Claimed by 3 Mountain Men (Silver Ridge Mountain Men)

14. Hank

14

HANK

T he morning sun filters through the trees spreading across the gravel driveway as I guide the truck down the winding road toward town. The storm has passed, leaving the air crisp and clean, but there’s a heaviness in my chest that no amount of sunshine can lift.

Mac sits quietly next to me, her gaze fixed on the passing landscape.

As I steal a glance her way, I’m struck by her beauty in a way that catches me off guard. The soft morning light shines through the window, highlighting the smooth lines of her face, and the deep, rich tones of her skin that speak to her Cheyenne heritage. There’s something almost otherworldly about her, a kind of quiet strength that radiates from her, even when she’s silent. Her raven-black hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, she suddenly turns and her dark eyes, framed by thick lashes, catch mine.

I clench my jaw.

I don’t know if I should apologize for last night.

God. We must seem like assholes. My knuckles tighten on the steering wheel.

We fuck her—hell—take her virginity and then kick her out. It doesn’t sit well with me, but it’s not like I’m much of a good guy anyway.

My cock twitches with the thought of her tight pussy, I picture her back arching and relieve the sweet little whimpers that fell from her lips last night as I pounded into her.

With some difficulty, I shift my focus back on the road, the rumble of the engine filling the silence between us.

The guilt gnaws away at me, a dull ache that’s settled deep in my gut.

I know it’s more than guilt. I don’t want to see her go.

I want to apologize, tell her I’m sorry for the way we acted like two chained up dogs finally set free, but the words are stuck in my throat.

Apologies have never come easy to me. I’ve spent too many years building up walls, and hiding behind them.

I still can’t figure out why the hell all of it felt so damn right.

But it doesn’t matter how last night felt. She’s still a risk to our family. The little voice in my head reminds me over and over as if JT is sitting on my shoulder right now.

But sitting here now, with the sun shining and the world moving on, I realize how wrong I’ve been about her.

The road stretches out ahead, and I ease off the gas, slowing the truck as we approach the outskirts of town. The small shops and cafes come into view, the familiar sights of home, but they feel distant, like they belong in someone else’s life.

“I’m sorry,” I say finally, the words rough and awkward, but I force them out anyway, needing her to hear them. “For last night.”

Mac turns to me, her eyes searching mine, a hint of surprise in her expression. "You don't need to apologize, Hank."

"No, I do. We both do. The way we acted... it wasn't right. Taking advantage of you like that."

She shakes her head, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You didn't take advantage of me. I wanted it. I wanted... you. Both of you."

Her words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I feel a rush of heat, and desire, but I push it back, and choke it down, focusing on the road ahead.

"Still it wasn't right. Kicking you out after... after everything."

She sighs, and turns back to the window. "It's okay, Hank. I understand.”

“This thing between us, whatever it is, it shouldn’t have happened. It's complicated.”

She scoffs. "Complicated. Right. Well, let me uncomplicate it for you Hank. I'm a big girl. I knew what I was getting into with you and Ben, and I’m not suffering from any morning after regrets."

Her words sting, even though I know she's right. I have no claim on her, no right to feel possessive or jealous.

“I’ve just… I’ve got a lot on my mind, and I took it out on you for some kind of relief. That wasn’t right.”

She nods, her gaze dropping to her hands, folded on her lap. “That’s it then? I was a relief?”

“That’s not what?—”

“I know this isn’t easy for any of us. I didn’t come here to make things harder. I’m just trying to do what I think is right.”

“I get that,” I say, my voice softer now, the edge gone. “It’s just… this place, our family—it means everything to me. To all of us. And with everything that’s happened… it feels like it’s slipping away, like we’re losing control.”

She looks at me then, really looks at me, and there’s something in her eyes that makes me feel like she sees right through the walls I’ve built. “You don’t have to do it all on your own, Hank. You and your brothers—you’re stronger together. But you’ve got to let people in.”

We pull into town, the truck slows to a stop outside the small inn where I plan to drop her off.

I park the truck and grab her massive backpack, tossing it over my shoulder.

This thing has got to weigh more than she does. I can’t believe she trekked through the woods with it.

The sign above the door swings gently in the breeze, and the smell of fresh coffee drifts through the open window.

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the gentle clink of keys behind the front desk are the only sounds as we step inside.

We approach the front desk, where a young clerk with a bright smile and a name tag that reads ‘Jessica’ greets us. She looks up from her computer, her eyes lighting up as she sees us. “Good morning! How can I help you two today?”

I clear my throat, trying to shake off the awkwardness that always seems to settle around me whenever Mac and I are in close quarters. “I’d like to book a room,” I say, pulling out my wallet. “For her,” I add, nodding toward Mac.

The clerk’s smile widens, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “Oh, of course! I’ll just need to see your ID and credit card.”

