August Heat (4 page)

She did this now.
Allowing the head to sink to the entrance of her throat, working desperately to
swallow his flesh as he groaned in delirium. Oh, he loved that. His thighs trembled,
pre-come leaking from the tip of his cock, salty and sweet at the same time.
Then she drew back, savoring the taste that exploded on her tongue as pearly
liquid dripped from his cock. He was close. So close, she could feel it.

His balls were
tight against the base of his shaft, his breathing loud in the grotto, almost
strangled with pleasure as he drove as deep as he dared into her mouth once
again. Her fingers cupped his scrotum, caressed it as her other hand stroked
the remaining length of his shaft not buried in her mouth.

“Fuck. Yes, baby,”
he groaned. “Swallow my cock, Sarah. God, it’s good. Too fucking good.”

He was muttering
his pleasure constantly now. A litany of scattered explicit phrases that had
her flushing with heat, her vagina pulsing with need. She was already
pleasantly tender from his lusty play hours before. She had a feeling she would
be exquisitely sore before it was over with.

“Sarah. I’m going
to come.” He always warned her first. Gave her the chance to pull back, to let
him finish in the depths of her pussy rather than spilling his seed in her
mouth and making him harder, hungrier, for the flesh between her thighs.

As always, by now,
she was craving the taste of him, nearly demented in her need to feel the hard
wash of semen blasting down her throat. Like a favorite dessert, she couldn’t
deny herself. Her lips tightened on him, her stroking hands intensifying the
pleasure as his hand buried in her hair, fingers clenching, his hips thrusting
harder, faster into her mouth.

The burst of his
release had her groaning in pleasure. The tart taste of his semen washed over
her tongue. His cock stroked over it spilling the rich essence as she tried to
swallow the flesh coming so close to her throat.

Hard, liquid
pulses of pleasure accompanied by his throttled shouts of release washed
through her. Sarah wanted to cry out at the depth of her own satisfaction. Even
without her orgasm, knowing she brought her husband to the point of such
pleasure never failed to heat her entire body. Never failed to keep him hard,
make him hungrier than ever before.

He pulled from her
mouth with a lusty growl, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her up until
she sat on the padded edge of the hot tub. There were no preliminaries. He
spread her thighs, bending her back, then watched as he sank every hard, hot
length of his cock deep inside the slick portal awaiting him there.

“Brock,” she cried
out, as helpless as always to still her own vocal enjoyment of the act.

“That hot little
mouth is like an aphrodisiac,” he growled as his head lowered, his tongue
licking at the hard point of one nipple. “I can’t fuck you enough, Sarah. I can’t
get enough of the pleasure, baby. I can’t come hard enough to ever sate the
need I have for you.”

She almost
climaxed at the power of emotion echoing in his voice. He always hungered for
her. She knew that. Reveled in it. Loved it. Her cunt tightened convulsively
around the thrusting shaft, her clitoris throbbing with each stroke of his
pelvis against it. He was destroying her. Stroke by stroke, by each whispered
entreaty, each earthy vow.

“Harder,” she
cried out at the carefully paced strokes. She needed him now. Needed him to
take her hard and fast before she poured out every secret he demanded that lay
in her soul. “Please, Brock. Fuck me harder. Now.”

He chuckled
against the curve of her breast. “You know better than that, baby.”

She groaned. “Please,
Brock. Please.”

“Give me what I
want, Sarah.” He burrowed deep and hard, parting the muscles of her vagina with
a shatteringly slow thrust, stroking each nerve, each tissue, with destructive
pleasure. “Come on, baby. I promise I won’t tattle.”

She knew better.
Knew if she dared voice the need he would never be able to keep it to himself.

“Now, Sarah.” He
stroked inside her harder, deeper. Then pulled back with such exquisite
hesitation her back bowed as she fought to end the sensual torture.

