Loose Ends

by Kristen Ashley

  Even with her holding on, he stroked her cheek.

  “Only you could throw a fit about giving away a kidney,” he muttered.

  “Tomorrow, you’re checking the wiring of every appliance, big or small, in our house. It was the Crock-Pot that did Jack in. Since we’d both totally go back into the inferno to save the dogs, we need to trash anything that might conceivably set the house on fire.”

  “That’s it,” he declared. “You are not watching that show anymore.”

  And she wasn’t.

  Christ.

  A Crock-Pot?

  “By the way,” she replied, he knew ignoring his statement—his woman lived for that show, cried every damned time, he did not get that shit. “If we have another kid, we have to get another dog.”

  “Done.”

  She smiled at him again.

  He frowned at her.

  “Where are the dogs?” he asked.

  “The run. We needed alone time.”

  Right.

  Speaking of that.

  “We got maybe half an hour for another fuck. You up for that?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes, mumbling, “He has to ask.”

  He rolled her to her back, asking, “You bring any more toys with you?”

  She looked at him and repeated, “He has to ask.”

  Nice.

  He felt his cock spring back to life.

  “I got to play first, baby. You get to play this time,” he murmured, going in for a lip brush.

  “You so love me,” she crowed.

  “Yeah,” he said in all seriousness.

  She gazed into his eyes.

  Then she said, “Yeah.”

  The End

  A novella tying up a Loose End from the The Honey Series

  featuring Diesel, Maddox and Molly from The Greatest Risk

  Empty

  Diesel

  DIESEL DROVE HOME in his truck after beers with the boys, allowing his dick to go partially hard thinking about what waited for him there.

  Molly was with her sister down in Tucson. Apparently, bridesmaid dress shopping took all weekend. Then again, the diva gene had skipped Molly entirely, but triple timed her sister Holly, and since the woman was getting married, this shit had reached extremes.

  So he and Maddox should be thankful finding the perfect bridesmaid dress wasn’t taking three weeks.

  This meant he was alone with his boy, Mad, from then, Friday night, to Sunday evening.

  This was not an unusual circumstance, but since they’d found Molly and added her to their lives, it was rare they didn’t sleep in their huge California king with limbs tangled as their normal threesome.

  Molly could go away, to be with her parents up in Flag, or her sister down in Tucson, but she wasn’t gone long, maybe a night. And if she was gone, Diesel and Maddox slept like they did before she’d come into their lives. In the same bed. Usually after a great fuck.

  But not tangled.

  Not even touching.

  And D could go away, to visit his family in Indiana, where Maddox wasn’t welcome, but Molly was, so Molly stayed home in Phoenix with Mad, and Diesel took off on his own.

  And it was just the way they rolled that they had their alone times with just one of their three. D and Molly. Molly and D. Molly and Mad. Mad and D.

  But this was a long stretch of alone for him and Maddox.

  It was lunacy, but D had to admit to a certain level of anxiety and that had nothing to do with the thoughts he was letting harden his cock, these centering around the activities Maddox could get up to later that night in using it.

  That anxiety had to do with their play a few weeks ago with Mistress Sixx as an observer at the Bolt.

  “And that’s just fuckin’ stupid,” he told his windshield as he drove.

  It was.

  It had been Maddox and Diesel before there was a Molly.

  They’d met. They’d connected. They’d really connected. They’d done their thing together as Mad and D. They’d done it together as a team with Mistresses. They’d done their thing together as a team taking a sub. They’d moved in together in the little house they now shared with Molly. They’d agreed practically in the same breath after they’d had Molly and gone back for more, and more (and more), a lot of the time taking that going back for more out of play, that she was going to be a part of them . . . permanently.

  From the beginning it had been Mad and D.

  So he didn’t know what his problem was.

  What he did know was what tonight would bring.

