Mountain Man's Valentine

by Lauren Milson

  Mike and I came up together. We’re like brothers. Same prep school, same college, same bullshit parental units who pushed us down a straight and narrow path to a legacy that they wanted, that they thought would serve us.

  I don’t have much to complain about because my parents gave me a damn good life, and I’m not angry. Just a little conflicted, and who the hell isn’t?

  Mike is a good guy, and good looking to boot. He’s got a shaved head and a trimmed beard, and he makes the dome look good. He’s an excellent wingman, and the girls love to flirt with both of us. We’ve never gone there, fucking the same girl at the same time, but shit, we’ve shared by accident before.

  Let’s just say that in our circle, New York City is like a small town. Unfortunately, outside our circle it’s the biggest place on earth. And if Ava moved in my circle, it wouldn’t have taken until last night to meet her.

  “Look at you, man,” Mike says, walking past Serena’s desk and bringing me in for a bro-hug. “You look good. You make the tube socks look great.” He scratches his chin and smirks.

  Along with my tube socks, I’m also wearing some old-school shorts like the ball players back in the day used to wear. I didn’t lose a bet or anything. I just think it’s a cool fucking look. I don’t give a shit if I’m judged for it. I like it.

  “Classic look, that’s what this is.” I take a step back and turn around to model, and Serena gives me an exaggerated nod as I spin around slowly with my arms outstretched. “Don’t let anyone take away your Jordans.”

  “I think I saw that outfit once,” Serena says thoughtfully, scratching her head. “Yeah. It was when I was cleaning out my dad’s basement when he sold his house. He had some old VHS tapes and I didn’t know what they were.” She taps her finger against her bottom lip like she’s struggling to remember what these mystery tapes were. “I dusted off the old tape player and turns out basketball players wore shorts just like that back in the 70s.”

  “The 70s were a better time,” I say, holding the ball above my head. “The music, the graffiti on the subway. Plus, I was born.”

  “Okay, beast,” Mike says sarcastically, adjusting his backpack across his shoulders. “Let’s go. We’re burning daylight here.”

  “Go home, Serena,” I say as Mike and I make our way toward the lobby on our floor. “And try to stay out of trouble.”

  She waves, gathering up her phone and taking her time to grab her purse.

  “I can’t believe you never -” Mike says, running his hands over the top of his head.

  “Don’t even go there,” I say. “That’s not me. You want me to cause a conflict of interests? A scandal? No way.”

  “But I mean, have you seen her lately? She looks like she got fake tits, or something. I don’t know. She’s fucking beautiful.”

  “I don’t need to dip my pen in the company ink,” I say. And it’s true. I’m not jeopardizing everything I’ve worked for to get my cock sucked or to have my admin’s tits between my hands.

  We pass the reception desk and we’re almost at the exit, when I see her emerge from the hallway.

  I grind to a halt and let my eyes pass easily over her body. It’s like I’ve been wandering the desert looking for water, parched and dry, and I finally see an oasis. Okay, maybe I’ve only been thinking about her for about twenty-four hours, but it feels longer than that. It feels a hell of a lot longer than that.

  She’s so fucking cute and casual, and nothing like what I saw last night. She’s traded in her little black dress for a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt, and somehow, she’s even more gorgeous now, bare-faced without makeup. Makeup is supposed to accentuate your features, right? For Ava, you don’t fuck with perfection.

  And she freezes in place, taking me in. Her mouth parts, the corners tip up a little, and her eyes sweep across mine. I can’t tell if she’s trying to place me or trying to control herself from jumping on top of me.

  Her hands go to her hair, behind her head, and she pulls her ponytail tighter on her head. All I can think of is wrapping her cute little ponytail around my tight fist and bringing her face down to my crotch.

