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 had 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.
I need her, our perfect, dirty little girl, now, and I kiss the back of her neck, then let my lips drift down her spine. I grab the perfect globes of her ass in both my hands and spread them wide while she moans into Logan's mouth, his fingers pinching her nipples roughly.
I shove Rose's knees apart, then grab her by the hips and pull her up. She arches her back and gets on her knees, and my God she's wet, so wet her juices are nearly dripping from her.
Logan's shirt flies off, but I'm not really paying attention as I find her clit with my tongue and give it a long, slow lick. I flatten it against her and listen to her moan, flicking it across her, burying it inside her and fucking her with it.
I slide my fingers into her tight, waiting pussy and Rose moans, bucking back against me, asking for more, but I tease her for just another moment, licking her harder and harder, taking my fingers out of her pussy and sliding them to the puckered pink bud of her back hole.