Claiming His Princess

by Parker Grey

  I come. I've got no fucking choice, and I pump her channel full of my sticky seed, shooting again and again as she grips me and pulls me in.

  It's fucking incredible, and when Rose finally stops coming, she gives me a long, deep kiss, then turns to Knox and does the same to him.

  I know it's strange. I know it's unconventional. But as I sit there, Rose still on my lap, Knox still behind her, I think: there's nothing I'd rather be doing than sharing this beautiful, perfect girl.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Knox

  That night, after I clear the dinner dishes away and we have a totally normal game of post-threesome Monopoly, I try the radio again. Outside, the wind has stopped howling, and the snow is coming down at a normal rate.

  It's still storming, but it's no longer near-whiteout conditions. That means that, at best, we've only got a few more days before we have to let Rose go home.

  Because as much as I want her — as much as we want her — this is no place for a girl like her. She's got a family, she's got friends, she's got a life to get back to, down in the valley. A cabin in the middle of nowhere isn't the kind of place that Rose wants to live.

  But I've got plans for the next few days, before the inevitable happens. Fuck yes, I've got plans.

  That night, it's Logan's turn to have Rose in his bed. I'm still jealous, just a little, but then I remember the way she looked at me with my cock in her mouth, like she was just as desperate to swallow me as I was for her to do it, and I feel better.

  Before I head into the bedroom myself, I check the radio again. I'm not expecting anything, since the storm hasn't even technically stopped. For a long moment, there's silence, and I'm just about to turn it off again when static crackles through.

  I frown, turning it up.

  "Hello? This is Pinecone Bluff Cabin calling in," I say into the mouthpiece.

  There's another crackle of static. It sounds like it's not fixed.

  "—Status of your — whiteout conditions — cave-in reports, but everyone is all right —"

  And back to static.

  "Do you read me?"

  There are more bits of speech, too patchy to understand, but as I'm about to give up and turn it off again, a man's voice comes through, clear as day.

  "Pinecone Bluff Cabin, do you copy?"

  "I copy," I say, pulling the radio closer.

  "All rangers reporting in?"

  "Yes, we're all fine. And we've found a missing person."

  The guy on the other end — I think it's Evan, the Salmon Creek Forest Regional Director — clears his throat.

  "A missing person?"

  "Yeah. Rose Hammett. She tried to take a shortcut over the mountain and her truck broke down. Luckily we found her just in time and she's fine."

  Evan whistles, the noise crackling over the radio.

  "She did get lucky," he agrees. I can hear him flipping papers on the other end.

  I grin. Evan has no idea how lucky Rose has gotten.

  "I don't see her name yet, but as you imagine things are a little chaotic right now. Communications are down, all that, but I'll find her missing persons report and let her loved ones know she's all right. Thanks for reporting in, Knox."

  "Not a problem. Ten-four."

  "Over and out."

  There it is. Now that the outside world knows we've got her, it's a matter of time until we have to let her go.

  I know it. Logan knows it. I think Rose knows it.

  But I'll be damned if I'm not going to make good use of the time we've got left.

  It's still dark when a loud squawk makes me nearly jump out of bed. I sit up straight, feet on the floor, heart racing as it sounds again. Logan's done the same, one arm protectively around Rose, who's wild-eyed.

  "What is that?" she stage whispers.

  It sounds again, the noise putting my teeth on edge. I jump out of bed and pad, naked, to the other room in the cabin.

  "It's the emergency beacon," I hear Logan explain to her. "Goes off when there's an emergency."

  I grab it from the shelf where we keep it. The thing is more or less another radio, but this one's equipped with GPS and works by satellite. It's expensive to run, so we still use the regular radio for most communication, but this one is pretty fancy.

  "Pinecone Bluff," I growl into the receiver.

  "Pinecone Bluff, this is the Whistlepig Department of Fish and Game," a no-nonsense woman says. "Sorry to wake you, but one of our cameras picked up a bobcat dragging its right foot in a poacher's trap."

