Page 27 of The Mountain Man's Sweet Treat
“As soon as the race is over, we’re driving straight home,” I tell him as he massages my scalp. “I’m looking forward to that burger you promised me from Ernie’s Diner.”
“I’m going to get you the biggest burger,” he promises. Today is the day of the race. We drove up yesterday and spent the evening in a hotel room. We could have driven up this morning, but I wanted to look around at some of the shops in Asheville.
As we were exploring the city, Whiskey kept stopping to point out the recovery efforts that were being made since Hurricane Helene. It left a lot of destruction and damage, but the people of this city and the surrounding areas have an unmistakable spirit of resilience. They’re survivors who are rebuilding their lives and their homes. That’s something to be proud of.
“With extra fries.” Ernie’s fries are legendary. After the festival, my mom stayed in Courage County for a day. I was able to show her around and introduce her to the people and places that I love. She gave me a soft smile before she left and told me she was glad I found where I belong.
Next week, I’ll start working at Mallory’s shop, Sew Cute. I’m excited to be in her store. I’m even more excited that I get to take my years of experience transforming people with makeup and use those same skills to make other women feel beautiful.
“Don’t worry. I’m going to give you everything you want today,” Whiskey says as he gently caresses my breasts. They always feel extra heavy and sensitive when he’s around. It’s because he knows exactly how to touch me to make me feel good.
His eyes light up as he watches me. He makes an answering grunt when I moan. I love the way he’s so interested in my pleasure. It turns him onto know he can turn me on which only makes me hotter. Some days, I don’t know how we manage to keep our hands off each other long enough to get anything done.
“Touch me,” I gasp.
He presses soft kisses to my neck, nibbling on the sensitive skin there. He loves to tease me and wind me up. He can spend hours on foreplay and well, I’m not going to complain about that. “Are you sure you’re not too sore?”
I’m a little sore from last night when he pinned me up against the wall and made me come so hard I saw stars. But I could definitely go for another round with this morning. “I ache for you.”
Those are the only words he needs because the next thing I know, his hands are moving lower and lower. He traces me until he finds my mound and palms it. He massages my aching flesh. “What do you need?”
“Finger me,” I insist as he finds that magic spot with his thumb. He circles it slowly, working one of his digits into my channel. It feels so good to be filled by him.
He thrusts his fingers in and out, working me into a frenzy until I’m crying out his name again and again.
“You’re always so good to me,” I tell him when I’ve floated back down to earth. He’s supporting my weight, holding onto my body with the most delicious purr sounding in the back of his throat.
“You’re my woman. It’s my job to keep you happy and sated, and it happens to be a role I like very much,” he says as the steam from the shower swirls around us. It feels like we’re trapped in our little world here and some part of me never wants to leave.
I reach for his hard shaft, giving it a squeeze. It’s my turn now. I love touching him, listening to his harsh groans and moans as I pull the orgasm from him.
When we’re done with the shower, he wraps me in a soft towel and dries my skin. I change into my running clothes and reach for my shoes. At least, I try to.
Whiskey scowls at me. “Stop.”
Then he kneels at my feet and pulls out the tape I’d forgotten about. I suspect I need new running shoes which is why my feet are always blistering. But I didn’t want to try to break in a new pair this close to the race, so Whiskey bought running tape. I’ve been using it for a week now, and it definitely seems to make a difference.
On the elevator ride down, Whiskey gives my hand a gentle squeeze. He leans close and whispers in my ear, “Proud of you.”
I squeeze his hand in return, butterflies dancing in my stomach. I didn’t expect to be feeling so many emotions on the morning of the run, but I should have, because this isn’t just a 5K race. It’s a symbol of my comeback.
The elevator doors part, and as we step into the lobby. My mom waves to me, her luggage behind her. I quickly cross the floor to give her a hug. “I didn’t think you were going to make it in.”
“Nothing could have stopped me,” she says. She holds me close, her familiar vanilla scent wrapping around me. “Are you ready to do this?”
I nod, feeling lighter now that I know she’s here. I didn’t realize how comforting it would be to have my mom beside me at this big milestone. She’s not the only who’s here to support me. Emma May is too. She’s dressed in an orange t-shirt with a candy corn picture on it that reads “sweet and corny”.
The next hour passes in a blur as I sign in and take my place behind the starting line. The organizer takes her place at the podium, thanking the sponsors. Her speech seems to take too long, my legs restless to begin.
When the starter does finally go off, nerves and excitement dance in my belly. I’ve been working on this for months, and I want to do it. I want to go the distance. My feet hit the pavement with a resounding thud, and I remember the breathing exercises I’ve been working on.
The first half mile is easy. My body is strong and carries me effortlessly, but as I approach the first mile, my mind starts to replay that day. I lost so much in one cruel moment. My feeling of safety and security, my trust that the world was a good place. It was all ripped from me.
Forcing the memories back, I focus on my five senses. It’s a grounding exercise I’ve been working on with my therapist. I feel the swish of my ponytail underneath my ball cap, tickling my neck. Sweat rolls down my back. My feet hit the pavement with a resounding smack. The crowd is cheering, friends and family celebrating this moment as they watch their loved ones.
Right there, at the very front of the crowd is Whiskey. He’s towering over everyone else in his red flannel shirt with his big bushy beard. He’s cupped his hands around his mouth, his voice booming that I can do this.
He’s right. I can do this because I am brave. I stood up for someone who needed medical care even though I was afraid. I went to a cabin in the woods by myself even though I was afraid. I started training for a 5K race even though I was afraid.
