Claimed by 3 Mountain Men (Silver Ridge Mountain Men)

9. Mac

9

MAC

T he camp is quiet, the only sounds are the gentle rustling of leaves in the evening breeze and the occasional hoot of an owl somewhere in the distance. I sit cross-legged in front of my laptop, the glow from the screen casting a soft light on my face.

The footage from my cameras haven’t caught anything, so I had decided to review old trail footage the conservatory originally captured years ago but did nothing with. They had received permission to gather samples on the property way back in the day.

But nobody had gone through it all yet, and they thought if I had time, it could be something I could help with, but I’m having the worst time trying to focus.

Ben didn’t come see me today, but Hank did.

Are they messing with me? Had Ben told them about me being here, about what we did out in the water together?

"Damn it," I mutter to myself, rubbing my eyes. "Focus on the task at hand, Mac."

Did Hank want to come kiss me for himself?

God, Hank. That kiss has left me shaken, and he’s gotten under my skin in a way I can’t ignore. I could still vividly feel his hands tangled in my hair, the feel of his lips pressing against mine with a hunger that mirrored my own. The way he had looked at me afterward, a mix of confusion and something darker, something raw.

I should have pushed him away sooner, should have set clear boundaries. But at that moment, all I could think about was how much I wanted him.

How much I wanted to challenge him, to see if he could handle me.

I wanted him to kiss me like I wanted Ben to have sex with me. It must be the stress or something about being here in the forest that’s turning me into some stupid little depraved animal. I know I’ve never had sex, but to act in such a desperate way just isn’t like me.

I rewind the footage, forcing myself to focus. The camera feeds show the usual trees swaying gently, small animals scurrying across the forest floor. No signs of the lynx yet, but I’m patient. This work takes time.

Time I can’t afford to lose because these stupid brothers are messing everything up.

My fingers curl into tight fists.

They have to be messing with me. There’s no doubt in my mind. Or maybe they’re trying to see which one of them can fuck me first.

Well, they've got another thing coming. I'm more than just a pretty face. I'm here to do a job, and I won't let some chiseled abs and broody stares distract me from the task at hand.

I’m a scientist, a conservationist. I’m here to protect a species, to make a difference.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, and then another. "You can do this, Mac," I tell myself softly. "You're a professional. Just focus on the lynx. They're probably just messing with you."

But how can I focus on anything when there’s a terrible ache gnawing at me for release? For them.

All three of them.

I force myself to take a deep breath, willing away the image of Ben’s hands on my hips, Hank’s lips on mine. Stop imagining what it must feel like to have one or all of them deep inside of me.

As the hours tick by, fatigue starts to set in, and my eyes grow heavy. I rub at them, trying to shake off the exhaustion that clings to me. I’m about to give in and call it a night when something catches my attention; a flash of movement, something out of place.

I rewind the footage, leaning closer to the screen, my pulse quickening. It’s a night shot, the camera’s infrared casting everything in eerie shades of green and black. At first, it’s hard to make out what I’m seeing—just shadows and the subtle sway of trees in the wind.

But then, I see it again. A figure moving through the trees, careful, deliberate. My breath catches in my throat as I adjust the playback speed, slowing it down to get a better look. The figure is carrying something—no, dragging something. I strain to see more, my heart pounding in my chest as the realization hits me like a cold wave.

It’s a man, dragging what looks like the carcass of an animal. The camera angle shifts slightly as the figure moves closer to the lens, and I freeze the frame, my eyes widening in shock.

It’s Luke Truitt.

My hands tremble as I replay the footage, the same scene unfolding over and over again, confirming what I’m seeing. Luke Truitt, dragging a dead animal through the forest in the dead of night. I zoom in, trying to make out more details, but the image is grainy, and the distance too great to make out the exact species.

By the size of it, it could easily be a lynx. It could also be something else.

I grind my teeth together.

This is evidence of illegal poaching.

I glance around the tent, the shadows are closing in on me, the enormity of what I’ve uncovered threatening to overwhelm me.

I need to act, but I also need to be careful.

One grainy shot of Luke Truitt with what could be a lynx isn’t enough solid evidence of anything. It’s a start though, and proof enough that my hunch is very real.

I need more proof.

More footage. More photos. Anything I can use to bring these bastards down once and for all.

