Mountain Man

by Sherilee Gray

  “Let me?” she rasped in a way that sent tingles across my scalp.

  Another shudder moved through me, and without my say-so, my legs spread, giving her more room. My own hand gave way, slipping free to allow for hers.

  Her soft, warm fingers wrapped around me and she gasped. “You’re so hard, Hank.”

  Her words shot pleasure down my spine and my hips thrust up, forcing my cock deeper into her fist. Her fingers didn’t reach all the way around, but her grip was firm and felt better than anything else I’d ever experienced in my life—until she slipped her other hand in as well and cupped my balls, massaging lightly.

  That was all it took—a couple of tugs, her eyes on me—and a shout burst from my throat. I started coming in her hand. Pulsing so hard my spine torqued, my hips working frantically, each pulse of my cock shooting more come into my boxers until I collapsed back on the mattress, sweating and shaking.

  Christ. A woman touched me, and I shot my load like a goddamn teenager. I’d come all over her hand like a fool. I waited for it, the laugh, the comment.

  No, fuck that. I didn’t want to hear it.

  I shoved back the covers and climbed out of bed before she could say anything.

  “Hank,” she called after me.

  I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t bear to see the look on her face. “That shouldn’t have…that was a mistake.” I quickly dressed. “Go back to sleep.”

  I heard her climbing out of bed, but I stomped outside before she reached me.

  I spent most of the night shoveling snow away from the cabin. When I went back inside hours later, Birdie was asleep in the chair by the fire.

  4

  Birdie

  Hank was avoiding me. Not easy in this small cabin, which meant he spent most of his time outside. He’d also barely said two words to me since he walked out on me last night.

  I’d just thrown a piece of wood on the fire when he walked in early afternoon.

  “Just grabbing something to eat them I’m heading back out to check the traps,” he muttered.

  I watched him open a can of beans and start eating without even heating it. He was still in his jacket, hat, and boots. That’s how desperate he was to get away from me.

  “Hank…”

  He put the can down—he’d only eaten half—and started for the door, ignoring me.

  “Hank…”

  He pulled the door open.

  “What did I do wrong?” I said, the desperation in my voice so damn obvious.

  He froze.

  “Please tell me why you’re so angry with me.” I barely knew this man, but I hated the thought of him being angry with me, that I’d somehow upset him.

  He pushed the door shut, blocking out the cold wind, leaned against it, and pulled off his hat. “I’m not angry with you, Birdie.”

  He wouldn’t meet my eyes and I could see his cheeks had darkened. “Well, what’s going on? Why are you being like this?”

  He cursed under his breath, his chest expanding with his rough inhale. “What I did…the way I acted…” He shook his head. “I’m…embarrassed.”

  What? I took a step closer. “Why? You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “You caught me…” He cringed. “Doing…what I was. It wasn’t right. I should never have done that beside you.”

  “I liked it,” I said, voice nothing more than a whisper.

  His brows lifted. “You did?”

  I hugged myself. “Yes.” This man—God, I’d never known anyone like him, never seen anyone like him. He was big and fierce and untamed, but there was a vulnerability under all of it that had my belly in knots, that made me want to know more about him.

  That had me craving his touch like no one else.

  “Watching you pleasure yourself.” I took a shuddery breath. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.” I lifted my eyes lifted and locked them with his. “You’re amazing, Hank.”

  His nostrils flared, but he said nothing. His eyes dropped to his boots and I could see his chest rise and fall rapidly. Finally, his eyes lifted back to mine and the way they burned made my knees weak. “What” —he cleared his throat— “what was amazing was having your hands on me.”

  Then he pulled the door open and walked out quickly, shutting it quietly behind him.

  I stared at the door he’d just walked through and had to grab for the edge of the table as a wave of lust—God, need—like I’d never experienced in my life, washed through me. I hadn’t cooled down since I’d felt the heavy, thick weight of his cock in my hand, since I’d watched him come. And as the time passed and I waited for him to return, it only worsened. My skin seemed to get tighter, my breasts fuller, and despite the snow again falling outside, I was hot, flushed with need.

  I ached, and I found myself squeezing my thighs together as I distractedly chopped carrots for the rabbit stew I’d made. I’d never used rabbit meat before, but I’d made stew, so I hoped it tasted good. It smelled good, not that I was hungry. Not for food anyway.

