Chapter 18Goldie

Chapter 18

Goldie

A s Clay turns me so I'm facing him in the bed, his mouth captures mine at the very same second that his hand slides between my legs and his finger slips into my underwear. The huge pad of his fingertip circles my clit before settling at my entrance. Then he slips inside me, just the tip of his finger, and the sensation is like nothing I've ever felt before. I moan and he makes a sound, something animalistic, and kisses me harder. Behind me, Buck's hand touches my shoulder, and his hips flex, pushing his cock against my ass.

"Is this okay?" Clay whispers against my lips, his finger pushing further into me, and I moan my approval before he kisses me again.

Buck trails his lips along my shoulder as he holds my hips in place. Clay's finger pushes even deeper.

A squeal tears from my lips. We all go still. The symphony of snores around us dies—a strange soundtrack for getting frisky, but I hadn't even noticed it until the room is dead silent.

I bite my lip to keep from crying out as Clay begins sliding his finger in and out, starting with a slow, sensual rhythm but quickly turning into plunging strokes that have me writhing.

Oh sweet Lord.

"Oh fuck me," Clay pants.

Yes, sir , I think. Which is hypocritical since I don't want them calling me ma'am, maybe, but… oh, fuck, Goldie, shut your brain up and enjoy this .

Buck has slipped a hand inside my tank top, and the feel of his leather workingman's skin brushing my sensitive nipple has me hissing.

"Can I…?" He tugs the hem of my shirt, lifting it up. I nod. Then he's stripping it off in one movement that might have involved tearing it as though it were nothing but a paper towel off the roll. His hands fill with my breasts, which he's definitely handling with care, and when his huge cock-bulge bumps my ass through his boxers, matching the rhythm of Clay's deep strokes inside me, a groan of pure ecstasy tears from my throat.

"Are you okay? Is it your ankle?" Buck asks. He sounds like he's just run a full-ass marathon without a water break. "Did we hurt you?"

I can hardly catch my breath, but it's not exertion that's knocked the wind out of me. I'm breathless with desire.

Clay pulls his hand back, his finger sliding out of me. And I'm empty. So, so empty. All I can do is pant.

I want to strip him out of his boxers, right this instant. I want one of them—one of their cocks, not a finger—inside me. Now.

I have never wanted anything so badly in my life.

No, it's not even a want. It's a need.

I feel so empty I could weep. My pussy is like a big gaping wound and there's only one way to heal it.

I need a damn quote.

Waiting isn't just about patience; it's about marinating in life's flavors until the perfect moment for indulgence arrives. Like a fine wine or a slow-cooked stew, the sweetest moments are worth the wait!—Jean Donovan

But I want the stew. I want the wine. I have done the waiting. I am fully marinated and ready to go! And I don't even know who the hell Jean Donovan is, but I bet she's a hungry, horny bitch.

"I'm okay," I manage to say at last. "My ankle is fine. I mean, it's not fine, but it's not any worse than it was. You didn't hurt me. But…can we take a beat?"

We are going too far, too fast, and my will to stop is quickly diminishing. The whole soulmate spiel is even beginning to feel like bullshit, when it's meant something to me all my life. I withstood sexual temptation all through high school, through college, and my twenties, when my hormones were at their ragingest. And yet here I am again, wanting to throw every dream of perfection out the window and ride a big, fat mountain-man cock. Or maybe two. Buck in my pussy, Clay in my ass…I wouldn't be able to walk right for a few good years, but the thought has me so ready for it I don't really care.

"Sure," Buck says, but the word is ragged. "We…can…take…a…beat."

Suddenly I realize they both probably have a big ol' case of blue balls, so when we lie down on our backs with me in the middle, I reach out and brush my palms over the bulging fronts of their boxers.

"Can I…?" I dip my fingertips past each of their waistbands. They don't waste a second before they've both stripped their boxers off. I can feel the beds shift and rock as they move, and then I can feel them. All of them.

I wrap a hand around each of them. My fingertips don't meet, of course. Their girth is…girthalicious.

A giggle bubbles up within me.

Slowly, I stroke their lengths, up and down, up and down, eliciting a groan here and there.

"I have got to be dreamin'," Clay says. Buck is stock-still but Clay's hips are working, thrusting into my hand. "How the fuck did we get so lucky for you to wind up on our mountain, you sweet thang?"

I snort. "Did you just refer to me as ‘you sweet thang'?"