  My stomach sinks. Shit. The past few years, poaching has picked up in the National Forest, probably because this area's going through some rough economic times. The hunters are mostly going after bear and mountain lions, since those will sell for a pretty penny once they're stuffed, but it's not like animal traps discriminate.

  "Which camera?" I ask.

  "Section fourteen, camera MX two nine. It's about a hundred feet from where the ridge trail crosses Knob Creek."

  I think quickly. That's about three miles away from us, and we're definitely the closest cabin. On a regular day, a six-mile round-trip hike would have us back by breakfast, but in a couple feet of snow, and coming back with a sedated-but-wounded critter?

  That's an all-day hike in snowshoes.

  Normally I wouldn't mind. Any other winter I'd be itching to do it, anything to get out of this cabin.

  But I had... plans.

  "Got it," I say to the voice on the other end of the line. "We'll find it and figure out what needs to be done."

  "Thanks," she says. "Over and out."

  I turn the unit off and head back into the bedroom, where Logan and Rose are sitting up in bed, against the headboard. They both scoot over and I sit on the other side of Rose, giving her a good morning kiss.

  "Something got stuck in a trap?" Logan asks.

  I sigh and nod.

  "Bobcat. The camera trap by Knob Creek caught it. It's dragging something on its hind leg, so it can't have gotten too far."

  Rose gasps, her blue eyes going wide.

  "A bobcat got stuck in a camera trap?"

  I laugh softly.

  "Camera traps are harmless. They're just motion-sensing cameras set up to study wildlife. It's the poachers after bear and mountain lions with the spring-loaded traps who cause trouble."

  She swallows, her beautiful eyes filling with tears.

  "And you're going to rescue it?" she asks.

  Logan smiles, his chest puffing a little.

  "That's our job," he says.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rose

  I know I'm a total softy, but the thought of an animal — especially a wild animal — stuck in a human trap like that, dragging it around in the snow, makes me want to cry.

  As Knox and Logan pull on their gear, I make them a fast-but-big breakfast: bacon and eggs, toast, anything I can pull from the fridge. They've got trail rations ready to go — of course they do, this is their job — and they scarf down what I've made for them before donning their final layers.

  "You won't kill it, will you?" I ask as we stand by the front door and they strap on snowshoes.

  The two men exchange a look, and something wells in my chest.

  "Probably not," Knox finally says. "If it's just its leg, we'll probably sedate it and bring it to the pens here until we can get it to the wildlife veterinarian in the valley, since they're endangered."

  "Why probably?" I ask, my voice unsteady.

  Like I said, I'm a big softy, and I know it.

  "It might be too hurt to save," Logan says. "And in that case..."

  "It's probably fine," Knox assures me, and both men stand.

  "We promise to do everything we can," Logan offers. "Try not to get too bored without us, okay?"

  I smile, still worried for the poor bobcat, but I trust them.

  "Okay," I say.

  I give them both a long kiss goodbye, and then they leave, out into the snow.

  I get pre
tty bored. It's almost stopped snowing, and the wind and the storm have definitely died down, but there's still several feet of snow on the ground. Not that I could go outside and play in it — I'd have to borrow their clothes, which are about ten sizes too big, or wear my jeans and old, ratty coat.

  I already almost died once that way, so I think I'll stay inside, thanks.

  I make more coffee. I eat breakfast, then lunch. I start a puzzle, read some very old issues of National Geographic, work on the puzzle some more.

  After a while I realize I didn't shower yesterday, so I go ahead and hop in. The warm water feels good on my skin, and I luxuriate for a while.

  And I think about yesterday. I can't believe I did that, twice. I can't believe I lost my virginity to two men, that my very first sexual experience was a threesome.

  I've always been the nice, quiet, mild-mannered girl. I grew up calling my elders sir and ma'am, and I've never really stepped a toe out of line. When I drove the truck over that shortcut, I did it because I was desperate.

