Vivian Arend - Rocky Mountain Desire

“Hmm. There we go. Now lift up on your knees so I can reach those beauties.”

Somehow Matt kept his hips pumping steadily, his cock sliding lazily in and out of her pussy as he gave one breast then the other his attention, licking and biting, driving her quickly toward another release. Over his shoulder, the twins were still playing with Zoë, but the sight had grown blurry, as if seen through a thick fog. Matt’s lovemaking was powerful and addictive, and infinitely distracting. She didn’t care what was happening back in the main room.

She understood the attraction of voyeurism a bit better, but when the main event was so incredible, she didn’t need anything but him.

Matt picked up his pace, shifting her hands to his shoulders. “Hold on tight.”

Then he grabbed her hips and she clung to him, riding him like a bucking bronco. Thick and hot, his cock pierced her again and again. Matt dropped a hand between her legs and caught hold of her clit, pressing the little nub.

Climax slammed into her as she screamed his name.

Matt groaned out his release, driving upward and pinning them together, groins grinding as he pulsed into her depths, his firm abdomen rubbing her clit and extending the aftershocks.

It was a good thing he held her upright, or she would have puddled to the ground. There was a cry from the main room, but the urge to peek simply wasn’t there.

Matt caught her chin in his hand and kissed her, hard. His body and hers still connected, his tongue taking possession of her just like his body had claimed hers.

Hope parked her truck and cursed at the horrible noises it made as the final rumble of the engine died away.

It seemed her temporary wheels were fast becoming just that. She probably shouldn’t have used it to drag race through the mud a week ago, but it wasn’t as if the truck was a classic or anything. She’d have to find something else to drive, and soon, but so far she hadn’t had much luck.

She hopped out and headed around to the passenger side, chuckling to herself. If she was honest, she hadn’t been looking too hard. Between the shop, the raffle and everything else she was doing—like spending tons of time with Matt—she’d neglected to look for new wheels. Only with the ominous noises it had just made? She’d better move the search up the to-do list.

She pulled open the door and reached in for her grocery bags, hooking up all four at one time. That meant she had to use her hip to close the door. She gasped as she turned and looked up into Clay’s smiling face.

“Let me give you a hand.”

She couldn’t justify pulling away, so Hope let him take a couple bags. “What’re you doing here?”

Clay stepped ahead of her easily. “Waiting for you.”

Really? “Why?”

He grinned. “Got a lead on a car for you. I’ve got the details in my back pocket. Let me show you.”

Perfect timing. “Affordable? Reliable?”

“Not a tank?” Clay laughed. “Let’s get these into your place then I’ll show you.”

Hope hurried up the stairs, excited at the prospect of getting to drive something that didn’t take two blocks planning to turn around. She unlocked the door and dropped her groceries on the table, pointing for Clay to do the same. “Mondays as a day off is a wonderful thing, but I put way too much on my plate at times. So? Show me.”

Clay pulled out a paper covered with notes. “Sorry, my handwriting isn’t very good. I’ll help.”

He stepped beside her. All her concentration focused on the information on the page. Low enough mileage, the make looked good.

She pointed to the numbers. “What’s that say?”

Clay bent over and examined his handwriting closer. “Seven thousand, but I think we could talk him down. It’s old man Shedwick—he’s buying a new car for his wife and didn’t get offered enough as a trade. I’m pretty sure I can find out what they offered him. If you suggest a price between what he’s asking and that, he’ll take it.”

Sheer willpower kept both feet on the floor she was so excited. “This is perfect. Thank you, so much. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

Clay stepped in front of her, his body trapping her against the fridge, and suddenly the position they were in felt far too confining. “It’s the least I could do.”

Hope planted a hand on his chest, intending to open up space between them, but he closed the gap faster than she could retreat. His mouth was on hers and she protested loudly. Or as loudly as she could without air. His bulk held her in place, his arms confining.

Hope simultaneously bit down and lifted her knee as hard as she could.