"Well…" His breath hitches. "I sure as fuck wasn't talking to Bucky."

I laugh quietly as I rub my thumbs over their swollen cockheads and they moan in unison. I stroke them both slowly, to the base and then back up, and they make twin panting sounds. I can't help grinning in the dark, wishing the moonlight was bright enough through the window for me to get a good look at them in all their glory.

I build up a rhythm, and the sounds they're making are starting to make me feel incredibly powerful. It's a heady feeling, knowing their grunts and groans are caused by my touch.

"Goldie…I'm…" Clay starts to say, but then he can't manage to speak. One of his hands slides over to my thigh, touching and squeezing my skin as he moans.

And then Buck's hips jerk and he makes a soft series of panting breaths. "I'm coming, darlin'."

They come at the same time, their cocks bulging in my hands, bigger than ever, and I can't get over how thick they are. My pussy aches for them, and as their seed spills over my fingers I am so tempted to lick it up.

"Here, darlin'," Buck says through heaving breaths, immediately giving me what feels like his T-shirt. I don't even have to move a muscle, though, because he takes one of my hands and begins to wipe my fingers. "Miss Goldie Locke, that was about the best feeling I have ever had and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. It was perfect."

I nearly laugh out loud, but he's so sincere. My cheeks are stretched wide with my smile.

Then I realize what he said.

Perfect . It was perfect, he said. Was it perfect? No, it wasn't planned, it wasn't…

"And I've gotta thank you from the depths of my soul," Clay says, "because there has never been a sweeter grip on me, that's for sure."

As Buck cleans my other hand, Clay kisses along my shoulder. I turn until he finds my lips and shows me just how much he appreciated what I did by teasing me with his tongue until I'm the one moaning.

"Do you want one of us to return the favor?" Buck asks me.

"I'm very good with my tongue," Clay says. "Just a general FYI."

I squirm because yesssssssss please. I am already very much back to tingling between my legs, and as a thirty-year-old woman who has never experienced receiving or giving oral, yessssssssss please.

But also…

My legs are already spreading, and not because Clay and Buck are both holding a thigh, teasing me with their touch. I want them in me so damn badly that the lack of control I feel when these dudes are touching me is scary. It's got to be something chemical or maybe biological, because my body is reacting to them like their cocks are a science fair project and my pussy wants to win first prize. Wait…what?

But if I don't watch out, the next reality show I work on could be Pregnant by the Mountain Bros , with me as a star, not a producer.

That thought is so ludicrous I almost laugh. One day, I'll be a mom, but it'll be after I've found my soulmate—the one and only man I'll ever marry, 'til death do us part—and then I will have a perfect little baby at the perfect time. I already have a Pinterest board where I've designed the perfect nursery.

Clay keeps stroking one of my thighs while Buck strokes the other one, patiently waiting for my response.

"Let's just talk for a bit?" I suggest.

I have to keep us from going too far, if for no other reason than I have no doubts that there are no condoms in the world large enough to sheath their schlongs—and more serious doubts that the birth control pills I'm on to control my periods would do anything to defeat their supersperm from impregnating me.

And I am truly attracted to Clay and Buck and Lynx and Nash…

But, I'm sorry, no. My first child, little Cameron Quinn (the perfect name for a boy or a girl), will not be born with hairy legs and a five o'clock shadow, as I'm sure any of the Bj?rnsson brothers' offspring will certainly do.

One hand still on my thigh, Buck tucks my curls behind my ear and kisses me sweetly on the cheek, his scaled-back beard tickling my skin. "Sure, we can talk. I'd love to know where you come from. What you do there. Where is home, Goldie Locke? What's your family like?"

I blow out a breath. If we get to that last question, my vag will go from ripe plum to shriveled-up raisin real fast.

"Well," I say, pushing thoughts of Mother and her many marriages and the fact that the last thing I heard from her was that she and Clive are dunzo out of my head. "I really don't have a home. I mean, I have a place I live. It's an apartment."

A perfect apartment, as much as any apartment can be perfect.

"But I didn't spend much time there," I admit.

"Why not?" Clay asks. His big hand is splayed across my belly, his long, thick fingers tracing circles on the skin just below my ribs. It tickles a little but mostly just feels good.

"Well, the job I had, it involved a lot of travel."

"The job you had?" Buck's hand has slipped underneath my neck and he's kneading it in a way that feels heavenly. "Past tense?"

I sigh.

"Do you know what reality television is?"

