Trading with the Boys: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Krista Wolf

  “Okay, fine,” I agreed. “You won that night. But most of the time…”

  “Most of the time you outscrew us,” Cole acknowledged.

  “Yes, and you pass out next to me. Sleeping. Snoring…”

  The guys went uncharacteristically and embarrassingly silent. I laughed.

  “It’s adorable, by the way,” I told them. “I love that part. Being the last one awake? Curling and cuddling up against the three of you, while you snore and drool all over your pillows?”

  “You don’t know what it’s like to be a guy,” said Jacob in their defense. “Our recovery time is different than yours.”

  “And thank God it is,” I laughed, sitting up to accept the glass of wine Cole handed me. “Otherwise I’d never get any sleep at all!”

  We toasted and drank, not to us but to David and Mariana. It felt so good seeing him again. Especially so happy.

  “I can see why he loves it down here,” said Cole. “The air’s fresher. Everything tastes better.”

  “Even the wine,” agreed Tate. “I mean, I’m more of a beer guy, but this stuff right here…” He trailed off, looking approvingly at his glass. “It’s like drinking candy.”

  My eyes wandered down his rippled arm, past his shoulder to where his freshly-shaven face was made even more handsome by his end-of-the-day smile. Tate had uprooted everything he’d known to come with us. I knew one day he’d open his own place rather than rent a garage from someone else, but for now he’d made sacrifices that we all appreciated.

  We drank together as we got undressed, a ritual I knew so well by now because I’d seen it a few hundred times. Tate took the empty glass from my hand, while the others took the hem of my dress. They lifted it over my head and unhooked my bra, stripping me down to nothing but my G-string with movements so practiced they looked rehearsed.

  “You boys see anything you like?” I teased.

  Cole stepped into me, kissing me on the neck until I sighed. Before I could kiss him back he shoved me backwards, onto the bed.

  “Roll over.”

  God, I loved when they told me what to do. I spun happily onto my belly, stretching across the comforter and spreading my arms and legs. Cole took my wrists and pulled me forward, until my chin hung off the edge of the bed. The others settled down next to me, lying parallel to me on either side.

  “This is a new one,” I chuckled.

  “Sure is.”

  “What exactly are we—”

  From behind his back, Cole produced a long brown tube. He pulled something from it — something that looked like a big scroll — and began unrolling it in front of me.

  What on earth…

  “These are preliminary, of course,” he began, “and we can of course change anything we need to. But after sitting down together, this is what the three of us came up with.”

  It took me a moment to figure out what I was looking at. After setting a pair of phones on either side of the scroll as paperweights to keep it open, I realized I was staring at…

  “Blueprints?”

  The scroll was a large floor plan, complete with 3D renderings of side and frontal views. Side and frontal views of a house.

  “You know that lot we were looking at?” murmured Tate, from over my shoulder.

  “The four acres?” I asked excitedly. “On the cul-de-sac?”

  “Four and a half, but yes. We own it now.”

  My eyes lit up. Two hands were gliding over my naked back, one from each side.

  “Really?”

  “Uh huh,” said Cole. “And we have estimates from three builders based on these plans, or something close to them. But you have to like them first.”

  “And to do that,” said Jacob, kissing my shoulder. “You have to actually look at them.”

  He nodded downward, and together all three of them began pointing out the features of the house. It was a beautiful, craftsman-style floor plan with a wrap-around deck and a huge central living room. The kitchen looked cavernous. When I mentioned the size of it, the others laughed.

  “Well you already have a lot of mouths to feed,” Tate replied. “And once we start knocking you full of babies, it’s only going to get worse.”

  “And that,” said Cole, pointing out a specific bedroom, “would happen right about… here.”

  On the floor plan, one of the bedrooms had been marked with a single word, scrawled in red ink. It was a word that made my heart swell:

  NURSERY.

  “Actually,” Jacob corrected him, “the knocking her up part would happen over here.” He pointed to the master bedroom.

  “And here,” said Tate, pointing to the other bedrooms. “And here. And here.”

  “And probably here,” said Cole, pointing to the living room, where the couch would most likely go. “And here in the kitchen. And then again in the den…”

  “Maybe even here in the double-garage,” Jacob pointed. When everyone looked at him, he shrugged. “From time to time.”

  My stomach lurched pleasantly at the thought of the guys getting me pregnant. We’d been talking about it for months now, and lately, more and more frequently. It was a dream of mine, and of theirs as well. And the closer we came to it…

  “What about outside?” I asked, joining in the fun. “On the porch? Out in the yard?”

  “In the swimming pool,” chuckled Tate. “And the pool house.”

  “There’s a pool house?” I cried joyously.

  “Well not yet,” frowned Jacob, looking down at the plans. “There’s not even a pool, to be honest. But there are four and a half acres.”

  “Maybe we should build the house first?” Cole laughed nervously. “To do things exactly the way we want them, it’s going to take a few months. Maybe half a year.”

  “Not if you boys are all working on it together,” I joined in the fun. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you can do anything if you all work together.”

  “We,” Tate shot back at me. He grinned wryly. “All four of us. Don’t think you’re getting out of this.”

