One Bride for Five Mountain Men: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Jess Bentley

  She leaves and goes into the back, and I hear her muffled voice talking to someone else. “Another one of ze King’s girls.’ Is that what she said, really?

  A new fear grips my heart like an icy cold fist—was this confidence I thought I had gained based on nothing? Not that I harbor any illusions that he’s in love with me, but is this some merely kind of elaborate way to make him look good in front of his business partners? Or is it a real date? Who is he, anyway? Can I trust him? What is he thinking?

  What am I thinking?

  All the emotions that were crowded out of my mind suddenly roar up inside me. I walk out, angry, confused, unsure of what to do next. Should I confront him? Should I go on the date and talk to him? There’s no one here I can talk to, confide in. I’m alone. There’s nobody anywhere to tell my secrets to anymore. The tears for my best friend threaten to flow past the dam I had built inside myself.

  Kelsey, dammit, this is so fucked! What should I do? Is everyone laughing at me? The stupid American?

  Pull yourself together. So he’s dated more people than you. He’s an older man, of course he has a past.

  Why are you so wrapped up with him anyway?

  I hurry toward the elevator, cheeks burning, trying not to cry. Jumping into the sleek elevator, this time it’s me who is avoiding everyone’s eyes. I get a couple of curious looks when I press the top floor button for access to the penthouse, but I’m not interested in satisfying their stupid curiosity or justifying my existence.

  Just don’t get too attached. Then you’ll be all right.

  I may need to know what he’s thinking at some point, but it doesn’t need to be right now. It’s better if I just take the dress, go out on the date, and not let my stupid fantasies get the better of me. He sees me as a stupid kid. After all, he put me to bed last night. If he saw me as a romantic partner, things would be different.

  Chapter 6

  Raleigh

  When she appears in the doorway, I’m absolutely speechless. This little girl has grown up to be a stunning, sexy, curvaceous, hot, sexpot. I can’t even pretend to ignore it.

  But I’m not the first one to realize that, not by a long shot—she knows how to use herself. Her secret life is proof of that. So why doesn’t she seem to even aware of it?

  My PI has done some more digging and found out who the person is that is running the site. The name is Kelsey. It’s surprising, in a way, that a woman would be in charge of something like that. It’s the first thing I asked him to confirm, that this Kelsey is a woman—a man would be more likely. But he said not only is she a woman, but she’s dead. Could she be the dead best friend?

  Jordan gets in the limo and settles into the seat, crossing her legs at the knee and showing off some fine shoes. The whole ensemble probably cost me fifteen grand and honestly, it’s worth every penny.

  “If only my friend Kelsey could see me like this,” she smiles, smoothing down the beaded fabric over her thighs. Kelsey.

  Let it ride up, I think.

  “You look great,” I say. “Beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she smiles shyly and turns away. “Are you sure it’s okay? I’ve never had something so extravagant, I almost feel guilty.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I reply. “You look absolutely stunning. You’re just the kind of woman I need on my arm at this function. The other execs are going to be jealous as hell seeing you in that dress.”

  “So is that all I am to you?” She grins as she says it, but I can see that naked vulnerability in her eyes. “A prop for your business partners?”

  “That’s a lot of what the dress and shoes are,” I answer. “But you, you’re something different.”

  She doesn’t ask what. There’s a silence in the car that feels oppressive. It’s filled with unanswered questions.

  “Would you like a drink?” I ask, hoping to break it. I lean toward the bar. “Champagne?”

  “Really?” she squeals. Sometimes I forget just how young she is. Not often, though.

  Not often.

  “Of course,” I say. “This is France. It practically flows out of the taps here.”

  “But isn’t that an especially good one?” she asks.

  I hold up the bottle of Dom Perignon. “Life’s too short to drink bad champagne,” I answer, and she smiles.

  “I suppose so.”

  “You mentioned Kelsey,” I say, trying to keep my voice even so as to not set her off. “Who’s that?”

  “Kelsey?” That familiar shadow passes across her eyes. “She was my best friend. We were always supposed to travel together. But now it’s just me.”

  “Was your best friend?” I don’t want to let on that I know anything about her, least of all that she’s passed.

  “Yeah,” she says. “She passed away recently. Do you remember when you saw me at my parents’ place and I had just come home from a funeral? It was hers.”

  I put my hand on Jordan’s, and she flinches a little before turning her palm up toward mine. I trace the lines on her palm. Like a submissive animal showing its belly. It brings out the wolf in me. I’m aware that I’m moving into dangerous territory. I don’t know who Jordan is. I think I’m the predator, but what if I’m actually the prey in this game? What does she know?

  “Best friends, huh?” I ask. “That must be very hard for you. Does that have something to do with why you came to France? I remember you brought it up then”

  “Well, yeah,” she says. “I wanted to take the trip we had meant to go on. It’s in honor of her.” She smiles sadly. “I would never have had the money if she hadn’t left me some.”

  But she must be raking it in. Is she lying? What’s going on?

  “And now you have it.”

  “She left me some in her will, and I figured this is the best way to spend it. Kelsey would have gone on this trip if she could have.”

