Seeing them, she slowly made a turn.
Maddox had texted, saying he was hitting the gym after work.
Molly had texted, saying she was hitting the grocery store after work.
Diesel had texted that he received their texts, but he had not shared what he was doing after work.
And she was seeing that it wasn’t just buying his Molly some sunflowers.
If Friday came around and Mady or Molly were doing something, like the gym, drinks with friends, grocery store runs, this was what they came home to.
Diesel had run the vacuum over the rug in the living room area.
And she could not only see it with the bright, blinking clean of the granite, she could smell that he’d wiped all kitchen counters down with that scented countertop spray she liked.
He’d also run the Swifter over the wood floors so they were gleaming.
She couldn’t tell, but he probably even dusted.
Depending on time, all of this might, or might not, mean he cleaned the bathrooms. He was always careful to be stretched out on the sofa when she got home because he didn’t like her making a thing about it that he cleaned so he definitely didn’t let her catch him cleaning.
What he did like, if they were both gone—and sometimes he got Maddox in on the act when it was just her that was gone—was that he could clean the house so none of them had to worry about doing it over the weekend.
That was D.
That was one thing his parents (probably his mother, she had to admit) gave to him.
He was thoughtful.
He did little things that meant a lot.
Like, when she’d had that cold, he went out and bought out the entire cold and flu shelves, cough drops, sore throat lozenges, vapor rub, nighttime medicine, tissues with lotion. He did it quiet and got uncomfortable when she tried to make a thing about it.
He was just taking care of his woman, and to Diesel Stapleton, that was the nature of things and no big thing needed to be made about it.
The same with early on, after Molly had met them, when Maddox had been T-boned at an intersection. He hadn’t been hurt, but his body had taken a violent jolt. She wasn’t living with them yet, but she came over and Diesel made Maddox camp out, even ran him a bath with Epsom salts, brought him ibuprofen, made him drink tons of water.
Because he was taking care of his man.
Molly sometimes marveled at how it worked with the three of them. How they fit in with each other. How it was mostly Mady that did the handyman things around the house when stuff broke or wasn’t working right, because he liked doing that. How it was D who did the yard, because he liked doing it, but also Mad did yards for a living so it was a break from that for him. And how Molly did the laundry and kept the cupboards stocked, because that was her thing, looking after her boys.
And in all that, Diesel was the caregiver.
Diesel went out and bought her tampons when she ran out. Diesel shook out the cocktail of pills when Maddox got one of his headaches.
And Diesel bought her sunflowers just with her mentioning she liked them.
She shook herself out of her All the Reasons to Love Diesel Stapleton stupor and moved to the island, dumping the bags. She was putting stuff away when she heard her keys hit the bowl on the table by the door and Diesel came in with the last of the groceries.
The instant she caught his eyes, she smiled big at him.
“The sunflowers are gorgeous, honey.”
“Right, good,” he muttered, using putting the bags on the counter as an excuse to look away.
Yeah.
So Diesel.
You did not call attention to his kindness and that wasn’t about him thinking kindness was weak. It was about him thinking it was less of a kindness if he got something out of it. Even gratitude.
As he started to pull things out of the bags, Molly let that go and announced, “I’m making a special dinner tonight.”
D turned her way and she sucked in breath at the look on his face.
“Sorry, baby, but you’ll probably be making whatever tomorrow night, ’cause you’re gonna leave the putting away to me, go back and get naked, waiting for me on your stomach in the bed.”
She knew that particular look in his eye.
She loved that particular look in his eye.
But in that moment, she worried about that particular look in his eye.
They had their roles in the house. They had their roles in bed. All of them were a natural fit, what they did, who they were, what they liked.
In bed, Diesel and Maddox switched it up.
She never did.
She was their woman.
And she was their sub.
It was not rare Diesel got in the mood to dominate her.
It was just, after last night and this morning, it was the first time she wondered at why he was in the mood.
Did he need to center himself sexually through her?
In making love with his man (twice), to equal that out, did he have to dominate his woman?
“Okay, baby,” she said softly.
That wasn’t a weakness, not asking him, not pushing him to explain.
That was what Molly gave.
And she gave it to the both of them.
That being . . .
Whatever they needed.
Molly was flat on her belly, legs straight, thighs pressed tight together, head turned, cheek to the bed.
And her arms were tied at the wrists behind her back with a wide, strong, pink satin ribbon.
All the toys and bindings her men used on her were feminine because they let her pick them, but also because they liked her dressed up, trussed up or worked over with the things they felt defined her, not what defined them as her Doms.
They didn’t want their Molly in leather.
They wanted her in lace (and the like).
So pink satin it was.
She was biting her lip but the moans still came considering D was straddling her, his thighs splayed wide, a good amount of his power braced into his hands at her ass, his cock pounding hard inside her.
He wasn’t going to let her come, not like this, she knew it. But the tight fit of her legs trapping her clit and his thick cock driving inside was torture.
Molly loved it.
It was hot.
Beautiful pain.
Awesome.
“Fuck me harder, big daddy,” she breathed.
“Hmm?” D hummed.
“Please,” she begged.
The pads of his fingers dug into her flesh as he stroked deeper, but not harder.
That worked for Molly.
If he went harder, she’d come and that would be good, but it could also be bad.
Though bad wasn’t ever bad, as such.
Not with her boys.
But now, she focused on her role as a sub (and as his woman). Giving him what he needed, clenching the walls of her pussy around his cock, keeping her legs tight together, holding back her excitement so he could ramp it up further, and get off doing it.
Not her noises. She didn’t hold back her noises, knowing he liked them, knowing he enjoyed hearing what he did to her.
She was trying not to let it penetrate how good his cock felt driving inside, his weight pressed into her ass, her arms bound at her back, her vulnerability, the fact she was his however he needed to use her and how much she got off on that.
And Molly was so into all of this, the thump took her by surprise.
She whipped her head around and saw Maddox standing by the side of the bed.
If D went to the gym, he showered before he came home and left his gym bag in the laundry room, as Molly wished it.
If Mad went to the gym, he came home immediately, sweaty and in workout clothes, usually because he was then ready for another workout and he didn’t want the delay.
And right then, he left them in no question that he was ready for his second workout.