Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

Several weeks later, Sam sat alone in the dark shadows of the family room, staring out at the night through the glass doors. The bodyguards were gone. The house was silent, safe again. It had been so long since they had all felt safe. Twelve years to be exact. In the past weeks, Sam had realized how oppressive the memories of the abuse had been, how the repression of them had affected his own life.

Slowly, the memories had returned. Bleak, filled with pain, shame, and finally a resigned acceptance.

It happened, we survived it. Doesn’t matter how we survived it, Sam, we did. And we’re healing, that’s all that matters. Brock’s quiet words not too long ago had slowly made sense to him. With Heather’s help, with her smart mouth, her take-charge tone and her sweet loving, he had finally found a measure of acceptance and peace.

“Sam?” He turned as Heather’s soft voice questioned him from the doorway.

She walked into the room, her slender body covered by an almost sheer silk nightie that fell only as far as her thighs.

“You should be sleeping.” He wrapped his arms around her as she came to him. The sweet scent of her perfume went to his head; the feel of her slender body sent a surge of lust through his cock. He would never get enough of her. No matter how many times he had her.

“You weren’t in bed with me.” She snuggled into his arms, a little drowsy as he sat down in the chair at his side and pulled her into his lap.

“I was just thinking.” He kept his voice quiet as he spoke, relishing the soft intimacy of holding her like this.

The past weeks had been rife with confusion, with Marly’s shattered dreams of her mother and Anna’s eventual burial. Heather’s bullet hadn’t killed her, but her own twisted hatred had. She had died in her attempt to escape the hospital and come after the Augusts once again. After tricking her guard and stealing his gun, she had been stopped as she slipped down the hallway. A police officer’s bullet had stopped her after she had fired on him.

“Remembering?” she asked gently.

Sam smoothed his hand over her silky hair, enjoying the feel of it against his palm.

“Questioning maybe,” he sighed. “Accepting.”

She was quiet for long moments. Finally she sighed deeply, her lips pressing against his bare chest.

“And have you accepted?” she asked him, moving, turning her body until she faced him, her legs spread across his, the heat of her cunt settling against the strength of the erection straining beneath his sweat pants.

Sam laid his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes, a grin edging his mouth. She wasn’t going to baby him, nor would she pamper to the memories. She was tough as nails, and refused to let him blame himself, or wallow in the pain of the past. Not that he had any intentions of doing it. Remembering was easier than forgetting, and acceptance had slowly settled over him.

“Would you let me do otherwise?” he asked her as he kissed her pert nose gently.

She snorted. “Like I can control you. You do what you want, Sam. I’ve always known that.”

He shook his head, leaning his head back on the high rest of the chair as he stared at her. Yeah, he did what he wanted. And all he wanted in life was to love this woman. To give her more pleasure than she could bear, to make her life as smooth as possible. Which reminded him…

“What were you doing cooking tonight? I swear, next time I have to wait on the three of you to clean the mess up before I can take you to bed, I’m going to paddle your butt.”

“Hmm.” She arched a brow suggestively. “Sounds like fun. Wanna go for it now?”

He frowned fiercely. “We could have gone out to eat, Heather. You didn’t have to cook.”

“I’m tired of eating out.” She smoothed her hands over his chest, her nails biting lightly at his skin. “Make Cade hire a housekeeper if you want to help.”

He snorted. “She would run off the first time she heard us all fucking in here. Damned prudes.”

“We have bedrooms,” she chuckled, the sound soft, husky with desire.

“Uh uh.” Sam shook his head firmly. “In here. It’s good in here, Heather. All of us together, loving, laughing. The bedroom wouldn’t be the same.”

The openness of the family room, the feeling of freedom, of acceptance, wouldn’t be the same in any other room, he thought, not for those occasions. Not that he wasn’t prone to take any of the three women in whatever room he caught them in. He was. But those nights when all their desires converged, and the sharing became heated, intense, drawing screams of pleasure, pleas for release, the family room couldn’t be replaced.

“Pervert.” She rocked against his cock, her wet pussy moistening his pants.

“Nympho,” he whispered back. “You’ve been fucked senseless today, and you still want more.”

The women were damned picky. Cycling weeks they were off limits, and this was Sarah’s and Marly’s week. Damned women seemed to be slowly moving to a matching schedule. It was worrisome. But Heather had been left the lone woman out for the past few days. Cade and Brock had kept her busy.

He shivered as he remembered walking into the kitchen from the barn that morning, seeing her sitting on Cade’s lap, her back to his chest, her pretty cunt dripping as his fingers tunneled into it. Cade’s cock had been buried hard and deep up her ass as he pushed her into orgasm. The sight of it had been so damned erotic he had nearly come in his jeans at the time. With her big green eyes watching him, helpless, overwhelming pleasure filling her face, he had thought his cock would explode.