Clay folded in two, backing away as if she was a wild cat. One hand stretched out to form a blockade, the other between his legs cupping his balls. He gasped for air, his sputtering proof her knee had made direct contact. For a second she thought he might drop to the floor, but he caught himself, his free hand clutching one knee hard.

Hope scooted to the far side of the kitchen near the door, ready to run if necessary. Only Clay wasn’t coming after her. He groaned a few more times before grimacing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he squeezed out, the words broken by his gasps.

She’d kicked him hard enough to make a real difference.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she challenged back. “You bring me information on a car and then maul me? Did you expect I’d just fall into bed with you for that?”

“But you left a message. God damn, Hope, stop playing games.”

“I never left any message. Not since the last time we did a quilting lesson for the raffle.”

Clay shook his head. He planted a hand on the counter and shoved himself a bit more vertical, pausing to wipe a hand across his mouth. He examined his fingers as if expecting to find blood. “You called. Said you hoped I was still interested in spending some time with you. It was a damn tempting message too. Dirty, explicit.”

What? “I’m seeing Matt. Why would I say such things?”

“Don’t bitch at me. I’m not an idiot—ah, hell. This is fucked up. I didn’t mean to…” Clay shook his head. “Someone’s played me for a fool.”

Helen.

“Oh, Clay. I can guess who. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in anything but the car. Things are good with Matt and me. I’m sorry you—”

What could she say?

He laughed bitterly. “Maybe I am kind of stupid. I fell for it. Should have known better.”

Hope grabbed a washcloth and wet it for him. She handed it over with an apology. “Sorry about your mouth. And…”

He lifted a brow, the cloth pressed to his lip. “Sorry about my balls? In spite of being embarrassed, I’m glad to know you aren’t shy about defending yourself.”

She was totally mortified now, for a whole new set of reasons. And totally furious as well. “My sister has moved past the point of being annoying to the point of being dangerous. I could have really hurt you. Or this could have ended badly.”

Clay nodded, slowly easing himself upright. Another groan escaped. “She’s a bitch. Sorry—related to you and all, but it’s the truth.”

Hope paced back into the living room. “I don’t know what to do about her. I thought I made it clear that my life was my own.”

“Obviously not.” Clay staggered forward a step. “I gotta sit down.”

She didn’t offer an arm or anything as he made his way to the couch—figured that would only make his humiliation worse. She did hit the fridge and grab him a drink, as well as soaking the cloth again and returning it.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Don’t sit there looking at me. It’s awkward enough to know someone a foot shorter than me brought me to my knees that easily.”

Hope turned away, hiding her grin. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t. “I am so—”

“Sorry? Don’t be. I shouldn’t have come on so strong. Just something about Matt rubs me the wrong way and when I thought I had the green light?” Clay’s eyes popped open. “Shit. You think your sister is bent on making trouble between you and Matt?”

“Looks that way.”

Oh no.

His hint registered the same moment Clay pointed to the phone. “If she goes for the obvious, you might want to give Matt a call.”

His phone rang for the tenth time in the past hour. Matt cussed louder, but otherwise ignored the call like he had all the previous times. It wasn’t a familiar family ring, which meant there was no emergency worth freeing his hands from the mud and muck he was elbow deep in. Should have turned the damn thing off completely.

By the time he had scrubbed himself clean, there were more messages waiting. He jumped into his truck and started through them en route to town to pick up supplies. He’d grab a quick burger, maybe stop in at Hope’s for a minute if she was free for lunch.

When Helen’s voice came over the line, he was tempted to delete the rest of the bloody messages all unheard. All her words weren’t understandable—slurred a little at times, and again, he couldn’t figure out if she was drunk or high on something.

She didn’t make a lot of sense in the first couple messages, but by the third, her intent was clear enough.

“You might want to ignore me, but it’s for your own good. There’s something funny going on. I was headed to work and happened to notice there’s a strange truck parked outside Hope’s place. She’s off work today, isn’t she?”

It was enough. Matt clicked erase, then turned the phone off altogether. Helen continued to amaze him. As if he’d believe anything she had to tell him, especially about her sister.