  But this. This is crazy, wild, totally beyond anything I ever thought I'd do — and I like it. I like it a lot, so much that even as I put together a puzzle of a rose garden or read about the ancient city of Timbuktu, I'm aching and wet.

  Thinking about Knox taking my virginity yesterday morning, how it just barely hurt but then felt fucking incredible, how right after that Logan fucked me too, both of them coming inside me. Thinking about later, sucking Knox off while riding Logan's cock, and then Knox's finger in my ass.

  I can't believe how dirty it is. It's filthy.

  But it doesn't feel wrong.

  I'm touching myself, in the shower. I didn't mean to, because I wanted to be horny and ready to go when Logan and Knox got home, but I can't help it. I lean against the cool shower wall and circle my clit slowly with my fingers.

  It's not enough. I bite my lip, needing more, and move my hand down until I'm pushing my fingers inside myself. It's not a cock, not nearly, but it's closer to what I need, and I swallow, panting.

  "Please fuck me," I whisper out of nowhere.

  I keep going, slowly working myself into a frenzy. I pretend it's Knox, fucking me slow and hard, while Logan licks and sucks at my nipples, one hand sliding down my back toward my puckered asshole.

  I moan out loud again, putting one foot up on the lip of the tub.

  I know what I need.

  Quickly, I grab the soap, lathering up the fingers of one hand as I keep fucking myself with the other. Then I put my fingertips against my puckered back hole, just like Knox did last night, and push one inside.

  I groan, my head against the cool tile of the bathtub, and bite back the urge to beg someone to fuck me. It's only my hand, and that would be ridiculous, but it feels so good to have that hole filled, especially at the same time that I'm fingering my own pussy.

  I know I'm on the edge, and I swallow, trying to force myself not to come, just yet. Gently, I push another finger into my back hole. For a moment, there's resistance, and then I feel myself open up, the incredibly tight ring of muscle letting my fingers through.

  Fuck it feels incredible, and I moan again, the loud sound bouncing off the bathroom walls. I can't help but wish it were a cock, one of my men, and I think of Logan, bending over me on my hands and knees, pulling my hair back as he fucks my asshole hard and deep, calling me their dirty little girl.

  "Please fuck my ass," I whimper, even though there's no one around, and then I come. My muscles all contract so hard that I nearly push my own fingers out of me with an incredible sheer force. I go limp against the shower wall, gasping and panting, and when it's over, I pull my hands out, the warm water still beating down on my skin.

  After a while I wash my hands, then turn the water off in the shower, wrapping myself in a towel.

  That felt good, but it wasn't enough. I want the real thing, and I want it tonight.

  The sky gets darker slowly. Since it's all iron-gray, I can't tell where the sun is, but I can tell night is falling, and I'm nervous about Logan and Knox. I know this is what they do, and I know they've got plenty of survival skills and they're going to be fine, but I can't help imagining bad things.

  What if they fell off a cliff?

  What if a mountain lion got them?

  To distract myself, I build a fire — it takes me a while — and then, in a when in Rome moment, stretch out on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace with a National Geographic.

  I read for a while, distracted by worry and also by thoughts of what I'm going to do when they finally get home. I can't believe it's only taken me a little over a day to become a full-fledged sex maniac, but it's been almost twenty-four hours.

  I need them desperately.

  The fire's warm. I'm on a bearskin rug, wet and ready as ever.

  In a fit of inspiration, I take off all my clothes, then lounge there, still reading.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Logan

  Even though we know where the camera is, it's a slog to get there through a couple feet of snow in snowshoes. Then we have to track the cat itself.

  It's left a trench in the snow, along with a thin trail of blood. We find the bobcat in no time, and as soon as it sees us, it backs up against a tree and hisses. I can't blame the poor thing. If my leg were stuck in a trap like that I'd be furious at everything, too.

