“Don’t worry, my cock is hard enough to drive spikes into the ice,” Kirk complained. “We have a big bed waiting for us at home. Keep driving. Rewards come to those who wait.”
Stig groaned. “Don’t quote Ma. Way to kill my hard-on.”
“Runt, if that did it, then you have a limp excuse for an erection.”
“More,” Fiona said, reaching for his ears.
“Hey! Remember what I said about hands on my shoulders at all times,” Kirk said.
She moaned as he licked, sucked and nibbled her nipple and breast. The pleasure lured her, seduced her and made her realize what a bastard her husband had been. This petting session with Kirk left their best sex in the dust.
“Is she wet?” Stig demanded. “Touch yourself, honey pie. Slide your fingers into your pussy and gather some of that sweet cream for me to taste. Please?”
Fiona blushed again but obeyed before he’d finished speaking. Kirk helped her to maneuver her leggings and panties lower.
“Let me first,” he whispered. “I need a reward for all my hard work.”
His finger slid over her mound and between her pussy lips. Fiona quivered, thanking her stars she’d taken the time to book a waxing appointment along with her manicure and pedicure before she left Boston.
“Aw, bro. She’s smooth and silky down here too.”
“But is she wet?” Stig sounded a hairsbreadth from cranky.
Kirk’s finger slid lower to stroke her clit. Oh, the man had skills. He kept the pressure light, rubbing carefully as if he wanted to learn her preferences.
“Slide your finger down beside mine,” Kirk ordered. “Before Grumpy Pants over there drives us into a ditch.”
Fiona followed his order, her heart beating faster as her pinkie contacted his. Was she wet? Hell yeah. No need for lube today. She gathered juices on her finger, dragging her digit back and forth across her entrance to ensure maximum wetness.
“I’m ready,” she said to Stig.
“Put your finger in my mouth. Your night vision is poor,” he chided as she hit his cheek before correcting to find his hungry mouth.
He sucked on her digit, and her breath caught as his tongue swiped over her fingertip. At the same time, Kirk rubbed her nub and somehow, slid a finger into her pussy. She groaned and her hand returned to Kirk’s broad shoulder. The beginnings of her climax ignited like a spark. A tiny tingle teased to prominence with Kirk’s talented fingers and she let out a moan that rippled through the cab. Seconds later, she detonated, shattering, her sheath gripping Kirk’s fingers with rhythmic contractions.
“Aw, Runt. You should see her face when she comes. She’s all flushed and pretty. So sexy.” He righted her clothes as he spoke and returned her boneless body to the seat between them. “Are you going to let us fuck you when we get to Churchill? It would be more of the same. So much pleasure you’ll purr like a kitten.”
Stig sniggered. “Bigheaded much?”
“I made her come. Tell me you don’t want more of the same, darlin’.” The man sounded arrogant as hell, yet his charm radiated through his bluster.
Fiona smiled into the darkness. The man walked the talk. He’d delivered. “I might be persuaded.” Her adventurous self shouted, bring it! She could deal with more orgasms like that. A yawn escaped and Kirk wrapped his arm around her shoulders again.
“Sleep if you can. You’ll need it.”
Stig snorted. “You’re such a bighead.”
“Once you get to touch Fiona, you’ll understand. She’s the stuff of inspiration. My hard-on is painful.
Fiona wondered if she should do something about that, then the road deteriorated into a stretch of ruts that seemed to go on for miles.
She must’ve fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes again, daylight had driven away the dark. A fickle sun attempted to pierce the clouds while a winter wonderland greeted her in every direction she turned. “It’s so pretty,” she murmured. Flat. Not many trees, but enough to break the monotony of endless land.
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty wakes,” Kirk said.
“How long did I sleep?”
“A few hours,” Stig replied. “Despite the storm, we’ve made excellent time. We should meet Arve and Josef soon. If we continue this way, we’ll roll into Churchill late tonight.”
“Are you hungry?” Stig asked.
Fiona considered. “Thirsty.”
