Page 7 of Marked By the Mountain Man
Would he grab me tight with anger or possessiveness? Would he touch himself before coming all over my skin? Would he thrust into me hard and frantic, desperate to break the softest parts of me? Would he pin me down, his rough hand on my throat as he emptied inside of me?
God, I need help!
My thighs tighten around my hand, and I scrub one final circle as pleasure ripples through me. My eyes roll back, my body convulses, and my hips thrust upward into my hand as I silence every desperate moan slipping out.
It’s then that I hear a knock. It’s hard and alarming.
Has he heard me? Maybe he’s come to finish this off. Why am I still horny?
I don’t answer right away. I can’t. I’m still tucked in my panties, still a puddle of sludge, barely seeing straight from the orgasm.
That doesn’t stop him. He whips the door open, his jeans already in place and his shirt unbuttoned, that perfectly rugged chest on display. “You alright?” His voice is gruff like he hasn’t spoken yet today, and it sends a thrill through me it shouldn’t. “I thought I heard something.”
“Yeah, well,” I pant, trying to sound as normal as I can with my hand still in my panties, “usually when people knock, they wait for the person on the other side to say come in.”
“I didn’t knock. I kicked.” He stands wide and sure in the doorway. “The door just opened. Gotta make sure you’re alright. I heard some weird noises.”
My face flushes with heat. “Well, I’m fine. I was dreaming.”
“About me?” His brow rises, and a smirk lifts his face. It’s just enough to make it feel like a jab.
I blink. “What makes you think that?”
“You said my name, twice. Sounded like you were either scared or… something else.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “You could’ve just not mentioned that.”
“Could’ve,” he says, voice dry, “but didn’t.”
He steps into the room, just enough to make the air shift. “I’m sorry about last night. I can be… abrasive. If you’re still interested, I’ll take you out onto the property today and you can get the footage you need for your internet thing.”
“My blog.”
“Right.” He nods once, his shoulders so broad that the room shrinks when he’s in it. “Just promise you’re done summoning me in your sleep. I didn’t get a wink last night.Probably got something to do with it.” His tone is clipped like he’s trying to be funny, but I sense more behind it.
I want to tell him that he wasn’t the man I dreamt about, but the words don’t come. I only watch as he turns away, the weight of his frame heavy on the creaking floorboards, the width of his body barely fitting through the door frame.
With my hand still tucked inside my panties, my finger still on my throbbing clit, my heart still hammering hard and loud with urges I can’t explain, I have no idea how I’m going to get through today.
Chapter Four
Knox
The morning sun casts a warm golden light across the open field. This property was the first big purchase I ever made. I got it on a land contract when I was eighteen from a guy who was desperate to get out of Colorado and away from the cold winters that shut this place down eight months of the year. Some days, I don’t blame him. Others, I wonder how he ever gave all this up.
Two hundred acres of wild, untamed property in the open wilderness. White-capped mountains, rolling hills, wildflowers, pine trees as far as you can see, and a creek that runs through it all.
“This place is insane,” Juniper declares, spinning in a slow circle like she’s trying to absorb it through her skin. “I swear the energy here is off the charts. I can feel it buzzing, especially near the creek. Water always amplifies residual activity. Plus, there were a ton of miners up here back in the day. There used to be a camp. You know that, right?”
I grunt. “Sure. I got a box full of old mining tools that’ve washed up over the years. The guy that owned the land before me started it.”
“Oh wow. That’s so cool. I bet there’s a ton of trapped emotion here. Land like this holds memories, especially if something traumatic happened. I read online that drifters used to come through and,” she sucks in a deep breath throughher teeth as though the story is about to turn gruesome, “they stabbed or shot people to take whatever gold they’d found.”
I ignore how much I’m enjoying her chatter this morning. She knows a lot of weird shit, but it’s interesting. “Makes sense. The old west was ruthless.”
I keep my eye on the trail, pretending I’m not interested, though for some reason I am.
She hums, crouching near a patch of moss. “I’m getting something. Not a full presence, but like… echoes. Maybe from the gold panning, or maybe it’s just the land itself. Some places are naturally thin.”
