Hardy fucks me quicker and harder, groaning loudly into the wilderness. His hot, sticky cum fills my asshole and pushes me to another unexpected orgasm. It’s so dirty, so wicked, and I can’t get enough. He pulls me up off Owen’s face and pulls out of my ass. Juices run down the back of my thighs and even though we just stopped, I want more.
So much more.
Owen stands up and gets his pants back on properly. “So much for an innocent outing.” He winks at me.
“That’s never what she wanted to start with is it, kitten? You like giving into your dark desires, don’t you?” Hardy adjusts his clothes and stares me down.
I nod. I still can’t say it. I can’t squeak out the words. But he’s right. These men have unleashed something I never even knew existed inside me. And the ache of need runs deep. I can’t quell it. I can’t quiet it. I’m dying for more.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs approvingly. “Now what you need to realize is that you can’t go back to living your boring city life. How are you going to leave us out here, craving you while you write those sweet romances and pretend you didn’t leave your deepest wants behind you? No, you need to stay with us. Don’t you?”
Hardy’s green eyes are hypnotic. Hell, I’m definitely under his spell. I want to say yes, but I can’t. There’s still a little voice inside me, whispering: what will people think? Your readers. Your family. You can’t do this. Not forever.
The three of us are so silent, the only noise is the branches swaying in the wind.
“You know what? You don’t need to answer that right now,” Owen interrupts. “What do you say we head back to our place? Let’s get warmed up in our hot tub. How about that?”
I bite my lip and look up at each of them. Hardy is right, I don’t want to leave them behind, but I don’t think I can promise more time. Hell, I probably shouldn’t be here now. But I can’t make myself leave. Not when I could be up in their hot tub feeling both of them explore me, owning me, filling me.
“I’ll come to your cabin,” I agree.
10
Mary
The first streaks of sunlight are dancing across the morning sky. My arms are curled up over Hardy and Owen’s bodies, my hands are cupping each of their faces. I stroke my fingers over their bristly cheeks and smile. Being between them, it feels so natural it makes me wonder how anyone could judge this. Why am I so worried about what other people think, anyway?
Still, I can’t shut off this nagging voice inside me. The one that sounds exactly like my agent, her voice high and scandalized. “Two men?!?”
Heat stains my cheeks and I wriggle free from Hardy and Owen’s arms. After a long night, we finally collapsed in Owen’s large bed together. All of us completely spent after an epic day and night of exploring just how far they could push my limits as they stretched me further than I could ever imagine.
My body is sore, but it’s an amazing pinch that reminds me what it is to be alive. I slip my clothes back on quietly and softly slip out of the cabin. The cold air wakes me fully. It’s more potent than ten espressos. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to block it from penetrating my clothes and quickly hustle up the hill to my cabin.
Yesterday was fun, but today I need to put my nose to the grindstone. Today I need to get words down on the page. I shove the door open to my place and slam it shut behind me. I’m not going to waste time making a fire, I’ll just bundle up in my loft bed and get my writing done up there. The frigid air chases me up to the loft and I block it out by burying myself deep in a cave of blankets. Opening my laptop, I pull up my blank document and stare at the screen.
Okay words, let’s go.
My fingers hover over the keyboard but they don’t move. That magic writing spirit doesn’t possess me. Instead, I struggle to think of a single sentence.
Obviously, time moves in mysterious ways when you’re in a child-like blanket fort trying to type. However, the clock on my computer tells me that a half hour has passed and not a single word has flowed from my fingertips.
Not a single word.
I think I’m officially broken. I’m done. There’s no way I can maintain my career if I can’t pry the words free from inside me. Pushing my glasses up my nose, I sigh and check my cell phone. My agent texted me a news article in the New York Times about me. Clicking the link, I scan the glowing article.
My eyes slide over the words, picking up little bits here and there. Things like: “sweet, sincere romances that will fill your heart with joy.” Things like: “only the most wholesome Christmas books ever written, from a woman who loves love.” Things like: “swoon-worthy tales that you can share with your own daughter.”
I cringe.
And then I cry.
Tossing the covers back off, I gulp for air, suddenly feeling suffocated. It’s like I lost who I was and I don’t know who I’ve become. When did this all change? The screen on my monitor turns black and I glimpse my tear-stained reflection. But who is that girl? She might as well be a stranger. These glasses, these books I can’t seem to write anymore, they’re all a lie.
I am a fraud.
Sniffling, I twist my sheets in my hands and dab my eyes. Now, what am I going to do? If I’m not Mary Gordon, queen of cozy cottage Christmas romances, then who am I?
“No,” I whisper. “I can fix this. I can go back, it’s not too late.”
Springing from the bed, I yank my suitcase from under the bed and toss it on the mattress. I know what I need to do. I need to get back to my real life and forget this little path I stumbled down. I need to push Owen and Hardy free from my mind. Even better, I need to forget them entirely.
I pile my belongings inside my bag in no order. It looks like a big pile of dirty laundry. And if there’s one thing I know about dirty laundry, it’s that you don’t hang it outside for everyone to see. I’m going to keep this time, these men, a secret. I can go back to my career. No one even knows what happened up here except for me and the guys. And no one ever will.
