Page 9 of Her Mountain Boss (Honey Ridge #3)

Five

Sophia

Four.

That’s how many times I made myself come last night thinking about Ford.

Thinking about worshipping his cock while on my knees, thinking about spreading my legs for him whenever he wants, thinking about doing whatever he tells me to do as long as he does it in that gruff, bossy way that absolutely ruins my panties.

After exhausting myself, I fell into a deep sleep where my dreams were filled with Ford. His deep, commanding voice, his huge, calloused hands, his massive body.

I press my face into my pillow and squeal. I don’t fully understand what’s happening between me and Ford, but I know that I like it. That I want more of it.

My phone pings with a text message, and I rumble for it. I squint at it and then reach for my glasses on my bedside table, shoving them on my face. It’s from Ford.

Meet me at the main lodge. I need help with a catering order.

I’m tempted to text back Yes, Daddy but I’m wary of blurring the professional and personal lines we’re already dancing on, so instead I fire back a thumbs up and scramble out of bed.

I stretch, my muscles feeling a bit tight, and then start getting dressed.

It’s a beautifully sunny morning, but cool, so I pull on a cozy sweater that hangs down past my hips and a pair of black leggings.

I quickly run through my morning routine, brushing my teeth and pulling my hair up into a messy bun, swiping some mascara onto my eyelashes and spritzing on a bit of body spray.

When I step outside, I take a deep breath, pulling the crisp morning air into my lungs.

The gentle breeze rustles the leaves in the trees, dappled sunshine spotting the ground.

It smells good out here, like apples and pine.

It’s the kind of smell you want to wrap yourself in because it’s so comforting and cozy.

I head to the main lodge, and with every step, my nerves start to grow. I honestly don’t know what came over me in the hot tub last night. I’m not usually that bold. That forward. But what I said was true; I wanted his attention. In the end, I got it, along with the promise of so much more.

My stomach dips and swirls as I think about that. I want Ford. I don’t care that it’s wrong. I want him, and he wants me. I like that he’s older, and it’s not as though we’re related by blood.

The main lodge comes into view, and I can see Ford by his truck, loading trays of food from a trolley into the back.

He looks up as I get closer, those piercing blue eyes locking onto mine.

He looks delicious this morning. His thick hair is perfectly tousled, his beard neatly groomed.

He’s wearing what I’m starting to suspect is his favourite black and red checked flannel shirt and a pair of worn jeans that fit him perfectly.

I sigh. Actually sigh, because how can I not? He’s gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

The corner of his mouth ticks up as we stare at each other, and I blush. Everything he said to me last night plays through my mind on a loop.

You know what happens to good girls? They get rewarded.

They get taken care of. They get touched, and kissed everywhere.

They get fucked so hard and deep that they can’t walk straight.

Good girls get their tight little pusses licked and kissed until they’re dripping wet. They get to come, over and over again.

I’ve never thought about being anyone’s good girl before, but I desperately want to be Ford’s. The idea excites me in a way I don’t fully understand.

But I want to.

“Morning,” I say, my voice coming out all high and breathy. I clear my throat as my blush deepens.

“Morning,” he says, and just the sound of his voice has my toes curling in my boots. “Help me load this up and then we’ll run it into town.”

“Sure,” I say, and close the distance between us, helping him with the last few trays of food. “Who’s it for?”

“Town council’s having their quarterly meeting. This is their lunch.”

“It looks good,” I say, surveying the trays of wraps, fresh veggies, potato and pasta salads, cookies and squares. My stomach rumbles loudly enough that I blush again, and Ford glances at me.

“Did you eat breakfast yet?” he asks, his brows knitting in concern.

“No, not yet,” I answer, fighting the urge to fidget under his stare. He lifts a hand and traces it over my jaw, and I press into his touch without even thinking about it.

“Then we’d better drop this off so I can get you fed.”

I find myself nodding. I don’t understand this connection between us. This power he has over me. All I know is that it feels right.

It feels like with Ford is where I’m supposed to be.

Once the last of the food is loaded, Ford walks around to the passenger side door and holds it open for me, his hand lingering on my waist as he helps me up into the truck.

I start to reach for the seatbelt, but he beats me to it, his much larger fingers brushing mine away.

Then he leans over me, bringing that mouthwatering scent with him, and I want to lean forward and lick his neck, just to see if he tastes as good as he smells.

