Page 46 of Claimed By the Cowboys
“Oh, I’m going to need a drink before we get started,” I assured him, still a little wobbly with disbelief that I had just committed myself to bonding with Pack Blackwood.
“Good. Kota, pour us all a shot of whiskey, will ya? I’ll be right back,” Zeke stage-whispered as he set off for the large sliding doors into the kitchen to put Maisie to bed.
“Make mine a double,” Clay called, running a hand through his silver-streaked raven hair and sweeping it back from his tanned face. All clean-shaven, with that defined jawline, he was downright delectable.
Iwantedto bite him.
As we all made our way back inside through the kitchen, Montana helped his brother pull down the double shot glasses from the cabinets, lining them up along the edge of the island.Dakota ran down the line, filling each glass halfway with amber liquor, the last one filled to the brim for Clay.
I took a deep breath and sidled up to the island, aware of the guys’ eyes on me. Zeke’s heavy footfalls thumped louder until he was next to me, grinning with his hands rubbing together as he approached the line of whiskey shots.
“Don’t all of you jump in at once,” Zeke laughed, eyeing our apprehensive expressions, the awkwardness. “You’d think y’all were on the way to a root canal.” He shook his head and ushered us over to the counter.
“First things first.” He picked up his shot glass and waited for the rest of us to do the same.
“Bottoms up!” Zeke shouted, and the rest of us slugged down our whiskey. My eyes watered as it burned all the way down.
“All right.” Dakota wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “C’mon, over here.” He shepherded us into the living room, making sure to grab the bottle of whiskey.
Silently, Dakota made his way across the living room to the old record player and shelves full of old, dusty vinyl. He pulled out a record in a blue cardboard sleeve with a man’s face printed on it.
I’d never been one for oldies, especially not country, but when Dakota lowered the record player’s needle and the guitars began to twang softly, along with the gentle plinking of piano, I found my body swaying to the music.
Dakota reached out a hand to me, his eyes shining in the dim lights.
I let him fold me against his warm, strong chest, one hand clasped in his, the other pressed flat against him. Dakota snaked his hand across my hip, flattening it against my lower back. The move brought me even closer to him, and we danced in slow, small circles around the floor.
“If it's wrong to love you, wrong I'll always be—and though the world may scorn me, darling, can't you see—” The man’s quiet singing was backed by soft static crackles and pops.
With liquid grace, Montana stepped up to us, extending a hand in a wordless request to cut in. Dakota understood immediately and gently turned me, like a music-box ballerina, into the arms of his twin brother.
Montana swept me up easily, though he was a bit more rigid than Dakota at first. It felt so “senior-prom appropriate” that I wasn’t expecting Montana to lean down, catching my lips in a passionate kiss. His hands slipped from their dancer’s position to twine in my hair, pulling me closer as the music seemed to fade around us.
While Montana claimed my lips, our feet still shuffling in a slow rhythm, I felt hands at the small of my back, then a pair of lips on the nape of my neck. The hold crept around from my back to the front of my button-down sundress. Deft fingers worked open the pearly plastic buttons from my stomach up to the top near my collarbones.
From behind, Dakota moved slowly against me, the back of my skirt lifting as he pressed his denim-clad erection against the curve of my ass. His hands slipped into the open front of my sundress to toy with my hard nipples as Montana’s tongue swept greedily through my mouth.
When I surfaced from my kiss, I could see out of the corner of my eye that Clay was sitting back in his leather armchair, stroking himself through the heavy fabric of his jeans. The outline of the rungs of his Jacob’s ladder was just barely visibleifyou knew where to look.
From the chaise lounge, Zeke grinned, his massive cock already out in his hand, his knot swollen at his base.
Holy hell…
I let out a little surprised moan as my sundress slipped from my shoulders, and Montana leaned down to take one of my nipples in his mouth.
Dakota ran his hands gingerly down the sides of my bare rib cage, while Montana traced his tongue around one nipple, rubbing the pad of his thumb in circles around the other. Dakota went for my cotton bikini undies and began to tug them down.
Montana stood back long enough for his twin to rid me of my panties, which were soaked with slick. When I realized how naked I was compared to the twins, I spun around and began to unsnap Dakota’s blue plaid shirt, revealing his sculpted chest and abs, before I turned back to his brother, clawing at his large, decorative belt buckle until he swatted my hands away.
While I busied myself with undressing the twins, Dakota’s fingers slipped down between my legs from behind. His middle and ring fingers glided against my slick cunt.
I leaned forward against Montana, resting my hands on his shoulders to steady myself as Dakota pressed his middle finger deep inside of me.
“I can smell that sweet honeysuckle from here,” Zeke purred.
I turned to look at him, admiring how he stroked his length from the couch as I whined against Montana. Reaching down, I mirrored the pumping motion on Montana’s rigid cock.
“Please,” I begged as Dakota added another finger, stroking at my G-spot as I leaned more heavily into Montana.
