Pucking Ever After: Volume 1 (Jacksonville Rays)

Ajolt of turbulence wakes me and my only feeling is relief. I was having the worst dream. Again. I think I was reliving the time Harrison and I got lost at Disneyland. Only, instead of me being the lost kid, I was my mom and my kids were lost. I was running around Adventureland like it was an obstacle course, heart racing, palms sweating, panic so sharp I could taste it on my tongue—

Stop.

I take a deep breath, shifting in my seat with my eyes still closed. My arms unfold from under my breasts and I smooth my hands over my growing bump. As soon as I finished my first trimester, the weird dreams started. Normally, I never remember my dreams. Now my visions are flooded nightly with these surrealist hellscapes. And all of them feature in some way me being a terrible mother.

Get pregnant, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

I sigh, opening my eyes. We’re winging our way home from our latest string of West Coast games. The cabin of the plane is dark, shades pulled. Everything is quiet as the guys get some much needed sleep. The only light comes from the softly glowing call buttons above our heads. It must be really late…or really early.

I glance to my right. Jake and Cay are passed out. Their armrest is flipped up, and Cay is sleeping on Jake’s chest, Jake’s arm around him. They’re curled into each other, limbs entangled, as they try to get comfortable. Half of Cay’s face is buried in the blanket, but Jake’s is turned my direction, his lips parted slightly as he breathes in and out. His headphones sit askew on his head.

I smile. He played an amazing game last night. He even got a goal assist. He’s been on fire for weeks now. There’s buzz that when Sully retires next year, the team might give Jake the captain’s “C.” He’d make a great captain. The guys all love him. And a leadership position would give him a new focus, a new challenge.

Not that our life isn’t about to be challenging enough. I look down, brushing my hand over my little bump. Pregnant at twenty-nine and I don’t know who the father is. My smile widens as I focus on my thin stack of wedding rings. I do know who the father is. The father is Jake…and Caleb…and Ilmari.

We plan to do a paternity test once the baby is born. Not because we care about who the biological father is, but because it may allow us more legal protections. I’m married to Ilmari, so if this baby is Jake’s or Caleb’s, I can list them on the birth certificate.

You’d think this would be an easier process. We can’t possibly be the first family in history to have multiple parents involved. If I had my way, I would list all three of my guys on the birth certificate. I’d marry them all too. Legally. We did the informal wedding, but it would be nice if the government would just let me validate my commitment to Jake and Caleb too.

I shift in my seat, rolling my tight shoulders. All this plane travel gets old quick. And we’re only halfway through the season.

“Rakas,” Ilmari murmurs. “You are well?”

He’s a light sleeper, so me shifting in my seat probably woke him up. I turn to face him with a soft smile. He’s wearing a Rays hoodie with the hood pulled up, casting his handsome face in shadows. A small number thirty-one is printed over his chest.

“M’fine,” I reply.

“You’re uncomfortable,” he says, reading me like a book. He flips up our armrest and pulls me to him, nestling me against his chest. He’s so broad and warm, my own Finnish furnace. His large hand brushes up and down my back as he leans down to kiss my head, propping himself up against the window. “Can’t sleep?”

I nuzzle into him, my arm draping around his waist. “I was asleep…”

He sighs, his hand stopping its movement. “The dreams again?”

“It’s fine,” I say, pushing off his thigh with my hand to lean away.

I’ve been trying to keep my weirdness to myself, but I’ve woken up more than once twisting up in the sheets or crying out in a panic, so my guys caught on pretty quick that something was wrong. You don’t know determined until you’ve lived with three men desperate to cure you of your pregnancy-induced nightmares. I can’t complain if it means I’m now getting served cups of chamomile tea bedside. Nightly hand and foot massages are also now a requirement. Oh, and my side of the bed is fluffed with enough soft blankets and pillows to induce hibernation.

But all of that waits for me at home, which is still thousands of miles away. Up here in the air, I just have to tough it out like everyone else.

Ilmari sighs, following me as I sit up in my seat. It can’t be that much longer. Maybe I’ll just read for a little while.

