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Chapter 36
Cammie
Sounds sneak their way into my consciousness. The scraping of a paintbrush. The sweet humming sound of Finn’s purr. A guitar and deep crooning. The weighted blanket of Finn’s scent lulls me back down into the impossibly soft blankets, and I wiggle around, seeking his comforting heat.
When I find him missing, I draw back the covers enough to see. Finn’s swaying on socked feet, his muscular arm flexing back and forth as he flicks his wrist. The section of the wall he’s painting has been transformed into an abstract beehive, honey dripping down the sides. I rest my chin on my palm, a smile on my lips, content to watch him. Every movement is sensual, flowing into the next like a choreographed dance. This is how he looks in his woodshed or sometimes in the kitchen. Definitely when he’s making love. Finn embodies the erotic, his love for life evident in the way he moves. I can almost taste the whimsical freedom of his energy, the open air of his scent.
The pallet shifts, and I turn at the sound, watching over my shoulder as Reid strums an acoustic guitar. He’s looking at the strings, concentrating as he sings. If Finn is sensual, Reid is sturdiness. He’s big, deliciously scuffed in all the right places, and undeniably handsome. I get lost watching him play, his deep voice and country twang slowing down the notes until his voice is syrup, drowning me in him.
I sit up, a grin on my face. “You know how to play? You didn’t tell me that!”
“I learned to play to woo seventeen-year-old Finn. Football wasn’t cutting it.” Reid’s lips curl into a smile as he nods.
Finn turns on an excited huff, dropping his brush on a small tarp and diving for me. He sends me to my back, landing atop me, his curls blanketing my face. “You’re awake!” He kisses my cheeks and nose. “I need a model.”
“A model for what?” I ask, already willing. I let him pull me up and tug me toward the tarp.
Finn digs around in a suitcase and produces a black satin blindfold, letting the long strand drop before me. “Turn around and close your eyes.”
“What are you doing?” I take a deep breath of mountain air and citrus-soaked clove.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand, electricity firing along my skin as Finn shuffles behind me and drags his fingers across my nape to pull my hair to the side. “You’re going to be my canvas.”
I let my head drop, giving him room to suck along Reid’s bite. His fingers brush along my cheeks as he secures the blindfold in place. The gauzy golden light of Finn’s nest gives way to darkness.
Finn’s sure hands undress me, tossing my T-shirt into the nest blankets. His palm glides down my spine, rounding the curve of my hip. His scent deepens as he shifts into my space, circling me. It’s a game of hide-and-seek as he moves. A caress of my ass. The tweak of a nipple. Soft lips feathering down my shoulder. They follow no pattern, no time, only Finn’s whims until I’m entranced by his dense scent, desperate to relieve the ache in my core.
A big hand circles my waist, and a strong arm pulls me against a hard chest. Reid. A giddy squeal falls from my lips as I tumble down on our alpha, landing in his lap. He holds me securely, but with the blindfold blocking my sight, the surprise move makes butterflies swoop in my stomach.
Reid cradles me against him, pulling me to his chest. “Stay nice and still for me,” he says, latching my legs over his thick thighs. “You’re gorgeous, all laid out for us.”
I suck in a breath at the way this position puts me on display.
“Ready to play, baby?” Finn purrs.
“Touch me,” I beg.
A sharp series of pricks roll along my calf, followed by the cool feel of liquid.
“What is that?” I yelp, though it doesn’t hurt. The contrasting sensations send a tremor of delicious desire racing through me.
“I’m planning to paint a map of your pleasure,” Finn says, voice husky.
Paint must be the cool liquid, but that doesn’t feel like a paintbrush. It tingles as it rolls across my skin. Little tiny nips trace along my inner thigh, and I squirm the closer they get to my pussy.
Just as quickly, the sensation changes. Finn circles my nipples, this time with his fingers. The paint feels almost like a gel, leaving a cool, tingling sensation as it dries. I lean into Finn’s touch, but he skirts away.
“Not yet, baby,” Finn teases.
Each sensation is replaced by another. A sponge maybe, soft and ticklish. Long strokes with a paintbrush. His fingers. That maddening wheel that pricks along my skin. He alternates, never following the same pattern until my front is covered and my skin feels charged.
Reid kisses along my neck, purring and holding my hands in place. He’s insistent, his strength grounding me against the onslaught of sensations, forcing me to surrender to the siege. It’s so intense that each time Finn changes the instrument or the place, I squirm and moan, Reid’s hard cock digging into my back.The longer Finn plays, the more wet I become until I try to squeeze my legs shut to dull the ache.
Reid’s warm palms press into my thighs, forcing me to remain open. “Easy, sweet girl. Take it for us a little longer.”
His words rocket through me, making me desperate to please him. A hard, smooth surface is pressed against my aching clit, and a vibe comes to life. The sensation makes me jump, already oversensitive from the build-up. Two fingers plunge into my pussy, and I moan, rolling my hips. Finn fucks me in long strokes, the vibe buzzing against my clit, and I come quickly, my body primed.
“That’s it, sweet Cammie. Come for your mates.” Reid purrs, his warm breath skirting along my neck.
