Page 73 of Bossy Mountain Daddies
And yet I can't stop smiling.
A knock at my door makes me jump.
"You about ready?" It's Buck's voice, warm and casual like we're heading out for a normal day trip and not... whatever this is.
"Just about," I call back, zipping my bag closed. "Be right there."
I take one last look in the mirror. I've kept it simple—cutoff shorts, a soft white t-shirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail.Nothing special, yet my reflection shows flushed cheeks and bright eyes that give everything away.
When I step outside, they're all waiting by Griff's truck. Three sets of eyes turn to me, and the weight of their collective gaze makes my knees go weak. Ford smiles in that thoughtful way of his, Buck grins widely, and Griff—Griff just looks at me like he's already undressing me in his mind.
"Right on time," Ford says, checking his watch.
Griff opens the passenger door with a nod. "Ready to head out?"
"Absolutely," I reply, trying to sound breezy and not like my heart's about to pound out of my chest.
We arrange ourselves with Griff behind the wheel and Ford in the passenger seat. Buck slides into the back beside me, his large frame making the seat feel smaller.
As Griff pulls onto the road, I watch his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the way his eyes narrow slightly in concentration. Ford fiddles with the radio, settling on a classic rock station. The normalcy of it all—four friends on a road trip—almost makes me laugh, considering what we all know is going to happen once we reach the cabin.
"It's about an hour drive," Ford says, turning to look at me. "The place is pretty remote."
"Remote sounds perfect," I reply, and the heat in his eyes tells me he catches my meaning.
Twenty minutes into the drive, Buck's hand lands casually on my knee. I glance at him, but his face reveals nothing as he stares out the window, commenting on the scenery. His fingers, though, begin moving up the bare skin of my leg, slowly inching upward along my thigh.
My breath catches. Up front, Griff and Ford are deep in conversation about some local politics issue, completely oblivious to what's happening in the backseat. Buck's handcontinues its journey, slipping beneath the hem of my shorts, his rough fingertips dragging against my inner thigh.
I shift in my seat, giving him better access. He takes the invitation, his fingers traveling higher until they brush against my panties. I bite my lip to keep from making a sound.
"You okay back there?" Ford asks, turning slightly. I guess I wasn’t as quiet as I thought I was.
"Fine," I manage, my voice higher than normal. "Just enjoying the view."
Buck suppresses a smile, his middle finger pressing against the damp fabric between my legs. I clamp my thighs together, trapping his hand, but he doesn't relent. Instead, he leans closer, his lips near my ear.
"Spread your legs a little more," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "Let me make you feel good."
I comply, relaxing my thighs enough for his hand to continue its exploration. He pushes my underwear aside and I have to stifle a gasp as his finger slides inside me.
The truck hits a bump, and Buck's finger drives deeper. I grip the seat, my knuckles turning white. The men in the front seat remain oblivious, the radio and their conversation masking the wet sounds of Buck's finger working in and out of me.
He adds a second finger, and I lean my head back, closing my eyes. Fuck, that feels so good…
"Need to stop for gas," Griff announces, pulling into a small station on the side of the road.
Buck withdraws his hand so smoothly it's like nothing happened. I'm left breathless, aching, right on the edge of something I desperately need to finish. As Griff parks beside a pump, I try to compose myself, smoothing my shorts and running a hand through my hair.
"I'm going to hit the restroom," Buck says, opening his door.
"Me too," Ford adds, unbuckling his seatbelt.
They both exit, leaving me alone with Griff, who turns to look at me over his shoulder.
"Having fun back there?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.
My face heats. "You knew?"
