42. Trent

Chapter 42

Trent

T his is a mistake, but damn if I don't want to make it over and over again. I've had one too many beers, and the reasons to resist Fable are muted right now. Despite knowing that, despite still being completely coherent and aware of what I'm doing, I decide I don't want to fight it tonight. I want her. But I'm not Colt, or Rhett, or Gunnar. I'm not easy to digest, and my tastes aren't exactly vanilla. She has no idea what she's gotten into by kissing me.

She has no idea how badly I want her.

I carry her over my shoulder up the stairs and into my large room. It's sparsely decorated, only because I prefer to decorate my skin rather than this room. Still, there's evidence that I live here. A small pile of greasy clothing I need to spray with degreaser sits in the corner. A small metal bee I sculpted sits on the bedside table. Other items lay scattered across the vanity in the bathroom.

The large, iron, four-poster bed I'd made takes up most of the space. I'd made the thing when I couldn't find one I liked, and I'd been showing off a little bit. Small metal leaves decorate the curling iron, giving it a fairytale look. All it's missing is some hanging silks, but that seemed too girly for my taste. Now, I'm regretting not going for them. Fable would look like a goddess lying in the middle of the bed if it was draped.

I kick the door shut behind us and lock it when Colt follows inside. I point to the chair against the wall and Colt immediately goes over and takes a seat without a word, the perfect, silent watcher. He'll make noise at some point, but he'll never come forward and touch if I don't invite him. And I don't plan to.

Moving over to the bed, I carefully deposit Fable on the edge of it. Her pretty hazel eyes stare up at me in both excitement and nervousness. She'd kissed me. I'm not nearly through with kissin' her. Leaning down, I capture her lips with mine, tasting cake and beer. It's intoxicating. She's intoxicating, this woman I should be resisting. But fuck it. If no one else is, why should I torture myself so much. She'll leave, but at least I can remember her this way, lookin' up at me like I'm not as worthless as I feel half the time.

"Last chance," I croak when I pull back.

"For what?" she asks, her chest rising and falling with her breathing. Her breasts strain against her t-shirt, begging for me to free them.

"To leave," I answer, bracing my arms on either side of her so that I'm right in her face. "If we do this, you should know my. . . tastes. . . aren't quite the same as the others."

Colt straightens in his chair, his hand inching toward his cock where it strains against his jeans. He knows what I'm talkin' about, though not because I told him. Colt has a way of findin' information that should be worrisome.

"What does that mean?" she rasps, her fingers reaching up to smooth through my loose hair. The way she gently combs through it makes me want to arch my back and growl at the same time.

I meet her eyes. "If you want to stay here, you'll have to wait and see."

"And if I stay?" she rasps.

"Then I'm going to brand you into my soul, little ironworker," I rasp.

I can see her thinking, can see her wondering what it is I'm warning her about. She'll never come close to figuring it out, not until she realizes, not until I reveal it. I should probably disclose more. Not all women are into the same things I am. Fable could be one of those women, and if we get to that point, she'll have the option to say no. Until then, I plan to enjoy what little time I have with her.

Until she realizes I'm the hornet I warned her about.

"Okay," she whispers.

"Okay?" I clarify, just to make sure.

She nods. "Okay. I'm staying."

"That'a girl," Colt murmurs from his seat against the wall.

I glance over at him, and he settles deeper into his chair, readying himself for a hell of a show. This isn't typical. I don't know why I told him he could watch, but it's too late to back out now. I'm sure I could tell him to leave, and he would, but part of me doesn't want to be in here alone when she realizes that. . .

"So what now?' Fable asks, leaning back on her elbows. "Do I just. . . wait?"

She'd lost her hat somewhere between downstairs and here, probably because of the way I'd picked her up. Her cheeks are flushed from the bottles of beer she'd drank while we'd played UNO. She's beautiful, but nothing comes close to the way she'd looked when she'd realized what was in the box I'd given her.

I bet you'd make an amazing sword.

I did. From the moment she'd spoken those words to me, I've been working on that sword downstairs, painstakingly molding and shaping metal until it was as good as I wanted it to be. The one I'd given her is the third attempt. The first two hadn't been good enough, perfect enough, for someone like her. She'd been right.

I make a pretty damn good sword.

Reaching for my shirt, I slowly pop the buttons free, revealing more and more skin. While tattoos cover my neck, my arms, and my shoulders, my chest remains relatively ink-free. Her eyes trace the skin I reveal, taking note of every line, every scar, every detail. I shrug the shirt from my shoulders and drop it where I stand, letting her look, wanting her to.

"If at any time you feel uncomfortable, just say so," I grunt, before reaching down and grabbing her right ankle. I jerk her toward me, so her legs dangle off the edge of the bed. When I reach for her belt, she doesn't say a word. Instead, she helps me pull it free before going to the fastening of her jeans.

I'm a big motherfucker. I know I am. At six feet seven inches and nearly three-hundred pounds, I'm not exactly easy to digest. I'm imposing, but Fable looks up at me unafraid as she reaches for her shirt and pulls it up over her head, revealing the pink lacy bra she's wearing underneath. When I unzip her jeans, I find a matching pair of panties. Colt makes a strangled sound in his throat, but I don't even bother lookin' at him. I keep my eyes on her.

I hesitate as I start to pull the jeans down and glance up at her. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she rasps, before leaning down to help. "But let me make it easier."

She carefully folds the jeans down over her prosthetic. With gentle fingers, I help the material pull over the metal and plastic before stripping them completely. I hook the panties and pull them off after, while she reaches beneath her and undoes the clasp of her bra, shrugging it off, leaving her bare before me.

And fuck if she's not the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Even better than sunsets over the mountain.

