Hers to Choose (Cannon Cousins) (6 page)

She wanted to believe
this was some kind of turning point. But what if this turned out as badly?
Or worse?

With the last of the
lights turned out in the rest of the house, she took a quick shower. But when
she got into bed, she couldn’t sleep remembering the sick pleasure of standing
with her wet crotch and swollen breasts exposed in front of the two men, her
nipples bunched and zinging, her pussy throbbing for release. Finally, sometime
past midnight and after she finally gave in to her needs and stroked herself to
climax, she managed to sleep.  

***

The next morning she confronted an
even more difficult time keeping her mind on her business as the two men
arrived to shower. Her imagination ran rampant, picturing how their tall
muscular bodies looked without clothes, wet, soapy. Her clit throbbed. It
hadn’t escaped her attention that their wide shoulders and tight butts looked
like a million bucks in whatever they wore.

Alex had arrived in jeans
and a dark blue turtleneck, which made his by-now three day shadow a menacing
mask that merged with the sweater. His eyes sparked dark blue, smiling in a
strange way that didn’t match the serious expression on his face. Dan’s lighter
facial hair lessened the impact of his stubble, but something about his pale
blue eyes cut through her like a knife, disturbing in ways that lingered in her
mind. She hummed to herself, cutting the last of the biscuits and dusting flour
off her hands.

Alex appeared in the
kitchen doorway wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. Her mouth fell
open slightly as her stare ran up and down his stunningly gorgeous body.
Sculpted biceps, sinewy forearms scored with veins, rippling
pecs
, and a six-pack from hell—oh,
god
.
Muscled thighs emerged at the lower end of the pink towel, which made for quite
a contradictory scene. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud, but she
felt certain the amusement in her eyes didn’t escape his penetrating stare.

“Might I trouble you for
a bar of soap? I prefer not to smell like lavender body wash, or whatever the
hell that is in there,” he began, in a slightly annoyed tone of voice.
“If that’s not too much to ask.”

“Oh,” she laughed, in
spite of herself. “Yes, I think I have something.” She hurried to the hall
closet and rummaged around, finally finding a bar of Lava. Probably not the
most comfortable soap for bathing, but it would have to do. He turned the
package over in his hand.

“And shampoo—other than
mango scent? It seems we forgot to pack any.”

His musky scent swarmed
through her nose. If she could only run her fingers through the soft mat of
hair on his chest, flick those flat nipples with her tongue, maybe drag her
lips
across that six pack
on the way down...
get a
grip, Bryn
.

“I’ll see if I can find
something.”

“Bring it in, if you
don’t mind.”

She waited while he
stalked toward her room, not trusting herself to keep her hands to herself if she
remained in arm’s reach one more instant. After a few seconds of digging around
in the cluttered closet shelves, she found a partial bottle of generic dandruff
shampoo.

Dan had stretched himself
out full length on top of her carefully made up bed, waiting for his turn in
the shower. Which wouldn’t have been too difficult to get past, in spite of how
much it felt like a complete invasion of her privacy, except for the fact that
he wore nothing but blue boxer shorts and an ominous lump at the groin she couldn’t
help but notice. She tried not to look as she hurried to give a brief knock
before opening the bathroom door.

“Shampoo?”

Alex shoved back the
shower curtain, exposing his wet nudity to her full view. Her glance
immediately locked on the semi-erect condition of his cock before her jaw
dropped and she managed to turn her head. Heat immediately surged in her pussy,
her mind reeling with images of him fully stiff and jamming that beautiful cock
inside her. With her head averted, she walked two steps forward and reached
toward him with the shampoo.

His hand slid over hers,
holding it in his wet grasp over the bottle of shampoo.

“Dandruff
shampoo?
Lava soap?
Not exactly spa grade toiletries,” he laughed.
His thumb stroked the side of her hand. “You’ll need to add that to your
shopping list.”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled,
pulling against his grasp.

“And I need you to wash
my back,” he continued smoothly, as if asking for another slice of bread.
“Please.”

Her breath caught,
everything in her body thundering with need. Where exactly did this fit into
the plan? If she made contact with his skin, she wasn’t sure where her hand
would stop.

“Would you do that for
me, Miss McClure?” He pulled her toward him.

She turned, hoping to
keep her view from straying below his waist. Fortunately he let go of her hand
and turned his back toward her. But while relieved of any heart-stopping view
of his cock, now her eyes found themselves locked onto the curve of his taut
ass. Oh my god, this man had it all. Sweat beaded her forehead. His broad
shoulders and tapering waist loomed as she grabbed the wash cloth, worked up
lather on the hard soap, and began scrubbing up and down.

“Damn it, woman, are you
trying to remove my skin? Just use your hand and a little lather.”

“Oh, sorry,” she croaked.

This would be worse, much
worse.
One thing to stroke his back with a cloth.
But
her bare hand, all those nerve endings against his satiny flesh? She draped the
soapy cloth over the side of the tub and began rubbing soap over his smooth
back with her trembling hand. The slope of his side down to his hip presented a
tremendous temptation. Everything in her body pulled toward him. She wanted to
rip off her clothes and step into the shower beside him, shove his cock inside
her in one long stroke.

In seconds, before she
could stop herself, her hand slid along his waist and down to the other side,
so that her soapy fingers slipped along the length of his fully erect cock. His
sharp intake of breath woke her from whatever insane dream she had fallen into.
Horrified, she snapped back and fled the room, her arm dripping in water.

The timer was dinging for
the biscuits, who knew for how long. She jerked the pan out of the oven and
cursed. More browned than she liked, but still edible. She didn’t have time to
make more. The sausages sat cooling on paper towels. With her breath coming in
gasps, she broke one after another egg into the bowl.