“No. Please,
Brock, please take me harder.” She shook her head, tightening on him, her flesh
spasming with the need for release. Hot, liquid desire spilled through her
vagina, gushing around the pulsing shaft as she begged for more.

“Anything you
want, baby,” he crooned an instant before he slammed inside her, hard and fast.
“Tell me, Sarah.”

She could hear his
control weakening. His cock pulsed, throbbed inside her.

“Oh God, Brock.
You’re so thick. So hard.” She shook her head, so immersed in the pleasure, the
need to climax, that she was reaching her own breaking point.

“Sarah,” he
groaned, fighting for his own control. God help her if he ever found out how
weak he made her. How much she wanted to give him what he asked for.

“Tell me.” He
retreated until only the head of his cock remained inside her. “God, Sarah, don’t
you know I’d give you the universe itself if I could? Just tell me what you
want.”

Desperation and
pain filled his voice. Sarah’s eyes opened, and she stared into the dark depths
of her husband’s tortured gaze.

“I love you,
Sarah. More than my own life.” His hands clenched on her hips. Sweat glistened
on his face as his expression drew into lines of painful need. “Please, baby.
Please don’t hurt anymore.”

And he knew. Tears
filled her eyes. It wasn’t just a game. He knew how desperately she needed, he
just didn’t know what she needed, and she could see the pain that caused. A
pain she wanted to ease, yet she knew that the revelation in words could cause
more harm than good.

Her fingers lifted
to his cheek, trembling as tears spilled down her own cheeks. She loved him.
She needed him. But she needed him whole.

“My heart,” she
sobbed, unwilling to hold it back any longer. Her hand fell to his chest,
flattened over his heart. “Mine, Brock. My soul and my life. That’s all I want.
All of you.” It was as much as she could give. But was it enough?

Brock stilled. His
eyes widened. She felt his hands tighten with bruising strength on her hips as
something glittered in his eyes.

“Always yours,” he
whispered. A second later he was plunging so hard and deep inside her, so fast
and desperate, she felt her soul soaring from her body as she erupted around him
a second before his climax exploded inside her.

Deep, hard,
pulsing spurts of his seed vibrated deep inside her, throwing her higher as her
womb erupted in an orgasm that had her screaming, her head falling back, her
pleasure filling the air as her thighs tightened on his, holding him deep,
taking every drop of ecstasy he spilled.

They collapsed on
the heated wood surrounding the hot tub, their breathing rough, ragged.

“You have a lot to
learn about me, Sarah,” he whispered breathlessly. “And there’s a hell of a lot
you’re not seeing. Now, baby, ask for what you want. If you dare.”

She watched as he
raised his head, staring down at her, his expression, for once, closed, cool.

“Brock?”

He moved away from
her, watching her, his expression dark, controlled.

“If you can’t
trust me that far, Sarah, trust me enough to give me your every dream, then you
can’t trust me to love you, either. Can you?”

She shook her
head, her chest tightening in pain. “I know you love me. I love you, Brock.”

“Do you?” He rose
to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers. “If you did, then that trust would be
there. You would open your eyes as you expect me to open mine, and see what’s
right in front of your face. When you can do that, let me know. We can talk
then.”

Chapter Four

“This isn’t going
to work.” Sarah tried to still her panic as she faced the other two women the
next day. Brock had been too silent the night before. He had watched her too
intently, too knowingly. He knew, and the very fact that he hadn’t said
anything was scaring her to death.

“Settle down,
Sarah.” Marly moved to the living room door, checking the dining room and entry
hall before closing the door quickly. “We don’t need the housekeeper to hear
us.”

“Not to mention
the men.” Heather paced the room. “This is getting too damned difficult. We’re
only weeks away from Christmas, Marly.”

“What happened,
Sarah?” Marly asked as Sarah sat down heavily on the couch.

“God, this is such
a mess,” she groaned. “I did my best, Marly. I swear I did. I was nice and
vague, just like we agreed, but I think he guessed. He guessed and now he’s
madder than hell that I didn’t just tell him. I knew this was a bad idea.”

