Page 14 of Single Mom’s Mountain Men (Mountain Men Reverse Harem #1)

Patty

I gasp when Wes’ lips land on mine.

It’s not a forceful kiss and he gives me more than enough chances to pull away. He nips my lower lip in warning, or maybe as a punishment for what I said.

Except I’ve never had a punishment to turn my blood into pure liquid fire before.

A full-body-flush of heat follows, making me hyper-aware of him. His large hand at the small of my back, his broad chest brushing against mine. His eyes open and stares straight into mine as he nips my lips again.

“You ready to be honest now?” he murmurs. As his gaze darkens, I try to remind myself that he’s only doing this to prove a point.

Although it's probably moot, because I'm not even sure what the point is supposed to be. Was I supposed to say something? Am I supposed to stop this? I don't know.

Desire has crashed my brain.

"Ready to admit how gorgeous you are now?" Wes asks, reminding me .

He was trying to prove that I'm attractive. He wants me to say that I am.

I should oblige and get off his lap so we can return to some kind of normalcy. I should not run my hands over his shoulder to his nape, pushing my fingers through his long hair so I can clutch it in my palm.

“Jesus, baby.” Wes moans when my fingers scrape against his scalp. His head falling back into my touch. His eyes are half-lowered as he stares at me, his gaze dropping to my lips. He licks his own lips, a rumble emanating from his chest.

I definitely should not lower my lips to meet his again.

But I do, and then all hell breaks loose.

Wes moans into my mouth, this next kiss is more passionate, devouring. He not only nips, but he sucks my lower lip into his mouth, before releasing it, so he uses his tongue to tease the seam. I open up for him and he murmurs, “Jesus,” again before diving in, his tongue tangling with mine.

We kiss wildly, like two animals unleashed, clutching each other’s hair, dragging our lips back to meet every time one of us pauses to take a breath which is already very infrequently.

I don't want to stop.

A pulse pounds at the base of my stomach extending down to my pussy, dampening it. Desire chugs like a cauldron in my blood. My heart races with need as I shift in his lap, even though I’m not entirely sure what I’m needy for.

But he seems to know. His body curves underneath mine, and at first, I’m not sure why, as his every movement seems to bounce me off his lap. But then he grasps my waist and shifts me so that I’m directly aligned over a bulge in his pants.

“Oh yes,” I hiss, and my head falls back as he nudges his erection right underneath my clit, triggering the most delicious jolt of electricity to run through me. He groans and does it again, slowly grinding against my clit, and I nearly sob from just how good it feels.

“Yeah you like that don’t you?” he growls, his voice dark with desire. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. I've wanted you so bad honey, you have no idea.”

I think I have some idea. He’s large and hard against my pussy and I want nothing more than to slide my panties to the side so that he can slip right in.

And I would have done it too, had I not been wearing jeans.

Even with a fried mind, I can tell that the logistics would make it painfully slow to execute and I would need to pull away to take off my jeans first, and I just don’t have the wherewithal to do that.

If I lose the feeling of his cock right now, I might die.

Especially when his fingers start moving against my jeans, unbuttoning it and pushing his hand inside.

My breath rises in my chest. My eyes fly open to meet his fiery gaze, a second before his finger touches my clit.

My eyes roll back and he moans. “Oh fuck that's hot. Take what you need darling. You’re so wet already I bet you’re just going to flood all over my hands."

I am and I do.

Choked sounds of desire escape me as I begin to move against his hand, and against his erection, thrusting as the pressure builds inside me.

His arm is bent at an awkward angle but he doesn't seem to care, preoccupied with getting me off. My nipples are puckered painfully and I’m about to ask him to touch me there too, but he leans forward and catches a nipple through my shirt, as though he can read my mind.

“Wes,” I cry out and he gums my nipple before sucking it hard.

The rough feel of the fabric mixed with the wetness of his tongue sends me into another stratosphere of desire.

I mewl out my pleasure as I fly towards the shaking edge, feeling like my body is going to splinter from the inside out.

I moan his name again, clutching his shoulders, needing something to anchor me while I break apart.

He releases my nipple and pulls me closer, thrusting against me harder and harder like a crazed animal that’s trapped in a corner and cannot escape. The image of his cock pushing through my pussy is what does it. It breaks me.

I scream my pleasure into the air and crumble right over myself.

After it's over, I crumple into a heap against him, shaking.

When I come back to myself, we're heaving silently, catching our breaths. I’m surrounded by the scent of Wes and of my own desire, and he holds me, rubbing his hand over my back, muttering about how fucking good that was.

I almost ask him to continue. He’s still hard between my thigh, desire in the gentle press of his hands. And when I pull back it’s to find his eyes are closed and his head is back against the seat as he breathes heavily into the air.

"Eighty-nine, eight-eight, eighty-seven..."

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

He peeks one eye open and explains in a gravelly tone, “I’m working real hard here not to blow my load.”

He says it with such misery that I giggle. I’m about to offer to get him off with my mouth when a sudden knock at the driver’s window shatters the atmosphere.

I jerk upright and stare across to I find an elderly security guard frowning at us through the window.

“Oh my God,” I exclaim about to dive back in my seat, but Wes holds me in place, smiling wanly at the guard. He winds down the window.

“Fine afternoon, Officer Boone,” he says .

“Wes Norris. I should have known it would be you. Your brothers have better sense than this.”

“Well, I usually do too, but somehow all my good sense left me on this remarkably fine afternoon.”