  I did my best not to smile, and instead gasped back at him in mock astonishment.

  “But I’ll be — how exactly did you guys put it? ‘Knocked up full of babies’?”

  “Impregnated times three,” nodded Jacob. “Yeah.”

  “That sounds like fun,” I sighed, as the hands on my back began rubbing and kneading. “When do we start?”

  “We start when you throw your birth control away,” said Cole evenly. My eyes met his, and he wasn’t kidding. I knew in my heart that if it were up to him, throwing my pills away would happen immediately.

  “Maybe we should get the house built first,” I said, repeating his words from earlier. “And then, maybe to celebrate our first night in the new place…”

  “We knock you up?” Jacob asked hopefully.

  “Yes. That.”

  The hands on my back had wandered south, and were now gliding over my mostly naked ass. One of them pulled my G-string up like a rubber band and snapped it back down.

  “Of course, there’s nothing stopping us from practicing making babies,” I cooed, turning to kiss Jacob. His lips rolled against mine for a few long seconds, our tongues playing wetly as the others watched.

  “But we’ve already been practicing for months now,” said Tate. “No?”

  He pulled my chin gently in his direction, then started making out with me next. I could feel the heat in my belly rising. I’d been watching them at the wedding all day long, daydreaming about this moment.

  “Practice makes perfect,” said Cole, rolling up the blueprints. He slid them back into the tube before climbing onto the bed. “Or at least, that’s what my mother always told me.”

  I kissed him last, but definitely not least. All around me, I could feel the others shifting on the bed. Lifting their hips so they could slide their boxers downward, and be naked against my own naked flesh.

  “I’m always up for a little practice,” I purred. I rolled onto my back and s
tretched like a cat. Tate dropped his mouth over one warm nipple, Jacob over the other. I reached overhead, closing both hands around Cole’s already-hard, beautifully curved thickness.

  “And you boys can use my body to practice anytime you want.”

  Wanna read the ULTRA-HEA, sugary-sweet,

  super-sexy, flash-forward

  BONUS EPILOGUE?

  Of course you do!

  TAP RIGHT HERE TO SIGN UP!

  Or enter this link into your browser:

  https://mailchi.mp/kristawolfbooks.com/bonus-epilogue-trading-with-the-boys

  to have it INSTANTLY delivered to your inbox.

  Need more Reverse Harem?

  Thanks for checking out Trading with the Boys. Here’s hoping you totally enjoyed it!

  And for even more sweltering reverse harem heat? Check out: Three Christmas Wishes. Below you’ll find a preview of the sexy, sizzling cover, plus the first several chapters so you can see for yourself:

  Chapter One

  SLOANE

  CRRRRRRRASH!

  The expensive coffee machine didn’t just hit the ground, it exploded spectacularly into a thousand jagged pieces. Silver and black plastic flew everywhere as the guts spilled out all over the front lawn. I marveled at how very different it looked on the inside. So much so, that in pausing to stare at it, I actually forgot my anger for a moment.

  Shit.

  But only a moment.

  I really liked that thing.

  The innocent coffee machine had provided me thousands of hours of caffeine-infused energy, through hundreds of delicious beverages. It certainly didn’t deserve its fate. But it had been a gift to both of us; unfortunately presented by my boyfriend to me. Drake had spared no expense last Christmas in getting one that did everything, from espresso shots to foamed milk to—

  “Fuck you, Drake.”

  I spat the words as I scanned the apartment for any other signs of my now ex-boyfriend. Anything that might’ve been his was already scattered across the front lawn, hurled violently from our third-floor loft studio apartment. But I had to be sure.

  Three whole years…

  My fists clenched as I stalked from room to room, looking for anything he might’ve bought or given me. His clothes and toiletries were gone, all the bedding too. I’d have to buy new sheets and blankets — pillows as well — but anything was better than sleeping on the linens he’d soiled with his very presence.

  Or for all I knew, maybe even her presence.

  “Fuck you too, you giant-toothed bimbo.”

  It had been a freak thing, running across him at the very edge of town. It was a sandwich shop I’d never even heard of, tucked into the back end of a street I’d never even driven down. My first and only time going there…

  Funny how fate often intervenes in things like that.

  Halfway through waiting in line I’d noticed him, sitting in the corner with his back to me. Holding hands with some tall, red-lipped blonde. Both hands. Fingers intertwined.

  For a few seconds I stood there frozen, my mind conjuring up a thousand innocent reasons why my boyfriend would be having lunch with some long-haired blonde girl. But then he leaned in, and she leaned in… and they kissed.

  Kissed is an understatement.

  I was in shock, of course. The two of them practically made out at their little table, giggling and laughing while the customer behind me tapped my shoulder to urge me forward in line. Only the line didn’t matter anymore. My lunch break was over. My relationship, even more over.

  And yet…

  And yet somehow I knew this girl.

  Who the hell is she?

  At the time, my body refused to work properly. I wanted to storm over and make a scene. I wanted to yank my cheating boyfriend of three years backward by his hair, until he was forced to face me. And yet I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, could barely even move. It was all I could do to make it to the shop’s door on two shaky legs. To spill out into the street with tears filling my eyes, and a lump in my throat so big it felt like I might choke to death.

