Page 122 of Breaking Perfect


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The trip to the cemetery had been a long one, but something necessary so that Sean could finally have the closure he needed. As they stood over the grave of Mr. O’Malley she and Mason had held Sean, showing him, that no matter what, he would always have their support.

After a long period of silence Sean finally admitted that there was nothing there for him. He’d thought visiting his father’s grave would lay some demons to rest, but realized there was no need for some sort of symbolic or poetic ritual. Once someone stood up to a ghost it no longer seemed so frightening, so influential.

His father was gone, his absolution meaningless. Sean only needed to pardon himself and he would find the peace he had sought all along. The moment he came to terms with his unchangeable past and accepted that he too wasn’t perfect, all of his old ghosts seemed to be laid to rest.

They left the cemetery and traveled south, hitting a line of bed and breakfasts along the coast. Mason declared the trip should be salvaged and that they would make it into a honeymoon of sorts. This time, one that included Sean.

For as wonderful as it had been to visit so many neat places over the last two weeks, it was even better to be home. They’d laughed more in the past fourteen days then they probably ever had in their entire lives. It was an incredible thing to be in a relationship that was so accepting one never had to worry about making a mistake. The idiosyncrasies of their marriage, in Liberty’s mind, were what made it perfect, each one of them filling a hole in the other.

They entered the foyer and she kicked off her shoes. Mason came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her ribs as he bit down on her neck. “You’re going to pay for laughing so hard at my expense.”

She giggled and melted into his hold. His arousal pressed into the crease of her ass. Sean came around to face her, all humor replaced with a mask of intensity that held her immobile. “It isn’t polite to laugh at your husbands, little Liberty.”

“You were laughing too!” she protested in mock outrage.

He “tsked” and looked over her shoulder to Mason. “Hold her.” Mason’s arms tightened, her nipples hardened, and Sean quickly began to undo her pants. Before she could even work up a good struggle he had shucked her jeans and panties in one quick move.

Sean was incredibly efficient when he knew what he wanted. He moved to his knees and breathed deeply at the apex of her thighs. She shivered at the way he watched her. She was shamelessly wet.

“Hold her arms out, Mase,” Sean said as he stood. Mason held out her arms like a pagan sacrifice and ground his hips into her behind as Sean undid the buttons of her shirt and then quickly unlatched the front clasp of her bra. Her breasts fell free and he pinched the two pink tips hard, making her gasp.

“What happens to little girls who forget their manners, Liberty?” Sean asked as he continued to toy with her nipples.

Mason slid his arms back to her sides and splayed his palm wide over her midriff, his fingers reaching dangerously close to her wet pussy. He pressed her back so that his body was flush with hers, his arousal fitting perfectly in the cleft of her ass. The pressure was divine.

“I’d answer him if I were you, Lib,” Mason whispered as he playfully bit at her neck.

“They get spanked,” she rasped and Sean’s nostrils flared.

“Do you need to be spanked, little Liberty?”

Her breath caught as moisture pooled and trickled over her folds. “I’ve been very, very bad.”

“How many do you need to learn your lesson? Six, nine, or twelve?”

“Three sets of three, please.”

“Did you hear that, Mason? Our wife wants nine. Do you think you could accommodate her?”

Mason thrust his hips forward and growled. “I think I could handle that.”

“In the den,” Sean barked, and she was suddenly lifted up and tossed over Mason’s shoulder. She struggled because that always made it more fun.

“Quiet, wife,” Mason said as he slapped her bare ass. The sting of his palm drove straight to her pussy, an appetizer of what was to come.

He put her down on the floor, her bare feet sinking into the plush ivory carpet, and quickly disrobed her of her shirt and bra. He turned and bent her so she was face down over the arm of the white sofa.

Sean kneeled on the cushions before her. He already stripped and was now fisting his very hard cock. Her mouth watered. “Bend her over more,” he said as he scooted closer.

She was bent over the wide upholstered arm, her palms sinking into the cushions just in front of Sean’s knees, the rustling of Mason undressing sounded behind her. In a soft voice that contradicted his intensity Sean said, “I need you, baby girl. Give me that pretty mouth.”

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