Within minutes, I’m packed. I drag the suitcase down the ladder, careful not to trip and fall. If the guys were here, they’d grab it for me. And they’d make it look completely effortless to just toss it up to the loft or haul it back down.
I look out the window, down the hill to their cabin and a twinge of sadness blooms up into a billowing cloud inside. A tear slips down my cheek, but I whisk it way with the back of my hand. I’ll miss them more than they will ever know. But I can’t stay. I can’t let myself become this woman.
Keys in hand, I drag my belongings out to my car and take one last look at the alternate life I could’ve led before me. I imagine how this all could have played out. I mean, sure, I’d be happy, but happiness isn’t the end all be all. Sometimes you have to sacrifice happiness for a practical, stable life.
I hop in the car and slam the door hard behind me. The engine roars to life loudly and I pull out of the driveway. My Christmas music blasts loudly in my speakers, but I shut it off. It’s the last thing I want to hear right now. I drive past the guy’s cabin. I drive down the road and out toward the winding mountain drive.
Pulling a breath deep in my lungs, I turn my wheel, pulling out onto the main road and drive away. The rumbling sound in the car confuses me. Is there something wrong with my vehicle? It’s not that old, so there shouldn’t be.
It gets louder and the steering wheel shakes. Suddenly I realize it’s not the car. A white waterfall of snow crashes down over me, my airbag explodes against my face and my head snaps against it. My glasses snap in half and fall off my face. Rocks smash against the roof and snow crashes over me like a tidal wave, sweeping up the car and sliding it to the edge of the road right to the guardrail. My head smacks against the side window, hard and I feel a warm trickle run down my face.
I’m going to be pushed over the edge! I shriek but no one can hear me. Snow covers my car, burying me inside. Burying me alive. And the worst part is, no one will even know I’m gone.
This can�
��t be how I die. Why did I ever leave? My heart is sick with regret. My vision narrows, blurring at the edges and moving inward. I made the biggest mistake of my life and now it’s probably going to cost me my life.
“Hardy! Owen!” I call out, but it’s no use.
Suddenly I feel fuzzy. My car is so cozy. So warm. I blink, fighting my sliding eyelids, trying to stay awake, but the feeling is too powerful. My heavy lids finally slide closed and my head tilts as the world of white surrounding my car fades to black.
11
Hardy
The front door to the cabin gives a soft but distinctive click that wakes me. I sit up in bed and glance to my left to see a blank spot where Mary was. I imagine she’s heading to her cabin to write. I know she knows better than to go hiking out in the woods again after what happened last time.
Rolling all the way over to the edge of the bed, I lie back down and throw the blankets up over my shoulder, but it’s no use. I can’t ignore it. Not even for a second longer.
I have to piss.
Sighing, I silently curse Mary and hop out onto the cold floor. My bladder constricts and I rush to the bathroom to relieve myself. Once I’m done, there’s no point in trying to get any more sleep. The frigid air has me wide awake now. I might as well get some clothes on and make a fire. Besides, yesterday was fun. And last night was fucking amazing. But if we keep playing in the snow all the time, we’re never going to get this last logging job of the year done before our deadline.
I head to my bedroom and quickly find something to cover my nudity. With some clothes to keep the frosty air off my family jewels, I head out into the main space and work on getting a fire going. I’m not proud of how much paper I need to burn in order to get the wood to catch, but for some reason, it’s just not working for me today.
I probably need coffee. Staying up all night drinking rum and fucking the sexiest, sweetest, prettiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on has a way of zapping my energy and making me a bit foggy. I put on a pot and breathe the fresh brew deep into my lungs as it percolates.
My mind wanders to Mary. I wonder if her writing is going any easier today. Part of me thinks that if she just gave up on all this unrealistic romance stuff, maybe she’d do better to write the kind of thing she’s really into, a sexy, red-headed chick being double dicked down six ways from Sunday by two dudes.
Or something like that. I mean, the girl in the story could have any hair color, really.
A smirk tugs at my lips as I imagine her temper if I mentioned anything like that to her. Especially if I pitched it to her like that. She’d hate that. The thing is, though, she’s not this sweet, innocent little church mouse. She’s a fiery woman who has needs. Enough needs that only two guys can fill them. To me, that seems to explain all of this shit. The writer’s block, the insecurities, it all comes down to one thing: she isn’t being honest with herself.
Not that I’m some kind of therapist.
I chuckle at the idea of a shrink telling a client that they just need to accept that they love being double dicked down. “And that will be two hundred and fifty dollars for those insights, thanks.”
Damn, I’m really in the wrong profession.
Grinning at my thoughts, I grab a mug and pour myself a coffee before it’s finished brewing. The coffee maker is doing that spitty, stuttery thing where it makes a bunch of sick sounding noises trying to push the last few drops of water out into the pot. I don’t have any patience for that. I need some caffeine—and I need it now.
Sipping the hot brew, I tilt my head and listen closely. What was that? It sounded like a car door slamming. I know Owen is still passed out, naked in his bed. So, it’s not like he’s driving anywhere. It takes longer than it should to piece it together, but finally, the coffee must hit my brain because I realize that it’s Mary.