  D fucked Molly, with Mad, with Maddox just watching, with Maddox in the living room watching TV, with Mad out of the house at the gym, whatever. Mad fucked Molly the same. Mad fucked Diesel the same. And D fucked Maddox the same.

  So D and Maddox going at it with their woman gone was not a problem.

  It was just that, in a small, three bedroom house with three people living there, it was rare you got alone space.

  D didn’t really need it. He didn’t mind being alone, but he preferred company.

  Molly didn’t like it. She liked her boys close.

  But Molly . . . now, their woman was a talker. She could chat in the Olympics and go for gold. Her musical voice babbling in the house was one of the sweetest sounds there could be.

  Diesel was also wordy. He thought something, he said it. He had a lot of thoughts. That was just him.

  Maddox was not the same. He was quiet. Listened good. Didn’t talk much.

  And he liked his alone times. Getting the quiet. Getting his chill on.

  So much, D would often grab Mol and hit the grocery store. Take in a movie. Go somewhere and share a drink or have a meal. All so Mad could get his chill.

  This meant D knew what was on for that night.

  He’d show after spending a couple hours with his buds from work and Mad would be in his chill. Diesel would get there, get them both fresh beers, hang with Maddox in front of the tube, catch the last of a game, sucking them back, being quiet, letting Mad have his zone.

  Then they’d go to bed. They’d fuck (and D didn’t care which way this went, him all up in Mad or him taking monster cock from his boy—it was righteous however it went, and that “however it went” would be that it was righteous always). They’d sleep (not tangled up). They’d get up and fuck again.

  Then onward to have their Saturday.

  Without Molly.

  That was what was bringing on the anxiety.

  He was worried he didn’t know how to be alone with Maddox anymore.

  No. That wasn’t right.

  All had been good and would have remained good if Maddox hadn’t taken it there, as in there that night he was going at D at their sex club, the Bolt.

  On the surface, since then, nothing had changed. They ate together, watched TV together, slept together (with Molly intertwined in between), woke up together, fucked each other and Molly, worked each other at the Bolt (but not Molly, they never worked her at the Bolt, she was theirs and no one got a good look at her).

  But something had changed.

  “Get it outta your head,” he growled at his windshield. “It’s Mad and D. Mad and D and Molly. Like it always has been. Like it always will be. Nothing’s changed.”

  So yeah.

  Beer and the game and a good solid fuck and sleep.

  Tomorrow, maybe they’d catch a movie.

  All normal, as it always had been and always would be.

  That was all Diesel let stay in his head as he drove up the drive he and Mad had modified when Molly had moved in.

  They’d widened it, put in the carport at the side as well as the door to get into the garage from the port. He and Maddox parked their trucks under the port. Molly parked her white Ford Escape in the garage.

  Since Maddox owned it before he met Diesel, he and Mad had lived in that house together nearly two years before Molly came along and they hadn’t touched anything unless it needed to be fixed.

  But aft
er Molly . . .

  They made it right for their girl.

  New wood floors, the real thing. Breaking down walls and losing a bedroom to give her a great room with a new kitchen. Gutting the guest bath and master and putting in all-new. Using part of the dead bedroom space to build her a big closet.

  It was where most of any extra money got to, and almost all of their vacation time, making that place a place that would make Molly happy and neither man gave that first shit.

  It made her happy.

  That was all that mattered.

  Now it was just as she wanted, even to the point the yard was the shit.

  But since her sister got engaged, Molly had been hinting around about their commitment ceremony and nudging about kids.

  They’d talked about it. They had it down. They had their agreement. They all knew and were down with what they’d decided for their future.

  They’d commit, do it in front of family and friends (or Mol and Mad’s families, not D’s—not that D’s wouldn’t be invited, in all likelihood they just wouldn’t show), and when it was time for kids, they’d both go at her after she got off the Pill and it wouldn’t be hard to know what popped out.