Wes' tone is conversational even though he's still hard. I don't know how he manages it, but I can barely function. I hide my face against his shoulder. Oh God, this is humiliating.

“This is a god-damn grocery store, not a brothel," the officer continues. "You want somewhere to take your floozies to, you can try Cockrey's or Motel 911 if you're brave enough. Or here’s an idea for you, you can do it in your own damn house. Not out here, disturbing the peace."

“Understood officer, thank you.”

The officer harrumphs and his footsteps indicate that he's walking away.

"A floozy?" I hiss as I shift out of Wes's lap and back into my seat. “Did he just call me a floozy?”

“Yup. You’ll have to forgive him. Officer Ray Boone is a little old-fashioned. He doesn’t know that no one says floozy anymore."

“That’s not what I'm mad about. I wouldn't have felt better if he called me a whore.”

Wes winces. “Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I would have defended you, but I got the sense that you wanted to get rid of him as fast as possible, and explaining to him that you weren't a whore would have just extended our conversation, and probably ended with a citation for the both of us."

Wes was right of course. He did the best thing considering the circumstances. Still, I'm a little miffed about the floozy comment.

But when Wes adjusts his jeans, I'm distracted from my annoyance by the bulge pressing on his zipper. I stare at it for a few seconds, and when I manage to drag my eyes back up, Wes smirks at me.

I look away instantly.

“So, you do this a lot huh,” I say as we pull out of the parking lot.

“Not really. Funny enough, this is the first time I’ve ever gotten a woman off outside the grocery store.”

“I mean in your truck. Officer Boone implied that this isn't your first offense."

“It's not. But I try not to make a habit of it. Not in Charlie’s F350 anyway, Charlie would kill me."

I don't know if I want to kill him or laugh in relief at his flippant nature. I decide to settle on the latter. I'm glad he's not being weird about what just happened, because by and large, it was a mistake. Neither of us ever should have let it get that far, but we were driven by our hormones.

That orgasm was amazing, but hooking up with Wes is undoubtedly a bad idea. It's best we just pretend that it didn't happen.

We pick up the girls and head home in relative silence. Relative because while Wes and I don't talk much, Maddie and Katie excitedly narrate their afternoon, with Katie detailing how much bigger Delicate Roses' library is than the one at her previous daycare.

I try to pay attention and respond appropriately to my daughters, but I'm still distracted by Wes and his uncharacteristic silence.

After we get home, and the girls rush ahead to wash off, he takes my elbow, holding me back.

“Listen, I'm sorry," he says.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I just get the feeling that you’re mad at me, and I don’t want you to be.

If it's about what happened... I won’t do anything like that again.

I'm sorry, I lost my head for a bit there, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable.

If I was out of line or I coerced you into something you didn't want to do. .."

“That's definitely not what happened,” I assure him, taking pity on the unsteady look on his face. “You didn't do anything wrong, Wes. I’m just kinda embarrassed that it happened in the first place. That’s not the type of thing I would do, you know? It was very out of character for me.”

He shrugs and then smiles in relief. “It’s okay. It looked like you were pent up and it’s good to do something crazy but fun every once in a while to release the energy."

Well, when he puts it like that, it sounds better. Crazy but fun. That's what it was. "Thanks for understanding.”

"No problem. And if you ever need some sweet release again..."

"Got it." I laugh at the incorrigible wiggle of his eyebrows as he walks away.

I return to the kitchen with a smile still on my lips. Although I don't plan on taking Wes up on his offer, it's nice to feel desired again, especially since Keegan convinced me that nothing about me was desirable.

But now I know that Wes, who is undoubtedly a Grade A beefcake, wants me.

Take that Keegan, you evil bastard .

I send this silent message to my ex whilst spending the rest of the day preparing the evening meal – a roast chicken with homemade rolls, a potato salad, and a baked ziti.

I also make banana bread for dessert. It's a more elaborate dinner than what I usually cook, but I do it to thank the men for letting me stay for free. Also, if I’m honest, because I want to impress them a little .

If they've been surviving on cereal and mac-and-cheese, then I hope this blows their mind.

At dinner time, the men file in through the doors within seconds of each other, with Mitch being the last to arrive. They stare at the spread as they circle the table, Wes whistling, "Damn. All this for us?"

"Yup." I gesture. "Sit, eat."

Chairs scrape against the ground as they sit, and Katie and Maddie arrive from washing their hands in the bathroom.

My daughter takes the two seats between Charlie and where I'm supposed to sit. The men look at each other lost for a second, and I ask, "Anyone want to say grace?"

They pause and then Mitch nods. "Sure. I'll do it."

They don't hold hands or anything and barely shut their eyes while Mitch offers a short, simple prayer.

And then, when he opens his eyes, he reaches for a plate and takes a couple of slices of the roast chicken from the larger dish, before filling it with some of the potato salad and a good helping of ziti, plus a fresh bread roll from the pile.

His brothers follow his actions in silence, and I bend to help my two kids fill their plates too, as well as grabbing a little of each for my own plate.

And now comes the moment of truth. Mitch cuts a largish bite of roast chicken pops it into his mouth and chews carefully whilst his brothers watch him. Nerves pound in my stomach as I wait for the verdict. He swallows, frowns, stares straight ahead of him.

"Well?" I ask when he still hasn't spoken.

Mitch finally meets my eyes. "This is the best damn chicken I’ve ever tasted."

As the other men take their first bites, Charlie nods, Wes cheers and I beam.