  And...there it is. Her eyes linger on mine for a moment, and she scans down, stopping at my mouth and dragging her teeth across her bottom lip, and her eyes inch down slowly like a magnet is bringing them lower and lower, until…

  Her gaze lands on my crotch, my inches pushing against the inside of my boxers, held in by the fucking minuscule joke of a pair of short I have on over them. My blood pumps into the head of my cock when I see her ogling me, her mouth open, her eyes wide.

  Her head whips back up and her gaze bolts onto mine before she shuffles past us quickly, taking a fast turn into the office, her sneakers squeaking on the polished tile floor.

  “Friend of yours?” Mike asks, tugging on his chin, turning around to see my girl hurry away.

  I’m fucking dumbfounded. She’s a messenger? I guess the service I used to bring me my gear is working in overdrive to deliver sexy girls to the offices of guys all over the city.

  “As a matter of fact,” I say, pushing my basketball into Mike’s chest, “I need to go talk to her.”

  I stride after her, past the glass walls of conference rooms and a few of my colleagues’ cubicles.

  “Ava, stop,” I say, chasing after her. Who the hell am I? I’ve never chased a woman before. Literally or figuratively.

  And for a second, I feel like a goddamn fool in what I’m wearing. Sure, my package looks amazing in these shorts, but I don’t want to put her off.

  “Ava. Don’t do this to me again.”

  My heart is nearly leaping out of my chest when she turns around slowly, her body first, and then her face.

  “Why are you here?” she asks in a small voice, hugging a manilla envelope to her chest. “And why...what are you wearing?”

  Her nonplussed look melts into a smirk. There’s my girl. She brings her fingertips to her lips and lets out a laugh I’m not expecting. I’m expecting a girly little laugh, a fake giggle for show, but what comes out of her mouth is a joyous expression at what a doofus I look like.

  Got her.

  “I will inform you that this was a respectable look back in the day. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from me. History. You know, pay some respect to your elders.” I put my hands on my hips and turn one of my toes out, feet parted.

  As the door behind her opens, her expression changes; it gets icy, and her face tenses up. Murray comes out of his office and puts a hand on her shoulder.

  What the fuck? I had a feeling she liked older guys, but not that old.

  “Ava, thank you.” He takes the envelope from her and rubs her upper arm like she’s a puppy who’s doing a good job playing fetch. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this. The only people you can trust with things like this are your own flesh and blood.”

  Flesh and blood? My face flushes hot and then cold.

  Fuck.

  8

  Ava

  Oh. My. God.

  I don’t know if I’m more mortified for myself or for him. I’ve heard of second-hand embarrassment, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever actually felt it before.

  Sure, sometimes on those singing competitions I’d watch in junior high, they purposely put crappy singers in front of the judges so they could be openly mocked on national television. That was embarrassing for them, but at least they got paid for their troubles.

  I feel palpably embarrassed for Caleb right now. At first, I practically drooled over seeing him in his cute little short-shorts. Crap, I mean, I was practically undressing him with my eyes. Imagining getting down on my knees in front of him and putting my fingers inside the waistband of the shorts, the outline of his dick making a tempting image in front of me. And then yanking the shorts so they’d come off, smoothing over his cute butt, to his thick tree-trunk legs.

  But now? Mortification.

  And maybe a little bit of amusement.

  And then confusion.


  Because what in the ever-loving hell is he doing in my dad’s office?

  “Have you met my daughter yet?” my dad says, putting his hands on my shoulder protectively.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Caleb says coolly, pushing his hand through his hair, a few pieces falling onto his forehead. “I met your daughter. Honestly, I thought she was from the messenger service.”

  I feel my dad standing behind me as he takes his hands off my shoulders. Good God, I’m just glad he isn’t looking at my face right now. Bright red with embarrassment, I can feel it in the tips of my ears.

  “Yes,” I try to act like nothing unusual at all is happening, “we met. He thought the envelope was for him. That’s why he was following me.” I arch an eyebrow at him, pleading silently with him to play along.

  “Right,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the glass wall outside dad’s office. A slight pause hits the three of us, and Caleb’s eyes flash from dad’s to mine.