  Maddox was dark, black eyes, black hair, lots of it, everywhere. Brown in his skin. Molly had auburn hair and from the pictures of her as a kid they knew she grew out of freckles. So if the kid was made of Maddox’s seed that dark would probably win out. Diesel had light-brown hair and light-blue eyes.

  If the baby had Mol’s coloring (and D had to admit, he hoped for a little girl along the way with red hair and freckles), they’d do a DNA test.

  So whoever knocked her up would have to go in gloved for as long as it took to knock her up the second time around.

  If they decided more than two, and could afford it, they’d have to decide on four, so they could keep Molly happy, giving her all her Maddox she could get and all her Diesel.

  It was time, he thought as he pulled his red Ram in beside Mad’s white F-250. They’d had Molly now over two years. They needed to make a move, for her, for them, toward a commitment that went beyond their three, toward a family.

  But D could just see his parents’ faces when he came out with the fact that Maddox was not his hanger-on roommate who really needed to move out now that D had found Molly. But instead was his boy, D was Mad’s boy. They were a unit. They were not a couple, but came in three. And that was how it always would be.

  Yeah.

  He could just see that.

  Which would be them saying serious vile shit to him that’d knock around in his head for, oh . . . he didn’t know.

  Fucking eternity.

  Right before they disowned him.

  He couldn’t even think about where his older brother would take it.

  He’d lose his mind and it would be far from pretty.

  His little sister would show, though, with smiles and big boxes filled with presents.

  And she’d try to take his back and she’d go to the mat for that.

  Instead of splintering at losing D, in order to back his play, Rebel would break apart their family.

  That particular thought heavy on his mind, Diesel got out of his truck, beeped the locks and headed to the door at the side of the garage with his keys in his hand. He unlocked it, moved through, locked it behind him and went through the empty space that was half where Molly parked and half of the other half was usually empty but the half that wasn’t was filled with big plastic tubs precisely packed with Molly’s bountiful holiday decorations and a whole load of other shit.

  Truth was, both men with long cab trucks, they’d never been able to fit their vehicles in that little garage. It barely fit the length of Molly’s Escape. So the carport had been necessary two years before they met Molly. Four, counting how long Maddox had lived there.

  He went in the back door and saw down the wide hall that served as the family entrance Maddox’s black head at the end of the couch where he was lounging with a bottle of Bud on his flat stomach.

  “Yo,” he called and turned to toss his keys in the pottery bowl on top of a table there.

  Molly pitched a fit if they didn’t throw their keys in that bowl. This was mostly because, if they didn’t, both men would habitually lose them which met with calls for all-out efforts to find the fuckers so they could go to work.

  And this drove Molly insane.

  He was realizing Maddox didn’t respond to his greeting as he turned back to head down the hall.

  And found himself slammed chest first into the wall with a strong forearm shoved in his shoulder blades.

  Before he could say a word, Maddox jammed his crotch against D’s ass and even through two pairs of jeans he could feel that colossal monster rigid against his flesh.

  His partial hard-on went instantly super-powered, chafing painfully against his fly.

  “Mad,” he murmured.

  “Spread,” Maddox ordered, his deep, abrasive voice grating against D’s ear, that ride scoring down his back right to his ass which automatically clenched like it was taking a driving cock it liked a fuckuva lot.

  What had done it for him when he’d first laid eyes on Maddox was his face and his body.

  The man was seriously fucking easy to look at. He was just extremely good looking, but his face goddamned shouted, Don’t fuck with me! And since Diesel had wanted nothing but to fuck him and take that in return, it was a total turn-on.

  Add to that, Maddox’s tall, broad-shouldered, strong, compactly muscled body was the shit.

  And he had a great fucking head of hair.

  What nearly had D dropping to his knees even before he’d seen the meat his boy packed and hiking that shit out to swallow it down his throat was hearing Mad’s voice.

  Shit, from word one it had always gone right up his ass.

  Diesel put his hands to the wall but not to push away.

  To brace.

  And he spread his legs.

