One For All: A Reverse Harem Box Set

by Mia Moon

  “Look at this old furniture,” I whispered, taking in a chair, a bureau and a trunk. “These would sell for a lot of money at the antique markets in Brooklyn.”

  Hank chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made my insides thrum. We were still holding hands, and I handed him his cell. He set it on the bureau.

  There was also a bed inside, or what was a bed. It had a faded white, cast-iron headboard and footboard, and instead of a mattress, it just had smooth boards.

  “I guess someone took the mattress at some point.” I pointed at the bed.

  “Settlers used to have their own bed rolls, so it might have never had one,” he said. “I’ve read some books about this area, and some historians think this wasn’t only a hotel, but might have been a brothel, too.” He turned to face me and let go of my hand.

  “Can you imagine the stories these walls would tell, if walls could talk?” I looked up at him and inhaled sharply at the sight of his longish, dirty blonde hair tumbling over his forehead. And at the way he looked at me with those tawny, brownish-green eyes.

  “Maybe we need to add to those stories so the walls can talk about us in a hundred years,” he murmured, and leaned in for a kiss.

  Chapter Seven

  Hank didn’t kiss me softly, or gently. He assaulted my mouth. And I devoured him. I moaned, wanting more of his lips and tongue.

  “Fuck, Lauren,” he growled. “Hang on.”

  I was panting as I watched him press on the wooden platform of the bed with both hands, as if testing a mattress and its springs. Then he sat.

  “I think it’s going to hold. But, this could get interesting if we fall through. Get over here.” He reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me to him. I stood in between his legs, roughly tilting his head up and kissing him, while he ran his fingers under my skirt and cupped my ass.

  “These have got to go.” He roughly pulled my white lace panties down and I kicked them off, onto the dusty floor. I was still wearing my white sneakers, and my legs looked so bare, so exposed as he caressed them.

  I was panting and staring into his gorgeous face when he slid a finger inside my pussy from behind.

  “Look how wet you are,” he murmured. “So fucking wet.”

  He lifted my skirt and gathered it around my waist, exposing the slickness of my swollen labia. It was so obvious how wet I was from the way my bare skin glistened in the sunlight, and when he slipped a finger between my pussy lips, I held onto his shoulders and moaned. I was like a waterfall down there. He stroked my clit with just the right pressure and I felt myself get creamier.

  “Lauren,” he ground out as he reached around to his back jeans pocket and took out his wallet. “I’ve got a condom. Can we fuck right now?”

  “God, yes.” I could only think of one thing, and that was feeling Hank inside me.

  While he was using both hands to extract the condom and undo his pants, I stood in front of him, touching myself. He tugged his pants down so they pooled around his ankles. This obviously wasn’t a time for slow lovemaking—we wanted each other now.

  “Lauren, you better wait for me.”

  “Or else, what?” I whispered. “I’m about to cum.”

  He growled as he unzipped himself, his massive cock springing forward. I was so shocked at the size of him that I briefly stopped strumming my clit.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  “That’s the or else. Or else I won’t give you this.” He rolled the condom onto his cock and then reached for me. “And I know you want this.”

  “You bet I do.”

  “Get on top of me. Sit on my cock and fuck me.”

  I did as I was told. Although I wanted to be filled with him, I took my time, sinking down inch by pleasurable inch, until I was impaled on his huge shaft. The wood platform creaked underneath us.

  “I want to lay back and watch you fuck me, but I don’t trust this wood. So we’ve gotta do this sitting up.”

  “This is better,” I said, moving my hips and loving the feel of his cock inside me. “I can kiss you easier.”

  He pulled my hair so my neck was exposed, then kissed me as I rode him gently.

  “I love those little noises you’re making. Do you know how beautiful and hot you sound while you’re riding my cock?”

  I needed to feel his mouth on mine, so I wriggled out of his grip and kissed him deep, our tongues twining. Taking fistfuls of his thick hair into my hands, I ground into him, feeling a delicious pressure against my clit.

