Page 72 of Honey Bee Hearts

“Or what?” I demand.

Immediately, I feel his hard length against me, as if this excites him, as if us being angry is fueling him. It only makes my scowl deepen.

“You mother?—”

His lips on mine cut me off. He claims my curse, swallows it, and consumes me. I’m damn near sure he inhales my soul through this kiss because I’m so lost within it only a second later despite my fury. My fingers curl into his shirt aggressively as heswallows my anger, as he feeds me his, until we’re both suddenly desperately ripping at each other’s clothes. I don’t bother with my shirt. We don’t bother with shoes. Hell, we barely bother with getting our pants down. One second, we’re kissing, and the next, Gunar is pressing the front of my thighs against the back of the side-by-side’s tailgate and bending me over it. My thighs are locked together by my pants around my knees, but he doesn’t seem to care as reaches between us and runs his fingers through my folds. I’m embarrassed that I’m so wet, that I’m enjoying this as much as he seems to be. He groans and presses against my opening, sliding inside, working in. He’s longer than Rhett had been, and it hurts a little when he starts to stroke deeper, stretching me until I’m mewing in both anger and desire. His hand covers my mouth, and I bite at his finger, making him groan and start to move faster. His other hand spears up under my shirt and shoves my bra up enough for him to grab a fistful of my breast and use it to start fucking me brutally against the tailgate.

“You feel so fucking good,” he snarls at me just before he buries his teeth in my shoulder.

I cry out, my hands clinging to the edges of the truck bed in an attempt to hang on for dear life. He’s rough and angry, but even in this moment, I can tell he’s not angry with me. He’s angry about the situation. Me? I’m angry at him, at all of them. So, I reach behind me and grab a fistful of his shirt, holding him against me, stalling his movements a little.

He hisses in my ear and wraps his hand around my throat, squeezing my jaw. “You think that’s going to stop me from fucking you until you stop asking questions?” he growls.

“I won’t stop asking,” I spit in between gasps.

“Then maybe this will,” he growls. He jerks out of my hold and out of me. The world shifts as he pulls me up and spins me. Before I can protest, he’s shoving me to my knees and grabbingmy chin. He presses his cock against my lips, and there’s a desperation in his movements as he rubs the tip there, as he begs for entrance. Call me stupid, or incredibly turned on, but I open my mouth. Fuck, do I open my mouth. He shoves inside, silencing me as he runs into the back of my throat and groans. The moment my lips seal around him, he goes crazy, his hands spearing into my hair and clenching tightly as he gently fucks my face. I roll my eyes up to look at him and his head is thrown back, his expression twisted with angry ecstasy. His phone rings but he doesn’t even bother looking at it. He just keeps fucking my throat, moaning when I gag, taking his pleasure from me.

I dig my nails into his thighs, and he only speeds up, into it. When I get ahold of his balls, he moans so loud, someone surely has to hear.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he groans. “Hurt me. Punish me for not telling you.”

I close my teeth a little, running them along his cock as he strokes inside my mouth, and he jerks. His cock starts to twitch, and he snarls. “Fuck. No, not yet!”

I seal my lips and suck, hard, and a guttural groan leaves his throat as his cock starts to jump. He spills down the back of my throat, forcing me to take it all as he holds me to him as he pumps there, finishing while my own pussy throbs with need.

He looks down at me, his eyes hooded, his expression tight with desperation and embarrassment. “Your turn,” he says, releasing me and going to lift me up, but I shove him back.

His phone rings again.

“No.” I growl. “Take me back.”

“Fable, I?—”

“I don’t care,” I spit. “Take me back. Now.”

He glances down at his phone, checking to see if it’s okay to take me back no doubt. He looks up at me. “I’m sorry. I can’t?—”

I hold up my hand. “Just. Take. Me. Back.”

He clamps his lips shut as I jerk my pants back up and right my clothing. I shove my hair back from my face and glare at him.

“Okay,” he finally relents. “I’ll take you back.”

I climb into the passenger seat and cross my arms, refusing to look at him. He climbs in a moment later, his pants buttoned and his shirt fixed. We don’t say a word the entire way back.

Chapter 40

Fable

It seems to take longer to get back to the big house than it took to get away. Probably because Gunnar is actually driving right this time instead of speeding a million miles an hour. I’m so angry, I practically vibrate with it. He refuses to tell me anything, and by the time we pull back up to the big house, I’m so tense, I could punch something.

“It’s okay,” Gunnar tries. “Fable, please.”

“Don’t talk to me,” I growl, climbing from the side-by-side as soon as he stops. Clearly, he expects me to run to the cabin. Instead, he pauses when I head toward the garage.

“Fable—”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” I snarl. “Leave me be.”

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