Should I run back upstairs and meet him on the way down, or hide in the den? Maybe I should sit in the den and act like I’m just chilling in this strange house. Would that look natural? I don’t even know. As footsteps thud toward me, I spring back, still not sure on what course of action I’m taking. I end up halfway to the stairs when the door creaks as it’s yanked open.
I face the man I’m assuming is Gordon like we are two characters in a western, both poised to reach for guns. Except there are no guns here. Just a strange static as this sexy man’s gaze drifts over my face and body. He’s wondering how long I’ve been out here and if I heard anything, or maybe he’s just wondering what it would be like to see me after Sean had magically removed my panties like a snake charmer.
I’m wondering what his strong hands would feel like cuffing my wrists and whether he’d be as controlling in bed as he obviously is in real life. Those hands are balled into fists, but I don’t think that’s because of anything I’ve done. I get the feeling they’re always like that. This man seems coiled tight and pumped with testosterone. If I had to speculate, I’d say he plays tight end. He probably likes being able to defend and attack. I get the feeling he wouldn’t like to be restricted to one or the other.
I swear that time moves differently at this moment. It seems to stretch long and thin like taffy, then snap back fast as I realize how much I’m staring at his strong brow that’s furrowed and frowny and the dark, swirling network of patterned tattoos wrapping their way around his right arm and dripping down onto his hand.
‘Maggie.’ His voice is gruffer than it was when he was talking to his brothers in the kitchen. The kind of rumbling voice that goes with his beard and hulking form.
‘Hi,’ I practically squeak. ‘I need to get some water.’
‘Sure…’
We both go back to standing motionless and staring until the kitchen door opens again and another man emerges. ‘Maggie.’
I don’t know who this is, putting me at a total disadvantage. They only have one new name and face to become familiar with. I have eleven.
‘She wants water,’ Gordon mutters, not even turning to see which of his brothers is behind him.
‘Maggie wants a glass of water,’ the brother behind shouts.
A head appears around the door, then another.
If it weren’t so awkward, I would laugh. They’re like giant meerkats peeking over rocks for predators.
‘And maybe some introductions would be good?’
The mouth of the man, I’m assuming to be Gordon, twitches on one side. ‘Introductions!’ His right eyebrow lifts.
‘So I know who I’m bumping into in the hallway?’ I raise both my eyebrows in challenge. I’m not sure what the big deal is but everything I’m saying seems to be amusing to this man.
‘Come into the kitchen,’ the man behind says. ‘We can fix you a drink, and you can meet everyone.’
Gordon still doesn’t move, but I don’t let that stop me from making my way around him. As I pass, he turns, still with that little flicker of his mouth. Already, I can see that we are going to end up butting heads. I can feel him following behind me. His presence is so strong.
‘Everyone, Maggie’s here. She wants introductions.’
‘What do you want to know, Maggie?’ The man who speaks has dark eyes, smooth dark skin, and hair cropped close to his scalp. As I scan the room, I realize he’s one of three. Triplets. Eleven was bad enough but adding in twins and triplets means that I won’t have a hope in hell of working out who is who.
‘She wants to know the length of your cock. What the hell do you think she wants to know?’ That’s Logan, the guy who shouted from the car, and he sniggers at his own words. I don’t miss the eye rolls of a few of his surrounding foster brothers.
‘She better find a magnifying glass to check on yours,’ Harley says. He gives me an apologetic look.
Logan laughs good-naturedly, and my opinion of him lifts a little. At least he’s not the kind of guy to take himself too seriously. A jester, I can cope with. An arrogant ass, not so much.
‘John, you start,’ Harley says. John, it turns out, is even bigger than Gordon, with a close-cropped beard and dark, intense eyes that should feel intimidating but instead are filled with quiet warmth. Almost immediately, I can see why he was chosen by his brothers to be the one to help me. He raises his hand. ‘I’m John. I’m a Virgo, and my favorite food is mac and cheese.’ That is all delivered with an entirely straight face, which only splits into a warm smile after a few seconds. I smile quickly as the man next to him elbows John in the ribs.
