Chapter 8: Sharing
The study smelled of leather and whiskey, that particular blend of old money and older sins that seemed to soak into the very walls of Drey's mansion. Eve moved carefully across the polished hardwood, a silver tray balanced in her hands, the crystal decanter of cognac catching the amber light from the chandelier overhead. She had dressed simply tonight—a loose sundress that brushed her knees, pale yellow, something soft that wouldn't press against her still-flat stomach. But she could feel it growing, could feel the subtle shift in her body, the weight of three lives taking root inside her.
Silas and Marc were already seated when she entered, two massive slabs of black granite disguised as men. Silas was the broader of the two, his chest like a barrel, his hands the size of dinner plates. Marc was leaner but no less intimidating, with a scar that ran from his temple to his jaw and eyes that looked at everything like it was prey. They were in their fifties, rough men who had built their fortunes on the same ruthless foundation as Drey, and they watched her approach with the lazy, appraising gaze of predators who had already eaten but were always hungry.
"There she is," Silas rumbled, his voice like gravel. "The little white flower that tamed the Montgomery beast."
Eve set the tray down on the glass-topped desk, her movements careful, deliberate. "I wouldn't say tamed."
Marc laughed, a short, sharp sound. "No, I bet you wouldn't. Heard you've been keeping him busy, though."
Drey rose from his leather chair, moving around the desk with that fluid grace that always made Eve's breath catch. He was wearing a silk shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and she could see the chain of his necklace glinting against his chest. He came to stand beside her, his hand finding the small of her back with practiced ease.
"Eve's been a busy girl," Drey said, his voice low and warm. "She's carrying triplets."
Silas's eyebrows shot up. "Triplets? Shit. At her size?" He looked at Eve with new interest, his gaze dropping to her midsection. "How the hell did you fit three in there?"
Eve felt her cheeks warm, but she didn't look away. "They're not very big yet."
Marc leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Well, congratulations. Zeke must be walking on air."
The room went quiet for a moment. Eve could feel Drey's hand tighten slightly on her back, could feel the weight of what he was about to say before he said it.
"Zeke's got a hand in it, yeah," Drey said slowly, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "But so do I."
Silas blinked. Marc's expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened, calculating.
"You?" Silas repeated. "You're claiming you knocked her up too?"
Drey's smile widened, and he pulled Eve closer, his hand sliding down to rest on her hip. "Best believe it. And so did the good reverend."
The silence that followed was deafening. Eve could see the gears turning in their heads, could see them processing what Drey had just told them. Three men. Three different fathers. Her stomach doing nothing to hide the evidence of what she really was.
"That's—" Marc started, then stopped. He shook his head slowly. "That's the goddamn wildest thing I've ever heard."
Silas let out a low whistle. "So you're telling me she got fucked by all three of you? And she's carrying all three of your brats?"
"Each one from a different father," Drey confirmed. "Dr. Evan confirmed it last week. Separate genetic markers, all developing at slightly different rates. She was made for breeding, this one."
Eve could feel the heat rising in her body, pooling low in her belly. They were looking at her differently now. The polite, congratulatory expressions had been replaced by something rawer, more primal. They were seeing her as what she truly was.
"You said Zeke's in on this?" Marc asked, his voice thoughtful. "Your own son?"
"Zeke understands family," Drey said simply. "He gets his nature from me."
Silas shook his head again, a grin spreading across his face. "Fucking hell, Drey. You don't do anything halfway, do you?"
"The best things in life are worth sharing." Drey's hand moved, catching the hem of Eve's dress. He lifted it slowly, deliberately, exposing her thighs inch by inch. "Speaking of sharing—when's the last time either of you tasted pussy this fertile?"
Eve's breath caught in her throat. Silas and Marc exchanged a glance, then looked back at Drey with expressions that made her knees weak.
"You offering?" Marc asked, his voice rough.
Drey didn't answer. He just pulled Eve's dress up over her hips, baring her completely to their hungry stares. She was naked underneath, as always. The thought flashed through her mind that he'd planned this, that he'd told her not to wear underwear for a reason.
