Page 15 of Eco-Activist’s Mountain Men (Mountain Men Reverse Harem #4)

Luna

I feel like my world’s been turned upside down. Everything I thought I knew about ecology and environmentalism is… wrong. My whole worldview has come crashing down, and my brain is spinning like a top.

What does this mean? Does it mean the people I’ve been calling the bad guys are actually the good guys? I mean… how many trees has anyone at Kill Climate Change actually planted?

I know the answer. Ten. Ten oaks, to be precise.

We bought them from a garden center and planted them in Central Park last spring.

We invited the press, made a huge song and dance about it on social media, had a big unveiling speech, a ribbon-cutting ceremony, a cake, and some alcohol-free wine that tasted like cat piss.

Meanwhile, these guys quietly went out and planted two hundred thousand saplings. No press, no drama, no Instagram reels—just honest, backbreaking work.

And apparently… this is only one of their sites.

I sit there on the quad bike, my arms around the waist of the man I’ve considered the enemy of the planet.

But now I find he’s not the enemy at all.

He’s the only person I know who’s doing something real to help it.

Two hundred thousand saplings. What’s that in terms of oxygen production?

I don’t know. All I know is that Toby and his crew have done in one year far more than Kill Climate Change has managed in its entire existence.

Which begs the question: what the fuck am I doing with my life?

Maybe falling off that walkway wasn’t such a terrible setback after all. Maybe it was fate pushing me where I needed to be.

But my thoughts scatter as the quad slows. Toby eases us through a gap in the trees and onto a natural plateau. He kills the engine, and silence rushes in around us.

I lift my gaze—and my breath leaves me in one great exhale.

My God, it’s beautiful.

We’re high up now, far above the lower slopes where the lodge sits, higher even than the other stop-offs. The air feels thinner, crisper, though that must just be my imagination. To the north, Mount Hood dominates everything, its snowy crown dazzling white in the sun.

Below us spreads the forest, a living quilt of green.

But directly beneath this lookout lies something out of a dream: a stand of what undoubtedly has to be quaking aspens, their white trunks gleaming, their golden leaves shimmering in the sunlight like a sea of coins.

They ripple in the breeze, an ocean of gold laid out as though just for us.

I rip off my helmet, overcome.

“Oh, Toby, it’s lovely.”

His smile isn’t the cocky grin I’ve seen before. It’s gentler. Deeper. A smile from his eyes.

“I’m glad you like it. These are the quaking aspens I told you about. This is my favorite place. And now it’s my gift to you—a carpet of white and gold for the beautiful princess who has stolen my heart.”

My throat tightens. For a long moment, we just sit there in this secret place, until I feel his presence beside me, steady as the mountains. When I turn, his gaze isn’t just on me—it’s in me, memorizing me like he never wants to forget.

I reach up instinctively, and he lifts me from the quad like I weigh nothing, setting me down so I stand before him. My head barely reaches his shoulders. I lean up on tiptoe, arms sliding around his neck.

“Kiss me,” I whisper. “Kiss me here, in the forest. Make love to me, Toby. Let me know what it feels like to be taken by a beautiful man in this beautiful place.”

His arms fold around me—strong, sure, tender—and his lips claim mine. Our first kiss. Gentle at first, reverent, then hungrier, catching fire. The aspens shimmer below, the sun warms our skin, and it feels like the whole world is holding its breath for us.

He takes a blanket from the storage container that's mounted in front of the ATV's handlebars and spreads it neatly on the ground, then he takes my hands, guiding me down with him. I sprawl against his body, tiny against his breadth, my fingers curling in his blond hair. When we kiss again, it’s deeper, tongues twining, bodies speaking a language older than words.

His hands map me—my back, my hips, my breasts—and I shudder as heat coils low in my belly.

I can’t wait. I tug at my clothes, shedding combat pants, top, panties in frantic motions until I stand naked before him, flushed, trembling, the breeze kissing my bare skin.

His eyes drink me in with something close to awe.

Then he strips too, slower, deliberate, until the sunlight paints his chest, his scars, the lean, hard muscle earned by years of work.

My gaze drops lower. He’s already hard, thick, straining for me, and the sight makes me ache.

We lie down again, skin to skin. His mouth trails fire up my throat, across my jaw, and I moan into his lips.

He rolls me beneath him, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His cock presses hot against my belly, and I reach down, stroking, teasing, feeling it throb beneath my touch.

