Page 46 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
CAMRYN
The next two weeks were a tornado of working, writing, cleaning and cooking. Of taking care of my own needs, the needs of others, and the house itself.
And of course, sex.
Hot sex. Unlimited sex. The type of sex that legends are written about, and tales are passed down from generation to generation, whispered in hushed tones from woman to woman.
The boys began writing all sorts of things on the dry erase board, and I was expected to adhere to them. Some of them were outright funny, while others were sexy, or sensual. Oakley put down that he wanted a date night, so I let him pick me up from work and take me to dinner and a movie. Ryder penciled in a midnight massage, so I showed up in his room with oils and a towel, and began stripping my clothes off.
“Wait,” he’d protested. “I was supposed to begettingthe massage!”
“Then you should probably be more specific next time,” I’d grinned back at him, before lying down and telling him which areas I wanted him to focus on the most.
In most cases we all ended up with our clothes off anyway; a situation I was gettingveryused to. I slept in my bedroom more often than not, but I was almost never alone,and there were times when I’d start in one bed and end up in another. I’d be carried off by Ryder when Oakley was done with me, or delivered warm and full to the opposite room, my panties dripping with come. Neither man minded sharing me, which I thought was odd at first. There was no fighting. No jealousy. No arguing over who went first, because each of them seemed to especially enjoy taking me after the other had had his way.
When it came to Jaxon however, things were different… but no less hot.
At first he hadn’t participated in my calendar game, beyond the occasional comment or remark. After demanding he needed to writesomethingdown, Jaxon had finally put a few things on the board. The trouble was, his requests were always tame. One night he wanted a steak dinner, and so I happily obliged. On another he’d asked for a six-pack of a very specific, but hard-to-find beer, so I’d gotten as close to it as possible, and whispered to him that I would make up the difference later that night with a sloppy, slutty-as-fuck blowjob.
“All you have to do is leave your bedroom door unlocked,” I’d breathed into his ear. “I’ll do the rest.”
That night I found his door not only unlocked, but Jaxon naked and stroking himself the same as last time. I’d stripped down before dragging my naked body all over his erection, then proceeded to give him the dirtiest, filthiest, most epic blowjob of all time.
Eventually, the boys began adding more daring things to the board. One of them scrawled the word ‘anal’, and I promptly crossed it off. Another one of them put it back. When I laughingly crossed it off again, in front of them, Ryder cornered me while we were carrying in firewood.
“Why not?” he’d asked. “Don’t you like it?”
I’d shrugged and dropped an armful of kindling. “Dunno. Never tried it.”
Ryder’s cerulean blue eyes lit up. “How do you know you won’t love it then?”
Standing there all sweaty, his big arms flexed tight and covered in sawdust, it was hard for me to deny him anything. With that in mind, for the next two days I really thought about it. I had always wanted to try, but had always been afraid. I’d heard horror stories. I’d seen girls go so far out of their way to avoid it.
Then again, I’d also heard it could be sinfully, wickedly good.
The next morning before any of them woke up, I put the word back on the calendar. But I added a few requests of my own:
Fine, anal. But first: bubble bath, Godiva chocolates, and go really,reallyslow.
I was still scared, and I still reserved the right to back out. But if I were going to ever try it, it would be right here, right now. Besides, I trusted these men. They’d done nothing but right by me. They made me feel safe, secure, and happy. At times, even loved.
I stepped back, pleasantly nervous. I’d given the boys something they wanted, something they could look forward to, at the end of a long week. In turn, I decided to take something for myself.
Reaching into my purse, I withdrew the fine tip marker I generally used with my ordering pad. In the box for today’s date, I added another entry:
House meeting, tonight. 9pm.
~ 27 ~
CAMRYN
“Meeting?” Ryder squinted, looking more closely at the fine-tip wording. “Meeting forwhat?”
He was the last to arrive in the kitchen, and he was fifteen minutes late. Not that it mattered. He hadn’t even seen the message until now. The others had come on time, but I seriously doubted they even noticed the tiny, blocked out print that I’d carefully scrawled beneath it.
“Why the hell is it written so small?” he complained.
“Because I wrote it in permanent marker,” I answered him, cracking the cap off a bottle, “so none of you could rub it out.”
