Page 19 of Bred Winner

Each one of my men has shown me a new side of them in the bedroom. While all three are sweet and playful, fun and trustworthy, in my bed they are raw and borderline animalistic. If I had to categorize him, I’d say Tristan is a hedonist—purely focused on pleasure. He can drag it out for hours too, almost torturous in his play.

Despite being a virgin, Oakley has bridled dominance simmering underneath, aching to get out. His ability to come and come and come again without softening is impressive and exhausting at the same time. I think he needs more from me, but I’m unsure what that is, and I don’t know if he yet knows what to demand. I’m willing to explore his sexuality with him because I know he will take care of me along the way.

Coen has a dominant streak too—that much is apparent—but is more pronounced as he fucks me hard and with purpose. He grabs a pillow, folds it, and stuffs it underneath me before placing his palm between my shoulder blades and pushing me down. My back arches, thrusting my ass even higher into the air, his cock sliding along my inner walls at a new angle that has me quivering.

“Rub your clit for me, sugar,” he growls, digging his fingers into my thick hips.

I slip my fingers over my clit and rub as he commands, the constant friction of his cock against my g-spot keeping me on the edge. It takes nothing to send me over as I cry out my release.

Coen groans, quickening his thrusts, chasing his own climax as he pumps his load deep inside of me.

Sagging, he flips me to my back, pulls my knee up to my ear, and sinks deep inside me again, his kiss powerful and possessive. Coen is big and broad, and I feel tiny pinned underneath his body.

“Fuck, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more, Alora,” he murmurs against my neck, his declaration infusing me with love and adoration.

“I love you, too, Coen.”

8

ALORA

I’m exhausted.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m having the time of my life.

But I’m exhausted.

We’ve been on six dates, two dates each. Every night is dinner or an outing of some sort. And sex. Lots of sex. I’ve had more sex in the last six days than I’ve had in the last six years. My men are insatiable, and with them, I’ve learned I am, too.

If I didn’t have a job, this would be the best time of my life. Unfortunately, I have a ten-plus hours a day commitment, Monday through Friday. With all the sex, I’m changing my sheets and doing a load of laundry every day, and even though we’ve been going out to dinner, which limits my need to do dishes or go grocery shopping, all my other normal errands have fallen to the wayside.

I can’t keep this up. Not for eighty-four more days, and certainly not for a lifetime.

It’s day seven, which means its date night with Tristan, and I expect a text from him any minute.

“Hey, babe. Happy Thursday. How’s work?”

Like clockwork. My men are thoughtful that way. “It’s going fine. Listen, about tonight...”

“Yeah?”

“I need a family meeting. Can we meet at your place?”

Three dots greet me for several minutes before he responds.“Sure. Everything okay?”

“Yes, baby, everything is fine, but we need to talk. All of us. Can you tell the guys?”

“I’ve already told them.”Well, now I know why his response was delayed.

“Can everyone be home by six?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, baby. I promise, everything is fine. I’ll be at your place at six. Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

I pull up to their place at five forty-five, ordering from Mama Napoli over my car audio system.

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