  “Anyyyywayyy, I’d better get out of here for the weekend. I wouldn’t want to interrupt any dad and daughter time,” he adds.

  “Banker’s hours?” dad says, walking back into his office. “I’m kidding. It’s after five on a Friday. You guys go have fun.” He looks Caleb up and down before closing the door behind him. “I’m not going to even ask what’s going on here. Thanks again, hon.”

  He shuts the door and I chuckle, unable to control the muscles in my face from breaking out into a grin.

  “I, unlike my dad, am going to ask.” I lean against the wall and keep my eyes on Caleb’s. “What are you wearing?”

  “This? Honey, I put this on for you. You didn’t like me in my suit, so I thought I’d wear something a little bit more casual for you.”

  He tips away from the wall and comes toward me slowly, his gaze intently upon me. He’s even more sexy than I remembered, and the memory of him was one that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since last night when I ran away from him at the Boat House.

  “Casual?” I say, my breath hitching in my throat. “I thought you banker types like deck shoes and polo shirts. Not...whatever this is.” He keeps walking toward me, his eyes flashing and the muscles under his t-shirt flexing, his arms all corded muscle and smooth skin.

  He keeps getting closer to me, his eyes fixated on mine the whole time. God, I could melt right now, and as he keeps coming toward me, I feel myself getting wet.

  There was never a time I’d get wet just from looking at a guy before I met Caleb.

  Shit, I’m not getting wet from looking at him. I’m getting wet from the way he’s looking at me.

  Control, exacting command and power. That’s what he is. He knows what he wants. He’s not like the guys I know. The guys who fumble around and then brag about getting a hand job lasting ninety seconds. Those guys don’t know what they’re doing. Like Zoe said last night.

  But Caleb? He’s the real deal. And I’m impossibly turned on by how he’s looking at me right now.

  He licks his lips and bites down on his bottom lip, and I imagine it’s my lip he’s nibbling on, sucking it into his mouth while he grinds his lips expertly against mine like he did last night.

  “Ava,” he says calmly, stopping right in front of me and looking down intently. “Why did you run away from me last night?”

  And it’s a good question. I don’t know what to say. There’s a million reasons. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing - literally. I wouldn’t have known what to do next. A man like him is used to bedding women who know how to move, who know what to do. They’re as experienced as he is.

  And then, did I really want my first time to be with a stranger?

  In public?

  In a dark hallway where we could get caught?

  I wanted the first time to be special. But I’ve never met anyone quite like Caleb.

  “I don’t know why,” I say softly, looking down. I try to not let myself be distracted by his little short shorts, but good lord are they distracting. I’m in a vulnerable place, because the absolute truth is that I don’t know why I ran away. I can name all the reasons I think I did it, but none of them really answers the question. “Maybe I was afraid.” I look up at him, and his face changes from lustful to sympathetic, all with the minor change in how he’s looking at me. He softens, but he’s still as strong as ever.

  “Sweetheart,” he says softly, putting his hands on my shoulders. His grasp is strong and reassuring. “There’s no need to be afraid. I’ve got you.”

  He brings his hands down my shoulders, to my arms, and brings me in close to him.

  “I’ve got you.”

  9

  Caleb

  Fear? That’s something I haven’t heard before.

  Where was the fear in the girl last week who I was on a date with, who went into the bathroom, and when she came back, dropped her panties into my lap?

  Was she afraid of me, or was she looking for the same quick fuck I was looking for?

  Look, I don’t really know the women I sleep with. I know they’re beautiful, and that’s about it.

  And on the other hand, I don’t judge them, either.

  But shit, here she is in my office, doing personal fucking errands for her dad right down the hall from the office where I jerked off on a video call with some random chick last week.

  I don’t have sex with coworkers. And this would be worse. This would be crossing a fucking line I didn’t even know existed.

  And for some reason, I don’t give a fuck.

