“I have a lot of plans,” he says, kissing me on the neck. “Most involve defiling you in every room in the house once we buy it.” He looks around, fingers tapping against my belly. “Well, maybe not this one.”
Snorting, I ask, “Why not?” and he gives me a slow, crooked grin.
“Even I draw the line at fucking in the baby’s room.”
I shake my head, partly because there’s no possible way that’s true. Tristian will literally have sex anywhere, anytime, anyplace. But I’m also shaking my head because he can’t be for real. I know part of buying a house like this instead of a simple starter home is planning for the future. Knowing how you want to fill it. Understanding that you’ll have room to grow. I just haven’t quite let myself look that far into the future yet.
Tristian slips away, leaving me to my thoughts as he enters the bedroom. But I follow, enticed by the comforting feeling of the room and alternately intimidated by it. Dimitri and Killian are already in the room when we wander in.
“What do you think?” Killian asks, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. “Pretty nice.”
“The kitchen is great,” Tristian says, even though he looks begrudging about it. “I’ve really been honing my skills lately, don’t you think?”
“Anything is an improvement to the slop Ms. Crane cooked,” Dimitri says. “No wonder the girls at the Hideaway are so skinny. People think it’s drugs.”
Dimitri and Tristian both turn to look at me. “Well?” Killian asks.
Feeling put on the spot—god, they always do this—I take a quick peek in the en suite bathroom, trying to imagine all of us crammed in here. It’s rare that any of us take showers alone anymore. Luckily, the shower is huge, fitted with three different heads and plenty of arm room. There’s also an expansive tub—perfect for Dmitri’s and my late night soaks. Satisfied, I prop a shoulder against the jamb, surveying the largeness of the bedroom. “It’s close enough to campus for me to get to my last two years of classes.” See? I can think of the future.
“But not too close to South Side,” Killian notes, peering out the window.
Dimitri agrees. “The grounds are nice and tight. Plenty of space.”
Tristian stresses, “Yeah, it checks the boxes, but guys,” He raises his hands, spinning. “Do we like it?”
I know what he’s asking. Is this the place we can see ourselves living—not just for the next couple of years, but for good. Can we see ourselves in this room, waking up every day, coming back to it at night, piling onto the bed, making love? Can we see ourselves downstairs entertaining Marcus and the other LDZ guys? Can we see ourselves in the backyard, swimming and having cookouts? Is this a house with the potential of being more than wood and stone?
Is this home?
I look around the big room, big enough for a bed to fit all of us, and think of the nursery next door. I imagine standing in front of that window a few years from now, holding a little Killian or Tristian or Dimitri in my arms. Maybe, soon, once I finish school and the guys get settled… maybe?
The big secret I’ve been holding inside is that it doesn’t really matter. Home is wherever they are.
“I think we should make an offer,” I say, firm and decisive.
Killian’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, but he looks pleased, giving me a nod. “I agree.”
Tristian brings his hand together in a clap. “Are we doing this?”
Dimitri answers, “Looks like it,” and whips out his phone. “I’ll give Linda the all clear.”
The guys exit the bedroom, all caught up in the negotiations of purchasing the house. I let them go ahead, placing my hands on either side of the hallway wall, feeling the sturdiness of it, the stability. This will be the first real home I’ll ever have. Mom and I never owned anything—just bounced around from shitty motel to crappy apartment, then to Daniel’s house, boarding school, and the little hovel in Colorado. The LDZ house is the closest thing, but even that wasn’t really mine—it wasn’t even the Lords’， because it belongs to the frat. But this?
This would actually be ours.
I stand at the top of the staircase, looking out over the foyer, and imagine that pendant light beckoning my generals home.
12 months later
I’m always the last one down to breakfast.
Usually, it’s because I have to scrub the sweat and semen off my body, and forcing them out of the bathroom as I do is the only way to ensure it doesn’t start all over again. Sleeping with three horny men who have been instructed to save their cum just for me may have been a misstep. I think about reneging on it, telling them to go back to jerking off in the shower or into my panties or whatever, but then they pump me full, and like a greedy bitch, I just want it all.