Page 33 of Bossy Mountain Daddies (Reverse Harem Mountain Daddies #3)

Skye

I pace around my small room above the bar, checking my overnight bag for the third time. Toothbrush, change of clothes, the lacy underwear I threw in my suitcase when I left the apartment, even though I didn’t think I’d need it.

"This is insane," I mutter to myself, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're insane, Skye."

And yet I can't stop smiling.

A knock at my door makes me jump.

"You about ready?" It's Buck's voice, warm and casual like we're heading out for a normal day trip and not... whatever this is.

"Just about," I call back, zipping my bag closed. "Be right there."

I take one last look in the mirror. I've kept it simple—cutoff shorts, a soft white t-shirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail. Nothing special, yet my reflection shows flushed cheeks and bright eyes that give everything away.

When I step outside, they're all waiting by Griff's truck. Three sets of eyes turn to me, and the weight of their collective gaze makes my knees go weak. Ford smiles in that thoughtful way of his, Buck grins widely, and Griff—Griff just looks at me like he's already undressing me in his mind.

"Right on time," Ford says, checking his watch.

Griff opens the passenger door with a nod. "Ready to head out?"

"Absolutely," I reply, trying to sound breezy and not like my heart's about to pound out of my chest.

We arrange ourselves with Griff behind the wheel and Ford in the passenger seat. Buck slides into the back beside me, his large frame making the seat feel smaller.

As Griff pulls onto the road, I watch his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the way his eyes narrow slightly in concentration.

Ford fiddles with the radio, settling on a classic rock station.

The normalcy of it all—four friends on a road trip—almost makes me laugh, considering what we all know is going to happen once we reach the cabin.

"It's about an hour drive," Ford says, turning to look at me. "The place is pretty remote."

"Remote sounds perfect," I reply, and the heat in his eyes tells me he catches my meaning.

Twenty minutes into the drive, Buck's hand lands casually on my knee. I glance at him, but his face reveals nothing as he stares out the window, commenting on the scenery. His fingers, though, begin moving up the bare skin of my leg, slowly inching upward along my thigh.

My breath catches. Up front, Griff and Ford are deep in conversation about some local politics issue, completely oblivious to what's happening in the backseat. Buck's hand continues its journey, slipping beneath the hem of my shorts, his rough fingertips dragging against my inner thigh.

I shift in my seat, giving him better access. He takes the invitation, his fingers traveling higher until they brush against my panties. I bite my lip to keep from making a sound.

"You okay back there?" Ford asks, turning slightly. I guess I wasn’t as quiet as I thought I was.

"Fine," I manage, my voice higher than normal. "Just enjoying the view."

Buck suppresses a smile, his middle finger pressing against the damp fabric between my legs. I clamp my thighs together, trapping his hand, but he doesn't relent. Instead, he leans closer, his lips near my ear.

"Spread your legs a little more," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "Let me make you feel good."

I comply, relaxing my thighs enough for his hand to continue its exploration. He pushes my underwear aside and I have to stifle a gasp as his finger slides inside me.

The truck hits a bump, and Buck's finger drives deeper. I grip the seat, my knuckles turning white. The men in the front seat remain oblivious, the radio and their conversation masking the wet sounds of Buck's finger working in and out of me.

He adds a second finger, and I lean my head back, closing my eyes. Fuck, that feels so good…

"Need to stop for gas," Griff announces, pulling into a small station on the side of the road.

Buck withdraws his hand so smoothly it's like nothing happened. I'm left breathless, aching, right on the edge of something I desperately need to finish. As Griff parks beside a pump, I try to compose myself, smoothing my shorts and running a hand through my hair.

"I'm going to hit the restroom," Buck says, opening his door.

"Me too," Ford adds, unbuckling his seatbelt.

They both exit, leaving me alone with Griff, who turns to look at me over his shoulder.

"Having fun back there?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.

My face heats. "You knew?"

His lips curl into a smirk. "You're not as quiet as you think."

Before I can respond, he's out of the truck, heading to pay for the gas. I watch him through the window, even more turned on knowing he was aware of what Buck was doing.

Five minutes later, they all return. To my surprise, Ford opens the back door and slides in beside me, so I'm sandwiched between him and Buck. Griff catches my eye in the rearview mirror as he starts the engine, his gaze dark and knowing.

"Better make her comfortable for the rest of the trip," he says to the men on either side of me.