When he buckles me in, his face is inches from mine.

“You’re not much of a poker player, are you?” he asks, and my eyebrows shoot up.

“Um, what?”

“I can read every single dirty thought you’re having right now. It’s written across your pretty face, kitten.”

I make a completely undignified squeaking sound and blush from my hair to my collarbone. “I’m sorry.”

He smiles, slow quirk of his lips. “It’s not something to be sorry for. Not when it’s just you and me.” He tugs on the seatbelt, making sure it’s secure, like I’m precious cargo. He gives a satisfied nod and then closes the door, leaving me tingling and aching.

No one’s ever done that for me before. I should feel infantilized, but I don’t. I feel safe. Cherished. Important.

I feel like I belong to him.

Do I belong to him? Is that where this is going?

Questions bounce around my brain as he gets in the truck and starts it up.

I steal glances at him as he drives through the resort’s property, my stomach flapping with butterflies at the way his strong hand grips the wheel, the way his tattoos peek out from under his sleeves.

He should feel like a stranger, but he doesn’t.

There’s something familiar about him. Something comforting, yet exciting.

I shift in my seat, my clit starting to throb. I’m already wet and achy, and he hasn’t even kissed me. He’s barely touched me. All I have is his filthy words and easy dominance, and that’s enough to have me halfway to orgasm, apparently.

Ford glances over at me. “You sleep okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. I had a great sleep, actually.”

The corner of his mouth kicks up again, a teasing hint of a grin, and I like it. “How many times?” he asks, and even though he doesn’t specify, I know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Four,” I answer honestly, blushing furiously. My skin is hot and prickling. “You?”

“Twice.”

He turns his attention back to the road, but his hand reaches over to rest on my thigh. The heat of his touch sears me through my thin leggings, branding me.

The drive into Honey Ridge is breathtaking, the fall colours painting the landscape in vibrant hues of red, orange and gold.

The mountains stand tall around us, snow-capped peaks stretching up toward the fluffy white clouds.

I’ve always considered myself a city girl, but I’m starting to think that was only because I hadn’t been here yet.

The truck crests over a hill and the town comes into view. It’s pretty and charming, with buildings that blend seamlessly into the natural beauty surrounding them.

Ford’s voice cuts through my admiration of the scenery. “How are you finding work at the lodge?”

It’s as though a barrier has come down between us, and this easy conversation in his truck, his hand resting on my thigh, feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“It’s great,” I say, and I genuinely mean it. It is. “I love the pace, I love the resort, and you have a really fantastic staff. Everyone’s been welcoming and helpful. I’m learning a lot.” I glance over at him. “Thank you again for giving me this chance.”

Ford doesn’t say anything, but I can feel a shift in the air, subtle but distinct.

“You’re welcome, kitten,” he says, quiet and low, and I press my thighs together.

My insides go haywire when he calls me kitten.

He frowns slightly, and I can tell he’s thinking.

“The other day, in the kitchen, you mentioned that you’ve never had a boyfriend.

Does that mean you’ve never been with anyone? ”

We come to a stop light as I blush, giving the red light a run for its money. “I…I know it’s a bit weird at my age, but no. I’ve never been with anyone. I’m a virgin. I’ve dated a bit, but guys my age have never appealed to me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, and when I glance down, I can see the outline of his cock pressing against his jeans. He follows my gaze, shifts in his seat, but does nothing to hide his obvious arousal at the fact that I’m a virgin. “You’re really mine, aren’t you? No one else has had you.”

“Never,” I whisper, doing my best not to melt off the seat into a puddle of goo at the word mine .

“But you do know how to make yourself come with your fingers or a toy.”

I nod, my breathing stuttering. “I do. But…it’s not the same. It’s not…not everything I want.”

“I bet it’s not. I bet you touch yourself all soft and sweet, and when you come, you let out a shy little moan.” He waits for me to meet his eyes. “I’d make you scream.”

“I want that,” I say, the words coming out all in a jumbled rush. It’s amazing I’m still sitting on the seat and not hovering above it with the way the butterflies are going crazy in my stomach.

Ford groans, a low, rumbling sound that makes me press my thighs together. “Christ. You want me to show you how to be a good girl for me? Let Daddy teach you everything?”