Page 15 of The Mountain Man's Siren

Owen said some women experience pain after sex the first time and that it’s completely normal. He was really calm about it which helped because I had started to freak out a little bit.

“You’ve stopped reading.” He plays with my hair, running his fingers through it. “Is the pain getting worse?”

“I’m just lost in thought.” It’s hard not to purr with him touching me like this. I wonder if I’ll be able to find another man I like half as much. Somehow, I doubt it. I think Owen is it for me. He’s my one.

“I can’t promise I can fix it, but I’m willing to listen,” he prompts.

I’ll never see Owen again after this, so it doesn’t matter if I tell him the truth or if he knows my real identity. “My dad is a senator and um, he got arrested. They’re trying to say it’s for fraud. Our home has been searched and everyone online is saying that he’s guilty. But my dad is an honest man.”

He reaches for my hand, uncurling my fingers and pressing kisses to my palm where my nails dug into it. “You’re hurting yourself, lamb.”

“It’s a shitshow and my uncle sent me here to ride it out.” I let out a sigh. “I wish I could do something. Have you ever felt helpless to change something horrible that was happening?”

“I have,” there’s a gritty note to Owen’s voice that wasn’t there earlier.

“Then you know how I feel,” I whisper.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “The truth will win out. Your dad will be vindicated.”

I don’t answer him. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the world of politics, it’s that by the time the truth comes out, no one is interested in hearing it anymore.

“Let’s have some fun together,” he says.

“What do you think?”I ask Owen as I show him my latest creation. He’s been teaching me about woodworking. He’s trying to keep me busy, so I don’t spend too much time thinking about my dad.

“It’s beautiful,” he reassures me, kissing my temple. He’s been sitting on one of the tables, just watching me make this. I thought maybe he’d get bored of doing that at some point, but he observed me all morning.

The wooden wind chime probably has a thousand things wrong with it that I’m not experienced enough yet to see. But still, getting to stay in the woodshop and build new things each day has been fun.

This is the first project that I did completely on my own. It took me two days and a lot of cussing. I had to ask for Owen’sadvice a couple of times. He steered me back on course without taking over the project. I love that he gives me the tools and freedom to make my own decisions. That’s not something my dad and uncle have ever done for me.

“I like it too.” I turn toward him and press a kiss to his jaw. There’s a spot here that drives him wild. It’s been six days since I’ve arrived at his cabin and I’m pretty sure the snow is starting to melt enough that I could leave if I really wanted to. Except that’s the problem. I don’t want to go.

When I find that spot, Owen lets out a slow groan. We’ve had sex every day since the first time. He always makes it good for me, always takes care of me first.

“I’m done working now.” I like when he’s sitting down. It puts us at roughly the same height and makes it easy for me to touch him. “Maybe we could go back into the house and do something else.”

He slips a hand under my shirt and caresses my breasts. “And what would this something else be?”

I arch into his touch. It doesn’t matter that we keep doing it. I always want more of Owen. I want his hands on my body constantly. “Maybe mutual exploration?”

He nips at my ear lobe at the same time he pinches my nipple. I gasp at the mix of pain and pleasure. He always knows how to put me in just enough pain to make it so damn good.

I call his name in a moan. I’ve learned that there’s a certain needy tone that he can’t resist. Before I can even blink, he’s scooping me up into his strong arms with a growl that seems to come from every part of him. “I’ve warned you about what happens.”

He grabs a coat, tossing it over me because he’s too impatient to wait for me to slip into it. I don’t blame him. I feel the same way.

Inside the house, Owen wrings orgasm after orgasm from my body. His desperate need to see my pleasure is written all over his face.

When I collapse against him, I press kisses to his chest. I’m straddling his hips, my center only inches from his cock. He’s taken care of me, ignoring his own body’s needs. But now, it’s his turn. I want him to feel just as amazing as he makes me feel. “What do you want?”

Before he can answer, there’s a loud, insistent knock on the front door. We exchange a look and Owen slides me off of his body.

“Stay here,” he commands, pushing to his feet. He grabs his jeans from the floor and slips into them.

“Wait,” I say before he can leave the room. “Don’t you want a weapon?”

He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Baby, I am the weapon.”

---