Page 66 of Claimed By the Cowboys

“The internet,” I say primly.

Dalton’s face gets dark. “Someone saw you in this shit on the internet?”

Tate smacks him. “No, Neanderthal. She bought it on the internet.”

“Oh,” Dalton mutters. My god. He’s cute when he is confused.

I smile at them, letting my legs fall open. “I want all of you. Together.”

I could never choose.

I know I need to make that clear. Dalton’s reaction today showed me that, too. I need to make sure that they know I would never prefer one of them over the others, but I think it’s probably just easier if I show them.

From the doorway, all three men look at me with wide eyes. Brent, as always, is the first to respond. “Piper, are you sure that you…”

I nod. I know that it upset Dalton to be left out. I knew it would. And I’m never going to do that again.

For a minute, I wonder if I’m making the wrong choice. I started this because I wanted a baby, and because I was sure that I would never get what I wanted on my own time. That I would somehow never find someone who could give me the family I wanted, because…

I don’t really remember now. At this point, it’s about the baby and so much more.

Brent moves, and the doubts vanish from my mind.

“Are you sure, princess?” he asks, his hands gently trailing up the sides of my arms to touch my face.

I nod. It’s all I can do. I’m not just sure. I’m really, really sure.

I’m terrified I’m going to lose them. But I think what scares me even more is not taking this chance. Not going after what I want. Being afraid to lose something means it matters to me. And these guys? They matter.

Brent, Tate, and Dalton all exchange a glance. Then, at Brent’s nod, they move. Clothes fly through the air, and I would laugh at the fact that it looks almost comical. Except when they come around me, there’s nothing to laugh about. They’re dead serious. And so am I.

Dalton moves cautiously, scooting down on the bed. He’s at my front, kneeling down by my feet. Tate moves to be behind me, and he whips his shirt and jeans off before he gets to the bed. In his boxers, he settles behind me, and the playful vanilla and leather scent of him dominates my nose. Brent stands to the side, his hands steady on me. He takes one finger and pulls at the bra strap.

“Baby, I’m telling you to take this thing off, because if one of us does it, we’re going to rip clean through it,” he growls.

I laugh. My hands go behind my back to pull at the snap closures. When I shrug it off, I smile. “There. No damage done.”

“Good. I want to see that thing again. Another time.”

I should hope so. It’s the type of bra that you get from places in New York that have scandalously high prices. But it does show off my meager boobs to their best angle, so money well spent, I’d say.

To my side, Brent moves, fisting himself as he watches me. He’s so freaking hot.

They’re all so gosh darn attractive. Having their attention focused on me… Well. It’s part of this dream. Part of this impossible, crazy, insane dream that I have. One that feels insane to hope for.

“I think that Tate and I did a good job showing her how to come the other day,” Brent groans.

Behind me, Tate pulls me up so that my back is flush to his chest, and he pushes down the thin straps of the panties until they’re hugging my knees. His fingers pull at my nipple, tweaking it, then he repeats the process with the other nipple.

I moan, arching back, but Dalton spreads my legs. He looks up at Tate, giving him a wicked grin.

“I made her come with my tongue,” he grunts.

Well. I guess Dalton has plenty to say when he wants to. He stretches out, lying down. Tate watches as he does, then he pushes me forward so I’m straddling Dalton’s face.

“Now that’s a sight I want to see,” Tate says behind me.

When Dalton’s tongue lands on my core, I gasp. The angle is different. Very, very different. But the sensation of Dalton lapping at me? I moan into the familiarity of it. I know how good he is. And I know what’s coming next. Except, something is a little different. There are three of them now, a fact that I’m reminded of when Tate’s hands are on my nipples. He pulls on them.

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