“You need to rest,” he says. I feel his breath warm against my cheek. That softly spiced smell of his cologne fills my senses, telling me I’m home. But even his presence isn’t enough to totally wash away the feelings evoked in the dream.

“I’m too wired to sleep,” I reply.

Too freaked. Too upset.

Yeah, we’ll stick with wired.

His large hand drops down to cover my little bump. My heart flutters, even as I feel my pulse settle. He’s here. He’s with us, holding us, protecting us. I rest my hand over his, basking in his warmth, my thumb tracing circles on his skin.

To know the way this man loves this baby, to watch him melt at every doctor’s appointment—it’s my new addiction. The first time we heard the heartbeat, I figured Jake would cry. I knew I would. We weren’t prepared for Ilmari. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him get misty eyed, let alone cry fat tears. Safe to say my mascara didn’t survive that first ultrasound.

And now Ilmari’s protector mode is off the freakin’ charts. You’d think I morphed overnight into a Fabergé egg. Jake had to physically restrain Ilmari when Morrow accidentally elbowed me on the stairs while boarding our last flight. Poor Morrow was falling over himself with apologies while Jake held our brooding goalie back.

“What happened in the dream?” he murmurs, his hand brushing softly back and forth over my bump.

I sigh, leaning my temple against his forehead. “It’s silly. It was just a dream. Or like, a twisted memory or something,” I say, trying to brush the whole thing off.

“It’s not silly to me,” he replies. “I can feel your worry. I see it here,” he says, lifting his hand from my stomach to trace his finger over my furrowed brow. “Talk to me, Rakas. Your burdens are mine to carry, remember?”

I nod, swallowing down that thick lump of emotion in my throat. “It’s always the same,” I say, not daring to look at him. “Every night, I fail them or lose them…or they run away. I can’t hold on. Can’t be what they need. I’ll mess everything up—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing my cheek. “No, my love.”

Shit, when did I start crying?

I sniff, blinking my eyes to stop more tears from falling.

“You will be such a wonderful mother,” he says, his breath warm against my cheek. “Mun Leijona, I cannot wait to see how you will care for this little one,” he adds, his hand back on the bump. “You will be the best mother.” As he speaks, he splays his hand proudly against me. He kisses my cheek, his lips soft, even as his beard tickles.

I lean into him, letting the cadence of his voice calm me.

“You are my beating heart, Rakas,” he goes on. “Soon it will split in two. This life you carry will take half of me away from you. I’ve never been a father. I have no example to follow, but I’m not afraid. We lead with love, yes?”

I nod as he leans in closer, kissing me again. “I don’t want to mess this up,” I say, voice catching.

“We will make mistakes,” he replies solemnly. “But between the four of us, this child will know nothing but love. May it have your courage and Caleb’s strength, Jake’s unwavering kindness—”

“And your patience,” I add, turning slightly to face him, my hand splaying over the thirty-one on his chest.

He nods, holding my gaze.

“Mä rakastan sua,” I say, my heart overflowing with love for this gentle man.

He cups my face, kissing me softly, his lips caressing mine. “I hate that you have these bad dreams,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against mine. “Would that I could crawl inside your mind and root them out. I feel helpless—”

“Kulta—”

“I do,” he says, his voice almost a growl. “You are my wife. I must fight your fears.”

“Ilmari,” I sigh, kissing his cheek. “I love you so much. In your arms, I’m not afraid.”

“Then never leave them,” he urges. “Stay with me, Rakas. Be mine always.”

“Always,” I reply, kissing him again.

We sink into each other, kissing slowly, our tongues teasing as our lips press softly. It’s a subtle dance. Nothing rushed. I drop my hands to my waist, unbuckling my seat belt so I can shift my hip to turn into him.

His hand smooths along my thigh, his thumb like iron as he follows the line of my muscle. “Let me help you,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Help?” I echo, distracted as I tug his hood back, letting my fingers brush over the buzzed nape of his neck.

“You’re stressed,” he replies, kissing along my jaw. “Worried about things we cannot control,” he adds, teasing the lobe of my ear. “Unable to sleep when you’re tired. Unable to stop the torrent of your thoughts.”