  “I’m really close, Hank.”

  “I am too, baby doll. Your pussy feels so tight, so wet. Keep fucking me. Just like that. Just like that.”

  As he whispered just like that several times in a sexy growl, I came, quaking with pleasure. My muscles contracted around his cock, and that must have been his tipping point too because he roared and I could feel him pulsing inside me.

  I let out a little squeal because my orgasm was still rolling through me. I couldn’t believe I was doing this in an abandoned hotel with this beautiful man. What if some tourists walked in? Somehow, the thrill of it all heightened my senses and turned me on even more.

  “That’s it, baby doll. Take all the time you need. Here,” he said, slipping his hand between us so his thumb made contact with my clit. “How’s this? You want more?”

  With a gossamer touch, his thumb stroked my engorged pussy, giving it enough pressure to send a fresh wave of orgasms through me. I collapsed onto his shoulder, panting, pulling his hand away.

  “No more. Not now. Please?”

  He drew me in close. “Your wet little pussy’s too sensitive right now. I understand. We’ll have round two later.”

  True to his word, round two came when we got back into the truck. I didn’t think we’d get back at it so quickly, bu we started kissing again against the truck and since I’d left my underwear back in the dusty old building, one thing led to another.

  He all but tossed me into the cab and positioned me so that I was sitting in the passenger seat, with my knees spread.

  The passenger door was open, and he stood outside of the truck, leaning forward to lick my pussy until I exploded with another orgasm.

  I gasped and with rubbery legs, moved jump down from the truck so I could reciprocate.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I was going to do the same to you.”

  “Later,” he said. “Round three. Back at the ranch.”

  As we drove back, my eyes fluttered shut, sleepy from all the pleasure. I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew, I felt Hank’s large hand on my knee.

  “Baby girl, we’re back. Wake up.”

  I made a little mmmm noise and heard him chuckle. I tried to look awake as we walked into the lodge, then perked up when I saw Jax and Cassidy, each lying on two of the big sofas, watching a rodeo on TV.

  “Someone got a little sleepy on the way back from the ghost town,” said Hank, falling onto a free spot on the sofa. They didn’t look like business owners in that moment. Instead, they seemed like hot model-types lounging and ready for a shoot. Jesus, was Jax shirtless?

  Jax and Cassidy sat up, and shot us the biggest of grins. I felt my face get hot, remembering what Hank had said, about them sharing women. Suddenly I felt self-conscious.

  It was a mix of guilt for kissing and fooling around on them. And it was also a feeling of confusion. Should I even feel guilty? What was I doing with these three? Why did I feel so good with all of them? I was here to write an article.

  I still had reporting to do, had to check out other tourism sites in the area. I couldn’t continue to indulge in three hot cowboys.

  I pasted on a grin and shifted from foot to foot, acutely aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing underwear. I was getting wet just looking at the three guys and thinking of them dating one woman.

  She was probably the luckiest woman on the planet.

  I shifted from foot to foot. I wondered if they’d talk about me once I left t
he room. Would Jax say that he fingered me? Would Cassidy mention our kiss? Would Hank tell them we’d fucked in the ghost town?

  Holy crap, I had sex with a cowboy in a ghost town.

  I almost laughed out loud from the sheer absurdity of it. I chewed on my bottom lip as my stomach did flip-flops. Did this mean I was a slut? Normally I was pro-sex—even though I didn’t have much of it. Maybe because I didn’t have much of it, I was second guessing my behavior since arriving in Montana.

  What the hell had gotten into me? Why did I want all three of these guys?

  “Hey, Lauren,” Cassidy piped up, “Your rental car’s fixed and in the driveway. Keys are on the kitchen counter.”

  “Looks like you got some sun today, on your face and chest,” Jax said. “Hank, did you take her on a hike? I thought you were going to the ghost town?”