I rush out to the porch just in time to watch her sail off down the road in her little car. Where is she going? Is she leaving here? Is she leaving us? I watch as her tiny Honda becomes a speck on the road and then disappears.
She never said anything about going away. This must be some kind of mistake. Or is it? Cold tendrils climb up inside me and grab hold of my guts, and it has nothing to do with winter. It’s the realization hitting me, she’s abandoning us. And she never even said goodbye.
Anger starts to rise up, climbing my veins like the mercury in a thermometer. So that’s how she’s going to play us? Just fuck us, string us along and then slip out like a thief in the night? Well, technically in the day, but the point is she’s sneaking away. The point is, she’s gone, and we didn’t mean enough to her for a wave out the window as she left us in her dust.
My temper makes my blood hot and my heart cold. I can’t believe I was letting myself fall for her. I can’t believe I let myself care about her when, clearly, she never gave a fuck about us. I turn and grab the handle to the cabin door when the ground shakes and a rumble fills the air.
“What the fuck?” I turn, watching in horror as an avalanche of snow rolls free from the mountaintop and rolls down. I’ve lived here long enough to know where that snow likely landed. It’s possible that she was speeding down the road and already passed it before it fell.
But if she wasn’t speeding.
But if she wasn’t paying attention…
She might have gotten swept up in that landslide.
I can’t risk it.
Am I pissed at her? You fuckin’ betcha. Am I going to possibly let her die out there? No way.
I fling the door open. “Owen, get your ass up, we gotta move, man.”
“What’s going on?” He sits up like lightning shot through him and blinks his eyes.
“It’s Mary, she took off down the road and an avalanche just rolled down the mountain. C’mon, man, we gotta get down there and make sure she’s okay,” I bark at him.
“Mary? Avalanche?”
I understand it’s a lot to take in, especially for someone who just woke up, but I don’t have time to explain.
“Move your ass, or I’m leaving without you. You got ten seconds, Owen.” I’m commanding him like a drill sergeant.
He hops out of bed, jumping all over the room as he tries to pull his boxers and pants back on. It takes a few seconds, and he still looks groggier than a frat guy after his first rager when he comes out of the bedroom, but he’s ready, and that’s the main thing.
“Okay,” he shakes his head and steps into his boots, “let’s go.”
12
Owen
Hardy throws the Jeep into park and practically falls out the door. He’s been cursing Mary’s name the whole way over here, but I can tell he’s worried sick about her. There’s no mistaking his concern as he rushes over to the corridor of snow and climbs up to take a look around.
From what he tells me, Mary took off. It hurts a lot that she’d do that. It hurts more that she’d just leave us without any kind of explanation. Still, I think it’s a long shot and a whole lot of wishful thinking to expect to find her out here.
I want another chance with her too.
Not to fuck her or share her, but to talk to her. To find out why she left. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever get that shot though, because the chances of her being in this avalanche are pretty near slim to none.
I open my door and start to search the mountain of snow blocking the road. Hardy is getting right in there, climbing through it and stopping to scan for Mary’s car.
“Dude, it’s a lost cause. She isn’t here,” I call out, but he ignores me. He’s like a dog who got a whiff of something and now he won’t stop until the trail runs cold.
I stare at the snow, wondering how long this road will be swept out for. Somehow, having this giant pile of the white stuff between us and civilization, it makes Mary seem even further away. I reach down and grab a frosty handful, remembering how just yesterday we were all having so much fun. How could she leave like that? Slipping out from my bed and just driving off. It’s like she was trying to break our hearts
.
I expected it to bother me. I’m the big softie. I never thought it would bother Hardy so much though.
“Come on, man. Let’s just go back. This is a waste of time.” My sadness begins to transform into something else. Into anger. “Let’s go, Hardy, this is stupid. She ain’t here, man!” I yell out, clenching my fists at my sides.
“No!”
“Are you serious? You want to spend all day digging around in here looking for someone who’s gone? It’s over, man. She left. It sucks, but that’s what it is. I’m not going to stand here pretending that she’s still here to save.”
“Shut the fuck up, Owen, and get up here. She’s here. The ass end of the car is barely sticking out. She’s here!” he yelps.
No way.
I climb through the packed snow and join him. Sure enough, barely peeping out of the snow is her tail lights.
“Help me dig her out.” Hardy falls to his knees and starts clawing the snow from the back of the car.
I join him, using both hands to scoop and toss clumps of it away. We’re both panting and giving it our all, but this is hard work. As we get closer to revealing the back window, we pause and listen.
“Mary!” Hardy yells. “We’re digging you out, baby.”
Nothing. Fuck, it didn’t even occur to me until right now that she might not have made it. We could be digging her car out and she might be dead.
“Mary, hon, can you hear us?” I bellow.
Silence.
Panic wells up inside me. It fuels me, jolting more energy into my aching arms. It pushes out the cold attacking my body and laser focuses me in on the job at hand. Together we manage to clear the windshield, but I still don’t hear her calls for help or scared sobs.
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