Page 10 of Stolen By the Mountain Man

“Okay, let’s try it with the ball this time,” he said.

Oh.ThatI could get on board with. In fact, we could do this a thousand times if it meant feeling his hands on my naked body.

This time, he didn’t move quite as slowly. This time, when he maneuvered my arms, it was in a faster swing—one that connected directly with the ball. But I only hit it hard enough for it to roll within inches of the hole.

“Good job,” I said.

“Thank you.”

I’d done better when we were playing earlier, but I wasn’t going to point that out. He didn’t either. Instead, he headed over and grabbed the ball again.

“Now I want you to try it by yourself,” he said. “But I’m going to distract you.”

The disappointment I felt when he stepped away was once again replaced by excitement. But this time, he didn’t put his arms around me. He set the ball on the tee and stepped up behind me as I positioned the golf club exactly where we’d had it seconds earlier.

I was preparing to swing when suddenly I felt his hands on me. They started at my hips, but this time, they didn’t stay there. Instead, they moved upward to my breasts, his hands sliding over them as his chest pressed against my back and his crotch pressed against my ass.

Distracting was right. I wasn’t sure how I could possibly make the shot with this kind of distraction. But when he didn’t move his hands, that told me I needed to do this to get to the next step.

So I swung, and once again, the ball landed within inches of the hole. It was closer, though, which meant I was improving.

“Good shot,” he said into my ear.

I leaned back against him, settling the head of the golf club on the ground by my feet, gripping it with my right hand as though it were actually holding me up. Maybe it was, in a sense.

“I want you to work on your swing again for a few minutes,” he said. “Focus on technique.”

I frowned at that, but as I moved the golf club back into position, I saw what he was doing. He pulled back from me a little and removed his right hand from my breast. The fingers of his left hand began moving over my nipple, pinching the tip between his finger and thumb, then sliding around it, teasing me.

With his right hand, he worked at unfastening his jeans. I knew that when I heard his zipper going down. Then I heard the rustle and pictured him freeing his erection.

Wow. This was better than any fantasy I’d had. I had to remind myself to keep swinging. Otherwise, I might break up the fantasy. I wanted to see what happened next.

What happened next was his right hand returned to my hip before sliding around to the area between my legs. At the same time, I felt him moving into position behind me and something long and thick went between my legs.

Holy shit. His dick was definitely out. And he was moving it along my wet slit. At the same time, his finger found my clit and began moving over it in slow, lazy circles.

Swinging the club was getting harder and harder. I didn’t want to do anything but close my eyes and savor every second of what he was doing to me.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he said into my ear. At that, I almost dropped the golf club, but I managed to hold on to it as I swung again. “Does that feel good?”

I nodded. “Can I stop swinging now?”

I felt him shaking his head. “I want to see you perfect your technique while I make you come.”

Oh, fuck. This definitely wasn’t making love. It was the naughtiest thing that had ever happened to me. It was sexier than anything I’d ever imagined. And I’d imagined a lot since first seeing his picture.

I felt guilty about it at first, but as my sister started talking about dumping him, I let myself buy into the fantasy. I brought myself to orgasm over and over while imagining him lying on his bed as I rode him, or me bent over a table as he fucked me from behind.

“I’m so hard for you, baby,” he said.

I could feel that. His cock was moving along my slick pussy, and the sound it made clearly communicated how wet I was. That, combined with the sound of our heavy breathing and thewhooshof air passing the golf club as I swung, filled the room.

My hands were trembling so much now, I had to grip even tighter to avoid throwing the club against the wall. The same wall the ball had hit just minutes ago.

I felt Isaac bumping against me as his hips moved. And then all thoughts of swinging went out the window as the beginnings of an orgasm overtook me. I dropped the club, letting it fall to the ground with an almost deafening metallic sound.

I didn’t care, though. The sensations rolling through me had taken over my body. It was an orgasm like nothing I’d ever felt, and I knew that was all because of him.

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