Page 10 of Mountain Man's Christmas Star
“God, your sweet pussy,” he growled, his hips rocking against mine in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “It feels like heaven. So damn good, squeezing me like that.”
The sensation was all-consuming now, a rising tide of pleasure. The fullness of him inside me, the friction, the magic of my own touch—it all converged into one white-hot point. I criedout as my second orgasm crashed over me, my inner muscles clenching around him in violent, pulsating waves.
He swore, a raw, shattered sound as my body milked his. “Fuck, yes…Ivy…I can feel you coming for me…”
My climax triggered his own. With a guttural groan that seemed ripped from his soul, he buried himself to the hilt. I felt the hot, liquid pulse of his release deep inside me. He collapsed over me, his weight a comforting anchor, his face buried in my neck as we both struggled to breathe.
For a few seconds, there was only the sound of our ragged breaths mingling in the cold air. Then, the world rushed back in. The winter chill bit at my sweat-slicked skin, raising goosebumps everywhere.
“You’re cold,” he mumbled into my hair, already moving.
We dressed quickly, our movements clumsy and hurried, our fingers brushing in a silent, new intimacy. We didn’t speak. We just moved together, pulling on layers, our eyes meeting every few seconds, sharing a look that held a universe of new understanding.
Once we were bundled up, he took my hand. “Come on. Let’s get your soaps. No one’s stealing anything from you tonight.”
Hand in hand, we walked back to my booth. The world felt different, sharper, more real. As we loaded the boxes of soaps into the back of his truck, the scent of pine and winter berries wrapping around us, I knew one thing for certain. Everything had changed.
6
GUNNAR
Something was wrong with Ivy.
I knew it the second we arrived at the festival grounds the next morning. She’d been quiet in the truck, staring out the window at the lights strung across Main Street like she was somewhere else entirely. At first, I chalked it up to what had happened between us last night. Hell, I was still reeling from that myself.
But this wasn’t a “we crossed a line and now things are awkward” kind of silence. This was heavier. She moved around her booth like she was half asleep, mechanically unwrapping soaps from the box I’d just carried over. These were the soaps we’d hidden away last night, safe and sound, so she should be happy to be setting them out as she prepared for a big day of sales. Instead, she was handling each one like it weighed ten pounds.
Meanwhile, the festival grounds were buzzing—electric with Christmas spirit. Crews were stringing up lights, sound guys were yelling into mics, and chairs were unfolding like magic for the tree lighting tonight. Vendors were gearing up for the kindof week-long event that paid for six months of bills. The whole place was one big peppermint-scented adrenaline rush.
Everything except Ivy.
“You going to tell me what’s eating at you?” I asked, watching her set out a green soap with all the enthusiasm of a DMV clerk.
She blinked, startled, like she’d actually forgotten I existed. “What?”
“You’ve been a million miles away since we got here. Did I do something?”
“No.” Her head snapped side to side. Too quick. Too sharp. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
And that was it. No explanation, just back to unwrapping. I stood there, useless, watching the tight set of her shoulders, the way her eyes kept darting to her phone like she was waiting for bad news.
“Who called you this morning?” I asked.
Her hands froze on a box. “What?”
“You took a phone call while I was in the shower. You’ve been different ever since.”
She bit her lower lip—something I’d noticed she did whenever she was wrestling with herself. Around us, a crew was hoisting a wreath taller than I was onto the festival sign, laughing as they did it. The whole world kept moving while Ivy seemed to crumble quietly in place.
“It was Becca,” she said finally. “A friend from Cincinnati.”
I waited. Nothing.
“And?” I finally prompted.
“She owns a boutique in the arts district. She’s been wanting to expand into bath products for a while now.” Ivy’s voice was flat, careful. “She offered me space in her store. A real partnership.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach.