  “Baby,” I say softly, reassuring her, rubbing her back with my open hand. I need to calm her down. The only time I need her to be excited is when I’m down between her knees licking her. I don’t need her to be all wound up over anything else. “What’s the matter?”

  I put my finger under her chin and tip it up. She looks up at me with her bright blue eyes and smiles. She closes her eyes, her long brown lashes resting beautifully against her lovely skin.

  “It’s nothing,” she says, putting her arms around my back, melting into me.

  10

  Ava

  He pulls me close and the air around us gets heavy and hot, coating our bodies with desire. I can feel it prickling on my skin, his firm fingers making a trail of heat down my arm, leaving goosebumps springing up in their absence.

  “Baby, trust me. Don’t run away from me again,” he grows into my ear, his chest rising and falling against mine. My breasts fall against him as I melt into him.

  “I trust you,” I say, taking a leap of faith I’ve never made before. “I’m here.”

  Caleb grabs my wrist and leads me down the hallway, past several offices, and pulls me into one at the end of the hall. He shuts the door behind us and pushes me up against it.

  His fingers come to my lips, and I part them carefully to bring them into my mouth. He caresses the inside of my bottom lip with the pads of his fingers, and then drags them down and out of my lips, to my chin, down to my collarbone. Pulling one leg up to his thigh, his hand snakes under my leg to my ass, squeezing hard and making me cry out a little yelp.

  “Quiet, sweetheart. That’s only for me. If you need to moan, bite your lip. Don’t make a sound.”

  I nod quietly in agreement and look up at his eyes. His mouth comes down onto my throat, making a trail of hot, small kisses along the back of my neck to where my hair starts, as his hand comes around to the front of me, stopping at my belly, his fingers dancing slowly inside the waistband of my shorts.

  “Ohhh…” a small moan comes from my mouth; I can’t help but part my lips and let my body react to what he’s doing to me.

  “That’s alright, baby,” he whispers, unbuttoning my pants and pulling the zipper down slowly. “A little bit of noise is alright. But it’s for me, you understand?”

  “Yes,” I gasp as his fingers press against the outside of my panties. I’d never have thought the evening would start like this, with Caleb’s fingers pressed up against my wet panties. I’m wearing the most
basic white cotton pair I have. If I’d known, I might have worn something a little bit more festive. The girls he’s with probably have drawers full of La Perla and Agent Provocateur, the really beautiful lace panties and matching bra sets. But he doesn’t seem to mind as he grinds his fingers against my clit through the fabric.

  Kissing my neck and making a trail to the top of my breasts, he slowly brings his fingers up to the waist of my panties. I know what he’s going to do next. The feeling of his fingers against me through the fabric was dizzying, but I know I’m going to lose myself when I feel his skin against my soaked pussy, his fingers sliding against my clit, touching me the way he did last night.

  I breathe in deeply, bracing myself for the inevitable. The smell of sex is in the air around us, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from yanking down his pants and jumping his bones.

  Because I want to. I really, really want his dick inside me. But I’m scared as hell and I don’t know what I’m doing.

  “Baby,” he growls as his fingers tease against the top of my panties, his strong hand sliding down my belly, “relax. You’re too tense. Relax.”

  I swallow as I realize I haven’t been breathing. And then his slides his hand down farther, and it feels like it’s taking forever, until finally his fingers reach my clit.

  “Ohhhh…” I moan again as his lips come down on mine. I moan into his mouth as two of his fingers slide down each side of my clit and then up again, the slippery wetness of my pussy making his fingers glide easily.

  “Fuck,” he groans, pulling his lips away from mine. “You’re so fucking wet.” Both of his hands fly to the edge of my t-shirt and I put my arms up instinctively as he pulls it over my head. He pulls my bra down off my breasts and lets them pop out, and slides two fingers over one of my nipples, making it wet with my juices.

  Heat flashes inside my clit as he brings my nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around it slowly. The blood whooshes out of my head and I feel dizzy and lightheaded for a moment, but I don’t want him to stop.