“There’s only water. Will that do?” Kirk asked. “Runt and I seldom bother with food until we hit home.”
“I’ve got snacks in my day pack,” Fiona offered.
“Nah, I’m good.” Stig peered into the distance. “That’s Harold.”
“Who’s Harold?” Fiona stared in the direction Stig scanned and couldn’t see a thing except snow and trees of the pine variety.
“It’s the name of the vehicle our brothers are driving,” Kirk said. “They made good time.”
“They didn’t have to deal with the weather and bad roads,” Stig countered. “We should get Leif to do a run with the cat over that bad section. It slowed us down.”
Kirk grunted. “Leif will tell us to harden up and grow a pair.”
“No problem. We’ll let him take a stint in Bess or Harold and see what song he’s playing then,” Stig said.
Fiona continued staring at the horizon, and finally, she made out another vehicle.
“Check out the hooter,” Stig said. “Two o’clock on that big rock.”
“An owl,” Kirk translated and pointed to their right.
“Ooh! I see him,” She stared at the snowy white blob. As they drove closer, she made out the faint black speckles on the owl’s white feathers. “He’s so pretty. I should get my camera.”
“Once we get to Churchill, we’ll organize a drive on the tundra for you,” Stig promised. “We might see more owls.” He pulled up as Harold lumbered toward them at a steady pace. “Want to stretch your legs for a few minutes? You can grab your camera and snap pics.”
Fiona zipped up her jacket and straightened her beanie. She rifled through her day pack and pulled out her camera. “Is the owl still there?”
“He is.” Kirk opened the door and a polar blast frisked her cheeks. He jumped down with a grace she could never match—according to Robert. Fiona scowled and forced her jaw to relax. She refused to let Robert spoil this adventure for her.
She clambered toward the door and wriggled from the cab. Kirk reached up and lifted her down as if she weighed nothing. She laughed up at him and he sneaked a kiss, then nuzzled his cold nose against hers.
“I believe I’ll take a kiss before Harold arrives,” Stig said and he nudged Kirk away from her. He took her mouth without prevarication, owning her with his dominant kiss.
Fiona clung to his shoulders and enjoyed the hell out of his expertise. She floated on the edge of bliss, needing to breathe but wanting to prolong her contact with this sexy man. If someone asked her to choose between the two brothers, she couldn’t. Their innate confidence and strong, sexy bodies, their goodness and generosity made them attractive and enticing.
Was it bad of her that she couldn’t wait to see them both naked?
Stig drew back, but he maintained his grip on her butt. “You are so fuckin’ hot. I can’t wait to explore your luscious body.” He grinned down at her and kissed the tip of her nose. “Are you going to let me touch your pussy? I’ve been dreaming about your taste and getting my mouth on your clit.”
Kirk moved closer and nudged Stig, so he released her. When the vehicle—Harold—crawled to a halt, she stood between the two brothers.
A big, burly man jumped from behind the wheel and strode over to them. He was blond too, a darker blond than Kirk’s white blond. Once he stood in front of them, he ignored everyone except her. Fiona had to crane her neck since he towered over his brothers.
“This is Arve,” Stig whispered to her.
He ignored his brothers, his focus on her. It should have been creepy because he stripped her with his gaze, yet t
he gentle humor in his expression and his glowing golden-brown eyes had her lips curving in a smile.
“Hello, Arve,” she said.
“Mine,” Arve whispered in reverence. He picked up her hand and lifted it to his lips. The second his mouth contacted her skin, sparks shot down her arm. She gasped.
“You’re scaring her,” the second new arrival said. And he ducked between her and Arve. His golden blond hair sparkled in the light while his brown eyes mesmerized her with the circles of gold on the outer edge of his irises. “Oh, okay,” he said after scrutinizing her face and roving her body with his gaze. “I get it. I’m Josef, the fun brother.”
With scarcely a blink, he seized her and swept her into a Hollywood-style kiss. She squeaked at the suddenness and grabbed his shoulders, fearful of falling on her butt in the snow.
A growl had Josef stiffening and he lifted her until she stood on her feet again.