My mind whirls, formulating a plan. I quickly jot down the date, time, and coordinates where I spotted him on a piece of paper before shutting down my computer.

I sit there for a moment, staring at the closed computer, then finally stand up and stretch, my muscles stiff from sitting hunched over the laptop for so long. The air inside the tent is cool, the night breeze slipping through the mesh windows, carrying the earthy scent of the forest.

I peel off my clothes, the fabric sticking slightly to my skin from the lingering heat of the day. My body feels tense, every nerve on edge.

I turn off the lantern, plunging the space into near darkness, save for the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the trees.

Crawling into my sleeping bag, I clutch my pillow tightly to my chest, trying to find some semblance of comfort.

I know I should be elated, that I've finally caught a break in this case after months of dead ends. Yet, as I lay there, somehow, I’m not as excited as I thought I’d be.

There’s still so much work.

I can feel the tension in my shoulders, in the tightness in my chest, and the rapid beat of my heart. It’s as if the discovery has set something in motion. Something I can’t control, and now that I’m caught in its current, I can’t stop it either.

I take another deep breath, trying to focus on the sounds of the forest, and the gentle rhythm of the night. Slowly, I feel my body begin to unwind, the tension easing bit by bit. But even as I start to drift off, the weight of what I’ve found and what it could mean lingers in the back of my mind.

Hard rope clings around my ankles as the side of my face pulls against the wet earth. My hands and ankles are bound by thick rope as I’m being pulled over the earth like hunted prey.

I blink rapidly in the bright, white moonlight, trying to make out the mysterious figure pulling me along.

Luke Truitt?

I can feel the damp earth beneath me, the cold seeping into my bones. And then, in the moonlight, I make him out, JT, with that familiar glint of desire in his gaze, standing over me like a predator in the darkness.

“What have we got here?” a voice murmurs beside him. Hank emerges from the shadow, his eyes dancing in the moonlight.

“I finally found her,” JT murmurs, bending down.

“Good. I was worried she got lost out there.” I hear Ben’s voice as he kneels down beside me.

“We found her snooping. You know we can’t let her get away now, right? Especially not after she saw us,” JT growls, his voice low and menacing.

A shiver runs down my spine as his hot breath caresses my skin. “And now what?” I manage to croak out, my voice barely a whisper.

“Now,” he says with a wicked grin, “we show you how we welcome trespassers here in these parts.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Hank asks impatiently.

They circle me like a pack of hungry wolves, their intentions clear as day.

JT’s hand reaches out, his fingers brushing against my cheek, and despite the fear gnawing at me, I lean into his touch, craving him like I’m under some strange spell.

Before I can fully process what’s happening, JT leans down and captures my lips.

His kiss is rough and demanding, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. He tastes of whiskey and the wildness of the mountains, a heady combination that sends shivers down my spine.

I feel the roll of JT’s tongue against mine, and in that moment, I know I’m lost.

Hank and Ben’s hands roam across my bound form, leaving a trail of heated desire.

My modesty is gone, replaced by a raging fire that consumes me whole.

As they continue to explore my body, touching me in places I never thought possible, I give in to the sensations. Sensations I never knew I was capable of feeling. My body aches for more as they rip away my pajamas.

I arch my back, welcoming their touches, reveling in the pleasurable sensations overtaking my body.

“Atta girl,” Ben coos, his voice a soothing rumble in my ear. “You like that, don’t you? You’ve been craving this since you first arrived.”

JT’s lips find my bare skin, trailing kisses down my jawline, and then lower, and lower still.

“She wants all three of us,” Hank whispers.

“Greedy girl,” JT sighs.

They were going to have me right here, on the cold ground, in the middle of nowhere, and I was powerless to stop them.

Not that I wanted to stop them.

Their hands and mouths are everywhere, leaving me a quivering mess. I can feel the tension coiling deep inside me, just waiting to be released.

“Please,” I moan, my voice barely recognizable, “I... I...”

“We know what you need, sweetheart,” Hank whispers in my ear before his mouth finds my sensitive breasts. The sensations intensify, and I can no longer keep a grip on what’s happening or whose hands are where. All I know is that I am seeping into them.

“Flip her over,” JT growls.

Hank and Ben waste no time, in seconds I’m on my stomach, my hands still bound in front of me.

JT frees his impressive length from his pants, and I can feel the tip of him nudging against my entrance.