Ford's hand lands on my thigh, mirroring Buck's position on my other side. "That's exactly what we had in mind."

As we pull back onto the highway, both men's hands begin to move. Buck's fingers find their way back between my legs, while Ford's hand slides under my t-shirt, traveling up to cup my breast through my bra.

"Is this okay?" Ford asks, his voice low against my ear.

I nod, unable to form words as Buck resumes his earlier rhythm, fingers curling inside me. Ford's thumb brushes over my nipple, which hardens instantly under his touch. When he pinches it lightly, I have to bite down on my fist to keep from moaning.

"Let us hear you," Buck whispers. "Griff already knows what we're doing."

That knowledge—that Griff can hear me, is watching in the mirror as his friends pleasure me—pushes me closer to the edge.

Ford slips his hand beneath my bra, skin against skin now, rolling my nipple between his fingers, while he kisses my neck.

Buck's pace increases, his thumb finding my clit and circling it mercilessly.

"Oh god," I gasp, unable to hold back anymore.

"That's it," Ford encourages. "Let go for us."

The dual sensations—Buck's fingers inside me, Ford's hands on my breasts—combined with Griff's eyes occasionally meeting mine in the mirror, push me over the edge. I come hard, my body jerking between them, a cry tearing from my throat.

I slump against the seat, breathless and boneless.

"Beautiful," Ford murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.

In the mirror, Griff's eyes are dark with desire. "And we haven't even reached the cabin yet," he says, his voice rough with promise.

I close my eyes, still feeling the aftershocks ripple through me. If this is just the beginning, I'm not sure I'll survive what comes next.

Ten minutes later, the cabin appears around a final bend in the road, and my breath catches. "Cabin" doesn't do it justice—it's a modern architectural marvel of glass and cedar perched on the edge of a cliff, the mountains stretching endlessly beyond it.

Griff parks the truck, and we all sit for a moment, taking in the view. After what happened in the backseat, the air between us crackles with anticipation. We're not even inside yet, and I'm already imagining all four of us tangled together on whatever luxurious bed awaits within those walls.

"Ford," I say, turning to him. "This place is incredible!"

He smiles, satisfaction evident in his eyes. "Wait until you see inside."

We grab our bags and approach the front door. Ford punches a code into the electronic lock, and we step into a space that makes me gasp.

Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the mountains like living art. A massive stone fireplace anchors one wall, while sleek, modern furniture creates intimate seating areas throughout the open floor plan. The kitchen gleams with professional-grade appliances.

"Jesus," Buck whispers beside me. "Nice place."

"Worth every penny," Ford replies, his eyes on me.

Griff sets down our bags and crosses to the windows. "Check out the view from the deck," he says, sliding open a glass door.

I follow him outside, where a hot tub sits on the edge of the wooden deck, overlooking the valley below. The mountain air is crisp and clean in my lungs, a stark contrast to the heat building inside me.

"Let me show you the bedroom," Ford says from behind me, his hand settling at the small of my back.

The master bedroom takes up the entire upper floor—a loft-like space dominated by a massive bed and more of those incredible windows. A bathroom visible through an open door reveals a sunken tub positioned to take advantage of the view.

We stand there, the four of us, no one speaking. The sexual tension from the car ride hasn't dissipated—if anything, it's intensified, condensed into this moment of shared understanding about what happens next.

Buck breaks the silence, stepping toward me. "Been thinking about this since you first walked into the bar," he murmurs, his large hands framing my face.

His mouth covers mine, and I melt into him, opening for his tongue. Then Ford is behind me, his hands sliding under my shirt, skimming up my sides. Griff moves to my side, his lips finding my neck.

I'm surrounded, every sense on overdrive.

Buck's kiss, Ford's hands, Griff's mouth—they create a circle of pleasure that makes my legs feel like they’re going to give out.

Someone—Ford, I think—pulls my shirt over my head.

Buck unclasps my bra while Griff's hands unbutton my shorts, pushing them down my legs.

I stand before them in nothing but the lacy underwear, feeling powerful under their hungry gazes.

"Beautiful," Griff says, his voice husky. "So fucking beautiful."

They undress quickly, and I drink in the sight of them—three very different but equally magnificent male bodies. Buck, big and broad with that sleeve of tattoos. Ford, leaner but still muscular, his cock impressively thick. Griff, solid and strong, his salt-and-pepper hair dusting his chest.