Page 20 of Forever with the Mountain Man

“No, keep going until I tell you to stop.”

With a nod, she directs the frigid spray back on me. I shiver under the shower, taking it stone-faced and silently, turning and using my hands to scrub my hair and spots she’s missed. Then, I strip off my boots, socks, and pants until I stand in front of her wearing nothing but my white boxer briefs, transparent from the water. Despite my warnings, there’s nothing to fear. Finally being in her presence means no shrinkage at all, even with the icy assault.

“Alright, stop. Arrête.”

It takes a moment for Felicity to respond, throwing the hose to the ground and staring at me. Her hungry eyes go straight to my cock tented in my boxers. Instead of alarm written on her face, it smolders with an unnamed need. A need I know exactly how to satisfy.

I stride toward her, pulling her against my wet body and claiming her mouth again. Want and reason rip me in two,waging an internal civil war. If I let my cock steer this show, we’ll be down in the mud fucking like wild animals. But Felicity’s a refined woman from the city. And even though she digs the whole mountain man thing, I don’t want to scare the shit out of her.

Still, my hands slide down her back until they cup her ass cheeks, squeezing her tightly against my girth. “You better get inside and take a shower, or we’re going to get dirtier than any mud can make us.”

Her mouth hangs open, her eyes swimming with lust. Fuck, I’m about to lose this battle.

“Okay…” she manages, her voice breathy.

I loosen my grip on her ass, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “First door on the left down the hallway. I’ll bring your luggage inside.”

“Okay,” she says again like she’s losing her own skirmish with reason.

“Go,” I command gently, a slight edge to my voice.

Chapter Six

FELICITY

My head swims as I turn away from the mostly naked mountain man, glimmering wet in the afternoon sun. I have to pull my eyes away from the view below the belt, a thick, long rod at full attention framed by black curls that climb up his lower abdomen, peeking over his waistband like an undeniable invitation. This man is steamy, juicy, muscular perfection, and I want him more than I’ve ever wanted any guy. It’s abundantly apparent he wants me, too.

Inside, my eyes roam his cabin, taking in the rough-hewn wooden walls finished to a bright shine. The floors glow with a golden-red patina, lined with rustic carpets in vintage patterns. Black and white photos cover the walls, historical images of sheepherding operations. I can tell by the mountains in the background many were photographed in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

I enter the guest bathroom, turn on the light, and stare in the mirror. I’m a muddy mess, with brown fingertip swipes on my cheeks and dirt down the front of my shirt and skirt. But it’s nothing that won’t come off in the wash.

Undressing in front of the mirror, I’m aware of the painful throb between my legs. A throb Fierce awakened with hisfirst muddy kiss, and one that keeps growing in intensity and urgency. My pink panties are a wet mess. I need him so much I have trouble breathing.

What the hell has gotten into me?Thanks to my extended breakup with Tim, I can’t remember the last time I got laid. But I never felt any of the animal magnetism for my college sweetheart that I do Fierce. I nearly jumped him in the yard. Let me rephrase that.I should’ve jumped him in the yard, and I’ll regret it until the day I die.

My mind spirals in dangerous directions, skimming through memories of flesh-colored, angular planes glistening with sweat and wet mud. Kisses like the salt of the earth, igniting some core of passion within I didn’t even know I had. I start the shower, pulling back the curtain and stepping tentatively into the bathtub until I’m under the hot spray.

My pussy aches so painfully I switch to cold water, trying to regain control. But it doesn’t work. I think about using my finger to take off the edge. But with the gorgeous cock I saw outlined in Fierce’s wet underwear under the same roof? I can’t even fathom self-pleasuring.

Would it be so wrong to give into what we’ve been doing long distance in person? I know it would be far, far more satisfying.I go through the motions using shampoo, conditioner, and a flowery body wash. They all indicate this is a guest bathroom. But I can’t bring my mind back to elevated thoughts. Instead, they keep scraping the bottom of the most banal barrel of needs.

Finally, I stand in front of the mirror with a big white towel wrapped around my core, my hair towel-dried, and my face makeup-free and glowing. I take a deep breath. I have to go out in this because I don’t have my luggage in the bathroom.

Fierce said he’d put it in the guest bedroom. I just have to get to said bedroom and put on some clothes. Yeah, right. As ifunderwear, jeans, and a shirt will double as a makeshift chastity belt.

I step out into the hallway, hearing the cabin floorboards squeak beneath my feet. Despite internal chastising, my mind remains fixated on one thing—Fierce. I long to be fucked, and fucked hard, by the mountain man.

“I put your luggage in the guest bedroom,” a voice calls, low and authoritative, down the hallway. “Second door to the left.” I should follow his directions. That’s all I have to do. It’s so damn simple.

But recent sexy FaceTiming and weeks of lusting after this man grip me. My brain says one thing, but my feet and body say another, beelining in the opposite direction towards the source of the masculine voice.

When I enter the living room, Fierce reclines on the couch wearing a fresh pair of Wrangler’s with a white tight-fitting shirt and bare feet. His black curly hair is damp from the shower, and he smells of spicy aftershave. His blue eyes dart towards me, his gaze instantly darkening as he makes no compunction about taking me in from head to toe and back again.

“Fuck,” he says in a lust-filled voice. It confirms everything I need to know.

Walking towards him on shaky feet, the juncture between my legs pulses with need as he visually devours me. Desire radiates from his eyes like an aphrodisiac, heightening the throbbing of my pussy.

When I stand directly in front of him, I let the towel fall to the floor. It is so uncharacteristic of me. But then, so is masturbating over FaceTime and all our sexy talk. Something about this man’s animal magnetism and the way his eyes swirl with love and lust push me over the edge into sheer abandon.

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