Even better than the sunflower fields of Thunder Valley Homestead.

"This first part is about you," I groan before dropping to my knees.

"What about you?" she breathes, her eyes looking down at where I kneel between her thighs.

"My time will come," I rasp. But right now, I want nothing more than to taste her.

I jerk her closer to the edge of the bed, so her ass hangs off, supporting her as I lean down and swipe my tongue through her folds. She's molten heat, wet already for me, and it drives me insane. Her legs spread across my shoulders, wide to accommodate me between her thighs, as I dive deep and taste all of her. She moans, her hips trying to gyrate with my tongue movements, but my hand on her stomach keeps her pinned for me. I swirl my tongue, and she mews at the feeling of it, her fingers coming down to clench tightly in my hair. I groan against her core at the feeling of it, at the way she pulls me closer and tries to grind against my face.

When she cries out beneath me, her thighs shaking against my shoulders, I pull back and stand. She shakes on the bed as she leans up on her elbows, her eyes hooded as she watches me reach for my own jeans. I kick off my boots and toss them to the side before making quick work of the rest of my clothing. My cock is so hard, it's almost painful as it strains in front of me. Her eyes drop hungrily to my length, and it jumps from her attention, a bead of precum on the tip as I imagine what I'll do to her, what she'll do to me.

She reaches for me, her small hand circling my cock and stroking. Before I can stop her, she flips around and her tongue dances across my tip. I nearly come undone when her lips close around the head of my cock and she sucks. My hand threads into her mess of curls and pull her gently forward, helping her suck my cock, wanting to fill her throat, but knowing that's not what I have planned.

"Enough," I growl, jerking my cock back, not wanting to end this too soon. I reach for her, grabbing her off the bed before taking a seat on the edge myself. I move her so she's straddling my lap, so my cock stands proudly between us. She reaches down and strokes me, her eyes on mine as she does so. She seems to realize she's in control here, so with our eyes locked, she lifts and guides my cock to her entrance. My hands go to her hips, holding on as she starts to sink down. My head falls back, exposing my throat, and she immediately leans forward to run her teeth along my Adam's apple, her lips trailing small kisses there. When she sits down fully on my length, I hold her there, my fingers hard on her hips as I hold her in place. My cock jumps inside her and she moans, trying to move.

"Trent," she groans. "Please."

Who am I to deny her? I grind against her before releasing my hold, letting her move, letting her fuck me. She throws her head back and I immediately thread my hands into her hair, pulling until her back is bowed, so that I can fuck up inside her. She cries out, her hands clawing at my chest, digging in until I'm moaning with the feel of it.

Over in the corner, Colt makes a sound in the back of his throat, not a sound asking for attention, but one of tortured arousal. He enjoys the torture, enjoys watching without being able to touch. The urge to fuck with him is strong. When Fable screams her release, her pussy clenching around me, her juices running down my balls, I stand with her, my cock still buried inside her. She grabs onto my shoulders with a squeak, her head swiveling to search for where we're going. When she realizes I'm closing in on Colt, her eyes widen, but I'm not about to do what she thinks I am.

"No touchin'," I order before setting Fable on her feet and spinning her to face Colt.

Colt nods and puts his hands in his lap. I push down on Fable's back until she bends over and braces herself against the arms of the chair, her face in Colt's, her tits hanging right in front of him. His hands twitch.

"Asshole," he groans, but he listens.

I thrust my cock inside Fable, drawing a gasp from her lips that Colt gets an up close and personal view of. Her tits sway with the force of my thrust, tempting him. He rubs at his jeans, hard as a rock, as I start to fuck Fable hard and fast. She cries out in pleasure as I fuck her. My hand fists her hair and pulls her back, making sure she's looking Colt in the eyes as I fuck her, my other hand clenched tightly in the softness of her hip. He ass bounces with every thrust, ricocheting my force back to me, making it all the more pleasurable.

She shatters again, her legs shaking as she comes undone. My cock jumps, but I don't finish. Not yet. I want. . . I need something else.

Gently, I pull out of her spasming pussy, my cock covered in her juices. I turn her and set her in Colt's lap, letting her sprawl across him. When his hands move, I narrow my eyes.

"No touchin'," I growl again, stepping back. He clenches his fingers in the arms of the chair instead as Fable grinds against him. I wrap my hand around my cock and stroke as I turn toward the dresser on the right. I hesitate. If she says no, that's okay. But I really want her to say yes. The yearning in my soul is so strong, I nearly choke on it.

"What are you doing?" she rasps, her voice breathy.

"Trent has very particular tastes," Colt whispers in her ear.

She looks over her shoulder at him, before her gaze follows after me as I pull open a drawer and rummage inside. Her eyes widen when I find what I'm lookin' for and draw it out.

"You want me to?—"

"Wear it," I finish with a nod. "Use it. On me."

She swallows thickly. "I've never. . . I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me," I reassure her. "Even if you did, I'd enjoy it."

She hesitates, her eyes on the straps and the flesh-colored dildo fastened to the front of it. It's not a large one, roughly nine inches long and of average girth.

Colt must be holding his breath just like I am. He watches her carefully, searching for a reaction, as what I'm asking for turns around in her mind. She straightens and stands, leaving Colt's lap to come over and stand in front of me. Carefully, she reaches for the straps in my hand, and I give them to her.

"How far do you want to go?" she asks. I know she's not asking about the dildo. She's asking about the dynamic. She's asking what I'm willing to do.

"As far as you're comfortable with," I tell her, swallowing thickly as she considers it.

She nods, her eyes on the dildo, before she looks up at me. "Then brace yourself against the bed. Hands against the comforter. Wait for me there."

My cock jumps. Fuck if it doesn't start leaking for her.