Lost with the Mountain Man

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

JESSAMY

T he blanket brushes over my bare skin, soft but doing little to comfort me. My heart pounds like a drum, each beat loud enough to drown out the storm winds outside. I’ve just stripped naked in front of my husband… with another man watching.

I draw in a slow breath, the smoky warmth of the fire licking my side. It doesn’t touch the heat simmering across my skin—the kind of heat that comes from knowing two sets of eyes are on you, taking in every inch of your body.

Beau’s chest rises and falls, his body rigid as a statue, but his eyes betray him. They flit down my body, lingering here and there before darting sideways to Malcolm.

And Malcolm. He’s not subtle, either. His stare is heavy, invasive, as if trying to read my every secret written across my skin.

Beau hesitates but moves, his steps slow. I offer him a smile as he kneels beside me, his nearness bringing an unexpected calm to my chaos.

“Jess,” he murmurs, his voice thick with nerves, his eyes darting away from me as if the sight is too much to bear. “Cover yourself up. Come on.”

“Beau.” I take his hands, wrapping my trembling fingers around his. They’re colder than I expected, and their faint tremor matches mine. “I want this. I want you.”

“This isn’t?—”

“Please.”

He goes quiet. His eyes flick down to my mouth, hesitant but softening. My chest tightens with anticipation as I lean forward, offering him the kiss I’m aching for.

When his lips brush mine, it’s hardly a kiss at all. It’s timid, chaste. Before he can retreat, I pull him closer, parting my lips and pressing harder, willing him to feel the desperation in me.

His breath warms my cheek, heavy with temptation, though his posture remains upright, unsure. Then his hand finds my face, and the touch sends a spark trailing down my neck and along my spine. My skin hums in its wake, each nerve alive for him.

As I lie back against the blanket, Beau follows, his weight pressing gently against me. I cup his face, holding him close, drinking in the familiar scent of my husband. It’s been three months—three unbearable months—since we’ve touched like this. My body throbs with longing, every part of me desperate to reconnect, to pull him inside the storm of need that’s threatening to consume me.

His fingers slide down my arms, deliberate, reverent. When his hands reach mine, he laces our fingers together, his touch anchoring me. My lips tingle, already expecting the next move—he’ll pin my hands above my head, like he always does, and kiss me senseless.

But he doesn’t.

His touch falters. I see his hesitation plain as day. His eyes lift, drawn toward Malcolm, whose presence feels like a gust of hot air rushing into the room.

“Beau,” I whisper, pulling his focus back to me. “Just let him watch.”

His throat works as he swallows. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes.” I lift my chin, brushing my lips along his. “Show him what you do to me.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move. His jaw tightens, his pride and doubts warring in his eyes. I don’t let go. Instead, I draw my fingers along the edge of his jaw, coaxing his attention back to me. Our lips graze, the thrill of his nearness buzzing through me. My mind drifts to that night—one we rarely talk about but both remember.

I still think about it, too.

His lips crash into mine, erasing my thoughts. His kiss is hard, possessive, stealing my breath and scattering it across the flames beside us. Heat floods my body, curling in my chest and spiraling down to my toes. His tongue teases mine, and I melt into the touch, every sensation amplified, as if my nerves are made of glass.

The world outside—the cold, the storm, the onlooker—fades into the background. It’s just us. Beau’s hands move with certainty now, pinning mine above my head as his body aligns with mine. His jeans press against my thighs, firm and insistent, his hips rolling with a rhythm that pulls a gasp from my lips.

I arch beneath him, helpless in the best way, surrendering to the fire we’ve rekindled. It’s all I want—all I need. Beau.

And no one else.

No one…

With a gasp, the first promise of pleasure trickles over me. I rest my head back, sighing as Beau sucks on my throat. I let my eyes drift toward Malcolm. He sits there, still and silent, his expression like a statue in the firelight. No movement save his eyes. Piercing and brown.

We make eye contact, triggering a rush of heat through my body as Beau’s hand comes to rest between my thighs. His touch pulls me back. I angle my mouth for my husband’s tender kiss while his fingertips glide along my wet lips. Eight years together. He’s touched me this way a thousand times before, but it still makes me quiver with anticipation. Memories spark from simpler days. Fooling around under the covers in his dorm. Camping out in the empty living room of my first apartment before I could afford furniture. Sneaking a private moment together in his parent’s house during their annual New Year’s party. My heart flutters, still so full after all this time. So wildly in love with a man I still so desperately want to spend the rest of my life with.

