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It’s my fourth night at Eagle Peak. I spent my first night with Grim, who was unconscious for most of it, my second with Doc, who has magic fingers, and my third with Jud, who has a magic tongue (that he’ll be lucky if I ever let him use on me again). Now, Jud wants to know who I’m choosing to spend tonight with.
I scowl at him. I can’t believe he worded it that way. Mirroring his posture, I plant my hands on my hips. “Who’suptonight? Are you serious? That’s really insulting, Jud. I’m not some kind of sport. This isn’t a… a baseball game. ‘Who’s up?’” I mutter to myself while I turn my back on Jud and return to my work.
At Shep’s instruction, I’m filling eight plates with garden greens that he’s mixed up in an enormous bowl. Shep follows me with a pan of baked okra and butter-blistered cherry tomatoes, and he ladles them alongside the salads.
“Well?” Jud’s voice comes from directly behind me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him until he can treat me with respect. “You need to choose by dinner every night. I won’t have my men competing with each other during mealtime. They have the right to know who gets you each night.”
“Who gets me?” I echo. I can’t believe this guy. It’s like I haven’t said anything at all.
Shep is in the process of spooning a garlicky rice mixture onto the plates beside the okra and tomatoes. He goes still. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his muscular body go rigid. He starts to speak, but I lay a calming hand on his forearm.
“I’ve got this.” I’m not going to sit meekly by while the men here fight my battles for me. Jud needs to know he’s crossing a line, and he needs to hear it from me. Somehow, I need to make him listen, something I know he’s capable of. If I pet him just right.
I have an idea.
“Will you excuse me for a minute, Shep?” I don’t wait for his answer. I grab Jud’s elbow and drag him out the back door. There’s a covered area where a washer and dryer sit on cinder blocks and where the guys hang up their outdoor gear, kind of like a mud room with three walls that’s partially open to the elements. The screen door slaps shut in our wake, and I push Jud into the covered area with his back to the wall of the lodge. We’re far enough from the door that we won’t be overheard by Shep in the kitchen.
The others are all inside, since Shep rang the dinner bell five minutes ago, even Grim is joining us tonight, so it’s just me and Jud out here. Which is a good thing, because for my plan, I want privacy.
I stand toe to toe with Jud, refusing to be cowed by his size and the hard set of his jaw. Jutting out my own jaw, I say, firmly and clearly, “Take it out.”
It’shisturn to be confused. His brow furrows in a question.
“You heard me,” I say. “If you get to make demands and treat me like my only use to you is as a bedwarmer for you and your men, then I get to make demands, too. I get to treat you like the only thing about you that matters is your—” I swallow back my discomfort and plow through the word I’ve never spoken out loud in front of someone of the opposite sex. “Your penis. So, take it out. You gave it to me. I want to see it.”
Instantly, the tight muscles in his jaw relax. His bunched shoulders round as he leans over me. “You wanna see what’s yours, kitten?” All of a sudden, he’s Mr. Seductive. Whatever had his tail in a twist seems forgotten. His hands go to his belt and rest there, ready to act.
A minute ago, I didn’t particularly want to see his penis, but now that his attitude has gentled…. “Yeah,” I say. “I want to see it.”
Without another word, he unbuckles, unzips, and takes it out. It’s long and thick and semi-hard. I’ve never seen it any other way than rigid and pointed skyward. Now, it sort of lays across his hand like a relaxed pet he’s offering for my attention.
I accept the offer. My fingertips learn its new shape—or at least they start to before it thickens and hardens and becomes the heavy club of iron-hard flesh I became acquainted with last night. I lavish the surprisingly soft skin with massaging strokes, squeezing it to test the firmness beneath. It’s like marble covered with satin.
“You think of a name for it yet?” Jud’s voice is a quiet hum that buzzes along my skin. He’s bowed over me, protective, gentle.
My mouth is watering, and it’s not for Shep’s dinner. I lick my lips. “Not yet.” It’s a big decision, naming a man’s penis. I want to name it something that marks it as mine while capturing its masculine beauty and, at the same time, making it seem less frightening.
As I try to close my had around it, my fingers don’t quite meet. I can’t imagine it going inside me. But the thought of trying when I’m wet and eager, like I was last night, and when Jud is being sweet, seems less and less terrifying.
He bunches up his T-shirt in a fist so he can look down at where I’m touching him. This puts his flat lower-abdomen on display, and it’s manly and impressive, just like the rest of him. With a large hand over mine, he encourages me to stroke. “You wanna kiss it?”
Yes.“No.” I flutter my lashes and look up at him while I take control of the stroking and his hand falls away. “I’m mad at him.” I don’t recognize the woman that sticks out her lower lip in a pout while she gives a man a hand job, but I kind of like her. She knows on an instinctual level how to communicate with this temperamental man’s man.
Doc has been a font of information about Jud. He told me how women were always fighting over him and vying for his attention. As an MC president, he’s never had to work for female attention. Now, here I am, completely unimpressed with him, and poor Jud can’t fathom why I’m not bending over backwards to win his favor.
When I look at things from Jud’s perspective, I can sort of see why he’s so fussy. If I squint. And I can sort of figure out how to manage him. I hope.
“Why you mad, kitten?” His big hand curls around my neck, and his thumb rubs over my ear.
I nuzzle into the touch like the kitten I am for him. “Inside just now, you said, ‘Who’s up, tonight,’ and the guys have the right to know ‘who gets me’ each night. When you say things like that, it makes me feel like I only matter because I have female parts. It makes me feel small.”
He says nothing, just watches me with hooded eyes, lower lip curled in, like he’s working not to make those noises I got him to make last night.
Encouraged, I stroke him harder, the way he likes. I drag his woodsy scent into my lungs. It’s stronger with his pants open, and it makes me want to get on my knees for him. Maybe I will if he listens, like a good boy.
Choosing my words carefully, I say, “How about instead of announcing my choice to the guys like I’m some kind of nightly lottery number, I’ll just sit and eat dinner beside the person I choose.”
The skin stretched tight across his abs quivers as his breathing quickens, and I think that means he’s close. I can hear the air sawing in and out of his lungs.
