Page 48 of The Mountain Man's Virgin
“Lucy. I know that it might be hard to understand, and I wanted to tell you the truth, I really did--”
“But you didn’t trust me,” she interrupted.
“No. Trust. No, that’s not it at all. Look, it’s getting cold out. The path to the cabin isn’t packed down yet, so there’s no way that you’re going to be able to make it on those crutches. I’m going to get the toboggan for you and Chopper. I promise you this. When we’re inside and I’ve got the fire going, I will answer any questions that you have for me.”
“Promise?” Lucy asked. She used both hands to grasp her cast and gingerly brought her foot to the floor of the helicopter.
I pulled on my wool hat and grabbed my work gloves from my bag. “I promise. No more lies.” I didn’t really consider what I had done to be lying, more like an omission of the truth, but I meant it. I was ready to be an open book for this woman. I was ready to be with Lucy.
Chapter 31 -- Lucy
Mick propped me up on the couch and tucked the quilt around my legs, then he set to work lighting the fire. The pot was percolating and the whole cabin smelled of coffee and, I something else that I couldn’t describe, other than to say it smelled like home.
I heard the roar of the fire as the kindling caught, and Mick jogged into the kitchen, “Two milk, right?”
I smiled. Lawrence always got my coffee order wrong. How hard could it be to remember that I take two milks in my coffee? I realized that Lawrence had never really looked at me, or even heard me. I had just been a pawn in his life, a game piece in his sick world.
“Yes, two,” I shouted, but Mick was already back by my side, steaming cup of coffee in hand.
“Careful, I didn’t have any decaf, this rocket fuel might keep you up all night,” he warned.
The fire cast an ethereal glow over Mick, his eyes sparkled, and I followed the movement of his strong hands as they set the pottery mug of coffee down on the log table. He was every bit a fairy tale hero, except for the fact that he was real, and he was sitting on the couch next to me. It wasn’t until that moment, the moment he was bathed in the firelight, I realized that he hadn’t just saved me once, but twice. I was looking at my guardian angel. And he was hot.
“I believe I owe you some answers,” he smiled and patted the knee of my good leg. “Ask away, sweetheart, I’m an open book,” he said, spreading his arms open wide.
“Kiss me.”
I wanted answers, I wanted to know why he lied, but at that moment, I wanted him more.
“That’s not a question,” Mick smiled wryly and gingerly crawled over top of my body, knees on either side of my hips, his hands pressing into the couch cushions by my shoulders.
I could feel the heat between our bodies as his chest hovered inches above mine. The butterflies from earlier returned with a vengeance and I felt myself pushing my hips up to meet his, my body wanting to be as close to him, and his cock, as possible.
“Will you kiss me, Mick?” I replied. “I believe that a quest--,”
Mick interrupted my sassy response by pressing his lips against mine. The rush of his soft lips swept through my body and I could feel the wetness of my want, my need for him, between my legs. He teased my lips with his tongue, his beard gently tickling my cheeks and chin. His quick, gentle kisses turned ravenous and aggressive, and I only wanted more.
He drew back from my lips and I felt my skin prickle as he kissed along my jawbone, moving down my neck. I writhed with anticipation beneath the trusses of his hips straddling mine. He gazed at me as he traced his fingertips where his lips had been, drawing a line from my earlobe down to my collarbone. He reached to grab my t-shirt from the back, gently inclining me while he pulled it over top of my head.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, tossing my t-shirt onto the floor.
He nipped and kissed at the top of my breasts and I could feel the heat from his breath through the thin cotton fabric of my bra. When he kissed at my nipples, I couldn’t help but gasp and writhe beneath him. I had never been so turned on in my life, it was as though my body needed him inside me; it felt wrong that I wasn’t filled up with Mick.
I could feel Mick’s hard-on through his jeans and I arched my body like a bow against him, aching to feel his cock between my legs.
Mick abruptly stopped kissing me and sat up. He pulled a scrappy patchwork quilt from the back of the couch and draped it over my body.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I got a little carried away there.”
“Don’t be sorry, Mick.” I grabbed the quilt and ripped it off my chest.
“Lucy. You’ve had a very traumatic week. Your first time should be special.”
I understood why he had pulled back, but I knew that it wasn’t the trauma or the fact that he rescued me. It was pure and raw desire for him. I had waited my whole life to feel the feeling that I felt when I was with him, and I didn’t want to wait one more minute.
“Mick,” I said sternly and held his hands in mine. “I have one more question for you, and I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me.”
“Of course, Luce,” he replied earnestly.