  As Hank grinned, I pressed a hand to my chest and felt my hot skin. It wasn’t sunburn. Instead, it was a full-body blush at this awkward situation. My mind flashed back to how Hank roughly dug his fingers into my ass. Then to Cassidy’s kiss. Then to the day with Jax by the creek.

  “Wow! Thanks for telling me about the car and fixing that whole situation. I really appreciate it.” I gestured wildly in what I hoped was the direction of my cabin. “I need to do some stuff for work and check out a few things downtown for the article. I’ll see you guys later.”

  And with that, I grabbed the keys off the counter and hurried out of the lodge, feeling the eyes of each man on me.

  Chapter Eight

  After a quick shower, I jumped in my crappy rental car and blazed off to the nearby town, hoping to distract myself from the mess I’d made with Jax, Cass and Hank. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be around them. Quite the opposite.

  But I needed to sort out my feelings about them, and that was easier done alone. It was difficult because I didn’t know how they felt about me—individually or collectively. I liked them all, a lot. They were each so different, but each were kind, sexy and caring.

  I couldn’t choose if I tried.

  I drove in the direction of the main street where I’d had dinner with Cassidy. It wasn’t as though I was looking for anything in particular, but I wanted a distraction from my thoughts. Maybe some shops would be open and I could buy Heather a gift, maybe something to send to my parents.

  No traffic and plenty of parking spaces was a blessing, compared to what I was used to in New York. It was late afternoon, and the sun cast a long, golden hue across the picture-perfect, brick buildings of downtown.

  I had a book in my bag—the only paperback I’d brought with me, a romance novel—and figured I needed a pick-me-up. I recalled walking past a cafe with Cassidy. Because I had an inner compass for coffee, I recalled where it was, and strolled in.

  Maybe I’d sit and read for a while. It would take my mind off the crazy situation back at the ranch.

  Being from New York, I wasn’t expecting much in the way of hip coffee shops, but when I walked into Village Brew, my jaw dropped. Bookcases lined the walls, there was a wood stove that took the chill out of the spring Montana air and the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee tickled my nose.

  I was in my happy place.

  “I’ll have the Kona roast, black,” I said to the woman behind the counter. She had cat-eye glasses, red lips and her hair was pulled in a ponytail.

  “Coming right up,” she said quickly. “Take a seat, I’ll bring it to you.”

  As I settled into a cozy chair near a towering bookcase, I wondered what was so familiar about the woman. Oh — it was her accent. She had a thick New York inflection.

  When she brought me the coffee, I smiled. “You’re from New York.”

  “How d'you know?” She peered at me over the tops of her glasses. She was probably about my age.

  “Your accent.”

  She laughed and sank into the overstuffed blue chair next to me. “You caught me. Most people around here can’t quite place my accent. You from the city?”

  I nodded. “I live in Brooklyn, but born and raised on Long Island.” I said it in an exaggerated accent, and she laughed.

  “I’m Allison from Queens,” she said.

  “Lauren. This is excellent coffee.”

  “The owners here really know their stuff when it comes to beans.”

  I took another sip. “How did you get all the way out here?”

  “I’m actually a glass artist. There’s a big craft festival near here every summer. Three years ago, I came here to show my work, and I decided to stay. Something about it was too alluring. Too compelling. Something about the light and the mountains and the silence. I got a job here to help make ends meet, and the lack of stress here has been great for my mood.”

  I nodded, eager. “I know exactly what you mean. It’s like there’s finally space in my brain for the first time in years.”

  Space to think about what I was doing with my life.

  “I just couldn’t take it anymore. The traffic, the pace of life, the cost of living. When I came here,” she waved her hand toward the cafe’s big window that looked out on not only the downtown but the majestic mountains, “I felt like I’d come home.”

  Something in her words warmed me. Not because of the guys and how I felt about them, but because for the first time, I realized that I was seriously considering living somewhere other than New York City.

