Page 67 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
Finally, I’m buried deep inside her. She moans against my ear, and I have to clench my jaw to keep control.
We move together—slow at first, then faster. Her hips grind down as I thrust up, her nails digging into my shoulders, her lips hot against my neck. She rides me harder, moaning, clinging. I lift her, thrust deep, groaning as the heat builds, unbearable.
Her cries rise higher. My thrusts quicken. I can’t hold it anymore.
She stiffens first, her whole body shuddering around me as her orgasm crashes through her. That tight squeeze tips me over, and I roar, spilling myself deep inside her, wave after wave.
Slowly, the storm passes. I’m still holding her, my cock still pulsing inside her, every inch of me wrapped in the afterglow. I press my lips to hers, soft and lingering.
“That was… amazing,” I whisper.
“Yes,” she whispers back, eyes glowing into mine. “It really was.”
CHAPTER 21
Toby
Something’s happened.
I don’t know exactly what, but something’s happened. Something… weird.
For a start, Southpaw’s vanished. Nothing weird about that, actually—he does it all the time. He might wander back in ten minutes, or he might disappear for a month and a half. But no one’s seen him since yesterday morning.
That’s not the strange part, though. The strange part is the others. All of them.
Starting with Eric.
He strolls into the kitchen with a grin plastered on his face like he’s just gotten laid—which, let’s be real, maybe he has—and he actually joins in with the conversation. He tells us an anecdote about a girl in his year slipping a pair of panties into a good-looking lecturer’s jacket pocket during a boring class. The guy didn’t notice, wore them home, and apparently, his wife found them the next morning and lost her mind.
Since when does Eric tell anecdotes? The guy usually speaks like a textbook come to life. “Page forty-seven, paragraph two: bore your audience to death.” But this morning? He’s laughing. Loosening up. Coming out of his shell.
I gotta say—it suits him.
And then there’s Luke.
Even stranger. Luke actually laughed at Eric’s story. No joke—laughed out loud, like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all year. To be fair, it probably was the funniest thing he’d heard all year. Chainsaws aren’t known for their razor wit or banter.
But wait—it gets weirder. He made Luna a special vegan breakfast. I kid you not. Hot oats with maple syrup, chopped nuts, cinnamon, and the last goddamn banana in the lodge. And Luna? She said, “Thank you, sweetie,” kissed him on the cheek, and Luke turned red as a schoolboy caught looking at dirty magazines. Didn’t meet anyone’s eyes for a full five minutes.
And then we’ve got Jack.
My big brother looks like somebody’s lifted a two-ton weight off his shoulders. Suddenly, he’s younger, lighter, friskier. He’s cracking jokes, grinning like a loon, and when I asked about the quarterly financial report that’s due today, he says—and I quote—“Screw it. They’ll have to wait.”
Now, normally that sort of thing would have Jack up until two in the morning, cross-checking numbers with military precision. Today? He shrugs it off like he doesn’t give a damn.
Who is this man, and what’s he done with my brother?
Which just leaves Luna.
Weirdest of the lot. At breakfast, she announced she’s resigning from Kill Climate Change. Said she’s been thinking things through, and she might go back to college, maybe start forestry management and conservation. Wants to “actually do some good for once, instead of just yelling at everyone.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. I laughed and said, “Why quit the only thing you’re good at?” She flipped me the finger and told me to swivel on it. So yeah, she hasn’t changed that much. But still. She’s different.
More relaxed. More at home. She made coffee, washed the dishes, then tore into Jack for spilling milk on the tables she’d just cleaned. She’s been spring-cleaning ever since, stomping around like she owns the place, bossing us all out. Told us to “fuck off into the woods and screw rabbits” until lunchtime. Charming.
As for me… I thought it’d be just another day. But apparently I woke up in some kind of alternate universe—one where everyone’s the same, but a little different. And honestly? I kinda like this version. No shouting. I got coffee made and dishes washed. Works for me.
I head to the barn. Today’s job is overdue maintenance on the F-150s—oil change, new filters. Not difficult, but one of those “getting around to it” things that’s been waiting too long.