I sigh into him, feeling the effect he has on my entire body. Warmth pools low in my stomach, spiraling out until I feel even the tips of my fingers buzzing. “Ilmari, please—”

My words end on a sharp intake of breath as he shifts his hand down to cup between my legs. Warmth radiates from my center.

“Please, my love. Let me ease you.”

He wants to do this here? Now?

I’ve thought of this scenario a thousand times before. Who doesn’t imagine joining the mile high club when you’re sitting next to a specimen as fine as my 6’5” tatted, bearded Viking of a husband?

But we’ve never tried anything. He’s too protective. The idea of one of his teammates seeing anything, hearing anything—it would probably make him go full King Kong and start tearing up the seats.

I look in his eyes. “Ilmari—”

He ducks between us, picking up the blanket that slipped off my lap while I slept. Draping it over me, he taps my right knee. “Lift this up.”

I instantly know what he has in mind. We can use my leg as a kind of tent. No one has to see a thing. With a smile, I shift my angle and prop up my foot on the seat, my knee pressing gently against the seat in front of me.

His right arm goes around my shoulders, pulling me to him, as his left slips under the blanket. He smooths his hand over my growing little bump. “My wife,” he growls possessively.

“Yours,” I say, breathless.

“You are a queen among men, Rakas,” he says, his voice softening as he dips his hand lower, his fingers smoothing over the top of my waistband. “A lioness. The steady rock on which our foundations are built. No more fear.” He kisses my lips, his hand slipping inside my leggings. “No worry.”

I already feel strung out, my pussy desperate for his touch. “No worry,” I echo.

His fingers seek, the first and third parting me open as the second slides over my clit. He bites back a groan, his face dropping to nuzzle my neck. “How I long to put you on my lap and have you ride my cock.”

“Yes,” I sigh, my left hand curling around to cup his neck as I lean into him, keeping my legs spread.

“I would bury myself in you, wife. No beginning. No end.”

“Please,” I gasp, my voice barely audible.

He works me slow, almost teasingly so, his finger sliding up and down from my clit to the entrance of my pussy. Just as he presses in with his finger, letting one knuckle dip inside, he pulls out, trailing up to circle my clit again. It’s torturous. And he’s not giving me anything like the pressure I crave.

“Kulta, please—”

“Breathe,” he murmurs, his face nuzzling mine. “Focus on what you feel. Get out of your own head. Just breathe with me.”

I take a deep breath, letting myself sink closer against him as his hand continues to move, teasing and caressing me. It’s sensual and maddening at the same time. But I just breathe, letting him touch me how he wants.

He starts to sink his finger in deeper, curling it against my inner wall. I’m fighting the urge to moan and he knows it. His right hand shifts around my shoulder as he buries two fingers inside me, his right hand covering my mouth as I gasp.

“Quiet,” he murmurs in my ear. “Your sounds are only for me.”

I breathe over his hand, eyes sinking closed as he fingers me, driving me wild. Now I’m fighting the urge to move with him. My hips want to rock. I want to ride his hand. Sitting still is its own kind of odd thrill. I’m just letting this happen to me. I’m not participating at all. It’s strange and exciting. Ilmari is in total control.

The hand over my mouth shifts, the pad of his finger brushing my bottom lip, and I know what he wants. I part my lips in invitation and he sinks his finger into my mouth. I suck, nipping with my teeth and teasing with my tongue, until I earn a muttered, “Fuck.”

He redoubles his efforts to drive me wild, dipping in and circling my clit. He leads me right up to that edge, then walks back. As I pant under his hand, he adds a second finger in my mouth. I suck harder, biting back a moan. He sinks the fingers of his left hand back inside my desperate pussy, his thumb working my clit. Finally, he’s giving me the pressure I crave.

“Yes,” I whimper, the sound garbled as he pulls his fingers from my mouth. I’m panting for air. The ache feels good. It helps me center. It gets me out of my head.

Just when I’m about to come, his hand grips tightly to my jaw. “Wait,” he hisses in my ear.

I whine, despite for release. “Ilmari—”

He jerks my head, turning me so I’m facing the aisle.

