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Noah shook his head, half in lust, half in disbelief. “You’re the devil,” he murmured. “You know that?”
I rolled back onto my stomach and kicked my legs playfully. “Oh I know,” I giggled.
Nineteen months. That’s how long it’d been since we’d filed the permits. In that time we’d upgraded virtually every room of the castle, creating bedrooms out of barren chambers, bathrooms out of alcoves. The Great Chamber was now the main lobby, complete with a roaring, refaced fireplace. Our old living room, a beautifully-furnished bar and lounge.
“You done with her?” Chase asked cheerfully. I wasn’t sure when he’d entered the room, but his eyes were fixated on my smooth, porcelain ass. “I might want another go, before—”
“Julian’s got next,” Noah cut him off. He smiled at me demurely. “Or so the lady says.”
Chase had shaken me gently awake while it was still dark. We’d rutted like animals beneath the soft down blankets, rocking each other to screaming orgasms, made silent by clamping our hands over each other’s mouths.
“Well if he doesn’t show,” Chase said, “I want in.”
“In, eh?” I teased, jiggling my ass at him.
His green eyes shone brightly for a moment before he broke his self-imposed trance. “Yeah, that’s right,” he replied firmly. “In.”
Nearly two years, my mind registered. Seven seasons. Eighty different tradesmen over three different builders.
There were headaches. Delays. Variance applications, and yes, even more inspections. Still, it had all been worth it. In just a few short days, we’d be business owners.
Westgate Castle would be open for vacancy.
Noah began walking, and I watched him go. He looked magnificent naked: all ribs and abdominals and shredded, delicious muscle. My eyes were glued to his ass as he stepped through a doorway. A few seconds later, I heard the sound of the shower kicking on.
“C’mon,” bemoaned Chase. He bounced onto the bed and slid an arm around my waist. “Let me in…”
The castle wouldn’t exactly be a bed and breakfast, but more of a historic hotel and attraction. Guests could sleep in any one of the thirteen original bedchambers, or in any of the eight different cottages we’d built from scratch. Julian had set the foundations for each of those. Noah and Chase had done the framing.
And in the center of it all, behind two-inch thick glass, the Westgate Treasure Horde — or at least, a small part of it anyway. The stunning array of shimmering coins and objects was on indefinite loan from the Museum of Edinburgh, which to us, was the height of irony.
“If only they knew what was still here,” Chase always chuckled.
The treasure alone would attract thousands each year, and bring an influx of new tourism to Edinburgh, Tranent and the surrounding countryside. That was the theory, anyway. For what we’d spent on making the castle hospitable to guests, I sure hoped it was all true.
Chase was lying alongside me now, tracing a finger along the curve of my neck and shoulder. His touch was giving me the shivers. The good shivers.
“I can’t believe we open in just three weeks,” he said.
“Two and a half.”
My lover chuckled. “But who’s counting, right?”
His fingers traced downward, gliding over the small of my back. Sending tiny electric shocks down my spine, as I wriggled further into the soft comforter.
I thought about how our lives would change… but also how they would remain the same. How in nearly two years we’d become such a tight-knit unit. More than just boyfriends and girlfriend, but something more intertwined. Much more intimate.
Not only had our romance not ended with the inspector’s certificate, it had actually grown stronger. Blossomed into a full-blown relationship, with all three men declaring their love for what we’d built together, as well as for me.
And I… well, I was the center of their attention. In turn, I dedicated myself to their every last need. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally…
Julian had not only sent enough money back home to take care of his family for good, he’d even moved his brother and sisters to Scotland. They had a beautiful place now, just outside Tranent. A place they could live and thrive while we built a separate manor house for them, further out on the castle grounds.
And not far from that, on a hill overlooking our lake; the first stones had been laid for our very own place. A place the four of us could live in happiness and privacy, while still maintaining the castle, and its grounds.
It would be beautiful. Symbolic. A little castle all our own, where we could write our own fairytale. Our own happy ending. One that would be long and beautiful and filled with—
“Ah, there he is!”
