Page 41 of Bossy Mountain Daddies (Reverse Harem Mountain Daddies #3)

Skye

I can’t stop thinking about the promise of what's to come later. The memory of what we've shared before. The heat of what we all clearly want again.

"Table six needs another round," I tell Griff, leaning closer than necessary across the bar.

His fingers trail along my wrist as he takes the empty glasses. "You holding up okay?" he asks, looking me deeply in the eyes.

"I'm good," I say, and I mean it. Better than good. I feel alive, every nerve ending awake and singing. "Just... distracted."

The corner of his mouth quirks up. "That makes two of us."

Across the room, Buck emerges from the kitchen, his eyes finding me immediately. The heat in his gaze makes my stomach flip. When I deliver drinks to a nearby table, he brushes past me, his hand skating across the small of my back. It's the briefest touch, but it leaves a trail of fire on my skin.

Ford appears at my side as I'm clearing empties from a recently vacated table. "I can't stop thinking about later on tonight," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "About all of us together."

"Me too," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

For the next hour, we all circle each other like planets in orbit, never straying too far, the gravity between us undeniable.

Every stolen touch, every meaningful glance, every "accidental" brush of bodies as we pass in the narrow space behind the bar—it all builds, until I'm practically vibrating with need.

It's just past ten when Griff checks his watch. "We're closing early tonight, folks," he announces to the half-full bar. "Last call."

A few groans rise from the crowd, but most people just finish their drinks and pay their tabs without complaint. Vanna, wiping down a table nearby, raises an eyebrow at me.

"Early night, huh?" she asks, her tone innocent but her eyes knowing.

"Apparently," I reply, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

She glances between me and the guys, who are moving with unusual efficiency to clear the bar. A slow smile spreads across her face. "I can finish up here," she offers. "You four go... rest."

The word choice makes me snort. "Rest. Right."

"You know what I mean." She bumps her hip against mine. "Go. Have fun." She pauses, her expression softening. "I'm glad you're back, Skye. They need you."

The simple statement catches me off guard, and I have to swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. "Thanks, Vanna."

Vanna shoos all of us toward the door. "Go on, get out of here. I've got this."

"You sure?" Griff asks, though he's already hanging up his apron.

Vanna rolls her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Now skedaddle before I change my mind."

Buck doesn't need to be told twice. He practically drags me toward the door, his large hand engulfing mine. Ford and Griff follow close behind, and I can feel the anticipation rolling off all of them.

The short drive to Ford’s house is silent, the air thick with sexual tension. We all tumble inside.

"Drink?" Ford offers, but we all shake our heads.

"Later," Griff says, his voice rough.

Ford nods, then gestures toward a sliding glass door. "The deck?"

The wooden deck extends from the back of the house, overlooking a small clearing surrounded by pine trees. Strings of lights hang overhead, casting a warm glow over several comfortable lounge chairs and a small table. The night air is cool against my skin.

"It's beautiful out here," I say, stepping to the railing to look up at the stars.

"Speaking of beautiful," Buck says behind me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders.

I turn to face them, my three men, standing there watching me with desire on their faces. A delicious boldness overtakes me, born from the certainty that I am exactly where I want to be, with exactly who I want to be with.

Without taking my eyes off them, I reach for the hem of my t-shirt and pull it over my head.

Their collective intake of breath is audible in the quiet night.

I unhook my bra next, letting it fall to the deck.

My shorts and underwear follow, until I'm standing before them completely bare, the night air raising goosebumps across my skin.

I move to one of the lounge chairs and lie back, my heart racing with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "Who's first?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.

They exchange glances, some silent communication passing between them.

"Me," Ford says, already unbuttoning his shirt. The others step back, giving him space but staying close enough to watch.

“First things first though. We’re all going to fuck you and bring you this close to getting off,” he indicates with his fingers how close. “But we’re not going to let you come until the end. How’s that sound?”

I nod my head in understanding, unable to speak at the thought of it.

He undresses quickly, his body lean and strong in the soft glow of the string lights. He leans in and gives me a long kiss and he tastes so good I can barely contain myself.