  I’m a little ashamed. Who am I to ask her all these questions? But I have to know. “Don’t let me pry, Jordan… I don’t want to make you discuss anything you’re not comfortable with.” Oh yes I do. I need to know everything, and now.

  “Oh, that’s okay.” She looks at me from under a fringe of lashes. From anyone else the gesture might seem practiced, deliberate, fake. But from Jordan, it’s as charming and innocent as could be. That must be the quality Kelsey set out to exploit, if exploit her she did. I’ll have to see if Jordan or someone else takes over the site now that Kelsey is no longer able to maintain it.

  Jordan takes a sip of champagne, and wrinkles her nose. “That tickles,” she says.

  “Yes,” I laugh, “but isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Oh, definitely, it couldn’t be better,” she giggles. I almost can’t control my reaction. She’s so cute. I want to pin her down against the seat and feel how wet she is.

  “So where we going tonight?” she asks. “Is it someplace really fancy? It would have to be, with this dress.” She looks down at herself.

  “Do you like it?” I ask. Suddenly it matters. “I mean, are you happy with it?”

  “Are you kidding me? It’s incredible.” She hesitates for a moment. “I’m not really sure what to say about it. I mean, thank you seems so inadequate.”

  The moment stands between us. It’s an invitation, a challenge. Time stops while I stare at her lips, parted slightly, ready. Are we both thinking of how she can thank me, or is it just me?

  I finally break the silence. “I wanted you to have the courage to buy something. As long as you’re happy, that’s enough for me.”

  Whenever I’ve said words like this, there’s always been something about them that wasn’t true. Either I was trying to get the person into bed, or there really was something else I wanted. But it’s strange; with Jordan, it’s true that I want her in bed, more than ever. But it’s also simply true. I want her happy. And I know that that’s a dangerous feeling.

  “Nobody’s ever given me a gift like this before,” she says, softly. “Are you usually this extravagant?”r />
  Ah. The question is weighted with more than it seems on the surface. “You forget that you’re doing me a favor tonight,” I deflect, “accompanying me to this dreadful work function.”

  “It’s hard to believe that an event where you have to dress like this could be boring,” she answers. If she’s disappointed in my vague reply, she doesn’t let on.

  “What do you think of my outfit?” I ask her jokingly, trying to throw her off her train of thought—the one that goes straight to where we stand with one another. That I can’t answer until I know more about Jordan. I won’t. There’s just too much at stake.

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes, of course,” I say, grinning. “Lies are not acceptable.” This too carries more weight than it seems.

  “You look incredible,” she says simply, her voice cracking a little. The tension between us is blinding. I look at her.

  “Maybe we should be late,” I say.

  Chapter 7

  Jordan

  R is pressing me up against the elevator door. He peels down my panties, one hand at my throat, kissing me slowly. I squirm and moan, my voice low in my ears. His fingers enter me, claim me, opening me, stretching and readying me for his cock. He’s almost violent in his insistence to penetrate me, but my body wetly responds to allow him in. It’s not tender. Something about our connection is not allowed to be tender. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  He undoes his belt and pulls it so quickly out of the loops that it nearly cracks. I pull at his pants and I reach for him, his heavy cock hot in my hands, but he doesn’t allow me to touch him. Instead, he pushes my hand to his ass as he spreads my legs, lifting me up against the door and lowering me onto his stiffness, filling me up to the point of nearly immediate orgasm. He gracefully sways into me as he spreads my ass cheeks, and I feel his muscles moving under his skin as I grasp his ass and push him into me again and again.

  I need him, not just physically, but inside me, to be part of me, to fill me with his essence somehow, to make it part of me. If he fucks me I will be released from Kelsey’s hold on me, my dead best friend’s loving grip on my life, the thing that arrested my development.

  I hear someone outside the metal door, and look at him questioningly. He almost imperceptibly he shakes his head as he continues fucking me, impaling me on his cock as he mashes the elevator buttons, now audibly knocking my hips against the door as the someone innocently wonders why the door isn’t opening on the other side. I can barely control myself, my orgasm coming hard and fast like my breath.

  He yells something in French—I don’t understand it, and the discussion stops on the other side of the door. He revs up his tempo. He’s fucking me like a graceful machine, hard and fast, strong and smooth and violent, and I come, my mind exploding into a million tiny stars. I feel like the beginning of the universe, the big bang, as he shoots himself into me.

  I look at us in the mirrors of the elevator. I wonder if there’s a camera in here, recording our blinding peak.

  My ass slowly slides down the back of the door as he lowers me to the ground, his arms around me, his lips pressing tightly against my neck. Our breathing is labored, but slowing, evening out. Finally he lets go of me and does up his pants, filtering the belt through the loops. He doesn’t look at me now.

  I adjust my dress and expensive lingerie, and check my makeup in the mirror.

  “You ready to go to the party?” R asks, his hand poised on the button to send us back to the lobby, to the car.

  “Yes,” I answer. I am ready. I do feel ready.

  Fuck you, Kelsey. I can live without you.

  Chapter 8

  Raleigh

  I try not to think about the fact that I let my lust get the better of me. So I fucked her. I have to deal with this business function and it’s going to take all my concentration. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to invite Jordan and take her as my date.

