Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

Heather turned back to them, tucking her hands into her jeans pockets nervously as she watched them. They were relaxed, friendly. They watched her with understanding, with sympathy.

“I love him,” she admitted, shaking her head. “But I won’t beg him.”

“You won’t have to, Heather,” Marly said gently. “Sam is just as much in love as you are. But he hurts so deeply. When the stalker attacked you, he placed scars on you that remind Sam, when he thinks of them, of his belief that it’s his fault you were attacked. Until he deals with the past, until they all do, that pain will always be there.”

“As will the sharing?” Heather hunched her shoulders, fighting the shiver that fought to race up her back at the thought of it.

“The sharing.” Marly frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t think it will ever change, Heather. If you ever see them together, sharing, you’ll understand what I mean. They are an extension of each other, as I told you. Their every thought centered on whichever of us they are with. Every touch, every kiss, made for our pleasure, our satisfaction. I don’t think it’s because of the pain. I think it eases the pain though.”

It was no more than Heather believed herself. “They’re too much alike,” she muttered.

“In some ways,” Sarah agreed. “In others, they’re completely different. I love Brock with all my heart and soul, Heather. I don’t know if I could stand it if I lost him. But I love Sam and Cade as well. It grows when you don’t realize it, and they become a part of you even when you try to separate yourself from them. You can’t help it. You can’t fight men who want nothing more than your safety, your happiness and your pleasure.”

“You could want fidelity,” she said softly.

“But we have that, Heather.” Marly’s voice was low, yet filled with conviction. “We have their complete fidelity. Cade and Brock would have no desire for you at all if Sam didn’t love you. You’re a part of Sam, so you’re a part of them as well. That’s not cheating, that’s loving.”

“It’s an excuse,” she sighed wearily.

The two women looked at each other, then rose to their feet.

“The toys are a gift. With no ulterior motive, Heather,” Marly said, as they placed their chairs back in their proper places by the window. “Use them or throw them away. Teasing Sam with them would be pretty damned effective, though.” She grinned. “If you need to talk to us, anytime, you know where we are.”

“Heather.” Sarah turned to her. “Think about something. Is it our excuse? Or are you attempting to judge something that convention and morality has taught you is wrong? Think about it long and hard, then come and tell me where the excuse lies.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Heather stared at the toys after the two women left. She paced her room, she fretted and she worried until she felt as though she would go insane from it. She opened the toys and inserted the required batteries that had been left as well. She washed them, she looked at them, but she didn’t use them. She wanted to. Her pussy clenched at the thought of it, because she knew damned good and well Sam would hear the distinctive buzz through the thin panel of the door.

Unlike the walls and the outer doors of the bedroom, the connecting door was damned near as thin as paper. You could hear everything through it. He would hear, and he would know.

Would he come to her? Would she want him to? Her need kept rapid pace with her pride, until she could barely stand the pressure from it. It was a relief to finally go to dinner. Until she got there. Sam watched her heatedly. Of course, he would have heard the toys as she held them, feeling the vibration beneath the flexible latex that covered their motor packs.

Conversation flowed around the dinner table as Rick, Cade and Brock discussed the lack of clues on the stalker, and the close call in the pool area the night before. Sarah and Marly discussed the next day’s appointments, and teased the men whenever the chance presented itself. Sam was quiet. Heather was silent.

After the meal was over, the family retired to the family room, and Heather escaped to the dark kitchen. A pot of coffee waited for her there, and a dark lonely night stretched out ahead of her.

She sent up a silent prayer that if family fun occurred in the other room, they would at least have mercy and muffle the noise a bit. She was riding on her last nerve, and her arousal level was reaching meltdown. If she didn’t do something soon to relieve the pressure building in her pussy, then she was going to explode. The only problem was, she was uncertain how to do so. Her Pocket Rocket seemed to only make the situation more desperate, and from her previous experience with vibrators, she doubted the dildos, no matter how much they wiggled and squirmed, would help.

Quietly she checked the locks on the back door, the ones on the kitchen window, then made certain the dark, rubber-backed curtains were completely closed. The incident more than a month ago, where the bullet proof glass had been shattered, had terrified them all, Heather knew. No chances were being taken now.

Reasonably certain that the room was safe, she flipped on the small light over the sink after securing the curtains there and fixed a cup of the strong coffee. A recliner sat in the far corner of the kitchen now, a comfortable resting place for whoever guarded the back door. Rather than sitting in it, she leaned against the counter and sipped at her coffee as she leafed through one of the ranching magazines that had been left lying on it.

She glanced over her shoulder as she heard the door swish open. As she began to turn around, a large male hand patted her ass affectionately as the broad form passed her.

“Excuse me.” She turned as Cade reached over her head for a coffee cup in the top cabinet.

His large, muscular body had her pinned against the counter as his hips pressed intimately into her lower abdomen. There, the distinct feel of a thick, fully erect cock could be easily felt.

“Coffee still fresh?” His deep voice was a rough rumble as he flicked her a heated glance while moving away from her.

She didn’t know whether to kick his ass or scream bloody murder.

“Don’t try my patience, Cade,” she bit out instead. “It’s extremely low at the moment.”

He poured his coffee, then leaned against the counter as he watched her. His eyes were gray, not blue-gray like the twins’. His face was harder, more chiseled and set into lines of stubbornness. He didn’t smile as much as the others did, but as the months had passed, Heather had watched as the shadows in his eyes seemed to lighten.

“Yours isn’t the only one,” he grunted. “Sam’s pacing like a caged cat.”