Page 10 of Longing for the Mountain Man

I knew that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted me to show him what was between my legs.

But he didn’t say that. He just watched me, not even speaking at all.

And suddenly I knew what would make this easier. “I want to watch you,” I said.

“Watch me?” he asked.

“Touch yourself.”

This time, I didn’t blush as I said the words. Was that progress? I hoped so.

His smile widened as he pushed away from the door again and returned his thumbs to the elastic waistband of his underwear. This time, he didn’t freeze in that position. He lowered the underwear and tossed it over on his pile of clothes, then straightened as I struggled to remember how to breathe.

He leaned back against the door again and wrapped his hand around his erection. He didn’t move it, though, just holding it in place as though waiting for something.

He was waiting for my next move. And I knew what it had to be.

Keeping my eyes on his groin area, I parted my legs. I moved my left hand behind me, palm flattened on the desk to prop myself up as my right hand slid between my legs. When my finger touched down on that little nub I knew was called a clit, my eyes shuttered closed. Not because it felt good, but because I didn’t want to think about being watched while doing this. It made me too self-conscious.

So I pretended I was alone in my bedroom, in my bed, under the sheets, in the dark. No one could see me. No one would know.

“Do you think it’s bad to touch yourself?” Trace asked. “Did someone tell you it was wrong?”

My eyes popped open, and my finger froze. I shook my head.

“It was something we didn’t discuss in my house,” I said. “We went to church every Sunday, where we were taught that if we wanted to get to heaven, we had to be good. We had to try to avoid sin and ask for forgiveness if we did the wrong thing.”

“So you think it’s a sin?” he asked.

I thought about that a long moment. “Not really. I just feel like someone’s watching me, and I’m not talking about you. In general. Like someone above is watching me do this and it’s putting me on a bad list.”

Trace narrowed his eyes at me, and in that moment, I knew I was safe here. He wasn’t judging me. And that was why I could be more honest than I’d ever been with anyone.

“It’s a perfectly normal thing,” he said. “Everyone does it. Okay, maybe not everyone, but a lot of people. Probably most of the women you know. I plan to give you orgasms every day for the rest of your life if you want them. But I also want to teach you to pleasure yourself if I’m not around to do it for you.”

I heard one part of what he’d just said. He planned to give me an orgasm every day for the rest of my life. That meant he saw a future with me, right?

“Move your finger over your clit,” he said. “Start slowly.”

That was exactly what I was doing. I wasn’t sure how I could go any slower. But I did make my movements more deliberate as he watched.

“Are you wet?” he asked.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and nodded. “Yes.”

The word came out sounding like a croak. I might be wet down there, but my mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Picture my tongue moving over your clit as I stroke myself. I’m so hard for you, I’m having a hard time holding out. But I know soon enough, I’ll slide my cock into that sweet, sweet pussy.”

A sound escaped my throat then, but I didn’t care. My body was warming up, especially in that area. It felt like electricity was shooting through me from head to toe.

“I can’t wait to come inside you,” he said. “I can’t wait to feel your tight pussy.”

“Oh!”

That time I cried out, but it sounded like it came from somewhere far away. My entire world was focused on the sensations rolling through my body. My pussy began contracting again, this time throbbing as adrenaline pumped through me.

When it was over, all I could do was smile. I’d had my first orgasm. And I’d done it while he was watching me.

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