  It was probably more than two hours before I heard the sound of boots crunching through the snow, before I heard the door rattle and Hank walked back in.

  He didn’t say anything as he took off his boots, coat, and hat. But when he turned to me and his gaze hit mine, the need curled tighter in my belly so hard and fast, oxygen was shoved from my lungs.

  “Smells good,” he said, voice low and rumbly.

  I felt that, too. I squeezed my thighs together tighter. “You have…” I walked toward him, stopping a foot away, and even though he’d just come in from the cold I could feel the heat radiating off his big body. “You’ve got snow in your beard.” I reached up, because I wanted to touch him, and brushed it away. I took another step closer. “And in your hair.” I did the same to the hair at his neck where the hat hadn’t reached.

  His nostrils flared, and I watched in awe as the giant in front of me shuddered, a full body quake that had him sucking in a harsh breath. The top of my head only hit mid chest, so when he took a jerky step toward me, his body colliding with mine, I stumbled back.

  His arm shot out and he hooked me around the waist, yanking me into the muscular wall of his body. I gasped when I felt the hard length of his cock against my belly.

  “Birdie,” he rasped out past windblown lips.

  I tilted my head back, staring into the blazing heat of his eyes. “Tell me what you need, Hank,” I whispered.

  The muscle at the side of his jaw jumped. “I can’t stop thinking about your hands on me.”

  “M-me either,” I said, my breathy choppy and shallow.

  His large hand came up to the side of my face, thick, long fingers gently skimming across my cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

  I curled my fingers around his forearms, not wanting him to let me go. “So are you.”

  He frowned, even as his cheeks colored. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

  My pulse raced faster, out of control. “You’ve never been with a woman?”

  His cheeks got darker. “Only once, a long time ago.”

  Oh God. I searched my mind for the right words. “What do you think about when you’re on your own, when you’re stroking yourself?”

  “You,” he said, so rough it was like fine sandpaper abrading my skin, but in an intensely good way. “I never knew her face, not until I lifted you out of the snow, stripped you down, and put you in my bed.” His hot gaze moved over me. “Everything else, everything…it was you.”

  Somehow, I managed to speak past my tight throat. “What do you do to me?”

  “So many things, Birdie. So many dirty things.”

  I pressed against him as he stepped closer. My back met the rough-sawn wall and I lifted a hand, curling my fingers around the side of his thick neck and brushed my thumb over his beard. “I’m here now.”

  He growled.

  I shivered and licked my suddenly dry lips. “You don’t have to fantasize anymore, Hank.”

&n
bsp; Another animalistic sound vibrated through his chest, making my nipples tingle, then one of his huge hands landed on my butt and he hauled me effortlessly up. I instantly wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

  “I want to kiss you,” he said.

  “Then do it,” I whispered, pulse racing.

  He licked his lips, and after a moment’s hesitation, brought his mouth down on mine. He kissed me in a way that was rough and out of control, unschooled. His beard was soft and prickly all at once, and tickled my chin. There was no finesse, no holding back. It was wet and hard and as untamed as the man himself. It was the hottest kiss I’d ever experienced.

  His tongue tangled with mine, his growls shooting straight to the aching need between my thighs, and I couldn’t help but rub against him, seeking relief, needing more of him.

  His hips slammed forward, and he ground into me. “Birdie,” he said between rough breaths and rougher kisses, a desperation in his voice that had me soaking through my panties.

  My fingers slid into his hair at the nape of his neck and I held tighter as his powerful body continued to thrust against mine. The hard, unforgiving length of his cock ground into me through our clothes, hitting my clit just right. I dropped a hand, shoving it under his shirt, and my fingers came into contact with the hot, smooth skin of his back. The muscles bunched under my fingers. I thrust my hand down the back of his pants, digging my nails into his firm-muscled ass cheek.

  He tore his mouth from mine, panic crossing his expression, as well as a lust so deep and wild my pussy clamped tight and I started coming.

  He gasped. “I can’t stop”—he shook his head—“I have to…”

  He grunted, then shoved his face against my throat and groaned low and long, shuddering, hips jerking against me as he came as well.

  “I’m sorry,” he gasped against my overheated skin. “Christ, I’m pathetic…I’m…”

  I cupped his face, encouraging him to lift his head. “Why would you say that? Hank, you did nothing wrong.” I shook my head. “You did everything right. You made me come so hard. God, I’m still feeling it.” I bit my lip as my pussy pulsed again.