I hand her my card, and she takes it with a nod, her fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard. As she types, she glances up at us, her smile softening into something almost…fond. “Are you two here for your honeymoon?” she asks, her tone sweet, as if she’s anticipating our answer.

“Honeymoon?” I repeat, my voice rising an octave as I glance at Mac, who looks just as taken aback as I am by the question.

Mac narrows her eyes, shaking her head vehemently. “No, no. We’re not?—”

“We’re not married,” I cut in, my tone sharper than I had intended. I look back at the clerk, who’s blinking at us in confusion. “We’re not even dating,” I add, feeling my face heat up as the words come out.

“Oh,” the clerk says, clearly taken aback. She looks between us, her smile faltering a bit as she realizes her mistake.

With that recovery, she’s probably thinking a hell of a lot worse. If she ever figures out who I am, the town will start talking about Hank Truitt’s hooker or affair.

“I’m so sorry! It’s just—you two looked so… comfortable together, I just assumed?—”

“Well, we’re not,” Mac says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest, her tone defensive. “And it’s not like that, okay?”

Jessica, shoots us an apologetic smile, but there’s still a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Of course, my mistake. Let me just get your room setup.” She clicks away at her keyboard, clearly trying to avoid any further awkwardness, but the silence between the three of us is heavy.

Mac’s eyes dig into me, and I know she’s itching to say something, to bicker about this, but I beat her to it. “Look, let’s just get this over with, alright? I’ll pay for the room, and we’ll forget about the whole thing.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t ask you to pay for my room, Hank.”

“Yeah, well, consider it an apology for last night,” I say, trying to keep my voice low so Jessica doesn’t hear us bickering like kids in a candy store. “Just let me do this, okay?”

Mac opens her mouth to argue, but before she can, Jessica hands me the room key with a bright smile. “Here you go! Room 203. And again, I’m so sorry for the mix-up!”

I force a smile, taking the key from her. “Thanks.”

“I can take it from here,” Mac says sharply.

“Let me carry your backpack.”

“Oh? Now, you’re suddenly being nice. Look at that.”

“Do you want me to be mean?”

“Maybe. I sort of miss the old asshole version of Hank. At least he left me alone.”

“I feel like I’m getting mixed signals from you right now, and it’s a little confusing!”

She rolls her eyes, marches in front of me down the hallway and up the stairs.

When we reach her room, I whip open the door, tossing her bag on the ground then close it behind me. I grab her wrist firmly, pressing her against the wall.

“Listen, princess.” I lean in close to Mac, our faces mere inches apart. Her breath hitches as my fingers tighten around her wrist. "You think you miss the old me?" I growl. "The one who would've tossed you out on your ass the second you stepped foot on our property?"

Mac swallows hard but holds my gaze defiantly. "At least he was honest about what he wanted."

I scoff. "And what's that? For you to stay far away from me and my family?"

"Yes," she hisses. "Instead of this hot and cold bullshit. Fucking me one night, telling me to get off the property the next, then suddenly trying to take care of me. Paying for a hotel room as if it will make everything magically better for how shitty you’ve all treated me.”

"I'm trying to do the right thing here. I know I haven't been the nicest guy, but I'm not a complete asshole either."

Mac's eyes flash with defiance, but there's something else there too, a hint of desire, and longing.

"Could've fooled me," she whispers.

My hand tightens on her wrist as I lean in closer, until my lips almost brush against hers.

Her dark eyes bore into mine, challenging me, daring me to prove her wrong.

“You really don’t know who the hell you’re messing with. Are you trying to piss me off right now?”

Mac's breath quickens, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she holds my intense gaze. The air between us crackles with tension, the heat of our bodies pressing close in the small entryway of the dark hotel room.

"Maybe I am," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I want to see what happens when I push the big, bad Hank Truitt to his limits."

A low growl rumbles in my throat as I press her against the wall, my body flush against hers. I can feel every curve, and every line of her lithe form molded to mine. The scent of her - earthy and fresh like the forest after a storm - fills my senses, making my head spin.

"You don't want to play this game with me, Mac," I warn, my voice rough with barely restrained desire. "I'm not the kind of man you can just toy with.”

Mac's chin lifts defiantly even as her pulse races under my fingers still wrapped around her wrist. "I'm not toying with you, Hank. I’m not some girl you can just spend money on and expect to be happy. I'm not going to just roll over and let you push me around either.”

I lean in even closer until our noses are almost touching, my eyes locked on hers. "Is that so? Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you enjoy pushing my buttons. Like you get off on seeing how far you can take this before I snap."

She inhales sharply and I can practically hear her heart pounding. But she doesn't back down. "And what if I do? What are you going to do about it?"

A wicked smile curves my lips. "Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what I'm capable of. The things I could do to this sweet little body of yours..."

I trail my free hand down her side, skimming over the curve of her waist, my touch light but full of dark promise. Mac shivers under my fingers, her breath coming faster now.

