Page 165 of Reckless Hearts

We’re not moving yet. Just breathing. Adjusting.

Together.

Callie’s trembling between us, so full she can barely speak, but the sounds she’s making—soft, broken gasps—say everything.

“Breathe, Wildflower,” I murmur, voice low against the shell of her ear. “You’re doing so good.”

Colt shifts beneath her, his hands steadying her hips, his jaw clenched like he’s barely hanging on. She whimpers when he flexes upward, the small movement forcing her to take us both a little deeper.

“God,” she gasps, nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s both of us, Sunshine,” Colt grits out.

I start to move, slow at first—just a shallow rock of my hips, feeling the thick pressure where we’re both inside her. Her body tightens, fluttering around us like it’s too much, but she’s still begging for more.

“You take us so well,” I whisper, kissing her shoulder. “So fucking perfect like this. Made for it.”

She moans, long and high, her back arching, and I thrust again, deeper this time. Colt holds steady as I fuck into her, his eyes locked on mine over her shoulder.

She’s crying now, not from pain but from the kind of overwhelming pleasure that breaks people open. Her walls pulse around us both, and she sobs as her orgasm hits hard, wild and beautiful.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, trembling. “Oh my God, I—I can’t?—”

“You can,” I growl, fucking her through it. “You’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”

Colt chokes out a broken noise and jerks up into her, and I feel it—feel him, feel her—feel us.

That’s what undoes me.

I slam into her one last time and come hard, thick and hot, buried inside her, buried against him.

Colt lets go right after, a low groan tearing out of his throat, his hands clutching her tighter as his hips twitch.

We breathe like we’ve been drowning—mouths open, chests heaving, our bodies still locked together.

Callie’s shaking between us, sweat-slick and glowing, and I press my lips to her spine. Colt strokes her thigh, murmuring her name like a prayer.

When I finally ease back, I slide out with a wet sound and watch our cum leak from her, thick and messy.

I gather some on my fingers and push it right back in. “No spilling a fucking drop,” I say softly.

She nods, dazed and trembling, and Colt kisses her jaw, brushing her hair out of her face.

We hold her there—pressed between us—until her heartbeat slows, until our breath evens out, until there’s nothing left but the quiet aftermath and the three of us, tangled and undone in the best fucking way.

Epilogue

Callie

The brush glidesover the wall in a wide arc, sage green softening the old farmhouse drywall, still patchy with spackle in some corners. I tuck a coppery strand of hair behind my ear, squinting at the uneven edge near the window trim.

“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, leaning closer to fix it.

Somewhere in the background, the screen door creaks open, followed by the sound of boots on hardwood.

“You missed a spot.” Colt’s voice is a teasing, low drawl from the hallway. I don’t turn. I don’t have to. I can feel his grin.

“Unless you’re volunteering,” I say, “maybe keep that brilliant commentary to yourself, cowboy.”

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