I kiss him, whispering his name as he draws little circles around my clit. My hips roll, starved for his touch. He responds with a faster rub, my clit held fast between two fingers, the tips of them wet with my arousal.

Two logs lurch in the fireplace. I startle, my entire body clenching for a moment before relaxing with a wave of chuckles. Beau smiles, his eyes soft with desire, the tension in them fading more and more with each kiss. He looks at me with confidence, with eager urges. He wants me as much as I want him.

And Malcolm...

I steal another glance at him. He hasn’t moved at all, but he sits with a tension that wasn’t there before. His breaths are faster, though just as deep and quiet.

I moan, the mix of Beau’s hands and Malcolm’s eyes on me intoxicating. When Beau finally plunges his fingers inside of me, I cry out in pleasure, my back arching off the floor. I try not to squirm too much, but I can’t help it. Beau’s always known just where to touch, just what buttons to push to render me speechless. I cup his face, kissing him hard as I moan his name. My body screams for more, but I hold steady, wanting to ride out this feeling for as long as possible. My skin tingles from the flame between us and I feel my core tighten with climax.

“Beau,” I whisper, submitting to the tension.

He blindly runs his finger along my inner wall, teasing my most intimate spots. I spread my legs wider, opening myself to him—and to Malcolm’s probing eyes.

A prickle of self-consciousness touches the back of my neck. It’s been so long since another man has seen me this way, and I can’t deny the thrill of it now. To be so open, so exposed.

Another kiss and my entire form clenches. My moans echo toward the ceiling, the sound mixing with the crackling flame beside us. I clench and quiver, Beau pulling the orgasm from me as easy as he always has before. I kiss him again, proud to be his wife.

Tears fill my eyes, one straying from the end of my lashes before I realize it. We work . We’ve always worked. And yet... now...

Beau shifts back, his fingers pulling out of me as he looks at Malcolm.

“There,” Beau says to him, his tone sharp with confrontation. “You think I don’t know how to satisfy my wife?”

Malcolm doesn’t reply, but I catch the edge of his mouth tilting upward.

I shudder with sensation, so far from satisfaction. “Beau,” I say, bringing him back to me. “Don’t stop.”

He looks at me curiously. Even Malcolm’s brow twitches.

“Jess,” Beau says, “What?—”

I silence him with a touch, dragging my fingers down his body to latch onto his belt. His bulge presses against his zipper as I slide the belt open and push his zipper down. Beau inhales sharply, my hand slipping in to palm his cock.

“Jess,” he says, just as much a warning as an urge for more.

“Don’t stop,” I say again, stroking him. “I need you.”

He glances at Malcolm, unsure, but temptation keeps him with me, keeps his hands on my body. He shakes his head once, then releases the smallest groan as my palm glides over his shaft.

“Jessamy,” he whispers before kissing me on the lips.

Whatever words he still had on his tongue fade away as I pull his shirt over his head. His chest shines in the warm glow of the fire and I delight in running my fingers down his skin before pushing his pants down beneath his rear. His cock springs free, hard and ready.

I settle onto my back again, my knees spread wide. And I wait once again for my husband.

Malcolm looks on, still unmoved, save for the slight shift of his legs. He holds his right hand in a tight fist as well, resting on his lap while his left hand clutches the armrest of his chair. There’s a hitch in his breath as Beau kicks off his pants and positions himself between my open thighs.

Beau enters me, and I gasp as toe-curling pleasure rushes through me once again. His thrusts come deep and fast, easily taking over my senses. My tongue dissolves into a flurry of gasps and moans. I cling to Beau as he clings to me, his fingers digging into my hips as he fucks me. Hard and possessive. It’s unlike him, for sure. Beau’s always been a gentle lover, but today, in this storm of heat and snow, he takes me with a roughness that sends shockwaves through my core.

“Beau,” I whimper, so close to the edge already.

He groans in response, the sound full of pleasure. I nearly come from it here and now, my belly quivering on the edge of climax again. I lie still, taking it, unable to do anything else but feel his cock sliding in and out of me with ease, slick with desire.

