Page 13 of Ignited By the Mountain Man
"Forever."
As he spun me around, my laughter echoing through the trees, I realized I'd finally found what I'd been running toward all along. Not just a story or a place, but a home. A future. A love that felt like coming alive for the first time.
And it had all started with a scattered pile of kindling and a man who taught me that the best fires are built slowly, carefully, with patience and the right foundation.
Just like love.
EPILOGUE
SILAS
"Oh. My. God."
Keely punctuated that statement with a moan that immediately brought my dick to attention. Her moans had that effect on me, even after eight years of marriage and two beautiful kids.
"These marshmallows are amazing," she said, closing her eyes and savoring each chew. "Perfect amount of char."
"Careful," I said, "the kids will hear you."
She looked over at me, swallowing the bite of marshmallow before speaking. "We're not doing anything naughty.” She blinked and added, “Yet."
"They'd be upset that we’re roasting marshmallows without them,” I said. "You know they want in on that action. They'd ask why we didn't do this while they were awake."
At six and four, Ella and Chase were just getting to the point where they could easily participate in things like this. But tonight, we were testing out the new fire pit in preparation for using it with the kids over the rapidly approaching fall season.
"This just gave me an idea for a story," she said. "How to make the perfect roasted marshmallow—crispy outside, gooey inside. I could even interview some culinary experts."
I couldn't help but smile at her words. To my wife, everything was a possible story. She was still a freelance journalist, but she no longer did travel stories unless she could cover her very own town. She did that on her personal blog, though, which she monetized through affiliate links.
The low, guttural sound that rumbled from my chest was entirely involuntary. It was my body naturally responding to the sight of her tongue, pink and deliberate, snaking out to swipe a stray glob of marshmallow from her finger. Her eyes were closed in a parody of bliss that had nothing to do with dessert and everything to do with the sudden, thick tension between us.
Keely’s eyes snapped open, and a slow, wicked smile curved her lips. The firelight danced in her dark eyes, and in that moment, she wasn’t just my wife and the mother of our children. She was the most intoxicating woman I had ever seen.
She held my gaze as her hands went to the hem of her soft cotton shirt. In one fluid motion, she pulled it over her head and tossed it onto the grass beside the loveseat. She was bare beneath, her skin glowing in the flickering orange light.
She didn’t break eye contact as she reached for the skewer, her fingers carefully plucking another warm, soft marshmallow from its end. She brought it to her breast, and with a deliberate slowness that made my blood thunder in my veins, she smeared a dollop of the sweet, sticky cream onto her peaked nipple.
“It’s a shame to let it go to waste,” she whispered, her voice husky.
Then she moved, rising onto her knees and swinging a leg over my lap to straddle me. The weight of her, the heat of her through my jeans, was an exquisite torture. Suddenly, sheleaned forward, her marshmallow-smeared breast hovering just inches from my mouth.
“Lick it off,” she commanded, her breath warm against my ear.
That was all the invitation I needed. My hands came up to cradle her back, holding her steady as I closed the distance. My tongue swiped over her skin, lapping at the sweet, faintly smoky confection. It was a primal, decadent act, and the taste of sugar on her skin was the sexiest thing I’d ever experienced. As I licked her clean, my hands wandered down, sliding over the curve of her hips to the waistband of her sweatpants.
I shoved them down, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs, desperate for access. She shifted, helping me, and together we removed both her sweatpants and her underwear.
Once she was straddling me again, my hand moved to her pussy, finding her already wet, hot, and ready for me. A sharp, gasping moan escaped her as my fingers stroked her.
“God, Keely,” I breathed against her neck.
In one swift movement, I lifted her. She let out a small, surprised laugh that turned into a sigh as I lay her back on the wide cushions of the loveseat. I kissed my way down her body—over the valley between her breasts, across the flat plane of her stomach, my tongue dipping into her navel. I didn’t stop until I was between her thighs, and then I showed her with my mouth what I could never fully articulate with words. I licked and tasted and loved her until her hips bucked off the cushion and her cries fragmented the quiet night, her fingers tangling in my hair as she pulsed against my tongue.
She was still quivering, her inner muscles fluttering with the aftershocks, when she pulled me up. Her eyes were dark pools of need. “I want you inside me. Now.”
Her hands were frantic at my belt, her fingers fumbling with the buckle of my jeans. I helped her, shoving them down justenough, and then her hand was on me, freeing my aching cock. I returned to my earlier seat and she straddled me again, then guided me to her entrance. With one determined movement, she plunged down, taking me in completely.
We both gasped at the sensation, the perfect, tight fit. For a moment, we were still, foreheads pressed together, just breathing each other in, connected in the most fundamental way possible.