"Yes," Buck says, which surprises me, since they don't even have a TV unless it's buried underneath a pile of something or other and I just haven't seen it. "Some folks at the tavern explained the concept. They told us about this show, Survivor, and said we should try out for it."

I laugh. "I bet Grumpy Luke loved that idea."

"He said he'd sooner yank his own dick off and eat it in tiny bites than let anybody film his every move." Clay laughs too, but I nearly cough up a damn lung thinking of the cameras in the living room. The cameras I put in the living room.

"You need me to whack you on the back, sweet thang?" Clay asks.

As him doing so would probably dislodge every tooth from my mouth, I catch control of myself and shake my head which hopefully he can feel if not see. After I gulp, I try to say as normally as possible, "I need you to not call me sweet thang, I think."

"Go ahead and tell us your story, Goldie," Buck urges. "Were you on one of those reality television programs? Was that your job? You're so pretty we shoulda guessed you were some kind of television star."

I blush. "No, I wasn't on one of the shows. I was a producer."

"What's that?"

I explain it to them. Then I go on, telling them I'd never intended to get into reality TV. It just sort of happened. I bounced from one short-term gig to another. Then I got hired on the home reno show, 1 Girl, 10 Hammers , and became fast friends with Winnie and the guys. The environment was so fun and all the brothers were shirtless all the damn time, but there was still something wholesome about it. It had meaning. We gave amazing homes to deserving people. Being on the set with them felt like being home, felt like a family, so even though I knew being a reality TV producer was not the endgame for me, it never occurred to me to move on. Until the show was canceled, and I had no choice.

I recall a conversation I had with Winnie, not long after we wrapped the final episode.

"I have no idea what I'm doing with my life," I'd wailed at her over the phone. "I feel adrift! Totally adrift! Do you think I've peaked already? I think I may've peaked already."

I've been offered other gigs since, on other reality shows, but forget perfect. None of the other offers even felt right . I had ambitions. I just wasn't quite sure what those ambitions were then, other than more .

I explain all of that to Buck and Clay, even the convo with Winnie. But I stop just before I get to the part where I decided what I'm meant to do with my life. That happened while I was in the shower—where the best ideas tend to visit. The idea for my Bigfoot documentary hit me and I knew it was what I had to do. My calling. The perfect next thing.

Of course, I can't tell Buck and Clay that part, not when I'm still worried they might react like Grumpy Luke and send me away for good.

I'm not ready to leave them yet. Not even close.

"Anyway." I shrug.

"Let me guess. You decided there's no better place to sort things out than the great outdoors, and the fresh mountain air might clear your head, and the rest is history?"

"Something like that," I tell Buck. "Something like that."

I really do wish I could tell them the full truth. Part of me wants to.

But lying here between the two of them…I feel so relaxed, so at peace, so myself …so right. I don't want to ruin it.

"If you don't like sweet thang, how about sweetheart?" Clay asks.

I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I like sweetheart just fine."

Buck's fingers trail down my side. "You feel like fooling around a little bit more or you wanna try to get some rest?"

I take a deep breath.

"Will you try to make me come?" I whisper.

"Try?" Clay asks with a laugh. "Sweetheart, I can assure you, if you want to come, we will make you come."

"It would be our pleasure," Buck adds.

It doesn't take long for them to make me see stars. Buck's finger slides into me in one thick, slippery thrust, while Clay's mouth does wicked things to my right nipple. We all groan at once.

"Fuck, you feel good," Buck says as he strokes me, his thumb painting swirls of ecstasy over my clit.

"Come for us, sweetheart," Clay murmurs before going back to sucking my nipple, swirling his hot tongue around it while Buck pumps his finger in and out of me, my hips rising off the mattress, urging him even deeper. My thighs start to jerk as he increases the pressure on my clit, giving it the lightest tweak of a pinch.

My release comes swiftly, but the ride is long as Buck eases me through it. Clay moves from my tits to clamp his mouth over mine in a kiss, muffling the sounds of my earth-shattering orgasm.

Afterward, thoroughly satisfied and thoroughly spent, I cuddle up, sandwiched between the brothers. They fall asleep before I do. I can't believe what they just did to me, and what I just did to them. And I can't believe how mind-blowingly satisfied and at peace I feel.

I know I don't belong here on this mountain, with these mountain men.

But…even if it's just for a few secret moments in between nightfall and sunrise, I feel kind of like I belong here more than I've ever belonged anywhere else.