I gasp, eyes wide, as I take in two pairs of eyes watching us from the opposite seats. As if they could sense what we were doing, Caleb and Jake are awake. Their dark gazes are enough to take the fire in my blood and turn it into a raging inferno. I swallow my needy moan.

There’s no holding it back. I come. Hard. I don’t know if I’ve ever soundlessly come with one of my guys before. The need to be silent adds a new layer to the orgasm, rocking my entire body, sending me into aftershocks that leave me trembling all over.

I quiver in Ilmari’s hold, my eyes locked on Jake and Caleb across the aisle. My pussy squeezes his fingers and I double down, my breath ragged as I ride it out. Once I’m spent, I relax in his arms, biting my bottom lip as the post-orgasm high has me floating back down into my seat.

“Beautiful,” Ilmari murmurs in my ear.

Before I can stop him, he’s slipping his arm from around my shoulders as he tugs his left hand from my leggings. I shift, righting myself. Ilmari unbuckles his seatbelt.

“What are you—”

“Let me out,” he says softly.

I drop my leg back to the floor and curl my knees in, giving him enough space to slip past me. He stands in the aisle, his tall frame towering over me. As I peer up at him, he stretches, cracking his neck. Then he shifts on his feet, inching closer to the other side of the aisle.

My gaze drops down his face to his shoulder. I follow the line of his left arm into the shadows of Jake and Cay’s seats. Without looking down, Ilmari offers out his hand to them, splaying the two fingers that were just in my cunt in a “V.”

“Oh god,” I whimper, my pussy clenching tight. As I watch, Jake and Cay lean forward, each sucking one of his wet fingers into their mouths, their cheeks all but pressed together. Just like that, I’m ready to come again.

They pop off him and Ilmari wordlessly taps Jake’s shoulder. He knows him well enough to know what Jake needs now. What we both need. Jake unbuckles lightning fast, slipping out of his seat. He does a quick adjust, even though no one can see him with his body angled in toward Ilmari.

Their chests brush as Ilmari turns and drops down into his empty aisle seat. Then Jake climbs nimbly over my legs, sinking into Ilmari’s window seat.

Meanwhile Caleb is already turning away, his head resting against the bulkhead. I’m sure he’ll be asleep again in minutes. When we get home, he’ll corner me somewhere in the house and fuck me from behind until I scream. I’m already looking forward to it.

But Jake needs more and he can’t wait. He’s hardly touched the seat before he’s pulling me to him. “Come here, baby,” he murmurs.

I snuggle in close. My post-orgasm bliss is leaving me warm and relaxed, which was Ilmari’s goal. All my guys are great with aftercare, especially when our play gets hot and heavy. But Jake is just too Taurus to function. And now that I’m pregnant? Forget about it. If he had his way, I’d be wrapped in silk and feathers and carried around on a palanquin. I haven’t put the idea past him yet. What else are rookies for but to carry the soon-to-be-captain’s wife from the gym to the practice rink?

But he doesn’t need sex from me now. He just needs connection. Of all my guys, he’s the only one who never sleeps alone. Caleb wanders in and out of our rooms like a cat all the time. Even Ilmari will sometimes sleep in a separate room when he’s in his head about an upcoming game or struggling with his mild bouts of insomnia. But never Jake.

From the moment we all said ‘I do’ in my dad’s LA living room, he’s been resolute in his desire to sleep by my side every night. The away schedule is hard, because the players have to sleep alone. Even being legally married to Cay, rules are rules. We’ve broken that particular rule on more than one occasion, but we generally try to be good.

Thank goodness there’s no rules about sitting together on the plane. So now I press in against him, letting him adjust the blanket on my lap, tugging it up to cover my shoulder.

His hand drops down to fan over my baby bump. “Nugget okay?”

“Mhmm,” I murmur into his chest, my eyes already feeling droopy.

He kisses my forehead as I fist his sweatshirt. I curl my body into him, determined to share his skin. I’m not sure if he asks me any more questions, and I doubt I answer. I’m a leaf on the breeze, floating off into a dreamless sleep.