“I want a kiss too,” the giant brother said.
The other three brothers stepped back, leaving her standing alone in front of the scowling giant. He wouldn’t hurt her—would he? His intense gaze settled on her, and she shivered at the need that rippled through her. The Arctic air contained magic, something that propelled sex into her mind in a nymphomaniac kind of way. Beneath her jacket, her nipples beaded to hard points, and hyperawareness sank to the juncture of her thighs. Her sex throbbed, the sensitive tissues soft and dewy with her arousal.
“Can I kiss you, pretty lady?”
Fiona nodded dumbly, drawn by his polite manners and the yearning in his expression.
He drew her into his arms, his size dwarfing her. She froze, mesmerized by his pretty eyes and his clear need for her. His erection thrust into her belly, noticeable through her thick winter clothes, then his lips touched hers. Tentative at first, until she moaned and dug her fingers into his broad shoulders, trying to press closer. His tongue explored her lips, the softness of her mouth and the contrasting hardness of her teeth. Her heart raced, and her pussy throbbed with emptiness. She drifted on the blissful sensations, safe and happy and contented.
She opened her eyes and blinked when Arve lifted his head and loosened his grip. He smiled down at her, shy yet happy and brushed the back of his hand over her face. For an instant, she thought she glimpsed something weird in his eyes, but her second glance showed her nothing out of the ordinary.
“Wow, that is hot,” someone said.
Fiona jumped and stared at the brothers. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized they were all staring back. She swallowed, feeling like a forbidden treat they wanted, yet couldn’t possess.
Josef winked. “I didn’t realize you had that passion in you, Arve.”
Arve growled, an animalistic snarl, that had the brothers becoming watchful.
“Mine,” Arve said.
“We’ll discuss this later,” Stig said in a no-nonsense voice. “How is the road to Churchill? Are there any problem spots?”
“The road is bumpy in places. The ice bridges are strong and stable.” Josef rushed to fill the silence. “You bore the worst of the storm.”
“We’d better move if we want to arrive in Churchill before midnight,” Kirk said.
Fiona risked a glance at each of the brothers, embarrassed by her wanton behavior. She had no idea what had happened to her, but she didn’t normally throw herself around and behave like a sex toy.
“Mine,” Arve whispered.
“I think we’ve got that,” Josef snapped. “We’ll discuss this later.”
For an instant, violence simmered in the air, and it seemed as if they all held their breath. Fiona certainly did.
“We’ll discuss this once we all hit Churchill,” Arve announced. “Don’t leave for your next load until we get back.”
“Fine,” Stig said. “But that’s not good business.”
Josef grinned. “This is more important.”
“Ass,” Kirk muttered.
“Do you agree?” Arve persisted.
“Yes,” Kirk snapped. “We agree. Fiona, you’d better take your photos, and we’ll get moving.”
Fiona frowned at the brothers, not understanding what they were discussing. She removed her lens cap and stepped away, almost falling on her butt when her feet skidded in two different directions.
“Whoa.” She flung her arms upward, trying to save herself. The windmilling limbs failed to aid her balance and she braced for a fall.
It didn’t happen.
Josef, who stood nearest, seized her before she hit the ice.
She blinked up at him, breathless in the face of her clumsiness. “Thanks.”
He held out his arm, his smile one of charm, yet with a hint of the rogue. “What did you want to photograph?”
“The owl, if it’s still there, and scenery shots. Oh, and I want to take a photo of Bess and Harold.” She lifted her camera and snapped two quick photos of the vast tundra. Harold filled her screen next, and she turned to take one of Bess. She framed a shot with Kirk, Stig and Arve too.
“The owl has gone, honey pie.” Stig smiled. “We might see more before it gets dark again.”
“Aren’t you going to take one of me?” Josef asked, cocking a hip and grinning.
She snapped a photo of him, then turned to take individual ones of the other brothers. “Thanks,” she said. “That’s enough for now.”
“Don’t forget,” Josef reminded them. “Wait for us in Churchill.”
