Page 8 of Single-Dad: The Mountain Man

Her breaths start to come faster, making her body shudder and undulate. Then she lets out a shattered cry.

“Shane!”

My name is on the edge of her glorious climax and it almost bowls me over, but I regain my balance just in time.

Get outta here jackass.

But I’m completely captivated. My chest and dick swell with pride to hear her vocalize my name with a need and passion more intense and lyrical than any music artist. And I want to make her sing it again.

It’s perverted and wrong and I should give her privacy, but fuck being honorable. I’m animalistic, bloodthirsty, and hungry. I want to devour her.

Her cheeks tinge with a natural flush, far better than the makeup she wore tonight. “I’m glad you wiped that shit off,” I murmur before catching myself.

It still stands, she doesn’t have to doll herself up to look pretty. Her tousled hair frames her face in a soft chestnut halo—angel. Her post-O face has an effortless beauty that would seem impossible if I wasn’t witnessing it for myself.

And I want to smell her perfumed sex on my body, on my cock. She’s my girl, my woman, my angel.

I peer down to see my cock in my hand, a self-loathing feeling in my veins. I’m a bastard friend, but I can’t stop myself. Every muscle in my body tightens and I tingle with the urge to fuck.

I look up, she’s staring at me. Shit. I dart away as the sound of her footsteps draw nearer.

I’m down the ladder and out of sight in a flash before she whispers my name into the night air.

“Shane?”

I clench my jaw and corral my thoughts away from dangerous territory—the treehouse, in her bed, inside her pulsing pussy. Even though I ache so bad to be with her I want to howl in pain.

It’s going to be excruciatingly difficult to keep my hands off her for the next few days, but I need to get ahold of myself otherwise my desire will destroy everything.

3

WILLOW

What have I done?

The moment I created my dating profile this morning, I instantly regretted it.Why does it feel like I’ve betrayed him?

I push the thought out of my head and focus on the matter at hand, namely my yoga class.

“Okay, we’re going to transition into cat pose.” I say, moving onto my hands and knees. The class of six women all follow my instructions. I arch my back and lift my chest toward the sky—oh, sweet serenity.“And inhale.”

The morning filters through a canopy of tree leaves, casting dappled shadows on the grass beneath the treehouse. The air is crisp, filled with the sweet melody of birdsong and insects buzzing by.

How can I explain to Cassie that I don’t miss the sound of cars, pedestrians, and the chatter of people? That I feel at home in the tranquil space I’ve found myself in these past three weeks.

Since my apartment got flooded, I’ve held my weekly yoga sessions up here on Thunderpeak Mountain. We cleared away the tall grass and vegetation to create a lawn. Much to my delight, many of my students have made the journey to attend my class.

I sought to teach plus-size practitioners ways to modify their bodies to make yoga more enjoyable and beneficial. I never expected so many people would be interested.

Charlotte giggles from under a tree where Shane braids her hair.

I try hard not to think about what he must have said to make her laugh. I try not to think about him at all.

Shane is a great father to the twins, and they love him very much, but I’d hate to think how they would react if they found out I’ve been drooling over their dad.

Last night was like a fever dream, but the welts on my back from where he shoved me against the alley wall was evidence enough. It happened. It actually happened.

It wasn’t something my mind conjured up.

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