Page 12 of Stranded with the Mountain Man

In one swift movement, he yanks my jeans and underwear down my legs. I kick them off, suddenly bare from the waist down on his saw-dust covered workbench, but there's no time for self-consciousness. Jace is already unfastening his own jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself.

The sight of him, thick and hard and ready, makes my mouth go dry.

Then he's positioning himself between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. "Look at me," he says, waiting until our eyes meet. "Want to watch you take me."

I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him forward. When he finally pushes inside, the stretch is exquisite, a delicious burning that has me gasping his name. He goes slowly at first, letting me adjust to his size, his hands gripping my hips with restrained strength.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, his voice strained. "So tight, so hot."

“Please fuck me with that big cock, Jace,” I beg. I want him hard and fast, desperate like we were last night.

He doesn't need to be told twice. His first thrust is measured, testing, but when I cry out in pleasure, something in him snaps. He grips my ankles, pushing them up and apart, opening me completely to him as he begins to move in earnest.

"Look at you," he growls, his eyes locked on where our bodies join. "Taking my cock so perfectly. Like you were made for this. Made for me."

The position is obscenely exposed, intensely vulnerable, and absolutely perfect. Each thrust hits exactly where I need him, driving me rapidly toward the edge. The workbench beneath me is solid, unmoving despite the force of his movements.

"Harder," I beg, beyond caring how desperate I sound. "Please, Jace."

He complies immediately, his hips snapping forward with new intensity. "Like this?" he demands, his voice rough with exertion. "This what you need, sweetheart?"

"Yes!" I cry out as he hits that perfect spot deep inside me. "Right there, don't stop!"

His grip on my ankles tightens as his pace increases, his powerful body working mine with single-minded focus. He's a man possessed, all restraint abandoned as he pounds into me.The sounds of our bodies meeting, slick and rhythmic, fill the workshop that now feels more like a fantasy world.

"Touch yourself," he commands, his eyes burning into mine. "Want to feel you come around my cock."

I obey without hesitation, my fingers finding my clit, already swollen and sensitive. The additional stimulation combined with his relentless thrusts quickly pushes me toward the precipice.

"That's it," he encourages, watching my face intently. "Let go for me, beautiful. Wanna feel you."

The pressure builds to an unbearable peak, and then I'm falling, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me. My inner muscles clench around him, drawing a guttural groan from deep in his chest.

"Fuck, Elisa," he gasps, his rhythm faltering as he loses control. He drives into me once more, burying himself to the hilt as he comes, his powerful body shuddering against mine. With a long gasp he fills me with his seed, hot and sticky.

Slowly, he lowers my legs, massaging my calves gently where they've tensed from being held up.

"You okay?" he asks softly, brushing my hair back from my face with unexpected tenderness.

I nod, not quite trusting my voice yet. I feel utterly transformed, undone and remade by what just happened between us.

My legs are like jelly, my body humming with pleasant aftershocks. When he pulls me against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around me, I melt into the embrace.

We stay like that for several minutes, neither of us speaking, both processing what just happened. Eventually, the reality of being more than half-naked on a workbench asserts itself, and I laugh softly against his chest.

"What?" he asks, a smile in his voice.

"I'm never going to look at woodworking the same way again."

His laugh is deep and genuine, vibrating through his chest into mine. "Me neither. Might need to build a new workbench just for you."

six

Jace

Thebiteoftheaxe into wood is familiar, comforting. I've been at it for an hour, the repetitive motion helping me process what happened yesterday in my workshop. With each swing, I try to make sense of this unexpected situation.

Elisa Fox. City girl. Wedding planner. The last person I'd ever expected to feel something for.

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