‘Lame,’ he says. ‘I’m Donovan. I love butterflies and roses and going for long walks in the rain.’
‘Guys, be serious. You’re not coming up with a dating profile. Just tell her your name and be done with it,’ Gordon says impatiently.
‘Fun sponge,’ the triplet next to Donovan says. He’s the one who asked me what I wanted to know. ‘I’m Daryl.’
‘Dwayne,’ the other triplet says. ‘And don’t worry, we won’t be offended if you don’t get us right. We’ve had a whole lifetime of people getting confused.’
‘And a lifetime of trying to confuse people,’ Donovan says with a wink.
‘I’m Sean.’ This guy has almost jet-black hair and smooth tan skin. His eyes are sparkling green, like fractured jade crystals. So he’s the one they think could charm my panties off. He’s seriously cute, but no one is ever a sure thing! He’s got a confident air about him that screams quarterback. I bet he can run and wave whilst swishing his hair back from his face, all while looking sexy as hell.
‘Logan.’ The cocky one is leaning back on a wooden chair that looks like it’s straining to hold all the toned man there is reclining against it. He’s a little leaner than his brothers. His body screams fitness, like an athlete who competes in triathlons. There something about him that reminds me a little of Justin, but I push the comparison aside. It wouldn’t be fair to tar him with my negative feelings about Justin. He’s got to prove himself worthy or not.
Harley joked about the size of Logan’s cock, but he looks smug enough for me to speculate that he’s not short in the junk department. As I think that, my eyes drift downward as if they have a mind of their own. Logan is wearing white joggers, and the outline of his cock confirms all of my thoughts. As I realize that I’m checking out his junk in front of him and a room full of his brothers, my head jerks up, and my cheeks heat. I hear a few sniggers, but no one says anything. They must be used to girls gaping at them with open mouths. There’s no way that they leave this house without women staring. I’m surprised anyone in this town gets anything done with these boys swaggering around.
‘You know me,’ Harley says abruptly like he’s interjecting to save my embarrassment. ‘And this is my twin, Hunter.’
Hunter nods and raises his hand. Is he really the strong silent type or just used to his brother being his voice?
‘Trey,’ a blond man with striking blue eyes says from next to Hunter. He’s wearing a plaid shirt and jeans and looks like he’d fit in on Danna’s ranch.
‘Reggie.’ This man has soft light brown curls that flop over his face and pretty, gray eyes that look as though they can see into another dimension. He’s been doodling on a scrap of paper; huge swirling roses, with jagged leaves and twisting thorned stems. It’s like the cover of a Sleeping Beauty fairy-tale novel.
Lastly, and with a head filled with confusion, I turn to Gordon. ‘I’m Gordon. We’re really glad to meet you, Maggie.’
‘Do you have everything you need?’ Harley asks.
‘I do. I just need that glass of water.’
‘Here.’ I’m handed a glass by John, who’s nearest the faucet. ‘You let us know if you need anything else. The fridge is full of food…’
‘…that will last us a day,’ Dwayne laughs.
‘Thanks.’ I feel as though I should say something else. Thanks for accepting me into your home, maybe. Thanks for giving my dad a purpose when I wasn’t around. Thanks for trying to make me feel comfortable, even if it’s an impossibility when faced with eleven gorgeous male strangers.
None of that feels right, though.
‘Night then,’ I say instead. I leave the room as fast as I can while still looking normal and I power-walk down the hallway and up the stairs. It’s only when I’m in the safety of my room with the door securely closed that I exhale deeply.
This is not going to be an easy few days.
To make it worse, I can’t get to sleep. Harley’s bed is comfortable enough, but all I can think about is the eleven men who are dotted around this house right now. Eleven men who have voted on whether they want to share me in a relationship and sexually. I actually shiver, thinking about how it felt to stand in the middle of them with all their focus on me. God, I feel deviant for the ache between my thighs, imagining what that might be like, to be with them the way Danna is with her men. I feel morally twisted inside for not being angrier at them thinking about me sexually when we’ve only just met. Why is it that their conversation has turned me on more than repelled me? What kind of person am I to be warm between my legs at the thought?
