Page 8 of Praised By the Lumberjack

I begin to move with careful, shallow thrusts, watching her face transform as initial discomfort gives way to pleasure. Her legs wrap around my waist, drawing me deeper, and I groan at the sensation.

"That's it," I encourage as she begins to move with me, finding our rhythm. "You're taking me so well. So perfect, so tight around me."

Her responsive moan tells me she enjoys the praise as much as ever. I reach between us, finding her clit with my thumb, circling it gently.

"Oh!" she gasps, her inner walls clenching around me.

"Does that feel good?" I ask, though her reaction makes the answer obvious.

"Yes," she breathes. "So good."

I continue moving inside her while touching her where she needs it most. Her inexperienced body responds beautifully to every touch, every thrust, every word of praise.

"You were made for me," I tell her, the words spilling out from some deep, primal place. "Like your body was created just for mine."

She moans, her hips rising to meet my thrusts more eagerly now. "Flint, I feel... something's happening..."

"That's it, good girl," I encourage, increasing the pressure on her clit slightly. "Let go for me. Show me how good you feel."

Her orgasm takes her by surprise, her body arching off the table as waves of pleasure wash over her. The sight of her coming undone for the first time during sex, combined with the incredible sensation of her virgin walls pulsing around me, nearly pushes me over the edge. But I hold back, wanting to make this perfect for her.

As she comes down from her high, her eyes find mine, filled with wonder and something deeper that makes my chest tight.

"Was that okay?" she asks, uncertainty creeping into her voice.

The innocence of her question makes my heart clench. "That was beautiful," I assure her. "You're beautiful, Hazel. Perfect."

I'm still hard inside her, but I make no move to continue. "Do you want to stop? It's okay if you do."

She shakes her head. "No. I want... I want you to finish, too."

I begin moving again, slower than before, savoring the sensation of being the first man to experience her this way. The thought that I've claimed this part of her, that she's given me this precious gift, drives me closer to the edge.

"Hazel," I groan, feeling my control slipping. "I'm close. I should pull out—"

"No," she says, wrapping her legs tighter around me. "Stay. I want to feel all of you."

Her words shatter the last of my restraint. I thrust deep one final time, groaning her name as I come inside her, marking her as mine in the most primal way and painting her insides with my seed.

For a long moment, we stay connected, our breathing gradually slowing. I press gentle kisses to her face—her forehead, her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose, and finally, her lips.

"Are you okay?" I ask, searching her face for any sign of regret or pain.

Her smile is slow and radiant. "More than okay."

I help her down from the table, supporting her as her legs tremble slightly.

"Thank you," she says softly as I help her dress.

I pause, looking at her curiously. "For what?"

"For making my first time special. For being patient. For the way you looked at me..." She blushes. "Like I was the most precious thing you'd ever seen."

I cup her face in my hands, wanting her to understand. "You are precious, Hazel. And you chose to share this with me—" I shake my head, overwhelmed by emotion. "I can't even tell you what that means to me."

As we finish dressing, a new feeling settles over me—a mix of tenderness and fierce protection. I take her hand, bringing it to my lips.

"I have to start work soon, but I don’t want to let you go.” I suck in a breath. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night," I say. "A real date, not just axe-throwing and..." I gesture to the table, making her laugh.

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