When he kneels between my legs, his hands are gentle on my thighs, spreading them wider. "I've missed you," he whispers, before lowering his mouth to taste me.

I arch against him, a gasp escaping my lips. His tongue is slow and deliberate, finding all the places that make me squirm. From the corner of my eye, I see Buck and Griff watching us intently as they touch themselves over their jeans.

Ford’s tongue is amazing, flicking and lapping at my clit.

I’m sprawled out on the lounge chair, legs spread wide, and he’s buried between my thighs like he’s starving for me.

The heat of his breath against my wet, swollen pussy makes me shiver, and I can’t stop my hips from bucking and grinding against his mouth.

He’s relentless, humming against me, sending vibrations through my clit that make my toes curl and my breath hitch.

“Fuck, Ford—” I gasp, my voice trembling, raw with need. He growls in response, doubling down on his assault. His tongue circles my clit slowly, like he’s savoring every second, and then he flicks it hard, fast, making me cry out. My fingers tangle in his hair, and I’m whimpering, begging for more.

Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he slides a finger inside me.

It’s thick and unyielding, stretching me perfectly, and he curls it, finding that sweet spot that makes me forget my own name.

He adds a second finger immediately, and I’m so wet, so open for him.

He starts pumping his fingers in and out of me with a rhythm that’s pure fucking torture, hitting every nerve, every sensitive spot, until I’m thrashing beneath him, my pussy clenching around his fingers.

“Fuck—” I choke out, my voice breaking, my body trembling on the edge of an orgasm that feels like it’s going to wreck me. My clit is throbbing, my pussy is spasming, and Ford’s tongue is relentless, flicking, sucking, driving me wild. I’m so close, so damn close?—

And then he stops.

He pulls away, leaving me gasping, my body throbbing with unfulfilled need.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. “I want to hear you beg.”

When Ford enters me, the fullness is exquisite.

He moves slowly at first, his eyes never leaving mine, each thrust deliberate and deep.

I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him closer, deeper.

The deck is quiet except for our breathing, the occasional creak of the lounge chair, and the soft sounds of pleasure I can't hold back.

As Ford's rhythm quickens, Buck moves closer, his hand in my hair, turning my face toward him. "You're so beautiful like this," he says, his voice thick with desire.

Ford tenses above me, his release coming with a groan against my neck. He stays there for a moment, his weight a comforting pressure, before sliding away with a kiss to my forehead.

Buck strips and takes his place immediately, his large frame hovering above me as he positions himself between my legs. He enters me in one smooth thrust that makes my back arch off the chair.

"Missed you so fucking much," he grunts, his pace already faster, more urgent than Ford's. His hands grip my hips, lifting me slightly to change the angle. The new position hits something inside me that feels so fucking good.

Griff moves to stand by my head, his hand replacing Buck's in my hair. I turn my face to him, taking his cock in my mouth as Buck continues to drive into me. The dual sensation—Buck between my legs, Griff in my mouth—pushes me quickly toward the edge again.

Buck moves his hand between us and he begins circling my clit with a lazy, maddening rhythm. He’s enjoying watching me squirm, my hips bucking against his hand, my breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.

“You want to come so bad, don’t you, baby?” His voice is low. His thumb presses harder, just enough to make my clit throb, and a whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it.

“I need it.” My voice is trembling, weak, betraying how desperate I am for him to just let me come.

“I could fucking make you come right now if I wanted to,” he says, his tone taunting. I’m so close. I can feel it building in my core, this tight, delicious pressure that’s teetering on the edge of explosion. My thighs are shaking, my fingers clawing at the chair cushion.

But then—just like that—he stops. I let out a frustrated groan, my hips jerking instinctively, chasing his touch.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice rough with arousal, and then he’s thrusting deep into me again, his cock stretching me wide, filling me so completely that I can’t help but moan.

He’s fucking me slow, deliberately, his hips rocking against mine, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside me with every stroke.

I grab onto his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin, and he grunts, his eyes dark with lust. “You’re so fucking tight,” he growls, his pace quickening just a little, just enough to make me whimper.