Page 116 of Ten Mountain Men

Lynx pushes my thighs even further apart, holding me wide open, and dips his head. I gasp as I feel his warm breath, his beard tickling my exposed sex. Then his tongue delves between my folds, licking a slow, torturous path from my opening up to my clit. I arch off the bed at the foreign but incredible sensation of his mouth on my most intimate parts.

“Oh, Sweet Lord,” I whimper, my fingers clutching the sheets as Lynx laps up my arousal with the flat of his tongue. He traces teasing circles around my throbbing clit before drawing it between his lips to suckle.

Holy damn fuckmonster.

He alternates between flicking his tongue rapidly over my clit and sucking it with increasing pressure. It’s almost too much stimulation and I writhe beneath him, panting heavily. But he pins my hips to the bed, not letting me escape the overwhelming pleasure…or is it torture? Both. Aching pleasure, sweet torture.

“The treatment isn’t complete without a climax,” he says before he seals his lips around my clit and sucks me hard as he thrusts two cock-sized fingers deep inside my heat.

I let out a keening cry, my body bowing off the bed as the orgasm crashes over me in intense waves.

Lynx crawls up my boneless body, a satisfied smirk on his face. “I’d say the treatment was very effective based on your response.”

“Oh, you mean when I was trembling and gasping out your name?” I laugh, still breathless. “Holy fuck, Doc. If that’s the cure, I never want to be without this particular affliction ever again.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to make this therapy a very frequent part of your care plan.” He winks.

I pull him down for a deep, sensual kiss, moaning at the taste of myself on his talented tongue. After a few minutes of making out, he sighs.

“As much as I hate to do anything other than this, ever, we should probably start lunch,” he says.

“Can you just hold me for a few minutes first?” I ask, and he immediately takes me in his arms, pulling me close.

“Lynx,” I say into his chest, because I don’t know why, but he seems to be the right one to tell. “I think I’m getting feelings. That’s not…possible, right? So soon?”

“Well,” he says, then lets out a deep sigh. “I’m afraid I think it is. Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s a cure for that.”

Chapter 36

Goldie

After lunch, Buck and Nash and I spent the afternoon doing more cleaning, while Luke made pies with the Moonspice apples. Will I ever be able to eat another apple without thinking of orchard sex with Clay? Will I ever be able to go to the doctor again without thinking about Lynx’s emergency cunnilingus therapy? Will I ever get five minutes alone in this damn living area to take the damn cameras down? If I had a Magic 8 Ball handy, I have a strong suspicion it would sayBetter not tell you noworOutlook not so good.

I was expecting that we’d be eating fish for, you know, every meal I didn’t make myself for the next two weeks, and I’d resigned myself to developing a taste for it. But apparently, they cleaned and froze that haul for the winter.

For supper, after making the pies, Luke made spaghetti and meatballs. I didn’t even think to ask what the meatballs were made of, though they tasted like chicken, so they could’ve been anything. I decided it was best not to think about it and focus on the fact that, like everything Luke cooked, they were delicious.

For dessert, everyone got their own pie, which the guys picked up and ate with their hands like hamburgers. I didn’t want to offend them by cutting a slice of mine and putting the rest in the refrigerator, so I chose the when-in-Rome-do-as-the-Romans-do route and ate my pie the same way they did. Of course, unlike them, I didn’t eat the whole pie. But there was something oddly freeing about just hefting it up and taking big bites out of it. And it was the best pie I’d ever tasted in my life.

Then it was time for reading and then bed by nine-thirty.

The old Goldie probably would’ve found this day-in-day-out routine mind-numbingly boring and a bit of a drag. But I find it oddly comforting.

It rained again and there were no leaks, so everyone was in a pretty good mood and there were no arguments about where I would sleep. The bed was set up for the three of us, so I just settled into my spot between Clay and Buck and drifted off into a blissful, dreamless sleep. An active sex life with multiple mountain men really wears a girl out, apparently.

The next morning, I wake up early, because we’re supposed to start cleaning again right after breakfast—which is the one everyone-for-themselves meal around here.

“Good morning,” I say, spotting Buck and Nash already at the table. They each have a pie. I grab an apple and some sunflower seed butter and join them.

“Morning, Goldie,” Nash says. “Sleep well?”

“Like a rock,” I reply. “You two ready to clean?”

Buck glances at Nash, then back at me. “We have to tend to the chickens first,” he says. “You can join us if you want.”

I blink. Tending to chickens? Somehow, that never made it onto my mental list of things these mountain men do.

“You have chickens?” I think of the meatballs last night. That tasted like chicken.

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