Page 67 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

Their hands hold and squeeze and grip, their fingers digging and pinching and ravenously scratching. They claim me hard anddeep. I cry tears of joy as I come, over and over, as my pussy gushes over their cocks, as I feel Reed spilling his hot seed down my throat and listen to his ragged breaths, his fractured moans as he holds me by the head and gives me everything.

Archer comes next, shooting himself deep within. Maddox is last, and it is explosive. My core tightens as I clench myself around them, squeezing the throbbing cocks of each delicious droplet.

Whatever this is, I can’t let it end.

I dread the possibility, especially now that I know I’m carrying a Faulkner child in my womb. We move into the bedroom, where we continue with our rampant lovemaking. They take me every which way late into the night.

24

Dakota

The wedding preparations are nowhere near as daunting as I thought they would be. Then again, we’re not doing a big, traditional wedding. By all accounts and purposes, it could qualify as a sham wedding, and the thought gives my soul a bittersweet taste that I can’t quite shake. It’s hard to enjoy all the mindless lovemaking and endless conversations when we all know there’s an expiration date looming somewhere on the horizon. We know we should keep the emergency brake handy, just in case, yet we can’t help ourselves, either.

And I’m still keeping yet another big secret.

I’m actually looking forward to the wedding day. I only wish I could marry all three of them.

“Mommy, I like this place,” Maisie says. It’s day three of us living in the Faulkner house, and my daughter has welcomed the unexpected change. “It’s big.”

“Well, it’s a house built for a big family. Ours was always small but cozy,” I reply as I prepare her morning oatmeal bowl before I drop her off at school. “Didn’t you like our house?”

“I liked it there, but it’s really… old. This house is prettier,” Maisie says.

“Fair enough. Grandma Sally’s house could do with a few upgrades, I’ll admit. Maybe we’ll look into doing some renovations.”

“Does that mean we’re going to move back there?” she gives me a worried look.

I laugh lightly as I set the oatmeal bowl on the table before her. This kitchen has a sprawling breakfast nook. A large bay window overlooks the backyard, which is a lush green paradise, even in the heart of winter. Agave shrubs and fat aloe vera plants dominate the garden, along with a couple of palm trees and one mighty fig tree smack in the middle.

It’s a tad too chilly for us to make use of the pool these days, so the guys keep it covered, but I look forward to the first few days of spring to take my baby out there and splash around in the sun.

“We’re staying here for now, honey,” I tell her. What else could I possibly say? “You and Trevor seem to be getting along better.”

Maisie nods excitedly. “He’s being nicer, yeah. He’s actually glad I’m living here now.”

“Did he say that, or are you just hopefully guessing?” I joke.

“He said it, Mommy.”

“Well then, I am really glad to hear that. Oh, hold on for a second, honey,” I say and head back to the stove as the water for my eggs starts bubbling and boiling. Carefully, I set three fresh eggs inside.

The guys’ omelets are already cooked and plated, awaiting their arrival next to several slices of maple glazed bacon and buttered toast. I’m just about to start chopping up a fruit salad to go with the whole thing when I hear the doorbell ring.

“Mommy, the door!” Maisie excitedly says.

“Hold on,” I mutter and turn the stove off. “Coming!” I call out as I walk into the entryway.

Reed is already at the door, though, a towel wrapped around his waist, practically naked and still wet from the shower, water dripping down his muscular back as tendrils of steam rise from his broad shoulders. I can’t help but bite into my lower lip as I watch him open the door.

“Hi, there,” a familiar voice startles me.

I freeze in the corner of the entryway, staring at Keith as he stands outside the door with an awkward look on his face. Reed’s got his back to me, but I can tell from his voice that he’s not impressed. “Who are you?” my future husband asks.

“That’s Keith Ellis,” I hear myself say. “My ex-husband.”

Reed glances back at me, his brow instantly furrowed. “Your ex-husband,” he repeats.

“Yes,” Keith replies with a faint smile. “I, uh… I stopped by your place, but I understand you don’t live there anymore.”

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