  Instead of reading, I spent the next three hours talking to Allison. We were like old friends, swapping stories about different places in New York, books we’d read, memories of Long Island in the summer. I told her about my article for the magazine, and she suggested several places I should explore.

  Living here, she had time for hiking and biking and all sorts of outdoor activities. I was jealous just listening to her talk about her adventures.

  Then she glanced up. “Dammit! It’s dark out. I was supposed to close an hour ago. Where are you staying?”

  I told her the name of the ranch, wondering if she’d met the guys.

  “Never heard of it.” She shook her head. “Why don’t you meet me tomorrow at the glass studio and I can show you around? Maybe teach you how to do some beginning glass blowing.”

  “That sounds awesome.” I wasn’t particularly crafty or artistic, but the idea of creating something out of glass sounded fun.

  She wrote down her studio’s address—it was just around the corner from the cafe, so there was little chance I’d get lost finding it—and we made plans to meet. I walked out of the cafe and got in my car feeling more secure.

  I’d made a cool friend, and I didn’t need to rely on the guys for anything. Still, the closer I got to the ranch, questions nagged at me.

  What if the guys wanted me for some kind of group sex fling? I never dreamed something like that would be possible until Hank told me about sharing the woman in Chicago.

  What if they wanted to share me? The very idea made my stomach clench with anticipation.

  I turned into the ranch driveway and eased my little car down the gravel road, thinking of my options. I’d never fooled around with so many guys in such a short amount of time. Even though I lived in New York, I was pretty inexperienced—I’d only had two real boyfriends in my life.

  I worked so much and shrugged off one-night stands. But something about being here, in this crisp, clear Montana air, made me want to take a risk.

  Would I give myself to the three of them if I had the chance? It sure was an excellent fantasy. Why not explore it?

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I drove, imagining how all three guys would look at me when I walked in the lodge. Then I entertained more dirty thoughts, of kissing sweet Cassidy while Hank swept his hands over my breasts. Of being on all fours, with Hank behind me and Jax in front. Of sleeping in the same bed as the three of them, feeling protected and adored.

  As I pulled up to the main parking area, I expected to see their trucks. But they were gone. Slipping out of my car into the darkness, I walked softly up to
the lodge and opened the door.

  “Hey,” I called. “Guys? Jax? Hank? Cass?”

  There was no response.

  Maybe they were in the cabins?

  Using my cell as a flashlight, I headed toward my cabin. None of them had lights on, which meant that I was possibly alone here in the woods.

  It gave me an uneasy feeling, and I ran to my cabin, opened the door quickly and looked around, making sure there was no one hiding in any of the closets or behind the shower curtain.

  Certain that I was alone, I locked the door and listened to the crickets singing in the night air.

  Where were the guys? I frowned as I peered out the window. They were probably out somewhere, having fun. Why wouldn’t they be? They were sexy, young and single—and they didn’t have any obligation to entertain a woman from New York.

  That realization made me more upset than I cared to admit.

  Chapter Nine

  I had a sleepless night. Every creak in the wood cabin, every hoot of an owl, every crackling of a tree branch made me flip on the bedside light. Of course, I was also listening for something else: the sound of the guys’ trucks. Where were they?

  I reminded myself that I didn’t have any claim on them. I was here for a week, and I was sure they had fun flings with lots of women. Lying in bed, I tried to will away the fantasies of being with all three of them, and pushed aside all the questions I had about their one girlfriend.

  What I didn’t understand was, how could a woman let them go? Any one of them would be great boyfriend or husband material. All three of them were something out of a fantasy.

  How had Jax, Cass and Hank had worked their way into my life so quickly? Surely this was just a vacation infatuation, I thought, as sleep dragged me under.

  Despite the tossing and turning all night, I woke refreshed as the morning sunshine streamed through the cabin window. There must be something about this Montana air that makes people sleep better. Eager to visit Allison in town at her studio—she said she’d be there pretty early because she was working on a big glass project—I hopped out of bed, showered and ran over to the main lodge.