Mountain Desire (Wild Mountain Men 3)

What a way to wake up.

“You’re on top,” he said, remaining still and watching me. I wasn’t going to argue. The only thing to do in a situation like this was to climb on.

I did. And I took him for a ride, setting my hand on his chest and lifting and lowering, circling. Rubbing my clit all over him. I was wet from all the times they’d fucked me.

He kept his hands where they were behind his head, letting me set the pace, pretty much using him for my own pleasure.

But he came too, right after me, his eyes clenched shut, his muscles tense. I loved the feel of skin on skin, the hot spurts of cum coating my pussy. As it slid down my thighs while I lifted off him and dropped back into bed. I was marked. His.

I closed my eyes, and he got up. I heard the slide of his zipper, the clank of his metal belt buckle. The blanket was tossed back over me.

“Go back to sleep,” he said. “You’ve used me well. Now I’ve got to head to the office.”

“The forest?”

“Yup.” I heard his footsteps as he cut through his house, heard the front door close. Then nothing.

The alarm on my cell woke me at eight. I blinked and took a second to remember where I was. It was the third night in a row I hadn’t slept at home. The third night in a row I’d been with Shane and Finch. It was a good thing I was alone. I had to get to the station, and I had no doubt they’d get me beneath them—again—and make me late.

Climbing from bed, I pulled myself together. I used the toothbrush from earlier, put on my day-old clothes. I didn’t have a new outfit with me, nor makeup or even my hair product, so I had to go home before I headed in.

My cell beeped, indicating a text, and I went over to the bedside table to grab it.

Poppy: Do I even want to know what you were doing last night?

I grinned as I texted back.

Me: Your brother.

She didn’t respond. She was probably throwing up. I smiled, grabbed a pillow and tossed it into place, then another. Taking hold of the top sheet, I tugged on it to straighten it. I might not be as neat as Finch, but I liked a made bed. I realized I was smiling. I was last to leave it. The least I could do was make it.

It was when I pulled the comforter up all the way and went around the far side to make it even that I saw it. The black wire that hung down from the bottom of the framed print above the bed. I stared at it, trying to figure out what it was, then knelt on the bed, crawled to the middle to touch it.

I looked around even though I knew I was alone. It was a tiny camera. Over the bed. My heart skipped a beat as I pulled the frame away from the wall just enough to peek behind it. Even in shadow, I could see something was there. I lifted the frame and placed it on the bed beside me. I didn’t give a shit about the landscape image, only the wall.

A notch was cut out of the drywall.

“Holy shit.”

With shaky fingers, I grabbed the small electronic device. It was the size of a large cell phone, the mini lens plugged into it with a cord about two feet long.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I studied the thing. It was a camera of some kind. There was no screen on the unit, only buttons. I spun it around in my fingers, found the catch on the side, opened it. Batteries. I spun it again, found another catch and, when that flap popped open, saw the little memory card.

Getting to my feet, I leaned forward, stuck my fingers into the cutout area, felt around and bumped into something and pulled it free. A small clear plastic case, smaller than a pack of gum. More tiny memory cards.

I looked around the room again.

Shane had a camera over his bed.

Over his fucking bed. Literally. This was the bed he’d fucked me in not even two hours earlier. And the night before with his best friend. Had he taken pictures? Video? Of us? Of me sucking their cocks, of the two of them inside me? Riding them?

I felt sick. Violated. Dirty.

Shane videotaped shit that happened in his bed.

In. His. Bed.

This wasn’t a one-time thing because… who the fuck cut a hole in the drywall so the unit would have a place to sit? He had several memory cards along with the camera, which meant he’d done it a lot. He’d taken time to set it all up, so the picture would lay flat against the wall. The camera itself was tiny and could have been missed by anyone—including me—against the black frame.