Page 47 of Jealous Lumberjack

The first time I found her icing herself in the bathroom, I’d just come in from chopping wood. Axe still in hand, sweat dripping down my back, ready to haul her into the bedroom.

Instead, I found her perched on the edge of the tub, wincing as she pressed a towel of ice between her thighs.

The sight damn near destroyed me.

Made me feel like I was breaking my beautiful toy.

And that—fuck—that tore me up.

Because I don’t want to break her. I want to keep her and keep her begging. Keep her sweet little body hungry for me so there’s no room for thoughts of others.

So now it’s every other day. Even when she whines and begs for my monster dick. And Christ, I love when she begs.

Sometimes I make her say it twice, three times, until she’s panting, hands clawing at my chest. Sometimes I goad her into slapping me first, pulling my hair, just to see that fire spark in her eyes, that feral hunger, before I take her over the edge.

She doesn’t even realize she’s giving me both halves of what I crave—obedience and rebellion, sweetness and sting.

And me? I’m sinking faster than I thought possible.

I press a kiss to her hair and ease her off me, sliding out from under her warmth. She murmurs something in her sleep but doesn’t stir.

The cabin creaks in the morning chill.

I stoke the fire, pull on my boots, and step outside. The air is sharp, full of pine, the kind that fills your lungs until it hurts so good.

Then I force myself to think of what woke me up this early when I should be slumbering next to Lily.

Today’s logging day.

Once a month, I cut what’s needed, haul it down to the contracted buyers who need it. I don’t do it because I need the money. Between solid investments and smart choices, I could disappear on this mountain for good and never starve.

But I like the work. Like replenishing what I take, keeping the cycle clean while watching my mountain bud with new life.

And part of me likes watching the buyers—the men who come with their trucks and their small talk—look at me like I’m a relic. A ghost.

They don’t know I’m still sharper, stronger, meaner than any of them.

For a split second, I imagine bringing Lily with me.

Perched on the truck seat, bare legs in my T-shirt, eyes shining at the view as we roll down the slope.

And then the picture twists to those men seeing her. Looking at her a few beats too long. Talking to her. Coveting what I have.

Then what? Would they try to take her away from me?

My jaw tightens. Fists harder than my jaw.

Fuck no is that happening.

She’s mine.Myfound treasure.

And I’ll be damned if another man lays eyes on her.

Lily

I wake to heat.To pressure. To his magic, pleasuring tongue.

My eyes fly open and I suck in a ragged breath.