Page 63 of Ten Mountain Men

Or even let it go just a bit further? Let one of them actually put one of those fingers inside me? It could be like a little preview of what intercourse would actually be like?

Goldie!Spontaneity has never led to perfection!

But it has led to penetration, and that has some of the same letters in it as perfection!

And…it might lead to an orgasm, which, right now, sounds almost as good as perfection.

The thought of one of those fingers penetrating me, easing in and out of my core…

I accidentally let out another lusty moan, but before I can remove my hand from Buck’s chest in order to clamp my palm over my mouth, he moves closer, filling the empty space between us, and his mouth captures mine.

My brain short-circuits at the delicious taste of him, and my body comes alive at his touch. His lips are strong, and his hands are even stronger, and yet he’s gentle as he touches my face, skimming my jawline and down to my collarbone, softly, as if he thinks I’m delicate as glass. Yep, he’s definitely learned a few things.

I’m distantly aware of Clay drawing away from me, removing his hand from my hip, pulling back, giving us space. I don’t want space, I want him. Them. I make a small whimper of protest and reach back for him. My hand connects with his arm, and without breaking the kiss with Buck, I manage to pull Clay’s hand back to my hip.

He slides up closer, his thighs hugging my ass. And then his mouth is on my shoulder, kissing a line across the sensitive skin as Buck strokes my tongue with his. It feels so good. So, so good having their two warm, hard bodies wrap me in their manly, foresty scent as they touch and kiss and, oh my God,lick me.

“You taste like sunshine,” Clay says, his tongue teasing along my spine, drawing a shiver out of me.

“I know,” I whimper. What? “I mean, thank you.” What?

He laughs softly.

And then his hand slides over my hip and into the space between my legs.

I freeze for a fraction of a second, surprised more than anything.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Goldie,” Buck whispers to me.

“Well,” I say before I can stop myself. “Can we do the things Iwouldlike to do?”

Chapter 18

Goldie

As Clay turns me so I’m facing him in the bed, his mouth captures mine at the very same second that his hand slides between my legs and his finger slips into my underwear. The huge pad of his fingertip circles my clit before settling at my entrance. Then he slips inside me, just the tip of his finger, and the sensation is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I moan and he makes a sound, something animalistic, and kisses me harder. Behind me, Buck’s hand touches my shoulder, and his hips flex, pushing his cock against my ass.

“Is this okay?” Clay whispers against my lips, his finger pushing further into me, and I moan my approval before he kisses me again.

Buck trails his lips along my shoulder as he holds my hips in place. Clay’s finger pushes even deeper.

A squeal tears from my lips. We all go still. The symphony of snores around us dies—a strange soundtrack for getting frisky, but I hadn’t even noticed it until the room is dead silent.

I bite my lip to keep from crying out as Clay begins sliding his finger in and out, starting with a slow, sensual rhythm but quickly turning into plunging strokes that have me writhing.

Oh sweet Lord.

“Oh fuck me,” Clay pants.

Yes, sir, I think. Which is hypocritical since I don’t want them calling me ma’am, maybe, but…oh, fuck, Goldie, shut your brain up and enjoy this.

Buck has slipped a hand inside my tank top, and the feel of his leather workingman’s skin brushing my sensitive nipple has me hissing.

“Can I…?” He tugs the hem of my shirt, lifting it up. I nod. Then he’s stripping it off in one movement that might have involved tearing it as though it were nothing but a paper towel off the roll. His hands fill with my breasts, which he’s definitely handling with care, and when his huge cock-bulge bumps my ass through his boxers, matching the rhythm of Clay’s deep strokes inside me, a groan of pure ecstasy tears from my throat.

“Are you okay? Is it your ankle?” Buck asks. He sounds like he’s just run a full-ass marathon without a water break. “Did we hurt you?”

I can hardly catch my breath, but it’s not exertion that’s knocked the wind out of me. I’m breathless with desire.

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