Snowbound with the Santas (Forbidden Fantasies)

9. Rayne

9

RAYNE

A sweet burst of birdsong pulls me from my slumber, and I crack open one eye. Warm sunlight trickles in through the netting and a single gap in the curtain, painting an array of soft patterns on the wall.

I’m at peace.

With several blankets weighing me down and warmth built up from sleeping, there’s no chance I’ll be moving until I literally have no choice. Plus, I was having an amazing dream, and the tail end of it lingers in my mind.

Rolling over slowly, the pain in my thigh is dulled and distant, so I barely give it a second thought.

I’d been dreaming of Frankie. Or Nick. Or maybe even Archer. In my dream, it was hard to distinguish since they all melted into the same hunky, thick man helping me. Touching me.

I shove my face into my pillow with a soft moan and slide one hand through the sheets. This early in the morning, on the cusp of waking and dreaming, the sheets feel so much softer against my skin. The warmth is as enticing as their touches, and the press of the sheets against my shoulders once again becomes Frankie’s hands.

Strong and powerful, yet so gentle as they flex against my skin and trail down my back. I follow them in my mind’s eye, enjoying the slight roughness from his fingertips. He said he was a forest ranger, so he’s bound to have real working man hands.

A shiver trickles down my spine and my hips shift against the bed.

Frankie’s hands morph into Nick’s and they caress my thigh with firm gentleness. He scooped me up like I weighed nothing, and the sheer mass of muscle that he carries is mouth-watering.

What would it feel like to have those tender, strong hands around my waist, holding me in place while he fucks into me with enough strength to make my teeth chatter?

A pulse of heat flushes through me, from the top of my head right down to my tail bone, and an achingly familiar pull of muscle flexes at my core.

It’s been so long since I’ve been with another man and I’m spoiled for choice.

And then there’s Archer. His stoic silence is like a drug. I want him. I want to look into those gorgeous eyes as his cock slides into me. I want to drag a sweet, needy moan from that rough throat of his. I want to kiss him, pull his hair, and?—

His back. I can’t imagine what he went through, but in my dreams, he lets me touch him. Kiss him. Stroke his back and soothe his pain before he disappears between my legs and makes me see stars.

“Fuck…” My own breath warms my cheeks as I shove my face deeper into my pillow, and my sleep-addled mind paints too many scenes in my mind. I’m spoiled for choice and I can’t pick one.

Slowly, my hand skims down between the blankets and settles between the heat of my thighs.

The moment I touch myself, coating my fingers in the dampness between my thighs, Nick bursts into my mind. His beard would be the perfect cushion, and I can feel the strands of his long, blond hair winding around my fingers as his tongue delves deep inside me. My hips roll down onto my own fingers, a cheap imitation of the fantasy in my mind.

And then there’s Frankie. His adorable eagerness excites me, and while his hands stroke up to my breasts, I can perfectly picture the appreciation in his eyes as he fondles me and uses those sexy, rough fingertips to tease my nipples into aching peaks.

My nipples give an enticing throb at the thought.

Fuck .

Nick buried against my pussy, Frankie lavishing attention over my chest, and then there’s Archer. I can’t decide if he would be rough or deceptively gentle. Would he thrust his cock down my throat or tease the tip against my lips? Kiss me hard and fuck me feral, or would he hold me close like he did last night and weave a dance of lovemaking?

My body flushes hotter and my heart begins to race as muscles pull tight at my core. I thrust my fingers inside myself with a groan, switching desperately between whose cock would feel better. They’d all fuck me differently, desperate for a taste of me.

Fucking hell. If I’m lucky, I’ll be snowed in here forever and they’ll snap, have their wicked way with me, and leave me panting for more. The dirtier the fantasy gets, the faster my breath escapes me in eager pants.

I’d give in. I’d spread my legs for the first sexy man to walk through my door.

Frankie, Nick, Archer. I don’t care. They’re all hot.

They’d treat me right. I know it.

They’d fuck me like a real man?—

I come hard, muffling my pleasure-soaked moans into the pillows and curling hard around my thrusting fingers. My thighs close around my wrist, and my body trembles as images of those men flash through my mind.

Their strength. Their smiles. Their sexy voices.

Fuck .

I lose track of how long I lay like that, simply soaking up the tingling aftershocks of my orgasm. By the time I draw my hand out of myself, the sun is streaking brighter against my wall, and there are subtle sounds of noise rising from deeper in the cabin.

Shit.

Maybe it’s the painkillers making me have such thoughts because that’s not me. It’s been so long since I let someone touch me that I don’t even know if I can. Ashton left his mark, and fantasizing about the three strangers I’m trapped with doesn’t feel wise.

Post-orgasm clarity is the worst.

And yet, as I lie there all cozy and warm, I feel minimal guilt over having such dirty thoughts about my rescuers. As long as they don’t find out, there’s no harm, right?

I’ll look each of them in the eye and try not to think about how I just masturbated to them.

Easy-peasy.

As my heart slows, the pain in my leg finally flares up and the only beat of regret I have is grinding the bed on my stomach. That definitely didn’t help my leg, and when I throw the covers back, crimson dots the bandage.

Shit.

