Page 17 of Scarred Mountain Man
"You're so fucking tight, so fucking good. I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again. Nevermind what I said, I don't think I can let go now. Now, you're mine."
I smile, loving to see this side of him, more animal than person.
He thrusts deeper, and this time I'm ready to follow him.
"Please, Oliver. More!"
He obliges, thrusting over and over. This feeling of fullness, it feels so right to be like this.
"Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours. Yours!" The last word comes out almost as a scream. He's taking me to the edge again, I've never had more than one orgasm at once. He gets one hand between us.
"Now, my good girl is going to come for me. Aren't you?"
He circles my clit once, the second time I'm already screaming out his name, this overpowering everything else, he follows along with me, grunting my name, promising me he'll never leave, that he'll take care of me.
And with all my heart, I believe him.
He lays down next to me, kissing my shoulder with such tenderness I think I must be made of glass.
"You're so perfect. I'll show you how deserving of the world you are."
"I love you too."
We stay like this, wrapped in each other, kissing each other’s pains, kissing each other’s bodies until it’s morning again.
Epilogue - One Year Later - Miranda
“I’ve told you! You need to stand still!”
“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” Oliver grunts.
“Because you don’t want my first painting of a naked man to be anyone else other than you.”
He scrunches his forehead, jaw tightening. He knows I’m right. What he doesn’t know is that I don’t have any interest in painting another man.
I’m still painting women and selling those paintings. I moved to Oliver’s cabin — well, our cabin — right away. I took a three-day trip to the city to pack everything up, to get my things before moving in. Spending just three days away from him was hard on both of us.
Living here has done wonders for my art, I’ve yet to feel blocked here. Spending time outside, around nature inspires me more than I ever thought it would. I did go from time to time but I’ve never realized how much living in the city hindered my creativity. Because of that, I was quick to finish the collection I was working on last year. The gallery, excited by my quickturnaround, scheduled an exhibition soon after. Oliver surprised me when he said he was going with me, he was nervous but he did so well, it felt like another milestone to us.
Oliver’s nightmares have almost subsided. He talks more and more about his best friend, it helps him cope and I like to know more about this man who meant so much to my husband. Aiden is coming by more often, especially after I’ve harassed him over and over again to have dinner with us outside of the monthly Almond Mountains’ dinner. I got curious when Oliver told me he saw a woman at his place but I won’t pry until he’s ready to tell us.
My husband seems to mull over what I just said, like I’ve just broken an unspoken rule.
“Not the first. The only naked man you’ll ever paint is me.”
“We’ll see about that,” I say with a grin. This might be stooping low but I really want to capture this expression. He looks so adorable when he’s this jealous.
I try to replicate the movement of his eyebrows using my brush. I’m so focused for a moment that I don’t realize he’s no longer standing by the window. Suddenly, his arms grab my waist and pull me against him.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t stay still, not when you’re looking like this.”
I don’t understand what he means.
“Whenever you’re this focused, all I want is to make you look at me. I’m jealous that your canvas is getting all this attention.”
