Page 12 of Getaway with the Mountain Man
"I've never felt anything like what I felt last night," I continue, my voice gaining strength. "Not just the physical—though God, that was incredible—but the connection. The way you looked at me like I was something precious. Like I mattered for who I am, not what I've achieved."
My confession hangs between us, raw and honest and completely unplanned. Jakob sets down his wine glass, his attention focused entirely on me.
"Jakob, I think I'm in love with you," I say quietly. "I know it's crazy, I know it's too fast, but I can't deny what I feel."
The words feel like stepping off a cliff, exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. But they're true, truer than anything I've felt in years.
Jakob stands slowly, crossing to where I sit on his couch. When he reaches for me, I go willingly, letting him pull me to my feet so we're standing close enough to share breath.
"I love you too," he says simply, the words hitting me with the force of revelation. "From the moment I saw you in those woods, maybe before. I know it's crazy, I know it doesn't make sense, but I love you, Lottie Smith."
Sudden tears overflow my eyes. "This is insane," I whisper, but I'm smiling through the tears.
"Completely insane," he agrees, his hands framing my face with infinite tenderness. "So what do we do about it?"
"I want to stay," I say, the decision crystallizing as I speak. "Not just for the week. I want to move here. Be with you. Build something real."
His eyes widen. "Lottie, that's a huge decision—"
"It's the easiest decision I've ever made," I interrupt, surprising myself with the truth of it. "I've never been truly happy until I met you. I don't want to go back to that life. I don't want to spend the next forty years climbing a corporate ladder that leads nowhere I actually want to be."
"What about your career? Your apartment?"
"My work can be done remotely—half my clients never meet me in person anyway. And my apartment is just a place I sleep between eighteen-hour workdays." I lean into his touch, feeling more certain with each word. "Jakob, for the first time in my adult life, I know exactly what I want. I want you. I want this place. I want to see what we can build together."
His smile is brilliant, transforming his entire face with joy that takes my breath away. Instead of answering with words, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me with an intensity that steals my breath. This isn't the gentle exploration from moments before—this is possession, claim, a man taking what he wants and giving everything in return.
I melt into him, my hands sliding up his bare chest to tangle in his hair. His skin is warm beneath my palms, the muscles flexing as he pulls me closer, until there's no space left between us.
"I've been thinking about you all day," he groans against my mouth, his hands roaming over my body with desperate hunger. "About how you felt in my arms, how you tasted when you came on my tongue."
His crude words send liquid heat pooling between my thighs. "Jakob," I gasp as he trails kisses down my throat, finding that spot below my ear that makes me whimper.
"I've been hard for you since you left," he continues, his voice rough with desire. "I had to take care of myself in the shower just to be able to concentrate. Even then, all I could think about was being inside you again, feeling that tight pussy grip my cock."
My knees go weak at his confession, at the image of him stroking himself while thinking of me. "I've been wet for you all day," I admit breathlessly. "Every time I moved, I could feel how sore you made me, and it just made me want you more."
His groan is purely masculine satisfaction as his hands move to the hem of my top, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion. "Show me," he demands, his eyes dark with desire as they rake over my exposed torso. "Show me how wet you are for me."
Before I can respond, he's lifting me onto the kitchen island, standing between my spread thighs as his hands make quick work of my jeans. "Need you now," he growls, yanking my panties aside. "Can't wait."
I reach for his belt buckle with shaking hands, freeing his thick cock from his jeans. He's already hard, the head slick with pre-cum that I spread with my thumb, making him hiss with pleasure.
"Fuck, Lottie," he groans as I stroke him. "I need to be inside you. Right now."
"Then take me," I whisper, guiding him to my entrance. "Make me yours again."
He thrusts into me in one powerful stroke, both of us crying out at the sensation. There's no gentleness now, just raw need as he sets a punishing rhythm that has me clinging to his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.
"So fucking perfect," he pants against my neck, his hips driving forward with desperate intensity. "This tight pussy was made for my cock. Tell me you're mine, Lottie. Tell me you belong to me."
"Yours," I gasp, my head falling back as he hits that perfect spot inside me with each thrust. "Always yours, Jakob. Only yours."
His hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit with unerring accuracy. "Come for me," he commands, his voice rough with exertion. "Come on my cock while I'm buried deep inside you."
The combination of his words, his touch, and the relentless friction pushes me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me in waves, inner muscles clenching around his thickness as I cry out his name.
"That's it," he growls, his rhythm faltering as my release triggers his own. "Fuck, I'm coming. Going to fill this sweet pussy with my cum."
