Page 82 of Honey Bee Hearts

“Good,” I croak. I grab the dildo in my hand and rub the tip of it against his opening, teasing. When he shivers and moans, I wonder what it must feel like, what exactly I’m doing to him. Iknow men have their prostate here, but I’ve never gotten to play. Now, I want to.

As I tease, he slowly relaxes, his large hands clamping tightly in the comforter, wrinkling it. He takes a deep breath in, and when he lets it out, I push past the muscles holding me back, gently easing inside.

Colt grunts behind me, a soft, “fuck,” falling from his lips as I slowly work myself inside.

Trent groans in pleasure as I stretch him. I feel powerful, seductive, as gentle raspy breaths trickle from his lips. So I start to move. Easing out and back in again. I’ve never moved my hips quite like this, but after a few strokes, I get the hang of it. I reach down and grab his hip, using it for leverage as I stroke inside. With my other hand, I reach around him and find his cock, stroking him, making him jerk.

“You like this?” I ask when he moans. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” he pants. “Fuck, yes.”

“Then beg for me to move faster,” I demand. “Harder.”

His hands bunch the comforter, his shoulders tensing. I grip my hand on his cock again, pumping it, and he hisses between his teeth. I stroke inside him with agonizingly slow thrusts, teasing.

“Please,” he finally says. “Please.”

He says nothing else, but I accept that. Trent is a man of few words. The fact I could bring him to say please is enough for me. I pick up speed, the sound of my hips slapping against his ass driving me just as wild as it does him. I release his hip and instead grab his throat, pulling him back. My hand is barely large enough to cover the front of it, but it doesn’t matter. He follows my lead, submissive for me, his body arching to give me better access.

I glance over at Colt to find him with his own cock out, his hand wrapped around it and stroking, his eyes hooded as hewatches us. With my eyes on his, I lean forward to the shell of Trent’s ear.

“Come for me,” I demand.

He gasps as I stroke his cock. It begins to jump in my hand, his release spurting into my fingers and across the comforter as I continue to pump inside him. His cock doesn’t soften.

“Fuck,” Trent growls, his throat bobbing beneath my hand.

When I release him and slowly ease out of his ass, he turns and grabs me by my hair. I gasp as he shoves me down on the bed, chest first, the strap on still wrapped around my hips and thighs. I’m pressed right into the wetness of his release, but I don’t care. He jerks me to my knees. His rough hands grab my ass and spread it, before he slams inside my pussy again. I scream, pleasure rolling through me with a release immediately. I was already aroused from the pegging, but now he fucks me with a cock still as hard as if he’d never finished. He’s more aggressive now, desperate, eager to fill me as I scream his name for the whole house to hear. His thumb presses against my ass, but he doesn’t push inside, like it’s a warning more than anything else.

One orgasm rolls into another as he marks me, as he commands me like a puppet the way I’d done him. The strap-on bumps against my leg with each of his thrusts, reminding me of what I’d done with it, making my mouth water as I think of doing it again.

Trent roars behind me, his hands clamping hard in my ass as he slams inside and bottoms out, his cock jumping inside me. I can feel his warmth spreading as he fills me, as I take everything he gives and shatter again, screaming into the comforter as my pussy spasms around him. He’s panting hard as he remains there, his hands rough as they start to caress my skin. When he pulls out of me, I know I’m dripping, but he doesn’t seem to care.He lifts me and carefully lays me properly on the bed as I try to catch my breath.

Gently, he unbuckles the strap-on and tosses it to the side. Then he reaches for my prosthetic, careful as he removes it. His fingers are featherlight as he traces the marks the prosthetic leaves behind in my skin, easing the tightness there. When he leans down to press a kiss to my stump, tears spring to my eyes.

Trent stands and moves around the bed to the other side. He slides in and wraps himself around me, folding me in his arms until I feel safe and cradled. Sleep starts to claim me before I’m conscious of it.

The last thing I remember before I succumb to exhaustion is Trent’s soft, “You can go,” and the sound of the door closing behind Colt as he leaves.

Chapter 44

Colt

Islip from the room, leaving Fable and Trent wrapped around each other, and lean my back against the door. Fuck. Not only am I so turned on that I can barely contain it, but that was. . . that wasn’t just sex.

We’re in fucking trouble.

Fable is supposed to leave in six days. Besides that, she can’t exactly stay here, not with the dangerous shit we’ve got going on, but part of me doesn’t fucking care. Part of me just wants to keep her here regardless. I want to explore her, learn every aspect of her, until there’s not a shadow I haven’t inspected. I want to carve her open and find how she ticks.

I could fucking love her. Hell, I’m halfway to it now and we haven’t even had sex. When was the last time I had a connection this strong to a woman? I don’t know if I ever have. My past pales in comparison to the present. And clearly, I’m not the only one who feels like this.

Trent. Trent fucking Coldiron. Immovable bastard. Traumatized asshole. People-avoiding cocksucker. He already loves her. I know it. I saw it in his eyes as he kneeled before her, as he begged her to fuck him. She’d looked over at meconfidently and I’d felt the air change. She could be all of ours if we’re brave enough to take her, to keep her.

But how?

How the fuck do we keep her from leaving short of kidnapping? Hell, I’d certainly settle for kidnapping at this point. She’d probably forgive us. She’ll love us all eventually.

I run my hand through my hair, frustrated, desperate, and also a little angry. Ain’t not a one of us good people, except for maybe Gunnar. If Gunnar had been left alone, he’d have been a good man, but we dragged him into this. I dragged them into this. I’m the older one. I should have known better than to approach Rhett with my halfcocked idea to save the ranch. I should have realized it couldn’t be temporary, that we couldn’t just walk away when we were ready. And now here we are, stuck between two gangs and eager for a woman to touch all our open trauma and heal it.

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