Malcolm’s chair creaks. The noise is light, just above a whisper. I look over as he adjusts himself, shifting in his seat as if sitting itself is uncomfortable. His fisted hand shakes, held hard against his jaw, the knuckles pure white as he watches.

A chill creeps over me, bringing goosebumps to my skin and twisting my nipples into hard buds. Moans fall out of me as I raise my knees higher, taking Beau deeper into me. He groans with me, his hands coming to cup my bouncing breasts.

Beau looks at Malcolm. For a moment, he pauses as if he’d forgotten he’s even there, watching us. Then he comes back to me, his thrusts harder, deeper. I quiver with need, the thrill of being watched pushing me over the edge. Leaning into it, I caress Beau’s body. I pull him closer. I moan for him, because of him.

All the while, I look at Malcolm. I lose myself in his eyes, wondering what he’s thinking. Maybe he is just a pervert sequestered out here in his shame, but I doubt that somehow. There’s something about him. Something I can’t put my finger on. But I’d like to.

Desire twists even tighter in my gut. I reach out to Beau, cupping his face and pulling him toward me for a hard kiss. He pauses his thrusts, his cock so deep in me as he kisses me back. He caresses my body, his smooth hands gliding along my hip. We move together, spinning as one. Beau rolls onto his back and I mount him. His cock slides out for only a moment before I lower myself onto him again, my palms resting flat against his chest.

Beau lies back, his throat bouncing as he swallows, his groans louder now. He moves his hands on me, touching my breasts and hips and thighs, holding me up as he meets my bounces with hard upright thrusts.

I rest my hands on his knees, my eyes closed as I feel... everything . Beau’s hard cock. His possessive touch. The fire’s scorching heat.

And Malcolm’s unyielding gaze.

Sensing his slight movement, I look at him in his chair. While his right fist still hovers by his chin, his left hand has shifted an inch toward his groin. He notices me notice and, as if he flicked a switch deep within himself, he returns to his original strong and silent position. Only his eyes betray his thoughts, his desires.

I release a quivering moan, my senses going wild. My body on the edge once more, I attempt to balance myself, feeling myself tremble. Beau pushes up to sit, embracing me as I ride. His hot breath rushes across my chest as I hold him, the two of us fucking and grunting as Malcolm looks on.

I gasp as fantasy floods my mind. I wonder just what I’d do if Malcolm were to walk over here now. Would I open my mouth to him? Would I bend myself into impossible positions, letting them both take me at the same time?

I press my mouth against Beau’s shoulder, smothering my cries of ecstasy as he grips me tight. Gasping and grinding, I roll with the waves of orgasm, my sounds blending with his. A few more thrusts, and Beau comes with me, his final grunts weak in my ears. His arms stay tight around me, his body trembling against mine as we look at each other. Firelight reflects in his eyes as I kiss him sweetly, his name vibrating on the tip of my tongue.

We go quiet. We breathe deeply, our bodies thrumming with life as the fire crackles and the snow beats against the walls. Inside, I feel Beau’s spent cock softening, our cum trickling out around it. He touches my face, gentle but still possessive, and kisses me, his lips soft and pliable. I run my fingers through his sweat-tattered hair as I offer him my tongue. He takes it with relish, sucking on it as he runs his hands down my back.

Beau. My husband. My partner in life and love.

What have we done?

He looks back at me, the same doubt reflected in his eyes. When he kisses me again, it’s slight and close-mouthed, but he doesn’t release me. He holds me close, his head bowing to rest against my collarbone. I comb my fingers through his hair, my heart racing as I look toward Malcolm once again.

“How do you feel?” he asks us.

Still sprawled out on the floor, our parts intimately entwined, Beau and I laugh. Softly at first, then louder, deeper, until it consumes every part of us.

I don’t remember the last time we laughed like this.

“Good,” I answer, tears welling in my eyes. “Really good.”

“Yeah,” Beau agrees, caressing my arm. “Really good.”

Malcolm nods once. “What’s lost has a way of coming back to us,” he says. “Somehow.”

I pause, the hopeful words sinking in as I look at Beau, and he looks back.

“You two hop in the shower,” Malcolm says as he stands up. “I’ll make us some lunch.”