Page 63 of Jealous Lumberjack

When I collapse against his chest, breathless and shaking, he holds me tight, his lips pressed to my hair.

I’m replete. At peace. So at peace.

That... maybe I’ll never want to leave this mountain.

Not when he looks at me like that. Not when he gives me every broken, beautiful piece of himself.

12

KNOX

Imust be crazy.

Not only have I agreed to take Lily into town tomorrow, I’ve also agreed to take her to the fair next Saturday. But the most reckless and insane of all?

I spin slowly, chest tight, heart hammering, as I stare at the ring.

My old WWE training ring.

The ropes sag a little, dust clings to the corner pads, but it’s still solid.

Still here.

And now I’ve agreed to modify it so I can wrestle with Lily.

Another one of her damn saucy games.

Granted, I agreed while she was on her knees licking my cock like it was her favorite popsicle. In a ridiculously short time, and she’s become a fucking expert at working me with that Cupid’s bow mouth.

She could suck every last secret out of me and I’d confess with a smile if it meant feeling the back of her throat again.

Hell, this morning she tried to swallow me whole—big eyes watering, cheeks hollowed, her throat bulging with the effort.

She failed, of course.

She’s too small, too delicate for my size.

But fuck, the way she whined, tears streaking her cheeks while her pussy dripped onto my hardwood floor... I nearly lost my fucking mind.

The memory makes my cock twitch even now, and I groan, adjusting myself.Christ.

I drag a hand down my face and force myself to focus.

Padding. Safety. That’s what matters now.

I check the mats, pressing down where the old foam has thinned. Too hard. Need to add more. I tighten the ropes, test the buckles. It’s still strong, but not strong enough for me to throw my petal around the way my body aches to.

She asked for this. Asked for me to show her my world.

And I’ll give it to her, but carefully. Gently. I’ll show her the basics first—falls, holds, the kind of stuff that looks rough but won’t hurt her. But the thought still gnaws at me: what if she gets hurt anyway?

I spent years breaking my body for other people’s entertainment. I’ll be damned before I let her bleed for mine.

But then I picture her face, the way her eyes lit up when she asked, the way her smile hit me straight in the chest, and I know... if I disappoint her, it’ll carve me open deeper than any scar.

Because she’s... God, she’s everything.

I curse under my breath, tightening the last rope.