Page 64 of Ten Mountain Men

Clay pulls his hand back, his finger sliding out of me. And I’m empty. So, so empty. All I can do is pant.

I want to strip him out of his boxers, right this instant. I want one of them—one of their cocks, not a finger—inside me. Now.

I have never wanted anything so badly in my life.

No, it’s not even a want. It’s a need.

I feel so empty I could weep. My pussy is like a big gaping wound and there’s only one way to heal it.

I need a damn quote.

Waiting isn’t just about patience; it’s about marinating in life’s flavors until the perfect moment for indulgence arrives. Like a fine wine or a slow-cooked stew, the sweetest moments are worth the wait!—Jean Donovan

But I want the stew. I want the wine. I have done the waiting. I am fully marinated and ready to go! And I don’t even know who the hell Jean Donovan is, but I bet she’s a hungry, horny bitch.

“I’m okay,” I manage to say at last. “My ankle is fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but it’s not any worse than it was. You didn’t hurt me. But…can we take a beat?”

We are going too far, too fast, and my will to stop is quickly diminishing. The whole soulmate spiel is even beginning to feel like bullshit, when it’s meant something to me all my life. I withstood sexual temptation all through high school, through college, and my twenties, when my hormones were at their ragingest. And yet here I am again, wanting to throw every dream of perfection out the window and ride a big, fat mountain-man cock. Or maybe two. Buck in my pussy, Clay in my ass…I wouldn’t be able to walk right for a few good years, but the thought has me so ready for it I don’t really care.

“Sure,” Buck says, but the word is ragged. “We…can…take…a…beat.”

Suddenly I realize they both probably have a big ol’ case of blue balls, so when we lie down on our backs with me in the middle, I reach out and brush my palms over the bulging fronts of their boxers.

“Can I…?” I dip my fingertips past each of their waistbands. They don’t waste a second before they’ve both stripped their boxers off. I can feel the beds shift and rock as they move, and then I can feel them. All of them.

I wrap a hand around each of them. My fingertips don’t meet, of course. Their girth is…girthalicious.

A giggle bubbles up within me.

Slowly, I stroke their lengths, up and down, up and down, eliciting a groan here and there.

“I have got to be dreamin’,” Clay says. Buck is stock-still but Clay’s hips are working, thrusting into my hand. “How the fuck did we get so lucky for you to wind up on our mountain, you sweet thang?”

I snort. “Did you just refer to me as ‘you sweet thang’?”

“Well…” His breath hitches. “I sure as fuck wasn’t talking to Bucky.”

I laugh quietly as I rub my thumbs over their swollen cockheads and they moan in unison. I stroke them both slowly, to the base and then back up, and they make twin panting sounds. I can’t help grinning in the dark, wishing the moonlight was bright enough through the window for me to get a good look at them in all their glory.

I build up a rhythm, and the sounds they’re making are starting to make me feel incredibly powerful. It’s a heady feeling, knowing their grunts and groans are caused by my touch.

“Goldie…I’m…” Clay starts to say, but then he can’t manage to speak. One of his hands slides over to my thigh, touching and squeezing my skin as he moans.

And then Buck’s hips jerk and he makes a soft series of panting breaths. “I’m coming, darlin’.”

They come at the same time, their cocks bulging in my hands, bigger than ever, and I can’t get over how thick they are. My pussy aches for them, and as their seed spills over my fingers I am so tempted to lick it up.

“Here, darlin’,” Buck says through heaving breaths, immediately giving me what feels like his T-shirt. I don’t even have to move a muscle, though, because he takes one of my hands and begins to wipe my fingers. “Miss Goldie Locke, that was about the best feeling I have ever had and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. It was perfect.”

I nearly laugh out loud, but he’s so sincere. My cheeks are stretched wide with my smile.

Then I realize what he said.

Perfect. It was perfect, he said. Was it perfect? No, it wasn’t planned, it wasn’t…

“And I’ve gotta thank you from the depths of my soul,” Clay says, “because there has never been a sweeter grip on me, that’s for sure.”

As Buck cleans my other hand, Clay kisses along my shoulder. I turn until he finds my lips and shows me just how much he appreciated what I did by teasing me with his tongue until I’m the one moaning.

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