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.