  Still shoved up at his ass, Maddox reached around, popped the button of his jeans and slid down the zip.

  His boy was not one to fuck around, ever, especially when fucking.

  So he didn’t then, reaching right in and freeing D’s hard, straining length, wrapping it in a tight fist at the base.

  “You get hard on the way home?” Maddox asked.

  “Yeah,” D pushed out, his entire focus on his cock and the hope that Mad would start pumping it.

  “Yeah,” Maddox whispered, further tightening his fist and Diesel gritted his teeth as Maddox pulled hard down the length.

  Fucking beautiful.

  Best handjobs he’d ever had started with the first Mad had given him after he’d let his boy lay him out during a wrestling match on their second date. A match they’d had to decide who’d get to fuck who. And after he’d won, Mad had made him lie still on his back while he knelt between D’s spread legs and pumped his dick until he flooded all over his stomach (seeing if he’d pass that test, precisely why D’d let him win—he’d passed). They ended with the last one he’d had, which was three mornings ago when Mad had jacked him off in the shower while Molly was on the phone handling the final details of this weekend with fucking Holly.

  But right then, that was all he got before Maddox ordered, “Don’t move.”

  Then he disappeared.

  Diesel absolutely did not move.

  Again, as it was with Mad, it didn’t take long.

  Diesel’s hips swayed as Maddox yanked his jeans down until they caught at his spread thighs.

  “Lose the tee,” he commanded.

  D moved his hands from the wall to take hold of the hem of his T-shirt. He pulled it up and off and dropped it to the floor.

  “Hands back to the wall,” Maddox demanded.

  Diesel obliged.

  Both Maddox’s hands landed on either side of his spine at the middle and moved down to his ass where he grabbed hold and a grunt shoved up D’s throat as he spread him viciously.

  “My man,” he
forced out, fighting his legs trembling, pressing in at the wall for a different reason, that being in order to stay standing and focus on something other than spontaneously coming.

  Maddox said nothing.

  But his hands massaged D’s ass cheeks, doing it hard, maybe hard enough to leave bruises with the pads of his fingers, before he slipped them lower, palms right under the bottom curves. He shoved up, tipping D’s ass out.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, his balls drawing up, his cock swelling so bad, he knew soon it’d begin aching.

  Then Maddox’s hands were at the insides of his thighs, shoving them apart, straining them against his jeans, as D felt his man push his face through and latch on tight, sucking his balls into his mouth.

  Fucking, fucking awesome.

  D tipped further as a rumble rolled out his throat and he pulsed into Maddox’s rhythmic sucking.

  “Yeah, fuck yeah, Mad, take those,” he encouraged roughly.

  Maddox did, giving it to his boy, always giving, sucking harder.

  “Christ, fuck,” D bit. “You got a mouth on you.”

  Maddox’s hands slid up to his ass, he released D’s balls, pulled him apart and his mouth was there.

  “Jesus,” D clipped, his body bolting before he pushed back as Maddox tongued him.

  Fuck, he did not know what got into his man tonight. Maddox was not averse to eating out Diesel’s ass but the occasion was usually not a getting-home-from-drinks-with-the-boys-starting-the-weekend fuck.

  That kind of attention at the back, a man needed serious attention at the front.

  Yeah, his dick was now aching.

  “Maddox, my man, need one of our hands on my cock.”

  And that need at the moment was a need.

  Diesel’s body bolted again as Mad bit deep into the flesh just at the side of his crease and muttered, “No.”

  Then he went back to tonguing.

  Christ.

  This was going somewhere, fast.

  So Mad had to get there with Diesel.

  Fast.

  “Okay then, need you to fuck it,” he huffed.

  And lost Mad’s mouth in his ass but not at his ear. Instead he felt the head of Maddox’s cock slipping through his crack.

  “Gotta earn it, D,” he growled. “Now, go. Get yourself lubed. Naked. Bed. On your knees.”