Page 29 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

I feel every tremor that ripples through Ivy's body, each one echoing in my own flesh. Her breasts are bouncing beneath her, her back arching as she screams, the sound vibrating against me. It tips me over the edge, and without warning, I'm coming too, my release flooding her throat.

Holt's rhythm falters, turns wild, erratic. His breath comes in ragged gasps behind her. He's close, so damn close. With a final thrust, he holds still, and I can almost feel his heartbeat pounding through her.

"Fuck," he groans, voice strained with the effort of his climax.

He gently eases out of her, and I watch him roll off the spent condom, his movements careful, almost tender. Then he leans down to press a soft kiss on Ivy's sweaty back. She shivers, a tiny aftershock from what we've just shared.

Holt straightens up, locks eyes with me. There's a wildness there, an untamed energy that matches the throb still pulsing through my veins.

"Dare you to do it again," he says, voice low, a challenge laced with that cocky grin I know all too well.

I look down at Ivy, her brown eyes wide and filled with heat. She's still catching her breath, still riding the high. A dare is a dare, but only if she's game. When she gives a little nod, I’m already hard again.

Fuck.This girl.

Chapter 12

Hank

Tossing. Turning.Notlistening. The sheets tangle around my legs like they're in on this goddamn torture. I lie there, eyes wide, staring at the rough-hewn ceiling of my cabin as if it might offer some kind of escape. But there's no escaping the sounds that slip through the thin walls.

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath. Can't sleep. Not with Ivy’s moans drifting through the air like a siren's call. It's been days since she first showed up here, all disheveled and lost. She’s a fucking temptation I can’t afford.

And I’ve managed. I’ve kept my distance, tried not to want her, pretending I don’t see the way my cousin and my best friend have been after her, too. Now, with her soft cries filling the night, I know Holt and Wyatt have won the game they've been playing since she arrived.

I roll onto my side, balling the pillow under my head. It's useless. The sounds just keep coming relentlessly. They pull at something primal deep inside me that I try to ignore every damn day. The need coils tight in my chest, spreads lower, and it's like my dick's got its own heartbeat now.

"Shit," I hiss, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. Gotta block it out. Gotta get some rest. But who am I kidding? There's no chance in hell I'm sleeping through this.

Each gasp and giggle from the other room hits me like a physical blow, stoking a fire I’ve got no business feeling. She’s not for me. She doesn’t belong here, in this rough mountain life, any more than I belong in her shiny world.

"Focus, Walker," I scold myself, but it's no use. My body's not listening, not when every cell is tuned in to the pitch of her pleasure. I can almost feel her beneath me, those whiskey eyes wide with surprise and something that could burn a man alive if he's not careful.

"Fuck." The word slips out, a prayer or a curse—I can’t tell which. My hand drifts down of its own accord, my fingers curling into a fist against my thigh, fighting the urge to give in to the images swirling in my mind. But resistance feels like fighting a wildfire with a teaspoon of water.

"Can't be doing this," I growl to the empty room, but the truth is written clear across my skin, in the sweat that clings to my brow and the undeniable throb below inside my sweats. Ain't no denying it; I won't find peace tonight—not until I find release.

The grunts are like a sledgehammer to my resolve. I grit my teeth, hearing Ivy's soft moans layered between their heavy breathing. Fuck. Each sound is a brand on my brain.

"Dammit," I whisper, each repetition a beat in the soundtrack of my frustration. My hand moves with a mind of its own, finding the rigid heat of my cock. The fabric of my sweats feels like sandpaper against my skin as I pull myself out, gripping tight at the base. Relief—it’s right there, hanging in the balance, taunting me.

But no. I squeeze harder, denying the urge to stroke, to give in. My knuckles go white. There's a war raging inside me, everyinstinct screaming for release while my willpower is holding up a red stop sign.

"Can't do this," I mutter under my breath, my voice barely audible over the chorus of pleasure from the living room. The battle rages on, but I’m determined not to fall. Not tonight. Not ever.

Each breath is an effort as I press a palm against the cold wall for support. The sounds—they're torture, sweet and maddening all at once.

"Fuck," I curse low, squeezing my eyes shut. What I'd do to be out there, just a shadow in the dark, watching Ivy lose herself. But no. That's a line I've drawn, solid as the mountains outside. She's a whirlwind of secrets, this girl, a storm that'll pass through and leave nothing but chaos in her wake.

"Shit," I mutter, the heat unbearable now, sweat trickling down my back. Her cry rings out again, higher this time, almost a song. It rips through me, straight to the core. My hand betrays me, moving on its own accord, up and down in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"Can't hold back," I admit to the empty room, voice hoarse. My grip tightens as her pleasure fills the space, vibrating in the air like electricity. With every stroke, I'm sinking, drowning in the fantasy of her, of us, lost in the sound of her ecstasy.

I grip the sheets tighter, trying to anchor myself to something, anything that isn't Ivy. But it's useless. Every moan she lets loose is a siren call I can't ignore. My mind races, imagining her beneath me, those chocolatey eyes glazed with lust, looking up at me. Her soft cries would be whispers meant only for my ears, her body arching into mine as I...

"Shit," I mutter under my breath. The images won't stop.

My hand moves up and down, rough and urgent. I reach down and cup my balls, squeeze hard, feeling the ache that goesbeyond physical. It's like I'm trying to wring out the frustration, the need, the goddamn loneliness that's been eating at me.

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