What had she done?
Alex’s cock in her hand.
And a very nice one, thick, long,
and rock hard. She threw down an egg shell and grabbed another egg, rapping it
so hard on the cabinet edge that the whole egg crushed in her hand. Yolk and
ropey white mixed in with bits of shell dribbled off the edge of the tiles and
formed a pool on the floor. Her pussy throbbed and she wanted to yell. She had
stepped over the line, exposed her need. Not okay. She knelt to clean up the
mess.

No matter how much she
had fantasized, she realized now she had a serious issue to resolve. Nothing
about the situation allowed her to make demands for what she really wanted from
these men. They were here for her facilities and services, not the other way
around. And, she lectured herself, she couldn’t risk the potentially
devastating emotional reaction she might experience if they—if Alex—touched her
sexually.

Why had she thought she
could submit to discipline and not feel sexual? Or that she could feel sexual
and not want more? They kept surprising her with more intimate behavior and
assumptions. After only two days, hell, even the first day, she wanted them to
ravish her. She couldn’t let herself think of what could happen in the
remaining ten days.

Focus,
Bryn.
You
can do this. You have to do this.

Strong hands pulled her
up and roughly shoved her forward against the cabinet.

“Did you think you could
just toy with me and leave?” His husky voice came close to her ear. Alex. He
smelled of generic shampoo and Lava soup—and a trace of lusty male.

Oh god. His hands ran
over her breasts and down her hips before tearing open the fastener to her jeans.
In seconds, he had his fingers on her clit. Juices flooded her crotch—his
embrace felt better than she could have imagined. His wet body pressed against
her back. She could feel his erection against her ass. Fiery pangs raced across
her belly and down her thighs. Shivering, she moaned and shifted her hips,
pressing against his fingers. A few more strokes and she would explode.

Then he stepped back. She
could hear his heavy breathing. What was he waiting for?
Whatever
he wanted, please.

Her whole body ached. Now
she knew—she had to have him. Her breasts throbbed, her body burned, consumed
with trembling anticipation. “Not a lot of fun, being left that way, is it Miss
McClure?” he whispered again.

She whirled around,
grabbing at her jeans. A hungry expression encased his freshly shaven face. His
mouth hovered inches away from her and his cobalt eyes smoldered. Her gaze slid
down his bare chest and locked onto the erection poking the towel out in front
of him.

Oh please crush my
mouth with your lips. Molest my tits
.
Shove your cock in me and never stop.
If she could slip off that towel.
She swallowed, her lips
quivered—no, she could not let herself bring her mouth to him. Her glance
traveled back up his body and caught his red-hot glance. Was he reading her
thoughts?

Biting her lip, she felt
her pulse start to slow its deafening drum beat in her ears.

“I...I don’t know what to
say, I’m really not like that.
At all.
It
was...temporary insanity. I guess. Too much stress.” She forced a kind of laugh
and turned back to the counter, anything to escape his looming presence. Did he
want her? Or had she imagined he felt desire when he touched her? Yes, she
realized her act was completely inappropriate. It was, after all, a total
invasion of his privacy, but then! What? Wasn’t he the one who presented his
nude body to her, asked her to wash his back, for god’s sake? Erect?

Damn right, stress.

Another egg cracked, her
hands shaking as she tried to get back to preparing breakfast. She felt him
behind her. It was all she could do to remain standing, her knees like pudding.
Her crotch pounded with need. If he wanted to stand there with his attitude,
let him. Get back to the reason for all this, Bryn. The finish line waited just
ahead, when they would pay the full amount and she could stop the clock on
foreclosure.

***

Alex summoned what little
self-control he could muster and stalked out of the room. He passed Dan’s
amused glance as he brought his hand to his nose and breathed in her scent,
slamming the bathroom door. Yes, he had pushed the envelope, caught up in a
crazy spontaneous idea of having her wash his back. At least he had managed not
to fuck her on the kitchen floor, which was what his blood-deprived brain first
conjured. Back in the water, he took his aching cock in hand and stroked
viciously. Her eyes with that questioning look.
Her tremulous
lips.
Her breasts.
Her slick,
warm folds at his fingertips.
Jesus. His hand slowed as ejaculate burned
out of him.

He dressed while Dan went
in to shower. Maybe his hand job would help him climb down. He was acting like
a fool. The essence of this woman hovered all around him, her robe hanging on
the back of the bedroom door, the bed where she stretched out her body at
night, little personal things on top of her chest of drawers, a jammed-full
closet with its door not quite closed. He couldn’t stop thinking about her body
under his hands, her scent. He wanted his hands in her thick curly hair. If she
wanted spanking on her fine ass, even though it made no sense to him, he wanted
to be the one spanking her.
Then kissing it all away.
Damn, his cock had hardened again.
So much for climbing down.

Alex cleared his throat,
standing in the kitchen doorway and watching her set food on the table. Her
hair caught on her shoulders, tendrils of wavy copper. Her blue eyes looked up,
momentarily startled at seeing him there. The thought of crushing those lips
against his own… He pulled himself back. 

“Looks
like breakfast is ready.”

Flushing, she looked
down. “Yes, please go ahead.”

“I’ll wait for
Dan,
he should be just another minute or so.” He walked
across the kitchen and stared out the back door. This could become one of his
favorite views, looking out across the pastures to the
blue
mountains
in the distance. The whole place had a kind of magic about it.

“Was this a family farm?”

“Yes,” she came up beside
him, following his stare.
“Since the 1880s.”

“Long
line of country people.”

“It’s in my blood.”