Page 21 of Puck Your Bunny

The dim shed comes into focus. Simon sits on his heels at the foot of the mattress. He runs a hand through his copper hair, his chest slick with sweat. Kel rests on his side, his dark eyes tracking the flush on my skin.

Wally leans over me. His olive skin radiates a blistering heat. A thick, messy pool of slick and cum stains the bare mattress beneath me.

My hands reach up. My shaking fingers brush against Wally's solid chest. The steady beat of his heart thumps against my palm. The rich, thick scent of sex still floods the room, drowning out the smell of sawdust.

The hollow ache behind my sternum is gone along with the bond rejection symptoms.

I stare at the three men, my throat tight as I try to swallow. "This isn't a dream."

Simon tilts his head, a soft smile breaking through his exhaustion. "Of course it's not a dream."

The shock hits me like a bucket of ice water. I slept with them for real.

Chapter 8

Ilean against the smooth, finished wood of the shed wall, watching Vayda.

Three hours have passed since we got here and found her writhing on the mattress.

Something in her shifted after our first round. The uninhibited, confident Omega who took charge is gone, replaced by a tense, quiet distance.

She has kept her mouth shut for hours, staring at the wood paneling with a guarded look. Her thoughts remain locked away behind that defensive stare.

Her spontaneous heat still demands a relentless cycle, keeping us in motion. Her body still craves the touch.

We took a short break to let her recover from taking both Kel and Simon at the same time, but the fever flared again. Now, Simon has her.

Kel sits on the swept floorboards a few feet away, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath from his last turn. He watches the mattress with dark, intense eyes, his muscles tense to jump back in.

Her back arches off the mattress, fingers twisting into the bare fabric. A frantic moan tears from her throat, though she bites her lip, swallowing the sound.

The noise hits me in the chest, feeding the deep Alpha instinct to keep her safe. She shifts and writhes, her pale skin flushed with the intense fever. Even with the new wall she's put up between us, the pleasure takes over.

Simon hovers over her, gripping her hips with his large hands to hold her steady while he sets a blistering pace. His speed on the ice translates to the mattress. He drives into her wet core with rapid, hard thrusts. Every frantic gasp she takes is cut short by another pump of his hips, drowning out the lingering ache of her bond rejection.

I slide closer across the wood floor, my patience wearing thin. Her spiking lavender and honeysuckle scent fills the workshop, creating a thick, sweet cloud that draws me back to the mattress.

I reach out and grip Simon's sweaty shoulder. "Switch. Let me in before you lock."

Simon nods and pulls out, his dripping cock sliding from her slick core. Vayda lets out a desperate, empty whine at the sudden loss of friction.

Simon slides back, bracing his bare shoulder against the wooden wall. Reaching for Vayda's hips, he pulls her up to straddle his thighs. He guides his length back inside her.

I move in behind her, grabbing the lube to coat my thick shaft. Aligning my tip with her tight back entrance, I press forward with a slow, deliberate thrust, keeping the movement gentle.

She takes me deep. Her muscles clamp down tight around my girth, stretching to accommodate me until the swelling knot at my base stops my progress.

I grip her hips, pulling her back against me. "Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart."

Simon and I find a punishing, synchronized rhythm. He thrusts up from the bottom while I drive forward from behind. Vayda moans, her nails digging into Simon's shoulders.

The sour edge of pain vanishes from her scent, replaced by sweet lavender. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, sucking a dark bruise into her skin as we move together. The taste of her sweat and the sweet scent sinks into my pores, anchoring me to her.

Hours blur as we rotate to keep her satisfied. The spontaneous heat demands incredible stamina, but our training pays off. We take turns keeping her filled, flooding her system with our pheromones and the constant pressure of our knots to break the rejection sickness.

By the second day, the constant exertion and sleepless hours drain our strength. We need real food to keep going; her protein bars make a small dent.

Kel slips out on the second night. He pulls on his sweatpants and a dark hoodie, stepping into the cool spring air to grab a delivery at the end of the driveway. He returns with grease-stained bags from a local burger joint.