Desire pools through me. His hand moves and grasps the base of my skull, collecting my long braid into his palm.

With a rough tug, JT pulls my head back, exposing my neck to him. "Open your pretty little mouth for them," he commands, his voice dripping with arousal and authority.

I obey, parting my lips to find Ben, sliding his thick width past them. I moan around him as Hank drops to his knees beside his brother in front of me.

“My turn,” Hank says, gripping the base of his near identical, massive cock. Eagerly, I withdraw and wrap my mouth around Hank, sucking on him as if I know what to do at this moment.

It's as if all my inhibitions have melted away, and all that remains is a desperate, carnal need to please these men.

Their moans are music to my ears as I take them both in, alternating between the two of them, licking and sucking, aching for more. JT guides my head, moving me back and forth between them, pushing me to take them deeper.

Finally, JT's massive hands slide downward, cupping and squeezing my ass. I can feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he lines up his length with my entrance.

And then it happens. With one smooth thrust, JT is inside me, filling me completely. I gasp at the sudden sensation, but it quickly turns into a moan of pleasure.

His hips start to move against mine, setting a rhythm that makes me see stars. Ben and Hank are still in front of me, their hands roaming over my body as they encourage me to take the full length of their brother.

“That’s it. Just like that,” they whisper. All their voices rise and fall over me as they watch me, using me until I'm surrounded by heat and desire, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. My mind is foggy, and all I can focus on is the pleasure coursing through me.

JT's grip tightens on my waist as he picks up speed, pounding into me with a force that sends shivers down my spine. My body responds eagerly, arching against him and meeting his every thrust.

The tightness in my core coils and builds, growing with each thrust and stroke.

It's both too much and not enough. I'm on the edge, teetering into desperation.

"That's it, baby, take it," he growls in my ear. "You're so wet, and so tight."

The head of Hank's cock is hot against the tip of my tongue, pulsing slightly with each beat of his heart.

"Oh, fuck," I moan, my voice muffled by Hank's cock. Then once again Ben’s dick finds its way into my mouth, as I frantically lap them both up. My lips tingle as they brush against the smooth skin, feeling the soft ridge along the underside.

The brothers still inside my mouth respond with a muffled groan, their release hot and sticky on my tongue. I close my eyes, savoring the sensation of them all around me, and inside me.

Unable to hold back any longer, my orgasm hits me like a freight train, crashing into me with full force. My body convulses as JT's grip tightens, his hips bucking erratically.

"I can't... I'm... Fuck!"

The tightness in my core unravels, and I explode into a million pieces, screaming my release into the night.

I am breaking, shattering around them as their near identical dark eyes all stare directly at me beneath the white stars and navy sky.

I wake with a start, my heart racing, my body flushed with heat. The tent is dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon outside. I’m tangled in my sleeping bag, my skin damp with sweat, my mind spinning with the remnants of the dream.

It had felt so real—too real—I can still feel the ghost of them on my skin.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the lingering fog of the dream, but it clings to me, wrapping around my thoughts like a vice.

I lay back down, staring up at the dark ceiling of the tent.

This is crazy, I think to myself.

After a few moments, I manage to regain some semblance of composure, and I sit up, shivering slightly. I pull my sleeping bag tighter around me, trying to ward off the chill that has settled into my bones.

I try to reason with science, and tell myself that dreams are just a jumble of thoughts, memories, and emotions, all processed and reassembled while we sleep. They’re influenced by our daily experiences, our subconscious desires, and even the chemicals in our brain. Clearly, everything that’s going on around me is messing with my head.

It’s nothing.

It’s not like I can control my dreams.

I need to get out of here, I think, my fingers trembling as I fumble for the zipper on the tent.

I need air.

It’s just a dream, I tell myself again, willing my racing heart to slow. Just a dream.

But even as the words echo in my head, I can't shake the feeling that the line between reality and fantasy is blurring—and that maybe, just maybe, there's more going on with them.

As I crawl out of the tent, the cool night air hits me like a slap in the face, clearing my head only slightly. The forest around me is alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, and the buzz of bugs in the air. I take a deep breath.

It’s almost sunrise.

No point in going back to bed now. The sooner I get the evidence I need, the sooner I can stop having these intense fever dreams and go back home. Away from these people.

I’ll take the footage to the conservatory today. It’s not much. But it’s a start.