When I stand up to get dressed, I notice an array of clothing left on top of the dresser. They must belong to Frankie. While they’re all muscular, Frankie is the smallest of the three, and the fresh shirt I slip into doesn’t dwarf me quite as much as the one Nick gave me.

It smells like Frankie, too. It is subtly spicy with something fruity on top. I like it.

I decide against the pants for now since my bandage needs changing and slowly open the door. Walking is a little easier than yesterday, and after checking in the mirror to make sure I look vaguely human, I hobble slowly through to the kitchen.

Archer, Frankie, and Nick are already up and dressed. I can only guess what time it is, but since the sun rises and sets early this high up in the mountain, I could be so wrong.

“Rayne!” Frankie darts toward me the moment I hobble through the door. He slides one thick arm around my waist and pulls me against his firm chest. It takes the weight off my aching leg, and I flash him a grateful smile while my thoughts flash back to my earlier fantasy.

“Good morning.” Nick smiles over the top of a steaming mug from where he stands near the sink. “Sleep well?”

“Like a log,” I reply softly. “But I think I made my leg bleed again while I was sleeping.”

Yup. It was my sleeping .

“Let me take care of that.” In one swift move, Frankie helps me up onto the edge of the table and then darts to the sink in search of the medical kit.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, eyeing the breakfast items scattered on the table next to me. “I didn’t even feel anything until I woke up.”

“Must have been a good dream.” Nick chuckles.

Archer is by the larder with his back to me. He throws me one look over his shoulder, but he doesn’t say a word. He’s really committed to his silent act.

“Can I?” Frankie is back by my side, and his hands hover over my leg, not yet touching.

“Please.” I nod quickly. “Should I, uh… be worried about infection or anything?” I look at Nick, searching for a distraction as Frankie’s gentle yet rough fingertips skim across the sensitive skin on my thigh.

“We’ll help you keep it clean, but infection shouldn’t be an issue.” Nick smiles. “However, if you notice any change like heat or tightness, then please tell us immediately. The last thing we want is for you to get sick.”

He speaks with such deep caring that I half wonder if I’m still asleep.

“Hungry?” Nick continues. We’ve got eggs, sausage, and toast—or porridge, if you prefer. You need to eat to keep your strength up, especially in the mountains.”

“I could eat porridge,” I say, but it’s hard to focus on the food.

Frankie kneels before me, unraveling the bandage, and every touch is electric. A small crease forms between his brow while he works, and his adorable lopsided smile crooks a little to the left. My wound does look better, and it hasn’t re-opened. The blood seems to be just from the edge of the slice, and he cleans it quickly.

Just as efficient and gentle as I imagined.

Then he wraps one hand under my thigh and lifts my leg enough for him to wind the fresh bandage around my leg. The rough pads of his fingertips scrape against my sensitive inner thigh in the most delicious way, and my core clenches once more.

Frankie pauses for a half-second, and heat pulses through me like a bullet.

Shit. I didn’t even consider his being this close so soon after what I did.

Can he tell? Can he smell that I was pleasuring myself? Can he sense that his fingers are mere inches away from a pussy that fantasized about him?

Frankie’s gorgeous green eyes flicker up to meet mine, and I can’t decipher what’s in his eyes. I can’t tell if he knows or if it’s just my imagination, but my heart begins to race.

“Nearly done,” Frankie says. His gaze is unwavering and his voice is low, as if his simple words are a secret just for me.

Maybe I am still dreaming .

“Thank you,” I reply.

The thunk of a bowl down on the table makes me jump, drawing me from my thoughts. Archer is by the table, and he fixes me with a hard look that strikes me as irritated. And yet, just as my hackles rise at the look, Archer turns and strides back to the pantry and I realize it wasn’t irritation in his eyes.

Was it… jealousy?

No. Definitely not.

Get it together, girl .

“Here.” Nick hands me a spoon as Frankie finishes dressing my wound, and the scent of warm oats makes my stomach gurgle.

It breaks the tension and ruins my moment with Frankie, but it’s worth it as I slide into my seat and take my first warm spoonful. The heat of the oats seeps through my chest, and I briefly close my eyes in gratitude.

“I didn’t realize I was so hungry.” My next few spoonsful are shoveled in.

Frankie sits next to me while Nick pours hot water into a cup.

“It’s the air,” Frankie says. “Mountain air makes everyone hungry.”

“My mom wouldn’t believe that.” I snort softly. “She’s an almond mom through and through. If she saw me eating oatmeal…” Shaking my head, I resume eating.

Nick sets a hot cup of tea next to me with some painkillers. “Your mom isn’t here, so she can keep her judgment for when we’ve reunited you with your family.”

I know Nick’s words are meant to be kind, because they all think that’s what I want. That I want to be back with my family. But they serve as a daunting reminder that dream or no dream, being here is some kind of fantasy that will end too quickly.

“Yeah.” I nod and keep my gaze down. “Thanks.”

“Might be later rather than sooner.” Archer finally speaks, and he captures my attention immediately. I have so many questions, mainly about the scars I saw last night.

“Why?” All three of them exchange a glance, and my heart flips as I lower my spoon. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Nick takes a deep breath.

“We need to hike to the radio tower to see what the damage is, and to fix it if we can. And…” He glances at Archer. “We need to do it today because another storm is due in, and this one is even worse than the one we found you in.”

Shit.