleb’s shoulder as Wade anchors me from behind, keeping us close, keeping me feeling loved as well as claimed.
Wade’s hand slides to my throat, anchoring me.
Caleb cups my cheek, brushing a thumb over my lip.
Pleasure rises inside me like the tide, swelling with wave after wave of increased sensation until I’m lost, clamping and arching, groaning and twitching between them.
“I’m close,” Caleb gasps.
“Me too,” Wade grits. “On three.”
They don’t count down the seconds, but their rhythm shifts into something deeper and rougher. Their bodies tense, and then they’re spilling into me, their cocks pulsing with release as they fill me with their seed.
“That’s it,” Wade growls, fingers tightening. “Take it, pretty girl. Take it all. Gonna knock you up so good, you’ll be swollen with our baby, and we’ll still want more.”
“Fuck,” Caleb pants. “You feel it? That heat? That’s us. That’s our baby taking root.”
I moan, completely undone, held between them as they pulse inside me. They don’t pull out. Not right away. We stay like that—connected, tangled, complete.
Later, they ease out of me and lie close, one hand on my belly, another wrapped around my waist. Wade strokes my hair. Caleb hums a low, familiar tune, and for a second, I ache for the sweet, quiet days when they’d suckle from me after sex and we’d drift off in each other’s arms.
The room smells like sweat and candle wax, and my body hums with soreness and satisfaction.
I’m not empty. Not anymore.
I’m full of love, of hope, and maybe with a new and precious seed growing inside me.
They press kisses to my stomach, peppering each stretchmark with adoration, then my shoulders, and finally my heart.
“I love you, Jo,” Caleb murmurs.
“Always,” Wade adds.
“Forever,” Caleb echoes.
I close my eyes, surrounded by the men who turned my world on its head and then built me a new one with their bare hands.
This isn’t just love.
This is family.
This is home.
I’m shared by these cowboys, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Thank you for reading Shared by the Cowboys.