His breath shudders out, rough and hungry.

I guide him to me. His tip slides against my slick folds, and with one long, exquisite thrust, he fills me. I gasp, clutching at his shoulders, overwhelmed by the stretch, the sweetness of him inside me.

“You okay, Luna darling?” he murmurs.

I nod, words lost, my body aching for more. “It’s safe,” I whisper.

Relief flashes in his eyes before passion takes over. He moves—slow at first, then deeper, stronger, each thrust pulling a helpless moan from me. My body clenches around him, pulling him in, as if I were made for this.

"Let me on top," I gasp.

He rolls to his back, and I straddle him, sliding down onto his cock once more.

The sensation makes me cry out—so full, so right.

I ride him, rocking slow, then faster, our kisses frantic, our breath mingling.

His hands grip my hips, guiding me as I move harder, faster, chasing the crest building inside me.

And then it hits. My whole body tightens, shattering as I scream his name, my climax ripping through me like sunlight through leaves. He groans, surging up into me, pulsing deep, giving himself over as we fall together into release.

When at last we collapse in the stillness, our bodies tangled and damp with sweat, the world returns: the sun beating down, the whispering leaves, the hum of an insect drifting past.

I nestle against him, my heart still racing, and in that quiet perfection, I feel like I've reached a new chapter in my life, turned a page.

My old life is over, the new one is just beginning, though exactly what it will be like as yet I do not know.

All I know is that whatever happens next, my world will never be the same again.

Time passes. An occasional puffy white cloud drifts across the sky like a cotton ball against the deep blue. A bird flaps lazily overhead, no doubt heading back to its nest. Insects buzz, the trees whisper in the breeze. It’s lovely. Natural. Normal. I reach out my hand, and he takes it in his.

Eventually, I roll onto my side and study him. He returns my look, smiling—open, honest. Nothing to hide.

“What’s on your mind, Princess?” he asks.

“Oh, so much I don’t even know where to start, Mister Mountain Man.”

He chuckles at the nickname. I study him in the sunlight—a fine example of a fit, healthy man of…

“How old are you, Toby?”

“I’m forty-one. Forty-two in November. Why… does it matter?”

“What? Oh… no, not at all. I was just wondering. I don’t care how old you are. I don’t think age matters all that much.”

“Me either. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-four.”

He whistles.

“Practically a girl still. I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of cradle-snatcher.”

“No, of course not.”

“Good.” He grins, clearly not serious.

“You’ve got tattoos.”

“Yeah. Just on my shoulders and back.”

“Show me.”

He sits half up, turning so I can see. Across his broad shoulders, ink comes to life—a tawny owl in flight across his right shoulder blade, an eagle diving with talons outstretched on the left. The detail is intricate, the colors vivid, alive in the sunlight.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you. Don’t you have any?”

I shake my head.

“Funny—I figured you would, kind of with the pink hair and all.”

“I’ve thought about it, but never got around to it.”

“What would you get?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe cherry blossom—like in those Japanese ink drawings. Maybe a raven sitting in the tree, surrounded by the blossoms.”

“You should get it done. It’d suit you.”

“Yeah… maybe I will.”

The conversation falters. But there’s something I need to ask. Something heavy is pressing on me.

“Toby.”

“What?”

“What did… this mean to you?”

“You mean being with you just now?”

“Yes.”

“Well… it meant a lot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“Because… because you’ve been with a lot of women, right?”

“Wouldn’t say a lot exactly. But okay, some. Yes.”

“Oh, come on, you’re always making out like you’re some big ladies’ man. You telling me that’s just an act?”

He laughs.

“Fair enough. Okay, I’ve had my fair share. Maybe more than my fair share. Happy now? Come on, what are you really asking, Luna?”

“I guess… I want to know what it meant to you. What I mean to you. Am I just another notch on the bedpost? Because if so, I can deal with that. Or am I something more? Am I really your princess, like you keep calling me… or just the girl who happened to be here and available?”

The words stick in my throat, but I push them out anyway.

“I just want to know, before…”

“Before what?”

“Before I allow myself to open up. Start feeling things that might be pointless if it’s just a fling for you. No pressure, I just… want to know.” My cheeks burn hot.

“I… see.” He falls silent. I wait a minute, two. Still nothing.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Oh—sorry. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“About you and me, and… how weird the world is.”

“Yes, I do know. But for fuck’s sake, Toby, just give me a straight answer.”