4. Noelle

noelle

. . .

Something weird was happening to me. And I’m not just talking about waking up in a dwelling that looked like it belonged in Better Caves and Gardens .

I glanced around helplessly, taking in the room’s earthy beauty. Smooth, curving walls felt more organic than man-made, as though they’d grown out of the earth itself. Soft light glowed from alcoves carved into the walls, filled with potted plants and handmade pottery that looked like genuine indigenous works of art.

A massive, arched window framed an impossibly scenic view of a misty forest, the trees so close they felt like they might lean in to say hello.

I was sitting in a pile of pillows, blankets, and what seemed like an entire laundry basket worth of clothes, faintly scented with cinnamon, marshmallows, and freshly roasted coffee. The scene might have felt cozy. Comforting, even.

But my body was tingling all over, and I was uncomfortable to the point of squirming.

Maybe because I’d just woken up completely naked in a cave, surrounded by three smoking-hot men.

Or maybe it was because those three insanely good-looking men were currently all staring at me with their mouths dropped open.

I wished... oh god, how I wished I didn't know why.

But I did.

They were staring because my hand had somehow found itself between my legs, moving in a way that was making a horrible, obscene, squelching sound. Because I was apparently that wet. Wetter than I'd ever been in my life. Wetter than I got when I read dirty alien romance novels with my vibrator on standby.

So wet, it felt like my core was leaking something that went beyond clinical terms like lubricant. Liquid need.

My pussy was now coated with liquid need, and a thick cloud of heady sweetness had joined the cinnamon and roaring fire scents, clinging to my nose like pollen in spring. But instead of sneezing, I was… breathlessly masturbating. Rubbing at the new but soul-deep ache between my legs.

And I couldn’t stop.

No, seriously—I couldn’t stop myself.

It was as if some primal part of me had taken control, overriding every ounce of decency I had left as I rubbed my fingers frantically over my suddenly sopping-wet folds.

Oh, and this was all happening in front of three strangers.

Three incredibly hot strangers.

One of them was shaggy and rugged, with sandy-brown hair that curled wildly around his head and a matching beard. A forest-green tee that said Bear Mountain Grill in golden letter stretched taut across his chest, and his striped boxer shorts left nothing to the imagination. Wide and broad, he could’ve stepped straight out of a lumberjack calendar—though the intensity in his amber eyes as he watched me debase myself let me know this man was not thinking about chopping wood for charity.

The second guy crouched closest to me was lean, with sharp, almost too-perfect features framed by wind-swept dark hair. His black eyes were both kind and piercing, as though they could see straight through every layer of my soul. If my hand wasn’t currently moving with a mind of its own, I might have found his calmly intent stare the most unnerving thing happening to me at the moment.

The third man towered over us all, his sheer size dominating the room. With broad shoulders and a thick, dark beard, he looked like a god—the kind that ruled over stuff like mere mortals and thunderstorms. His icy-blue eyes flashed lightning under his heavy brow, and his deep scowl made me want to dig my own grave with my other hand.

Unfortunately, all that brooding intensity only made him hotter.

Actually, they were all so devastatingly good-looking, my eyes ping-ponged between them, trying to decide who I wanted to stare at the most as my hand moved between my legs.

Still, that was no reason to openly touch myself in front of them as they stared at me in electrified silence.

But I couldn’t stop myself.

My skin prickled with a strange, static-like energy, and my heart pounded in my chest as my body ached with a need I couldn’t explain—or sate, no matter how frantically I rubbed.

It was maddening. Embarrassing. Overwhelming.

Then, it got worse.

My hand stilled for a moment—thank god—but only to rise of its own accord. Before I could stop it, I smeared the slickness on my fingers directly onto the face of the man crouched closest to me.

“Ursa’s Claw!”he bit out, stumbling back as if I’d slapped him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I did that!”I cried, my voice breaking with equal parts mortification and confusion.

“It’s okay!”he said quickly, though his reassurance came out high-pitched and strained and his cheeks flushed as he added, “Completely… natural.”

His eyes darted away from me, and he said,“Cody, you’re… you’re going to have to take over until I can… um, until…”

Against all reasonable logic, my hand started moving between my legs again. I groaned. Who was Cody? And what was wrong with me?

Tears sprang to my eyes, hot and stinging. I was so mortified. So confused.

“It’s okay. Seriously, it’s okay,”the lumberjack said, his voice low and reassuring as he crouched down where the other man had been. He gently took my free hand in both of his, his calloused thumbs brushing over my knuckles."Come here, cocoa bean. Come to me now. C'mon."

He pulled me forward, and suddenly, I was no longer on the floor but in his lap. The smell of cinnamon surrounded me as I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. I buried my face in his shockingly hard shoulder like he was a buoy in a lake storm.

Speaking of hard... My drenched core brushed against the huge bulge behind his striped boxers, and I whimpered, need tangling with shame in my belly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"I cried out. Even as I pressed closer, my hips moving on their own, seeking relief."I'm so sorry!"

"Ssh, it's okay, cocoa bean. It's not your fault. It's mine."His lips trailed up and down my neck, his breath whispering against the sensitive skin as he murmured,"Take what you need. Whatever you want. I've got you. I've got you."

His words sent sparks shooting through me, and I whimpered as the tension in my body built to a breaking point. Frantic sounds fell from my lips as I rode the thick bulge beneath me, hips bucking faster and faster until?—

My head fell back, and heat exploded across my skin. A wave of pleasure rose inside me, gentle and steady, like lake waves lapping against the shore on a hot summer day.

But it wasn’t summer. It was closing in on official winter.

And cold, gray ice took over all the warmth when I realized what I’d just done. I had dry humped the lumberjack—though there was nothing“dry”about it. I could feel the wet patch of liquid need I’d transferred onto his formerly pristine boxers.

“Oh god…”

“Okay, don’t start with that again.”He hugged me closer, enveloping me in his warmth.“You did so good, cocoa bean. You needed to clear your head so we could talk, and that’s what you did. You’re so pretty, and I feel so lucky. The only thing you need to say to me is, ‘you’re welcome.’”

You’re welcome.

Of course, I didn’t say that. But his words calmed me.

The lustful haze in my mind had lifted—he was right about that. The strange, insistent need still pulsed beneath my skin, burning in the pit of my stomach. But it no longer felt like a psychotic break.

Happy, contented feelings rushed through me as I let myself be comforted by him, melting deeper into his hug.

“What’s your name?”he asked. Then, as if he could feel my spike of mortification at realizing I'd just very wet humped someone who didn't even know my name, he added softly,“No need to be embarrassed. Just tell me who you are, cocoa bean. We’re all dying to know.”

For some reason, I found it easy to obey his gentle command. The spike of mortification ebbed, and I whispered into his neck,“Noelle. My name is Noelle. And you’re…?”

“ Mate ,”a voice inside my head answered before he could speak. It was like mine but deeper, more resonant and primal. My left shoulder tingled as the not-quite-me voice insisted, Mate. Mine. My mate.

“Yes, I’m your mate,”the lumberjack said softly.“If you’ll have me—have us.”

Wait. Could he…?

I stiffened in his warm embrace. Could he hear me? Hear my thoughts?

“Yes, I can hear you, Noelle.” A deeper voice that wasn’t his—but somehow was—answered inside my mind, clear as day. “And by the way, that’s a beautiful name.”