Page 15 of Knocked up By the Mountain Man

“Damn it, Clara,” I mutter, my voice thick with desire and regret. “Why did you leave?”

My hand moves lower, the whiskey giving me the courage to let go, to drown in the fantasy of her. I can feel the heat rising, the need building, and I don’t fight it. I let my hand slip inside my pants, I imagine it’s her fingers instead of mine. I stroke myself slowly, the images in my mind blending with the sensation.

I see her lips, soft and full, wrapped around my cock.

The sight of her taking me in, her eyes looking up at me with a mixture of need and desire, is almost too much to bear. I quicken my strokes, my hand caressing my steel length harder and faster as the image of her intensifies. I picture her moaning, her mouth working me with a rhythm that drives me wild.

I imagine her beneath me, her body arching with each thrust, her nails digging in o my back as I fuck her from different angles.Explore one another in a way we hadn’t thought to when we were younger. Her moans fill my ears, her breath hot against my skin, and I lose myself in the fantasy, my fist now pumping with pleasure.

I see her on top of me, riding me with an intensity that makes my head spin, her hips moving in a way that drives me to the brink of madness.

“Clara,” I whisper. The name a prayer, and a plea.

My body tenses, the pleasure building to a crescendo. I imagine her with me, the way she used to look at me, the way she used to touch me. The ache inside me turns into a burning need, and I let myself go, surrendering to the memory of her…

“Oh fuck!”

The release is intense, overwhelming, and for a moment, I’m not alone. For a moment, she’s here with me, and everything is right again. I’m left with the echo of her name on my lips, the ghost of her touch lingering on my skin…

But as the euphoria fades, I’m left with the same hollow ache. The same unfulfilled longing. I slam my fist down on the night stand harder than intended, the sound is jarring in the stillness of the room. This isn’t enough. I need more than memories and fantasies. I need answers.

I know where she’s staying on the ranch. She’s at Wyatt’s guest house, and I know Wyatt is on a date tonight, so there’s no one to stop me from going to see her. The thought of confronting her, demanding answers to the questions that have plagued me for all these years, fills me with a strange mix of anger and anticipation.

I need to know.

I can’t hold back any longer.

I clean myself up, grab my jacket and head out into the night, the cool air sobering me up slightly as I walk towards the guest house. But I don’t think it’s enough, because I stop by the giantoak tree, right outside, trying to gather myself together. I’m still contemplating whether to knock or not when the door opens, and Clara steps out. She’s on the phone, her voice carrying softly in the night air. I stay hidden in the shadows, straining to hear her words.

“Yes, Daniel, it’s all good here. I’m fine. Better than I thought I’d be.”

My heart pounds in my chest. Daniel. Who’s Daniel? Her husband? The uncertainty gnaws at me.

I can’t see her face clearly in the dim light, but I can hear the warmth in her voice, the way she speaks to him. My blood boils with jealousy and frustration. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. She laughs softly at something he says, the sound is like a knife twisting in my heart. It’s a laugh I used to know so well, the one that once brought me so much joy. Now, it only brings pain.

“I know, I know, I don’t have to be here for long. I’m doing my best.”

She turns away from me, so I don’t catch the next few words but that does nothing to stop the painful twisting sensation in my gut.

The world seems to narrow down to just the two of us, and the pounding of my heart is so loud I’m sure she’ll hear it.

When she finishes speaking, I decide to slip away quietly, unwilling to face her with my emotions in such disarray. But as I step back, my foot catches on a root. I stumble forward, my hand grazing the rough bark of the oak tree in a desperate attempt to steady myself. The noise is unavoidable. The rustling of the branches, and my muffled curse breaks the silence.

Clara’s head snaps in my direction, her eyes wide with shock as they lock onto mine. The phone slips from her hand, and I see a flicker of fear cross over her face, before it transforms into something unreadable.

“What are you doing here?”

I straighten up, brushing the dirt off my jacket. I guess we’re doing this now, whether I’m ready for it or not. “Was that your husband on the phone?”

Her expression hardens, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s none of your business, Mr. Marshall.”

Hearing her call me by my surname, as if we’re strangers, pisses me off. “Why are you here, Clara? Why did you come back?”

Her eyes narrow, her stance becoming even more defensive. “My services were needed on the ranch,” she says curtly, her voice cold and distant.

“That’s it?” I demand, frustration boiling over. “You disappear for years and come back with nothing but a professional excuse?”

She cuts me off, her tone final and unyielding. “If that’s all, goodnight, sir. I’ll see you again when I’m required to work, and not before.”

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