  Someone there might recognize her. Would they think I had just hired a prostitute?

  They aren’t going to think very well of me, if so.

  Goddammit.

  My cock gets me into trouble.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks in the car on the way to the event. She’s not looking at me, but I know that need is probably brewing in her eyes. Women always get this way. They see what I have to offer and they want it for themselves.

  More importantly, Jordan doesn’t seem to have a clue about what her friend has done. She’s somehow, incredibly, completely innocent, or completely ignorant of what she’s gotten involved in. If only that meant everyone else was, but they’re not. Including my colleagues. They might be watching her even now.

  “I’m fine,” I answer. It comes out rather curtly. But there’s a lot to think about now that I’ve gone this far. I try to soften it by grabbing her hand and stroking the soft warm skin. Even that makes me want her fiercely. Despite what her friend may have done to her, she seems so innocent. Innocent in general, sure; but what’s more, she seems innocent of everything. Maybe that’s what accounts for her appeal. She doesn’t act like your regular cam girl, all slutty and such. True voyeurs can get off more on Jordan thinking that she doesn’t know that she’s being watched. Enjoyed.

  Because in reality, she’s a smart girl. Even a smart woman. She’s someone who you would respect, especially if you didn’t know anything about what she’d been involved in. But if she’s been unaware of it the entire time I don’t know what to tell her.

  Do I really want to be the one who shatters the image she has of her dead friend?

  She returns my caresses on her skin with a small squeeze, and I look up at her. Her eyes are so warm, with a hint of fragility in them. It draws me in, the little girl side of her that she sees.

  “Little Girl,” I say softly.

  She makes a sound in between a gasp and a moan, and her lips part as her head falls to the side. I devour her with kisses, biting her soft lips, playing with her tongue. “Little Girl,” I say again as she squirms in my arms. I thrust a hand underneath the beaded dress, and feel her warm wetness as she quivers.

  “King,” she answers, breathlessly. I kiss her roughly this time, feeling her wet cunt under my fingertips, thrusting under her thong, and she stiffens, convulses a little and cries out again. “King!”

  I hold her while she comes, then slowly withdraw, and lick the sweet wetness from my fingers, sucking them softly.

  Then I turn away and look out the window as she crumples against me, panting.

  Fuck.

  I’m in for it now.

  “Tell me more about your friend Kelsey,” I say finally.

  She looks up at me. “There’s not much to tell,” she answers finally. “She was my best friend since we were little kids. We did everything together. I relied on her too much, I guess.” She sniffles a little, and I wonder if she’s crying, but when she goes on her voice is steady. “And then she died.”

  “How far did your relationship go?” I ask, and I feel her stiffen.

  “What do you mean?” she asks.

  “Did you do any business together? Or was it just a friendship?”

  Her eyebrows knit together. “That’s kind of a weird question.”

  “Maybe. But your dad and I do business together, and we’re old friends.”

  She relaxes and her body presses once more against mine.

  “Oh, right,” she answers. “No, we were never in business together. Unless you count a lemonade stand when we were kids.”

  “I sure don’t,” I smile, and squeeze her against me. The thought is attractive. More than that, though, she’s either an Oscar-quality actress or she’s telling the truth. I don’t hear anything in her voice but complete sincerity.

  “Yeah, no, we were just buddies, best friends forever, that sort of thing. Until she started growing apart from me.”

  “Why was that?” I ask cautiously. “Did something happen?”

  “No, not really, not that I know of anyhow,” she answers. She looks
into the distance.

  “When was that?” I have to be careful not to let her know I’m prying. I just want to confirm she had no idea about this before I move forward with her. I’ve already gone too far, but I need to save myself or throw myself headfirst into it.

  I know which way I’m leaning.

  “Oh, when we were about eighteen.”

  Makes sense. Kelsey doesn’t want to be brought up on federal charges, so she waits until Jordan is an adult. I decide to sit on the information for a while. I don’t want to make any false moves. I look down at Jordan, who is looking up at me again in her wide-eyed way, this time the eyes framed with kohl and mascara.

  She smiles.

  “Why all the questions?” she asks, and I see a flash of teeth as she smiles.

  “Just finding out more about you.” And your friend Kelsey. It sounds like she was nothing like you think she was, if my PI is to be believed. He’s confirmed that Jordan wasn’t on any kind of payroll. He was careful to add that that didn’t mean she wasn’t being paid under the table.

  Still. I don’t think her innocence is a ruse. I think she’s sincere.

  The car slows and the streetlights’ pattern against the tinted windows eventually comes to a stop.

  “Do you think your colleagues will like me?” she asks suddenly. “Or are they just going to think I’m some little ninny?”

  I’m more worried that they’ll think I hired you, I think. “They’ll love you,” I say. I give her a kiss on the forehead and she reaches out and grabs my thigh tentatively.

  “I’m nervous,” she says.

  “Don’t be,” I answer. “I invited you for a reason. Just don’t drink too much, keep your wits about you, and you will be fine.”

  She nods. “Got it.”

  I wonder if she knows she’s being tested. How naïve is she?