“We’ve said we’d wait,” Stig snapped. “We need to get this sorted before Ma appears.”
“Agreed,” Josef said, his grin falling away.
Each of the men straightened. The tension released from Fiona’s shoulders. Whatever the brothers were discussing had nothing to do with her. It was a family thing. Family stress and expectations, she understood.
Family pushed the buttons to inflict the greatest pain.
Churchill, At Last!
Churchill hugged the edge of the Hudson Bay, a cluster of shops and boxy buildings between broad roads. Not an attractive town but an efficient one. Fiona wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but hopefully the town would appear bigger and more interesting in daylight. A few lights twinkled from windows through the gentle fall of yet more snow, but not a single vehicle or pedestrian showed their presence as they passed through.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“We have a warehouse near the airport and the polar bear jail,” Stig explained. “We converted part of the warehouse into living accommodation, and my brothers and I share the space.”
“There is a jail for polar bears?” Fiona asked, diverted by the notion.
“Sometimes a bear wanders into town and creates a nuisance. If they’re hungry, they can attack the humans.”
Humans? Didn’t he mean people? One of them? “Has a polar bear ever attacked you?”
“Yes,” Kirk said. “When I was younger. I was lucky. I fought it off and escaped.”
Fiona gasped at his easy acceptance and clapped her hand over her mouth. She stared at him for a long moment. “Do you have any scars?”
“No, I healed fast,” he said with a shrug as if the attack meant nothing.
“The ladies like scars,” Stig commented, and his grin tugged at her, curving her lips in a return smile.
They were good at that—tossing their charm around in a casual manner and turning her into a puddle of goo. Robert had seldom smiled at her—not after their marriage. Perhaps the charm and smiles from these two handsome, easy-going men made her react with such lustful intensity. She was lapping up the affection she’d missed.
“Fiona, do you like scars?” Kirk asked, his tone edging right in to flirtation.
“Not me.” Fiona shoved a lock of hair away from her face and concentrated on appearing unaffected by Hottie One and Hottie Two. “Not if the person suffered before they healed enough to have scars. The pain they experienced before they healed makes me sad.”
Kirk continued driving down the wide street un
til the street lights ended and only their headlights lit the road ahead.
“That’s the airport there.” Stig pointed, and she gazed in the direction he indicated as they drove past.
“What is that building? Is that your place?”
“Nope. That is the polar bear confinement facility, locally known as the polar bear jail. In the daylight you’ll see a mural on the side. A local artist painted it and used the contours of the building to make a giant polar bear,” Kirk told her. “Different artists painted murals around the town. Our buildings don’t have much in the way of character, but we have cool paintings. They lock up nuisance bears and release them back into the wild later, if it’s possible. The orphan cubs usually go to the Winnipeg zoo.”
Stig flung his arm around her shoulders and drew her against his side. “Are you excited to be here?”
“I can’t wait to see more.” Nothing less than the truth.
A place far away from Robert, filled with sexy brothers who liked her and wanted to show her how much. This adventure would help her find herself again after her marriage failure. So far, she liked the person she was discovering.
Kirk turned down a narrow road she would’ve missed if she’d been alone. Five minutes later, he pulled up outside a ginormous steel-gray warehouse. It towered over Bess, the darkness making it creepy—the perfect venue for a Halloween party.
Lights sprang on without warning and a set of big, double doors opened with a creaking protest. Kirk edged Bess into the warehouse and switched off the motor.
“Home sweet home, honey pie,” Stig whispered.
He helped her down from Bess and stretched, raising his arms above his shoulders.
A man appeared from an office. He was big—as big as Arve—but he lacked the muscular bulk. Broad shoulders filled out a plain blue shirt with perfection while his jeans were tight and showcased his trim hips and muscular thighs. His hair was the color of her favorite salted caramel sweets and the strands hung in waves around his head, the ends touching his shoulders. He smiled, a charming smile that reached all the way to his golden-brown eyes.
“You must be Fiona,” he said.
Fiona's Mates_A Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance Page 6