  “You did?” he asked, voice pure grit.

  I shivered. “Yes.” And moaned when he pressed into me and another wave of pleasure shot through me.

  I knew he could see it on my face that I was telling the truth when he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and his gaze dropped to my chest. I watched as his hand lifted to my breast and cupped it. His thumb swiped over my nipple and I shivered again.

  “That felt good?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Could you come again?”

  I nodded, my hips rolling against him.

  “Will you…” he gritted out. “Will you show me what to do?”

  I swallowed, trying to get moisture back in my mouth. “Yes.”

  His eyes dropped lower. “Can you…if I put my mouth on you…if I lick your pussy…” He lifted his eyes to me again. “Can you come that way?”

  I nodded again, words no longer an option. Then I watched in awe as the huge mountain man in front of me dropped to his knees. He looked up at me as he slowly, cautiously, gripped the top of my thermal pants and started dragging them down my legs. Usually I was self-conscious about my abundant thighs, but with the way Hank was looking at me, the only thing I felt was beautiful.

  I stepped out of my pants, and then his fingers were sliding under the sides of my underwear. He looked up at me again, and I gave him a small nod. “Do whatever you want, the things you’ve fantasized about.”

  When his eyes dropped back to my cotton-covered pussy, my thigh muscles started to quiver.

  He started to tug my underwear down, and when they reached my ankles and I stepped out, his monster chest shuddered.

  “Spread wider for me. Please, I-I need to see you,” he rasped.

  I did as he asked and his whole body convulsed, like an electrical current had fired through him.

  “Birdie,” he groaned on a ragged whisper. “You’re…Christ…do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this?” His hands at my ankles started sliding up.

  I shook my head.

  “About this body, this…pussy.” He gritted his teeth, like he was struggling with his control, like he was trying desperately to hold himself back.

  I didn’t want him to hold himself back. I threaded my fingers through his hair and tugged gently.

  He groaned and pressed his nose to my mound. “Your scent—fuck.” His head tipped back, and his eyes locked on mine again. “You’re so perfect.”

  My heart was racing at his words, with the anticipation of having his mouth on me, from the way he looked at me. He took one of my legs and lifted it over his shoulder.

  A second later he pressed his hot mouth against my slick pussy lips and growled.

  The vibration of it felt amazing, then his tongue darted out, moving over me tentatively, testing, tasting.

  That’s when his control snapped.

  5

  Hank

  Oh fuck.

  The words spun around my head over and over again. This was happening. I couldn’t hold back. Her scent, her taste. Birdie had wrapped herself around me so tight, had crawled so deep, I couldn’t think straight.

  All I knew was that I wanted to please her. I wanted to make her come against my tongue, hear her scream in pleasure. I didn’t know if what I was doing would do that, and I hated that I didn’t so much, that I was so damn inexperienced. Beau would know. I’d walked in on him like this with a woman, her thighs on his shoulders. The look on her face said she loved it. God, I hoped Birdie did, too.

  My cock pulsed, hard as iron again, as I licked up her juices and she squirmed against me. I dragged my tongue through her slit up to her clit. I knew from Beau that was one of the ways to get a woman to come, and going by the way Birdie tugged on my hair harder and ground her pussy against my mouth, I was doing something right.

  Her moans grew louder, so I lifted her other leg, cupped her soft ass, and ate her like the starving man I was.

  “Hank,” she cried out. “Oh God, please, please don’t stop. I’m going to…”

  No goddamn way would I stop.

  I wanted to feel it, I wanted to feel the way her body reacted to what I was doing. She said I could do what I’d fantasized about, and I wanted inside her in a big way. So, I pressed the tip of my finger to her tight little opening and started to slide it inside.

  She gave my hair another tug. “Yes…yes, push it deeper.”

  Knowing that I was doing this right, that I was making her feel good—nothing compared to it. I felt taller, stronger, more of a man than I had in my whole life. I continued to lick and suck her perfect little clit while I slid my finger in and out of her. She was hot and wet and tight. I wanted it to be my cock. God, so bad.

  I was pulsing hard and my balls were drawn up tight. I shoved my free hand down the front of my pants, my shoulders holding Birdie up, and tugged on my cock. I fucked her with my finger while I fucked into my fist.

  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 k
not 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.