Page 7 of Protected By the Mountain Man

“Exactly.”

She smiled. It was a naughty little smile. Then she moved her right hand from my forearm to the area between her legs. She settled her head against the headrest and closed her eyes as she began stroking her clit.

I had to close my own eyes as the sight threatened to send me over the edge. But that only helped me focus harder on easing my way into her. She was tight, but I didn’t feel the resistance that I expected to feel with a virgin. It seemed like I’d read somewhere that the hymen was often broken early in life, for whatever reason.

That meant I just had to worry about loosening her up a little. Eventually, she’d hopefully conform to my size, but this first time was bound to be painful.

My focus on making sure she was comfortable helped keep my arousal in check and soon, she wrapped her legs around me, pulling me toward her, urging me to go deeper, faster. When I opened my eyes, I saw she didn’t seem to be in pain at all. In fact, she was gasping, her eyes closed and her head back, lips slightly parted. It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen, and if I could, I’d lean over and kiss her right now.

But there were more important things to do. Like obeying her commands to go deeper, “just like that,” and then faster. She squeezed my forearm with her left hand, and that served as a signal to me that she was coming. It was also a signal that I could let loose.

I stared down at that beautiful body, those full, gorgeous tits. I lowered my gaze to where our bodies joined, and that was all it took. I cursed, then let out a grunt as I spilled my seed into the condom, my entire body seeming to tremble with the shockwaves rolling through it. Maybe it was the delay. Maybe it was just that she was so amazing. But it was the most powerful orgasm of my life.

The aftershocks were almost as good as the orgasm itself as I pulled out and discreetly removed the condom, wrapping it up in a wad of tissues and tucking it into the bottom of the trash. When I turned back to her, she was smiling.

“You hungry?” she asked.

The question threw me, it was so far out of left field. But my empty stomach reminded me that I’d worked right through dinner. I’d been so caught up in what was happening with her, I hadn’t noticed.

“I’ll go grab a to-go order from the bar across the street,” I said. “Unless you want to hop on my bike and take a ride.”

“Let’s do that.” She smiled. “In fact, I could go for some tacos right now.”

As I got dressed and closed the shop for the night, I couldn’t stop the smile that seemed to be permanently fixed on my face. Could this qualify as a date? Because if so, it was the best day of my life.

4

DELANEY

“I’m Dylan, by the way.”

I hesitated, forcing the smile to stay on my face. We’d had full-on sex. I’d lost my virginity to the guy. And we hadn’t even officially met each other yet.

Delaney. It was a unique enough name that it could easily set off alarm bells in his head. I was his buddy’s daughter. No doubt Dad had talked about me enough over the years that my name might have stuck.

“Laney,” I said, sticking out my hand for a handshake. Laney was short enough and common enough to hopefully fool him.

He stared at my hand for several long seconds, his expression turning to amusement. “It’s a little weird to shake hands now, isn’t it?”

His much larger hand engulfed mine, but he didn’t shake. Instead, he tugged me toward him for a long kiss.

“Get a room!” someone yelled a good twenty seconds into the kiss.

We broke apart, laughing. Yes, we were standing in a very public parking lot.

“Let’s go grab some tacos,” Dylan said.

Hand in hand, we walk toward the building. The restaurant was packed, but that wasn’t surprising for a Friday night. I tried not to look around, as though not making eye contact with anyone would keep me from being recognized.

I’d just landed in Rosewood Ridge two days ago, and Dad reintroduced me to a few people we ran into around town. One of them commented she wouldn’t have recognized me, I was so grown up now. But if they saw me here, those few people would know exactly who my dad was. Then they’d probably tell my dad, who’d have something to say about me standing in a Mexican restaurant on a Friday night with a man closer to his age than mine.

We managed to make it to a booth near the window without anyone calling out to either of us. Maybe that meant we weren’t recognized. Oh, who was I kidding? Eventually, the truth would come out.

I might as well tell him now.

As we sat, a basket of chips and two menus in front of us, I stared at Dylan across the table. His attention was fully on the menu. I should just blurt it out. Nate Donnelly was my father. No, easing into it would be better.

“I have something to tell you,” I said before I could lose my nerve.

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