  The blonde.

  Red lips. Big teeth. Bright smile…

  She saw me on the way out, too. Her eyes had met mine and she’d stiffened instantly, before quickly looking guiltily away.

  All the way home I’d wracked my brain, focusing every ounce of my attention on trying to remember where I’d seen her before. She didn’t work with Drake. Not that I’d seen, anyway. And it wasn’t someone even tangentially within our circle of friends, which was really his circle of friends, because I’d stupidly given up most of my past life to live in his current one.

  Arriving back at our apartment my pent-up anger had burst forth all at once, exploding in volcanic fashion. I’d trashed everything that belonged to him. Thrown it straight out the window, after making sure there was no one else down there to be inadvertently buried beneath an avalanche of clothes, books, golf clubs, ski equipment, tchotchkes, and God knew what else.

  I took all of it — every single thing. Every last gift and picture frame, every shared purchase we’d ever made together, because even keeping that stuff would only remind me of a shared life that never happened.

  Finally I took the first photo we’d ever taken together… and held it preciously in my trembling hands. We were on the merry-go-round at a local carnival — one of those traveling state fair things that set itself up and took itself down over the span of a single weekend. We’d met at the ring toss. I was still holding the stuffed unicorn he’d won for me; the one that was upside-down and probably very confused in the middle of our front lawn now.

  My hands shook as my eyes glassed over with tears again. The photo had always meant so much to me. The two of us looked so happy, so excited. We had everything ahead of us...

  I could rip it in half right now, and that would be it. It could never be retaken. I could never go back.

  Do it.

  My fingers tightened, creating the beginnings of a crease that would turn into a tear. It would be so easy and cathartic, shredding the photo. Severing that last link between a past we enjoyed so much together, and a future I now knew would never happen.

  BZZZZZT!

  I stopped, letting the sound of my buzzing phone become the photo’s stay of execution, at least for now. It was Drake again. There were twenty-three new text-messages, of which I hadn’t read a single one. But now he was calling me…

  “Hello?”

  Drake hesitated at the other end of the phone, as if he hadn’t expected me to pick it up at all.

  “Sloane?”

  “Yeah asshole,” I spat acidly. “Who else would it be?”

  “Sloane I’m so worried about you!” Drake cried. “You haven’t been answering my calls, my messages, anything at all! I was starting to think—”

  “Who is she?”

  For a split second I thought he was going to actually tell me. Instead, he decided upon more lies.

  “What? W—Who are you talking about?”

  “The girl!” I shouted tearfully. “The blonde you were sitting with at the sandwich shop!”

  “Sandwich sho—” he paused stupidly mid-sentence, as if something suddenly — and innocently — occurred to him. “Oh, Sydney? She’s just a friend! A friend who—”

  “A friend who you hold hands and play tonsil-hockey with?” I demanded.

  For some reason, I was having fun. Even wounded and angry, there was an intoxicating sense of power that came with having the upper hand.

  “I saw you, dickhead,” I chuckled, almost manically, “with my own two eyes. I stood there for a whole minute, watching as you made out with this red-lipped bimbo, who I somehow kn—”

  HOLY SHIT!

  It came to me at once, in a flash of insight. The girl. Her face. Her big-toothed, red-lipped smile — all bright and cheerful — as she handed me back a few dollars in change.

  The girl from the Christmas tree lot.

  She’s the one who sold us our tree! The one who I�
��d paid with cash as Drake helped one of the lot’s workers tie the tree securely to the roof of his Range Rover.

  She’d wished us both a Merry Christmas before we drove off, staring strangely at my boyfriend the whole time. I remember her being all doe-eyed for him. I even remembered teasing him about it on the way home.

  “You’re being silly,” Drake had laughed dismissively. “Was she even pretty? I barely noticed her.”

  Somehow I’d let him convince me I was being foolish. I’d even thought it was cute that someone else had an insta-crush on my boyfriend. We decorated the tree together in the hours that followed, drinking wine and eating snacks I’d fixed earlier. It was one of the few good times we had together recently.

  And now…

  And now he’s lying through his fucking teeth.

  “Sloane? SLOANE?”

  In my flash of insight, I’d almost forgotten he was still on the phone. My blood was boiling. I was done with the lies.

  “Drake?”

  “Yes?”

  “You know we’re through, right?”

  Five long seconds of utter silence followed. Drake was thoughtless, selfish, and stubborn too. But if there’s one thing he wasn’t, it was stupid.

  “Yeah,” he answered finally, with a dejected sigh. “I—I know.”

  “Good.”

  The finality of it was refreshing, even if it hurt like hell. It was like ripping a Band-Aid off in one quick motion, rather than slow-playing it.

  “Answer one last question though?” I asked. “And be brutally honest with me?”

  Another bout of silence followed. Then: “Of course.”

  “Two possibilities exist,” I went on. “One, you met that girl when we bought the tree together. You saw she obviously liked you, and you went back later on to start something up with her.”