Page 11 of Praised By the Lumberjack

In his eyes, I see not just desire and the beginnings of something more significant. It emboldens me to take him deeper, relaxing my throat as I've read about in the more explicit romance novels tucked away in the library's adult section.

"Fuck," he groans, his hand tightening slightly in my hair. "That's amazing. Where did you learn to—never mind. Don't stop."

I feel a surge of pride at his reaction. By day, I help patrons find information, organize community events, and maintain the quiet dignity of the library. But here, with Flint, I'm discovering a different side of myself—passionate, daring, uninhibited.

"Use your tongue while you suck," he suggests, his voice strained. "Swirl it around the head when you pull back."

I follow his instructions, adding this new technique to my repertoire. The taste of him grows stronger as more pre-come leaks out.

"You're a quick study," he praises, his breathing more ragged. "Such a good, attentive girl. So perfect for me."

His words send heat pooling between my thighs. I’m turned on by pleasing him this way. I want to learn exactly what he likes.

"I'm getting close," he warns, his muscles tensing beneath my hands. "You can pull away if you want."

But I don't want to. I want to experience all of him, to bring him to completion with just my mouth and hands. I look up, meeting his eyes, trying to communicate my desire without words.

He seems to understand because he groans, his hand cradling the back of my head without pushing. "Fuck, Hazel," he groans, his control visibly slipping. "Your mouth feels incredible. So hot and wet and perfect. I'm going to—"

His words dissolve into a deep moan as he reaches his peak. I feel the pulse of his seed against my tongue, the flavor stronger and more complex than I anticipated. I swallow instinctively, continuing to move my lips and tongue gently, easing him through the aftermath.

When the last tremor subsides, I release him, sitting back on my heels. A strange mix of emotions washes over me and lingering desire still throbbing insistently between my thighs.

"You're incredible," he murmurs. "So brave and beautiful."

I nestle against his chest. "I like it when you say things like that," I admit quietly.

Flint tilts my chin up. "I'll never stop telling you how amazing you are. The way you respond when I praise you. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"I've never felt this way before," I confess. "Like I'd do anything to hear those words from you."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," he assures me. "We all need to be seen and appreciated. I love that I can give that to you."

As he drives us to his home, I realize I'm falling for him. It's too soon and completely illogical.

But I can't bring myself to care about logic or timing. I think of the countless romance novels I've helped patrons find at the library, stories of whirlwind romances that I always considered fantasy rather than possibility. Yet here I am, living what feels like the opening chapters of my own personal love story—one I never expected but now can't imagine living without.

six

Flint

IwakeupwithHazel curled against me, her red curls spread across my pillow like copper flames. Something tightens in my chest as I watch her sleep, her face peaceful in the early morning light. It's only been a few days since she walked into Timber!, but already I can't imagine my life without her.

I carefully slip out of bed, trying not to wake her. She makes a small sound of protest, burying her face deeper into my pillow. I smile, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder before heading to the kitchen.

Coffee is brewing when I hear soft footsteps. Hazel appears wrapped in my flannel shirt, the hem reaching mid-thigh. My breath catches at the sight of her, sleep-rumpled and perfect.

"Morning," she says, yawning.

"Morning, beautiful." I hand her coffee with a heavy splash of cream, just as I've noticed she likes it. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in years," she admits with a shy smile.

We move around each other with an ease that feels like we've been doing this for years. I make breakfast while Hazel watches with those observant blue eyes.

"What?" I ask, catching her thoughtful gaze.

"I was just thinking how comfortable this feels. Being here with you." she says.

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