"Hank..." she whispers, and my name on her lips is almost my undoing.

"Is this what you want?" I murmur, my hand sliding under the hem of her shirt to stroke the smooth skin of her lower back. "You want me to take control? To show you just how good it can be when you surrender to me?"

Her eyelids flutter and she arches slightly into my touch, even as she tries to maintain her defiant front. "I don't surrender to anyone," she says, but her voice wavers.

"We'll see about that.”

I run my thumb along her smooth, full lips, studying the faint line of freckles that dust over her nose and blend into her tanned skin.

“Hank, what are you—" she starts to say, but her words are cut off as I roughly claim her lips with mine.

This time, I don't hold back. My tongue invades her mouth, tasting her berry flavored lip balm. Mac moans against my lips, her hands fisting in my shirt, as if she's trying to push me away and pull me closer at the same time.

In one swift motion, I spin her around and press her front against the wall.

Without waiting for her response, I roughly unbutton her jeans and slip them down, snapping the band of her cotton underwear. Her bare ass is a delectable sight that riles me with hunger for her, and I can't help but marvel at the contrast of her beauty against my roughness.

"Hank, what are you doing?" she asks again with a gasp of pleasure.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson, Mac. A lesson in appreciating what's right in front of you."

With that, I bring my hand down hard on her bottom, eliciting a sharp squeal from her lips.

Mac's gasp is cut short by a moan as she arches her hips back against me.

"You like that, don't you?" I growl, my cock straining against my jeans.

Her voice is breathless, her breathing ragged. "I... I hate you, Hank."

"That's what you keep telling yourself." I chuckle darkly. "But your body begs to differ."

Before she can protest further, I pull her panties down, exposing her wet core to the cool air. "You're soaked, Mac. You want this as much as I do."

"I-I..." her voice trails off as I run my hand down her ass to her pussy, exposing her needy hole.

"Oh, I can't hear you, sweetheart. What was that?"

"I..." Mac pants, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. "Fuck you.”

"That's more like it,” I whisper. "But you know what I really want to hear you say?"

With that, I slide a finger inside her, eliciting another sweet moan from her red lips.

“How badly you want me to fuck you.”

Mac's eyes slam shut, her whole body trembling under my touch. "I... Hank... I..."

I add another finger, curling them both inside her, searching for her G-spot. Mac's response is all the confirmation I need.

"Say it," I demand, my voice raspy with lust. My other hand works my belt, pulling down my jeans.

“I want you so b-bad,” she whimpers.

With that, I enter her in one swift, hard thrust.

Mac gasps as my length invades her tight heat, her nails digging into the wood of the door frame. "Hank," she moans, her voice ragged with pleasure.

I lean in close to her ear, my thrusts slow and deliberate. "What was that, Mac? Did you say something?"

"It... it feels so good," she whimpers.

"That's right, baby. Feel how good it is when we're together."

Her hips rock back against mine as she meets my every thrust, her orgasm building with each stroke. Her soft moans and the slap of our skin against the door is the only sound in the room aside from our deep breaths.

Her body tenses around me as she climaxes, her walls contracting around me.

Her muscles clench tightly, pulsating with pleasure as her body reaches its peak. I can feel the pressure building and releasing with each thrust, her walls gripping me in a deliciously tight embrace.

"That's my good girl." I pant as my own climax crashes over me and I cum all over her ass.

After the storm subsides, we both catch our breaths, our hearts pounding in our ears. Mac's sweaty back is pressed against my chest, her breath mingling with mine.

After I wipe her off with a towel, I grip her jeans and yank them back up.

“I need to get going,” I say, buckling my jeans. No part of me wants to leave.

Mac's eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see the vulnerability in her eyes before it's quickly masked by her usual defiance.

“Will I see you or your brothers again?” she asks.

I shrug, nonchalantly adjusting my shirt. "That's up to you. You know where to find us.”

She sits down on the edge of the bed, keeping whatever emotions she’s feeling hidden beneath her still dark features.

“I’ll think about it,” she mutters.

I hesitate for a moment, my hand on the doorknob. “Don’t think too long, Mac. The mountain decides who stays and who goes, and it’s been known to change its mind on a whim.”

“Does it?” she asks.

I nod, reaching for the door handle. There’s so much I want to say to her about how no woman has ever made me feel this way, but all of that seems childish. I’m not like Ben. I’m piss poor with my words and feelings. I’m not direct like JT either. All of it always comes out a jumbled hot mess.

“Stay away from danger, Mac. Alright? Just promise me that.”

“Awe. You’re worried about me.”

“You have no idea.”

I walk out the door, slamming it shut behind me. I run my hand through my hair, trying to catch my breath. What the hell just happened?

As I walk back to my truck, all I can do is force myself not to run back into that room and hold her into my arms.