Page 56 of Every Eligible Man

And I, Ash, eldest brother, the one who's supposed to have self-control, keep fucking our lady with my brothers until she's ruined beyond repair.

Forty minutes later, the carriage door finally opens.

Cinder emerges first, barely dressed, hair destroyed, legs visibly shaking, wearing an expression of absolute blissed-out satisfaction. She has to hold the door frame to stay upright.

"Thirty-seven," she announces to no one in particular. "Thirty-seven orgasms. In a moving carriage."

I did the math wrong somewhere. I was counting thirty-one. But she was the one experiencing them, so her count is probably more accurate.

"I am never riding with anyone else again," she adds.

I emerge next, pants barely on, chest covered in scratches and bite marks. I lift Cinder into my arms because she clearly cannot walk.

"We'll get to forty-seven tonight," I promise.

"I'll die."

"What a way to go."

Slade slides out looking significantly more composed, though his shirt is entirely missing and his trousers are on backward. "I believe we've proven our worth, my lady."

Wreck tumbles out last, pantsless, holding both ferrets, grinning like a man who has achieved enlightenment through sex.

"Best. Carriage. Ride. Ever."

Gerald chitters proudly.

Susan purrs.

Bastard emerges with dignity, honking once at the assembled guards as if daring them to comment. None of them do.

The rats scramble out of my pockets, how they got back in during the activities is unclear, and immediately begin recounting the experience to anyone who will listen.

"Thirty-seven! Thirty-seven! We counted every one!"

One-Eye lands on my shoulder, looking approximately seven hundred years older than he did that morning.

"I," he says slowly, "am billing the crown for emotional damages. Physical damages. Auditory damages. And whatever category covers 'forced to witness things no bird should witness.'"

"Worth it," all three of us say in unison.

Cinder, still cradled in my arms, looks up at the castle and then at the three of us.

"Inside," she orders. "All of you. We're getting married tomorrow, and I want to hit forty-seven before the ceremony."

I carry her up the steps. Slade and Wreck follow. The animals trail behind in a parade of chaos.

Mira watches us go and takes a long drink from her wine cask.

Behind us, the carriage lets out one final, exhausted creak, and one of the suspension springs falls off entirely.

The Wedding (Chaos, Cock, and Holy Fuck)

Cinder

I'm getting married today.

To three men.