"Take a look, boys." Drey's voice was silk wrapped around steel. "Look at that pretty pink cunt. Still tight after two cocks at once. Still dripping with our come, even a week later."
Silas and Marc rose from their seats, moving closer. Eve could feel their heat, could smell their cologne mixed with the musk of their arousal. They were looking at her like she was a feast laid out before starving men.
"My God," Silas breathed. "Look at that. She's swollen as hell."
"Three months worth of wearing out will do that," Drey said. "But she's still got the tightest pussy I've ever felt. You want to see what I mean?"
Marc's eyes were dark with hunger. "How?"
Drey moved with sudden, brutal efficiency. He grabbed Eve's dress and tore it down the middle, the fabric ripping apart like paper. She gasped as the cool air hit her bare skin, her breasts spilling free, her nipples hardening instantly. He spun her around, bending her over the glass-topped desk with one powerful hand between her shoulder blades.
"There," Drey said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You see that? That's what three different cocks and a litter of babies will do to a woman."
Eve was spread out before them, completely exposed. She could see the reflection of Silas's and Marc's faces in the glass of the desk, could see the mixture of shock and raw hunger in their eyes. Her heart was pounding, but she wasn't scared—she was thrilled.
"You really want us to taste her?"
Drey's hand pressed down harder, holding Eve in place. "I want you to get on your knees and bury your faces in that fertile cunt. I want you to taste the remnants of me and my son and the good reverend. I want you to understand what a woman looks like when she's been completely and utterly ruined."
Silas was the first to move. He dropped to his knees with a grunt, crawling close until his face was inches from Eve's dripping slit. He inhaled deeply, a low sound rumbling in his chest.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "She smells like sex."
"Taste her," Drey commanded.
Silas didn't need to be told twice. He leaned forward, his tongue pressing flat against Eve's pussy, dragging from bottom to top in one long, slow stroke. Eve cried out, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk as his tongue found the slick evidence of her last encounter.
"Well?" Drey asked, his voice carrying a note of dark amusement.
Silas pulled back, a string of saliva and other fluids connecting his tongue to Eve's folds. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide.
"That's the best goddamn thing I've ever tasted. Three loads of come marinating in a breeding pussy. Fucking exquisite."
Marc pushed Silas aside, not waiting for an invitation. He buried his face between Eve's thighs with a ferocity that made her gasp, his tongue plunging deep inside her, lapping up everything Silas had left behind. She could feel him growling against her flesh, could feel the vibration of his pleasure radiating through her core.
"That's it," Drey said, his voice low and approving. "Learn her taste. Memorize it. Because she's not just my son's wife. She's not just my whore. She's a goddamn fertility goddess, and you're witnessing a miracle."
Eve could barely process the words. She was lost in the sensation of two mouths devouring her, their tongues competing for every drop of moisture, their hands gripping her thighs so hard she knew there would be bruises. She was moaning openly now, her hips bucking against Marc's mouth as waves of pleasure began to build.
"You like that, don't you?" Marc growled against her, his breath hot on her drenched skin. "You like being shown off like a prize mare."
"Yes," she whimpered. "God, yes."
"It doesn't matter how many of us look at you," Silas said, moving up beside Marc to suck her clit into his mouth. "It doesn't matter how much we taste. You're always going to be their whore, aren't you?"
Eve nodded, barely able to speak. "I'm their whore. All of theirs. I'll always be their whore."
Drey moved closer, his hand finding her hair and fisting it, pulling her head back. "That's my girl. You keep saying that. You keep remembering exactly who you belong to."
Marc pulled back, his face glistening with her wetness. "Drey. You said two cocks fit in here at once?"
Drey smiled. "At the cabin. We took her together, filled her completely, came inside her at the same time."
Silas and Marc exchanged a look. Eve could see what was passing between them, the shared understanding that came from a lifetime of indulging their basest desires.
"Looks like we might need to test that theory," Silas said, his voice rough with need. "Make sure she's still built for it."