She glanced up as
Heather and Marly shared a worried look.

“What?” she asked
warily.

“Cade isn’t
speaking to me, either.” Marly was wringing her hands, her blue eyes wide,
upset. “He came to bed last night and just gave me this really strange look
before he kissed my forehead and rolled over and went to sleep. He didn’t say
anything. He always talks to me before we go to sleep.”

“Sam was acting
strange, too.” Heather pushed her fingers through her already rumpled hair. “God,
this is such a mess. And it shouldn’t be this damned hard. We shouldn’t have to
play games like this, Marly.”

“Do you have
another suggestion?” Marly was growing increasingly frustrated now. “Dammit,
both of you know how we tried to talk to them before. It didn’t work then. Why
would it work now?”

They were all
silent. Sarah frowned as something Brock had said the night before continued to
haunt her. That the answer to what she wanted was right before her eyes. Her
heart had slammed in her chest then, and it did again now.

“Marly?” She
raised her eyes to the other woman. “They’ve stopped.”

Marly shook her
head as she stared at her in confusion. “What?”

Sarah frowned as
she considered the past nine months. “Think about it. Admittedly, we haven’t
given any of them much of a chance to try, but they don’t try, either. They’ve
stopped.”

Heather and Marly
stilled. “We realize that, Sarah.” Heather sighed. “But it has to continue this
way.”

Sarah shook her
head demandingly. “No. Listen to me. Think about it. It’s completely stopped.
No little butt pats. No hot little looks. The whole nine yards. It’s stopped.”

Marly and Heather
both watched her in bemusement. Had they somehow gotten what they were fighting
for, without fighting for it? Had the men not paid any attention to their
careful avoidance of being alone with any of them, other than their chosen
husbands, out of choice?

Marly sat down
slowly. “She’s right,” she whispered, looking at Heather in surprise. “I know
Cade. All the avoidance in the world wouldn’t work if he got horny enough to go
after it. They’ve stopped on their own.”

They had been so
concerned with their subtle maneuvers to be certain there was no opportunity
for the three men to catch one of them alone, or to try to seduce them into
their erotic, heated play. They hadn’t realized that the men weren’t trying to
do so.

“Now what?”
Heather asked softly. “How can we be certain they won’t want to try to
reestablish those relationships later?”

Sarah breathed in
roughly. “I’m certain, Heather. Brock is madder than hell right now.” The very
thought of that terrified her. “He pointed out to me, rather coolly, that maybe
what I wanted was right in front of my eyes and I had refused to see it. I
think he’s right. We’ve been so concerned with protecting them, with trying to
feel our way through this for the past year, that we haven’t noticed the change
in them.” And that broke her heart. “We didn’t see that it wasn’t our
machinations, but their decision to stop themselves.”

She watched the
other two women pale. “God. We’re in some deep trouble here.” Marly swallowed
tightly. “A pissed August male is not a good thing.”

Heather snorted. “What
are they gonna do? Divorce us?” she asked them both in irritation. “Okay, so we
fucked up. They were a little less clueless than we imagined. But they still
haven’t figured out exactly what we want. I say we tell them straight out and
see what happens.”

Marly and Sarah
both shot her a look of incredulity.

“Get real!” Marly
snapped. “That might work with Sam, and you can go for it if you think it will.
But not Cade. You forget his sense of responsibility. His determination to keep
this family together. This will break his heart if we do it your way, Heather.
I won’t risk that.”

“It’s not like we
want to move to another state, Marly,” Heather argued. “For God’s sake, he
would be able to see the house outside his bedroom window. Dammit, as much as I
love you and Sarah, and the other brothers, I want my own home. I want my own
family, too.”

There was a wealth
of pain, of growing despondency, in the other woman’s words. There was the
dream they all held. Their own homes. Their own families. The freedom to bring
children into a full, productive family unit rather than the unconventional
lifestyle they had lived.