Page 17 of Mountain Man

I felt her clamp down on me at the same time her scream filled the cabin. I kept at her, licking her stiff clit and thrusting my finger inside her as she ground against me, trembling and moaning. The sounds she made alone would have been enough to send me over the edge, but with everything else, the feel of her, the taste, the scent…knowing it was me that was pleasing her, making her feel this good…

I blew the hell up, grunting and growling as I shot my load into my boxers for the second time.

Birdie went lax, so I carefully lowered her legs, lifted her in my arms, and carried her to my bed. She lay there staring up at me, bare from the waist down, the sexiest, most beautiful, perfect woman I had ever seen in my life.

“Climb into bed with me, Hank.”

Her voice was husky from her screams. The sound of that and the sight of her relaxed and satisfied made my chest expand with pride.

A knot curled in my gut as I stripped off. I used my boxers to clean myself off, and climbed in beside her. She rolled into me immediately, the soft heat of her body soaking into mine.

I decided to ask for what I wanted again, like she told me to. “I want you naked.” I wanted to feel all of her against all of me.

She immediately pulled her shirt off, followed by her bra. My hands had minds of their own and I cupped her breasts, massaging, weighing them, loving the way they overflowed my hold. I did this for a while, indulging myself, running my hands over her body. Finally, I trailed my fingers lower, and her thighs spread for me instantly.

My chest puffed up again at the way she bit her lip and arched when I cupped her pussy, sliding my index finger through her slit.

“I want to make you come again, Birdie. Can I?” I surprised myself by asking. It felt so good to make her feel good—Christ, addictive—that I wanted that feeling, that high again.

She nodded, eyes wide, chest rising and falling faster.

I played with her, my hand between her thighs, watching her every reaction, following her huskily spoken orders when she gave them. Faster, deeper, harder. Until she screamed again. Then I did it again, this time not needing instruction, and once more, until she passed out.

I spent the night watching her sleep and making sure the fire burned hot enough that covers weren’t necessary. I didn’t want to cover her beautiful body. I wanted to memorize every dip and valley, every dimple and freckle.

I also prayed.

For the snow to keep falling.

* * *

“What’s your favorite color?” Birdie asked, trudging along beside me.

Her ankle was a lot better, good enough to trek with me to check the closest traps and look out for logs I could cut up for firewood. My food stocks were good, but I wanted enough that going down the mountain wasn’t something we had to do because we were forced to. The snow had stopped two days ago. The powers that be had ignored my prayers, not that I believed in all that. They hadn’t listened when I begged for Him to bring my mother back or for my grandfather to get better. I had hoped, though, that I would get a little more time with Birdie. It was wrong, but I hadn’t even suggested taking her home. Another day and we could get down without too much trouble. But I wasn’t ready for that, to let her go.

I knew I couldn’t keep her forever, but the urge to stay there, away from the real world, her world, was getting harder and harder to ignore.

I looked down at her. She looked cute in one of my woolen hats, her dark hair down and wavy around her shoulders and back.

“Don’t have one,” I said, answering her question, one of many.

She frowned. “Really?”

I dipped my chin.

She tapped her chin. “Okay, favorite type of cake?”

“Chocolate.”

She smiled. “Mine, too. Can you bake?”

I shook my head, trying to ignore the way her smile made my heart race. “My grandmother used to make me one every year for my birthday.”

Her smile got wider and I had to look away.

“Winter or summer?” she asked next.

“Winter.”