Page 12 of Mountain Man

That faceless woman now had a face to go with that beautiful curvy body, and I knew it would be her I’d see from then on. Every time I closed my eyes and stroked my cock, it would be Birdie who was letting me do dirty, wicked things to her.

I needed to get up and leave, but the way her breasts swayed as she dried off and dressed had me mesmerized, glued to my goddamn seat, balls throbbing, cock harder than it had been in my life.

The sheet was pulled back and I dropped my eyes to my dinner, shoved a now cold forkful into my mouth, and started chewing. My face was hot, flushed, and that pissed me the hell off.

“Oh! You caught rabbits?” she said.

I sucked in a breath through my nose and lifted my eyes. She was in her own pants but was wearing one of my sweaters again. “Yeah.”

She bit her lip and that caused another gut clench. “I’ve never eaten rabbit before.”

I grunted, my eyes dropping to her breasts without my say-so.

“I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed another sweater? They’re just so warm and soft. They’re hand knitted?”

“My mother knitted most of them for my dad.”

She slid into the seat across from me. “She used to live up here?”

“She left when Beau and I were eight.”

Her brown eyes widened. “She left you?”

I dipped my chin, not sure why I was sharing this stuff, but I was willing to do anything to stop the ache in my groin, and talking about my parents was sure to do that. “She left us and our dad. Didn’t like it up here. Didn’t like the solitude. Dad died a short time later. That’s when our grandfather took over raising us.”

Her hand slid across the table and her fingers curled around my wrist. “I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged, but couldn’t take my eyes off her hand on me. How small it was. How pale and smooth her skin was in contrast to mine.

My heart started to pound harder.

“Hank…”

I shot to my feet. “I need to check on something.” I shoved on my boots, jacket, and hat and headed back out.

I spent the next two hours stacking wood behind the cabin, until the lights dimmed inside and I knew she was in bed. I waited another fifteen minutes then went back in. She was curled up in my bed, cheek resting in her hand.

I stripped down to my thermals and started across the floor to the makeshift bed I’d made by the fire.

“There’s room in here,” she said sleepily. “It seems silly for you to sleep down there when there’s a perfectly good bed we can both fit in.”

I started to shake my head, but she flicked the covers back. I glanced at her face. Her eyes were shut, and going by how relaxed her features looked, on the verge of falling asleep.

I started for the bed, intending to drag the covers back over her and go to my own bed, but when I got there I couldn’t make myself walk away. Memories of her from the night before, how she felt beside me, her sweet curves pressed against my hard muscle, were so fresh in my mind. I craved that again, to feel her draped over me, the warmth of her body, the softness.

I slid in beside her before I fully thought about what I was doing.

Reaching over, I turned off the lamp beside the bed and stared up at the ceiling, watching light from the fire flick against the beams. I lay like that for what felt like forever. Birdie’s breathing had grown deeper and even. She was asleep. She’d moved a few minutes ago onto her back, facing me, one hand on her belly, one on the pillow by her head. The blanket had dropped a little and I could see the swells of her breasts through her top. Her knee was cocked and all I could think about was that place between her thighs. The heat of it, her scent down there, how tight I imagined she’d grip the aching length of my cock.

Christ. It throbbed, resting hot against my stomach.

My breathing increased in speed, my heart pounding so hard it was all I could hear. I needed relief, and though I knew it was wrong in so many ways, I couldn’t stop myself from sliding my hand inside my long johns and giving my dick a rough tug.

My back arched, and I couldn’t stop from doing it again. I watched her sleep as I did it, her face, her breasts, her spread thighs. I imagined thrusting in and out of her, the feel of her soft curves pressed into me, her moans of pleasure.

I wasn’t the incompetent asshole with little experience when I was in my head. In my head I knew how to please her, how to make her pussy grip me tight, how to make her wet, how to make her scream my name.

I stroked up to the head, twisting a little, then down to the base. The bed shook slightly, and Birdie’s breasts swayed with the movement. I was lost to the sensation, to the images in my mind, the real-life vision of her beside me.