Page 11 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

I don't let myself dwell on it, deciding to look on the bright side instead. It's probably for the best. I probably shouldn't start anything with Reed until I get my bearings. I need to focus on cleaning, and I did at least get my cleaning equipment.

That's what I do for the next three or so hours. Luckily, there's plenty of running water from a tank in the loft that collects rainwater off the roof, and I use it to mop, wipe, and disinfect every part of the house that I can.

I glance at my cell phone again and I see it’s gone past midnight. My muscles are sore, first from all that driving, and now from all my hard work cleaning the cabin. Not only that, but I’ve been stifling yawns for the past thirty minutes or so. This place is clean enough for now. Time for me to take my tired body into the shower to wash off the exertions of what has turned out to be a very long day, before I go to bed.

I turn the ancient shower unit to is hottest setting and step in. Even through my exhaustion, that leftover desire still lingers, my muscles buzzing with excess energy. There's only way to get rid of it. I let my hand drift down my water-soaked body. A moan tears out of my mouth as I part my pussy lips, touching my clit. I slowly rub it in circles, a moist sound escaping every time I shift. As desire climbs, I imagine it's Reed's finger teasing me, not my own.

Or maybe it's all three of them. Maybe they take turns tormenting me.

I moan again, louder this time.

I let my mind drift, the pleasurable sensations in my loins unfurling, burning brighter and with greater passion than I had experienced for many months. My left hand strays across to play with my rapidly hardening right nipple, whilst my right hand brushes soothingly against my pussy lips, gently at first and then with more pressure. I let out a moan, allowing the jet of hot water from the shower to play directly onto my sensitized clit.

I close my eyes, and in my mind I see the three men, their huge, muscular torsos surrounding me, their lips teasing my breasts and nuzzling against my neck, their fingers slippery in the water as they caress my smooth and super-sensitive thighs and ass.

I'm not only wet from the water anymore, I'm positively throbbing with desire, hot for sexual fulfilment. I can already feel my orgasm coming nearer as I start to rub my finger urgently against my engorged clitoris, my nipples rock hard by now, almost aching with each touch. I rub faster, imagining one of the men kneeling down and licking me between my legs. My legs are shaking, my body almost swooning. The moment is getting closer, closer, like a tsunami wave, heading for the beach. My thighs are trembling, I can barely stand, my fingers almost painful as they rub and play with my swollen nub, though in myimagination it's Reed's hand not mine that is the instrument of this sweet, sweet pleasure.

I feel the tsunami wave almost upon me — there's no going back now, I cannot last much longer. Every inch of me is tingling, my breath tightening, tightening… and then the wave reaches me — engulfs me — washing over me, leaving me engulfed, stripped away like a dandelion in a storm. I stiffen in throes of pure ecstasy, a loud moan escaping my lips, even as a prick of guilt hits my conscience.I'm fantasizing about my neighbors, about three men I only just met. There's probably something messed up about that.

Nevertheless, I tell myself there's no need to feel too guilty.

It's only a fantasy after all.

CHAPTER 4

Dean

Ihear the door shut as I turn the corner, drying my hair with a towel. I typically shower directly before bed, but I didn't think I'd be getting much sleep tonight, so I decided to do it now and get it out of the way.

I enter the living room in my boxer shorts, to find Lennon still frozen in front of the door, his shoulders tense, eyes boring into the wood.

"Who was that?"

He doesn't look over his shoulder, simply exhales and heads to the kitchen where his half-eaten dinner sits on the table, getting cold. "No one. Just the new neighbor."

"New—oh." I remember the woman who sat in the car, with hair like spun gold, and flashing sapphire-blue eyes that seemed to hold a sadness she was trying desperately to cover up with levity. "What did she want?"

"Cleaning products," Lennon says shortly. He scoops up some of his rice and beans with his spoon, shoveling them into his mouth and chewing determinedly as he stares at nothing.

Meanwhile, I cross to the window, contemplating the lodge in the twilight. It seems strange to see it with lights on, after all this time of it lying empty.

"She's really planning on living there?"

"Seems like it," he says after he swallows.

"Why?"

"Why the fuck would I know?"

I send him a look, and he sighs, taking another mouthful of his food. I wait for him to stop chewing before he says, "Sorry. I'm pretty antsy today, and I'm not sure why."

I have an idea. I saw the way he looked at the woman when she got out of her car, the brief flare in his eyes. During her conversation with Reed in the truck, Lennon's eyes flickered to the side mirror more times than I could count and stayed there longer than they should.

Of course, when she mentioned she knew someone who died of cancer—that was the sinker for him.

It’s obvious what all this means—he's attracted to her, but he doesn't want to admit it to himself. He's sworn off dating since Georgia died, and in all those months, he hasn't so much as looked at another woman. That doesn't seem to stop him from looking at this one, however, and if I know Lennon, he hates himself for it because he feels like he's betraying Georgia.

A more sensitive person might sit down and help him unpack those feelings of guilt. They might remind him that Georgia's been dead for several years, that she definitely wouldn't want him to spend the rest of his life mourning her, and that however wonderful a parent he is, his daughter needs a mother.

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