  After a little doing, we manage to get close enough to shoot a tranq dart into its neck. This kind of thing is always tricky, because it's not like we can weigh the cat before we do it — we've gotta guess. But even though he fights it for another minute, soon enough he's wobbling in the snow, and finally falls over, totally passed out.

  Now we can get to work. We take the trap off his leg, clean the wound as best we can, wrap it, and put it in a splint since it's also broken. It'll be a mess for the wildlife vet, but out in the field, in a few feet of snow, it's the best we can do.

  Once he's bandaged, we both take a moment and sit on a fallen tree, eating our lunch. It's backpacking food, not good, but neither of us gives a shit about good right now.

  "We better get the straightjacket on him," Knox finally says as we sit there, looking at the sleeping bobcat.

  "I'll take the first shift carrying him," I offer.

  "Sure, when he's least likely to wake up," he jokes.

  "I offered first," I say, laughing. "You should've been quicker on the draw."

  Together, we wrap the bobcat tightly in a contraption that's somewhere between a swaddle and a straightjacket. He's way too wounded to leave out here, and since bobcats in this region are endangered, we need to take him back to the animal pens at the cabin until we can get him to the wildlife vet.

  That means we make him into a bobcat burrito, so if he wakes up, we've at least got some time before he claws our faces off. I carry him through the snow first, but Knox and I switch off the bobcat backpack pretty frequently. They're surprisingly heavy animals, and carrying him through the snow is exhausting.

  The things I do for conservation, I think.

  The cabin has a few pens connected to the side of the house, about six feet by six feet, with some straw bedding and water. There's some frozen rabbit carcasses in the deep freezer for exactly this purpose, but our cat friend shouldn't eat until the sedatives wear off.

  We put him into his pen, turn the heater on low, unwrap him, and close the pen. He doesn't stir, still sleeping soundly.

  It's getting dark, so I'm glad we're back. There were a few minutes where I was totally sure we'd still be snowshoeing our way home past sunset, and while I know we could find our way without a problem, I wasn't particularly thrilled about it. Hiking at night when it's warm and clear is hard enough; doing it in the cold snow is pretty rough.

  "Think Rose found a way to entertain herself?" Knox asks, his voice low and rumbling.

  My heart thuds a little faster, just hearing her name. She's a great reward for snowshoeing six miles.

  "I hope so," I say. "Not that she ha
d much of a choice."

  We take our snowshoes off outside and lean them against the cabin, and then Knox pushes the door open.

  "Rose?" he calls.

  On the living room floor, in front of the fireplace, a head pops up, and we both stop in our tracks.

  She's completely naked, lounging on her stomach on the bear skin rug in front of the fireplace, and she looks at us a little sheepishly.

  "I'm glad you're back," she says, her voice shy again.

  My eyes roam over her perfect body, the curve of her spine, the swell of her breasts with the nipples pressed into the rug. Rose kicks one foot up, pointing her toes, and I look at her plump ass.

  I'm hard as fuck. Even though I've had a day so exhausting I feel like my bones have turned to liquid, I'm so hard I feel like I might burst.

  "I was worried," she goes on, softly.

  "There's a bobcat in the pens," Knox says, but I can tell he's distracted too. "Be careful."

  "Okay," Rose says. "How was it?"

  I can't take it anymore. I shed heavy layers, tossing them on the floor as I walk over to her. By the time I'm next to her and on my knees, I'm just in my pants and undershirt. Knox is right behind me, and Rose looks up, her eyes wide as I run one hand down her bare back from the nape of her neck to her ass, cupping it in my hand.

  "It was cold and miserable," I say, truthfully. "But my day just got way better."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Knox

  The whole way back, I thought about what Rose was doing — maybe reading on the couch, maybe showering, maybe making herself lunch. But I didn't even dare to fantasize about how we found her.

  Naked. In front of the fire. On the rug.

  Logan kneels in front of her and tilts her face up for a long, hard kiss. We've both shed most of our layers, just leaving them on the floor, and I kneel over her from behind, because she's just too fucking perfect.