Page 45 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men

JAXON

You got used to getting snowed in, living up in the Rockies. What you never really got used to, however, were the days and nights blending into one.

“Hey…”

The voice that floated in was barely a whisper.

“You still up?”

Days, mornings, nights, evenings — it was all the same. The windows into the outside world became cheerless, lightless. Everything was dark, or gray, or both.

Camryn poked her head in from the hallway, her face painted with the same usual, happy glow. I was propped up against my headboard, sketchbook in hand. I motioned her in with a pencil.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“One in the morning.”

I laughed. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

She slipped inside, closing the door behind her. Immediately I became distracted. My body, always eager for more of her, stirred in ways it hadn’t for years.

“What’s the matter?” she asked sweetly. “Can’t sleep?”

I shrugged. My pencil was moving again, though I hadn’t remembered telling it to.

“Drawing?”

“Sketching,” I grunted.

“Artwork? Or tattoo stuff?”

It was an innocent question, and one that probably required a simple answer. For a moment I considered giving her the more complicated, truthful one; that no matter when it happened or what I was doing, I always took advantage when inspiration struck.

In the end, I just gave another shrug.

“Never mind,” she murmured apologetically. Already she was slinking backwards. “I’ll leave you to—”

“No, please.”

I closed the book, and dropped the pencil. My other hand moved automatically, to pat the bed next to me.

Camryn approached with all the slowness of a baby deer, about to eat an apple from my hand. I smiled gently.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that,” I relented. “Sometimes when I draw, I get in the zone. Lost in some weird artist’s hypnosis.”

“Like Sarge,” she winked.

“No!” I coughed. “Not like Sarge at all!” I couldn’t help but return the smirk she was now giving me. “Although like him, I’ve been known to dazzle myself with my own bullshit.”

Camryn giggled adorably as she sat down. She nodded toward my book, with that perfect Disney princess nose. My eyes however, were drawn to those smooth, tan thighs, poking out from the bottom of her oversized sleep shirt.

“Is that your sketchbook?”

I nodded. “One of hundreds, yes.”

“Hundreds?” Her eyes lit up. “Holy shit, Jaxon.”

“I know.”

She picked it up. I didn’t stop her.

“You draw all the time?”

“Draw, sketch, paint. Sometimes I sculpt.” I reached my tired arms upward, stretching them until my shoulders popped. Shit, was it really one in the morning?

In the meantime, Camryn was glancing around the room. Her eyes flitted from easel to easel, from wall to wall. I’d never wanted to frame or hang my own work, but Sarge had insisted. When I wasn’t around, the asshole had taken his favorites and done it for me.

“I’ve never been in here when it wasn’t dark,” she chuckled. “We’re usually… you know.”

“Oh, I know,” I smirked.

She blushed adorably, flipping slowly through my sketchbook.

I contented myself with just watching her.

It was strange to me, how someone so strong could also be so delicate at the same time.

Camryn was tougher than most women I’d known, and I’d been around quite a few she-badasses while on tour.

Hers was a hidden strength, though. An inner resilience that flared in perfect time with her fiery temper; both of which were incredible to behold.

“Whoa…” she breathed. “Jaxon!”

“What?”

“This is beautiful!”

She flipped the book around so I could see. I was staring at one of my earlier works; the silhouette of a unicorn against the moon, rearing up beneath a shower of stars. It was a small but delicate piece, with crisp, wispy lines that encircled a small, midnight meadow.

“Ever tattoo this on anyone?” she asked.

“No.”

“Would you put it on me?”

I stared back at her for what felt like a very long time. The longer I looked, the deeper into those sapphire eyes I managed to tumble.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

Her enthusiasm was contagious. I looked back at the drawing.

“When?”

Camryn shrugged, and smiled demurely. “You can do it right now, if you want.”

I paused again, but only to freeze the moment in time. Her face was all lit up with excitement. Totally alive, and never more beautiful.

Hopping from my bed, I moved to get my kit.

Damn, I swore to myself. Look at her …

Actually, I couldn’t stop looking at her. Especially since she was now shimmying out of her T-shirt.

She’s fucking perfect.

“I want her right here,” she patted herself with one hand. “On my shoulder.”

I set everything up, spreading a fresh towel beneath her as she lay down on my bed. I’d never tattooed anyone in the house, much less in my own bedroom. It felt so oddly secret. So intimate.

“You’ve been through this before, so you know what to expect?” I asked, while prepping my gun.

Camryn sighed and scissored her feet. “Yes, but not really. I have a little sea turtle on my ankle.”

“I know. I noticed.”

She grinned, and bit her lower lip. “While fucking me?”

For some reason, the question made me queasy with the overwhelming desire to have her. I actually turned red.

“It’s funny,” she went on, “when I got it I didn’t even think about that. But every guy I’ve ever had sex with seems to notice the turtle, the second my legs go over his shoulders.”

I sighed and smirked down at her.

“Not that I’ve had sex with a lot of guys, of course,” she added hastily.

“No, of course not,” I rolled my eyes.

“I mean, until recently,” she blushed. “I guess right now, I’m kind of on a tear.”

“You think?”

Camryn lay down before me, wholly topless, as so many of my canvases in the past. This time though, there was a very distinct difference.

There was an intimacy to our contact; a sensual thrill that connected us in all new ways, even beyond the sexual boundaries we’d experienced before.

And yet it was still distinctly sexual. There were even times she screwed herself into the bed, pelvis first, grunting softly as I worked.

I held her firmly but gently, as she rode out the taboo excitement of being touched, smoothed, and penetrated over and over again, by a dozen or so tiny needles, a few thousand times per minute.

Two hours later I flipped a switch, and the constant drone of the tattoo gun finally went silent. The electricity between us was still palpable however, hanging there in the three in the morning silence.

Her tattoo wasn’t just great, it was magnificent. I’d made damn sure of that.

“Wanna see it?”

I set the machine down, and walked her to the full-length mirror. As I held up a smaller mirror behind her, Camryn’s breath disappeared in a gasp.

“Oh, Jaxon,” she cried, her voice catching in her throat. “It’s incredible!”

“I know.”

She whirled and kissed me deeply, in a way I’d never been kissed before. Her bare breasts were fire against my chest, her tongue sweet and tender in my mouth. She guided my hand between her thighs, where I found the lace of her panties absolutely drenched.

Before I lost control, I reached down with my other hand and tore the piece of artwork from my sketchpad. Camryn’s eyes shot open as I crumpled it up and threw it away.

“Why’d you do that?”

“So no one else will ever have it,” I told her. “It’s yours now, and yours alone.”

Those blue eyes were glassy now, like two liquid gems. She looked like she was about to cry.

“So… what do I owe you?” she asked breathlessly.

“Owe me?”

“For the tattoo.”

I sat down on the bed to start breaking down my machine. The smirk on my face said it all.

“Maybe we’ll work something out.”

Camryn slid straight into my lap, kissing me even harder as she straddled my thighs. Her arms slid over my shoulders. She began grinding her ass in a tight circle, making me instantly hard.

“I’ve got something you can work out,” she said with a wink. She took both my palms in hers this time, and I didn’t resist as she deposited them squarely on the twin globes of her beautiful ass.

“Starting now,” she hissed, hotly.