Page 13
Story: Beastly Mountain Man
7
Ace
Epilogue
The cabin’s too quiet.
I check the bedroom first—empty. The kitchen, the bath, even the damn closet. Nothing. My pulse ticks up, just a little. Not fear. Never fear. But the woods aren’t safe, and my wife has a habit of wandering where she shouldn’t if something catches her eye.
With her love of nature, the list is long.
I step outside, sunlight cutting sharply across my vision. Shielding my eyes, I scan the tree line.
I know how to track prints, and I know how to hunt. June doesn’t try to hide her footsteps. The question is, did she leave with shoes, or has she gone barefoot again?
Tracking her’s always been half the fun. The chase. The way her breath hitches when she realizes I’ve found her.
Searching the ground for what I’m looking for, it’s not long before I’m trekking forward to hunt her down.
I move quietly, my boots crushing damp earth, until I see her. Bent at the waist, fingers tangled in a fistful of wildflowers. Sunlight turns her skin gold.
She doesn’t hear me coming. Good.
I close the distance in three strides, my hands on her waist before she can gasp. She knows it’s me—her body goes pliant against mine as I spin her, pinning her to the rough bark of a pine. The flowers tumble from her grip, scattering at our feet.
“Ace—”
I cut her off with my mouth. Hard, hungry. She tastes like summer and sin, and I drink her in like I’m starving. Her fingers knot in my shirt, clinging like she’s afraid I’ll vanish.
Never.
The kiss turns desperate. Hungry. Her hips press into mine, and I groan against her mouth when I feel how damn wet she already is. My hand slides down her side, gripping her thigh to hike her leg around my hip. She gasps, and I swallow the sound, kissing her deeper, harder, until we’re both breathing like we’ve run for miles.
It’s not enough. I want more—need more. My fingers drag up the hem of her dress, rough and impatient, and the second I feel bare skin, I almost lose it. Fuck, I could take her right here. Bend her over, push her panties aside, and sink into her so deep she scares away the wildlife with her cries of pleasure. The thought alone has my cock throbbing.
But then she whimpers—soft, pleading—and I force myself to stop. Not here. Not like this. I break the kiss, panting, forehead pressed to hers as I fight to steady my breathing.
Every time I touch her, she leaves me wrecked.
When I finally pull back, her lips are swollen, her eyes dark. I thumb the flush on her cheek, then crouch to gather the fallenflowers. Purple, yellow, white—shit she’ll probably weave into something pretty later.
“Need to get you back home. Dinner is done.” Leaning toward her, I breathe in the scent of wildflowers. “Though, you’ve got me hungry for something else, now.”
The giggle that leaves her lips fuels me, and I scoop her up. Weighing nothing in my arms, I carry her back home with the intention of eating dinneranddessert.
Ace
Epilogue
The cabin’s too quiet.
I check the bedroom first—empty. The kitchen, the bath, even the damn closet. Nothing. My pulse ticks up, just a little. Not fear. Never fear. But the woods aren’t safe, and my wife has a habit of wandering where she shouldn’t if something catches her eye.
With her love of nature, the list is long.
I step outside, sunlight cutting sharply across my vision. Shielding my eyes, I scan the tree line.
I know how to track prints, and I know how to hunt. June doesn’t try to hide her footsteps. The question is, did she leave with shoes, or has she gone barefoot again?
Tracking her’s always been half the fun. The chase. The way her breath hitches when she realizes I’ve found her.
Searching the ground for what I’m looking for, it’s not long before I’m trekking forward to hunt her down.
I move quietly, my boots crushing damp earth, until I see her. Bent at the waist, fingers tangled in a fistful of wildflowers. Sunlight turns her skin gold.
She doesn’t hear me coming. Good.
I close the distance in three strides, my hands on her waist before she can gasp. She knows it’s me—her body goes pliant against mine as I spin her, pinning her to the rough bark of a pine. The flowers tumble from her grip, scattering at our feet.
“Ace—”
I cut her off with my mouth. Hard, hungry. She tastes like summer and sin, and I drink her in like I’m starving. Her fingers knot in my shirt, clinging like she’s afraid I’ll vanish.
Never.
The kiss turns desperate. Hungry. Her hips press into mine, and I groan against her mouth when I feel how damn wet she already is. My hand slides down her side, gripping her thigh to hike her leg around my hip. She gasps, and I swallow the sound, kissing her deeper, harder, until we’re both breathing like we’ve run for miles.
It’s not enough. I want more—need more. My fingers drag up the hem of her dress, rough and impatient, and the second I feel bare skin, I almost lose it. Fuck, I could take her right here. Bend her over, push her panties aside, and sink into her so deep she scares away the wildlife with her cries of pleasure. The thought alone has my cock throbbing.
But then she whimpers—soft, pleading—and I force myself to stop. Not here. Not like this. I break the kiss, panting, forehead pressed to hers as I fight to steady my breathing.
Every time I touch her, she leaves me wrecked.
When I finally pull back, her lips are swollen, her eyes dark. I thumb the flush on her cheek, then crouch to gather the fallenflowers. Purple, yellow, white—shit she’ll probably weave into something pretty later.
“Need to get you back home. Dinner is done.” Leaning toward her, I breathe in the scent of wildflowers. “Though, you’ve got me hungry for something else, now.”
The giggle that leaves her lips fuels me, and I scoop her up. Weighing nothing in my arms, I carry her back home with the intention of eating dinneranddessert.