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Selena

F ollowing Shaw outside as he chops wood was sheer genius. What better way to describe to my followers the exact ripple of every one of his muscles than to watch him in action?

Not changing out of his flannel shirt was also pure genius.

With each downward stroke of his ax against the wood, he lets out a primal grunt that has me squirming in the rocking chair on the back porch, with its spectacular view of the mountains, and an even more stunning view of the sexy shirtless mountain man, with his glistening, sweat-streaked chest taunting me.

My inner thighs are glazed in lust from the sight of him. It doesn’t help that every time he lets out a grunt, I feel it deep in my core, causing more wetness to escape onto my thighs and his shirt.

Whack. Grunt. Squirm.

How can a girl focus on writing her blog with all this sexual energy in the air?

Shifting my hips once more, I search for relief from my throbbing clit, and I catch Shaw watching me through lowered lashes, the hard ridge of his manhood pressing tightly against his jeans.

Unconsciously, I bring a hand to the collar of my flannel shirt and pull it away from my chest, hoping to create a breeze to help cool me off. Shaw’s gaze darts to the opening of the shirt. I glance down only to see I’ve tugged the fabric so far from my chest that you can almost see my bare nipple.

I quickly let the material drop onto my chest and turn my attention to my laptop. The last thing I need is for Shaw to think I’m lusting after him when he obviously doesn’t want to act on the chemistry between us that I know he can feel.

Back to my blog.

Fortunately, I use a fake name and don’t have any photos of my face on social media, so there’s no way my parents can connect me to this part of my life. As far as my parents are concerned, I’m an influencer who blogs about fashion, travel, and all those superficial things.

I wonder how they would react if they knew that was just a side hustle I use to cover my real social media persona, Lena, and my blog, Lena on Me.

It started as a fun way to help people on their own path to self-discovery and evolved into a platform for those needing a plus-sized role model, not the slim ideal of a perfect woman.

My articles cover topics from dating advice to navigating life in a superficial world. My readers know that I’m still a virgin and that it’s perfectly fine to remain one until I feel ready to change that status. After meeting my bossy mountain man, I believe I’m ready.

After taking one last look at Shaw and noticing that he’s gone back to chopping wood, I turn to my laptop.

It’s time to tell my followers that I’ve met the man I’m going to make love to for the first time, but I want to make it entertaining—hence the mountain cock idea.

I mean, really, who doesn’t want a little mountain cock? Or in Shaw’s case, a big mountain cock.

Instead of focusing on the gorgeous hunk in front of me, I lose track of time as I write about the beginning of my adventures in the woods. As I finish the post to invite my followers to tune in tomorrow, I smile as I read back the words and how Shaw makes me feel.

“What are you working on?” Shaw’s voice is so close, it’s almost as if he’s right next to me.

I slam my laptop shut. The last thing I need is for Shaw to see what I posted. Not that there’s anything wrong with it; it’s just that my blog is mine. Not even Sienna knows about it, and I tell my sister everything.

“It’s nothing.” I choke on my own spit as Shaw steps onto the porch, reaches down to the cooler next to me, and pulls out a bottle of water.

He unscrews the lid and takes a large drink, the muscles in his neck working the water down his throat while beads of excess water rivet down his chest, making me think about him in a shower.

“Here.” He thrusts the half-empty bottle of water toward me. “Drink this.”

I take the bottle from his hands, and our fingers brush against each other, igniting a burning sensation where they touch. “Thanks.” I pull back, lifting the bottle to my lips, needing to create some space between us, until I realize my lips are now on the same spot where his lips just were.

He watches me expectantly as I finish the rest of the water from the bottle, hesitant to pull my lips away from the warm spot where his had just been.

“Are you okay?” He runs a hand over my back as if to help soothe my coughing fit. I’m not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, but his touch is doing delicious things to my lady parts.

“I’m fine. I just swallowed wrong.” My voice comes out husky after all the coughing. But it’s the words, I just swallowed wrong, that linger heavily in the air as we stare into each other’s eyes.

I might be a virgin, but I read a ton of smut on my Kindle, and I know for sure, I would swallow every drop of whatever Shaw gave me.

His eyes search mine as if trying to decide what to say. “We should probably call it a day. I’ve got some stew in the crockpot we can have for supper, then we should probably call it a night since I’m sure you’ll want to get an early start on your rental cabin.”

I nod because what can I say—that I want him to throw me over his shoulder and have his wicked way with me.

Instead, I let him lead me into the cabin, where he serves up a bowl of the best stew I’ve ever eaten—too bad I couldn’t enjoy it, my stomach tied in knots, thinking about our limited time together.