Instead of being angry, all I can wonder is if they’d want to be with me separately or together? Are relationships like that organized on a schedule, or is it more than that? I wish I’d known about Danna and her setup before now. If I’d spoken to her, I’d know all this. I’d know what their crazy discussion actually meant. There would be no speculation, even in my head.
Are my foster brothers sleeping well right now? Did they have that vote and move on like it was nothing, or is it playing on their minds? Are they imagining what it would be like to share me? Are they thinking about how they would feel to watch their brothers fuck me? Are they contemplating having me in the privacy of their own rooms or of them taking me all at once?
The group sex concept isn’t entirely new to me. Justin told me that there are players in the football team back home who make a habit of ganging football groupies. They zone in on the kind of girls who hang out at parties waiting to score a player and hoping they’ll like that player enough to marry them down the line if they go pro. In small towns, sport is a way out for the men that play it and the women who share their beds. I remember feeling sick at the idea of a girl getting used like that — players taking advantage of their power and shaming the poor woman afterward. It isn’t loving or even sexy. The way Justin talked about it seemed abusive and manipulative.
I’ve also always felt sick at the thought of having to rely on a man for a secure future. Things between my mom and dad just proved to me that men can’t be trusted to be around. Before the pregnancy, education was going to be my way out. It’s why I’ve always tried so hard at school. I’m not a naturally gifted student, but my GPA is good because I focus. I put in my all because I know I want more from life than what I’ve been raised with.
It’s not all about money either, just about opportunity, about choice, about security rather than living paycheck to paycheck, hoping the car doesn’t break down or the roof doesn’t cave in.
Now, with this pregnancy, I’ve done myself out of the opportunity I’ve been working so hard for. In my case, it’s a man who’s inadvertently stolen my security rather than failing to provide it.
I wish I knew what my foster brothers voted. Was it unanimous either way? If they voted yes, were there some who weren’t positive who are now reluctantly going along with the idea?
So many questions and absolutely no answers.
Not that any of it matters either way.
This house is my security. This house is the roof over my head and the head of my child. If I can get my foster brothers to agree to sell up, I can take my share and head home, or maybe even go somewhere new. I can start again, holding my head high rather than trying to avoid anyone from college for fear that they know exactly what I did. Cathy is going to spread the news far and wide, I’m certain of that. I’m also certain that she’s reclaimed Justin, whether they really want each other deep down or not. Maybe Cathy’s looking up at the eagle-shaped crack in the ceiling right now, wondering if I noticed it too. Maybe Justin has his face between her legs, and all she can think about is that I wanted him, but she won.
All of this is so much more complicated than I know how to deal with.
I roll over, gazing at the framed photograph on one of the nightstands. It’s an image of Harley and Hunter in their early teens. There’s still a boyishness about their smiles and a roundness to their faces that has disappeared now. My dad is there, standing behind them with his arms around their shoulders. He looks happy and so do the boys. I wonder how long they’d been living here when the photo was taken, and what their lives were like before.
Where have all these men come from, and what did my father rescue them from?
There are so many stories in this house, and I’m intrigued about them all. My dad might be dead, but as I lie here, I wonder if there’s a chance that I can get to know him through these men. They’ve known him for all the years that I haven’t. This has been their home. Maybe I’ll find things by sorting through my dad’s possessions too.
These men just voted about something that could change my life if I let it, but I can’t think about that. As hard as it’s going to be, I know I have to focus on dealing with the here and now. If nothing else, spending some time here might just help me draw a line under all the questions that I have about my father and give me a way of moving on into the future with a clearer path.
But in the back of my mind, the temptation is there. The temptation to fill the hole in my heart and mop up the loneliness I feel deep inside.
Will I be strong enough to resist it?
