Page 82 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
Camryn lay down before me, wholly topless, as so many of my canvases in the past. This time though, there was a very distinct difference. There was an intimacy to our contact; asensual thrill that connected us in all new ways, even beyond the sexual boundaries we’d experienced before. And yet it was still distinctly sexual. There were even times she screwed herself into the bed, pelvis first, grunting softly as I worked. I held her firmly but gently, as she rode out the taboo excitement of being touched, smoothed, and penetrated over and over again, by a dozen or so tiny needles, a few thousand times per minute.
Two hours later I flipped a switch, and the constant drone of the tattoo gun finally went silent. The electricity between us was still palpable however, hanging there in the three in the morning silence.
Her tattoo wasn’t just great, it was magnificent. I’d made damn sure of that.
“Wanna see it?”
I set the machine down, and walked her to the full-length mirror. As I held up a smaller mirror behind her, Camryn’s breath disappeared in a gasp.
“Oh, Jaxon,” she cried, her voice catching in her throat. “It’s incredible!”
“I know.”
She whirled and kissed me deeply, in a way I’d never been kissed before. Her bare breasts were fire against my chest, her tongue sweet and tender in my mouth. She guided my hand between her thighs, where I found the lace of her panties absolutely drenched.
Before I lost control, I reached down with my other hand and tore the piece of artwork from my sketchpad. Camryn’s eyes shot open as I crumpled it up and threw it away.
“Why’d you do that?”
“So no one else will ever have it,” I told her. “It’s yours now, and yours alone.”
Those blue eyes were glassy now, like two liquid gems. She looked like she was about to cry.
“So… what do I owe you?” she asked breathlessly.
“Owe me?”
“For the tattoo.”
I sat down on the bed to start breaking down my machine. The smirk on my face said it all.
“Maybe we’ll work something out.”
Camryn slid straight into my lap, kissing me even harder as she straddled my thighs. Her arms slid over my shoulders. She began grinding her ass in a tight circle, making me instantly hard.
“I’ve got something you can work out,” she said with a wink. She took both my palms in hers this time, and I didn’t resist as she deposited them squarely on the twin globes of her beautiful ass.
“Starting now,” she hissed, hotly.
~ 46 ~
CAMRYN
The storm was as endless as it was unrelenting. It raged and roared and covered everything in sheets of glimmering ice that I couldn’t help but marvel over. Whenever there was a lull, we went out and shoveled. We ran the snowblower as well, but it took a more refined, manual touch to keep things like the power array and the Marauder from being totally buried.
When there wasn’t a lull, we occupied ourselves with feeding the fire. In fact, we fed it so generously that the cabin was actually hot at times. So hot that we were stripping off clothes every chance we got — and not just while playing poker.
Eventually, cloudy skies limited the power draw and we ended up shutting certain things down. The internet was already out, and we’d been reduced to viewing select titles from Sarge’s testosterone-fueled VCR collection. It was interesting, watching the guys laugh over the raw inaccuracy of certain war movies that were considered classics before they were even born. Every now and then though, we found a gem. One action movie was particularly sweet and romantic, and even said so in the title.Romancing the Stonebecame a new favorite of mine, among the rougher cut gems ofCommando,Predator,andThe Road Warriorseries.
All of which, I learned, were very, very Sarge.
Each day I checked the dry erase calender, and found one or more of the boys had put something down. The requests were always fun and playful, but sometimes more sexually adventurous. I was guilty of jotting down my own naughty little requests too, and the boys always took care of me. In turn, of course, I never denied them either.
Yet while the snow kept us inside, making us stir crazy, it also brought us closer together. We bonded over the games we played and the conversations we had, some of which — thanks to wine and liquor — went deeper than I would’ve imagined I’d let them go. I was baring my soul to these men, whether I liked it or not. And to my pleasant surprise, the boys were opening up just as much to me.
There were one-on-ones, where I lay in bed with each of them until the wee hours of the morning. Lazy, naked piles of flesh, where we’d all sprawl together, spilling our secrets. I learned about their pasts, their present, their hopes for the future. The bonds they shared — fueled by the chaos of combat — ran deeper than normal brotherhood. It superseded their jealousy, making it comfortable for them to have me, take me, and share me in front of one another. There were no walls between these three warriors; no barriers, no obstacles, no hidden secrets. There was only their small, closed circle of trust and love. A circle that had once included Sarge, God rest his soul.
And a circle that, perhaps, now included me.
