Page 49 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

He leans back on the futon and drapes his arm over the back, and I do the same, my eyes boring into his.

“I don’t mean to pry,” I continue quickly. “You don’t need to tell me.”

“It’s not a secret,” he says. “I’m just surprised no one ever said anything. We’re products of IVF. My mother chose to be a solo parent.”

Stunned, I gawp at him. “That’s freaking amazing!” I sputter. “She had triplets on her own? While running a ranch?”

Owen laughs and nods. “Yeah, she was pretty badass,” he concedes sadly, his face shadowing. “Our grandfather helped her for the first few years. He passed when we were about seven. Then she passed when we were seventeen. Sevens were kind of cursed with us for a while.”

I touch his face softly, and he captures my fingers in his. “It’s all right,” he tells me. “It was a long time ago.”

“I know. But grief doesn’t expire, Owen.”

“It doesn’t,” he agrees. “But it makes it easier when you have family to help you through it.”

The coarse texture of his scruff against my skin sends shivers through me, a molten heat spreading from my fingertips down through my core. They all turn me on so much. It wasn’t just Vegas and the liquor. Each one of them has a hold on me in their own way.

He moves my hand over his mouth, and I trace my fingertips over the ridges of his lips. His mouth parts to make room for my fingertips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, just like he had in Vegas. The words are a crossover in my head: fuzzy and heady, and slightly confusing. His strong arms pull me closer. “I really like you.”

“I like you, too,” I sigh. “I like all three of you.”

His eyes brighten. “That’s okay,” he tells me, and I realize now they really do share it all. “We share everything.”

His mouth claims mine hungrily, our tongues sliding together as heat rushes through my body. He presses me backward, his weight deliciously firm as desire builds between us. My hands splay across his back, tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel his burning skin against my fingertips.

Skillfully but roughly, he tears at my clothes, his hardness pressing at my leg, the urgency in him determined in his kisses as they rain down over my neck. He pulls open the sash of my robe, exposing my full breasts, his mouth claiming me as his hand explores the cleft between my legs.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmurs. “But so familiar. I know your taste, Emerson…”

“Shh!” I beg him. “Don’t stop.”

He chuckles, delving lower along the small bump of my stomach, until he finds himself buried between my legs. My thighs lock at his ears, and he groans in delight.

The slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue send waves of pleasure coursing through me. Each hot, languid caress builds a perfect rhythm—steady and relentless—my body tensing with the certainty that release hovers just beyond reach.

My hands curl into his thick, dark hair, and I hold onto him as he cups my ass.

“Oh my God!” I cry. “Yes!”

“Mmm,” he sighs, the vibrations shimmering through me.

My body spasms once, twice, and suddenly, I’m on all fours, facing the stairs. Owen’s fingers tangle in my hair, the gentle tug making my body ache with desperate need as he positions himself behind me. The warmth of his chest presses against my back.

“I’ll be gentle,” he growls in my ear, teeth grazing my shoulder just enough to leave a mark.

“No, don’t,” I beg him, my voice thick with need.

With a deep, satisfied sound, he drives into me—hard and deep—setting a relentless pace that has me crying out with each thrust. My moans echo so loudly I’m certain they carry all the way to the ranch house and bunk house, but with pleasure building like a storm inside me, I couldn’t care less who might hear.

I’m enamored with these men and their magic cocks. They have me completely entranced.

“Come for me again,” he orders me.

He doesn’t need to wait long for his command, my legs clenching as my second orgasm mounts.

I spill over him, and he clings to my hips, continuing to plunge into me with a force that’s driving me wild.

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