Page 19 of Shelter for the Mountain Man
Cocking her head, she lifts an eyebrow. “They aren’t? What are they?”
Why do I suddenly feel I should have kept my mouth shut. “Handsome, rugged, good looking, maybe attractive.”
Cupping my sack, she wraps her other hand around my shaft and slowly strokes. “Are you sure? Because if this was just rugged and not beautiful, I may not want to hold it. Rugged makes me think prickly, not—” Gripping firmly she strokes me up and down— “something I’d want to play with or suck on.”
I groan. “Beautiful. Definitely beautiful.”
Slowly she lowers her head and licks me like a lollipop. Oh god, she’s going to drive me insane. Reaching above my head I grab onto the spindles of the headboard. I do not want to do or say anything that will make her stop.
Her initial touch is inquisitive, innocent. She’s a working woman whose palms aren’t silky soft or weak. Her grip, gentle yet firm, almost has me exploding at the first stroke. When she finally takes me into her mouth and sucks, I feel my restraint rapidly failing. Gently clasping the back of her head, I struggle to get the words out. “Oh love, I can’t… Too long since… You’re too good… Gonna…gonna… pull off…”
She holds me even tighter, letting me know she’s all in. My release shakes me harder than any other I can ever remember. It wasn’t just a release, it was earth-shattering.
“Why didn’t you remarry, Gramps, after Grams passed?
“Once you find the right one. Your home. No one else will ever do. No one else will ever fill your heart.”
Opening my eyes I look down my body. Fawn looks up at me licking her lips. “Was that all right?”
“Like coming home, love. Come up here. I need to hold you.”
Her head on my shoulder, leg over my thighs, her palm stroking my chest, we lie in silence. Her thumb starts to aimlessly stroke my nipple. Damn, she doesn’t even realize what her touch does to me.
“You said your wife—the baby wasn’t yours. Do you have babies?” she asks.
“No. I always wrapped it, regardless of the woman saying they were on something. Always thought it was my responsibility, too. My ex was on the shots when I was stateside. Or so she told me. But we, I, wasn’t ready for children then.”
“Do you want kids?”
“Yeah. But I want to do it right.”
Raising her head she meets my gaze. “What does that mean?”
“My dad was too busy living his own life to pay much attention to me. I was just another mouth to feed to my stepmom. It’s why I spent almost every weekend with my grandparents. When Grandma died, Gramps took me for the whole summer each year until I graduated and joined the army. Somehow, he even got me on the summer baseball team in his town.”
“He sounds pretty special.”
“He was. I wish you could have met him. He would have loved you.
“How about you? Your family?”
“Mom’s parents died in a flash flood in the Texas hill country when she was about twenty. All that survived was their old hippy van. Emotionally, she couldn’t stay there. So she packed what she had into the van and took off to see the country. She’s lived a lot of places but really liked the mountains around here.”
“Your father?”
“I don’t know who he is. Never met him and there is no name on my birth certificate.
“Mom really embraced the ‘live and love free’ philosophy. She met my father somewhere around here. When he found out she was pregnant they were both shocked. He’d been told he couldn’t have kids. But the DNA ultimately proved I was his. He bought this land with the barn and cabin and gave her the title.
“There was a reason he couldn’t or wouldn’t claim me. Once when I was in my early teens, I started asking questions. She said they had philosophical differences. Mom explained that his family were dangerous people. He was the oldest and was expected to take over the family business and responsibilities. He never wanted a child to go through what he did. He wanted freedom for her and me.
“She advised it was safest to let sleeping dogs lie. I haven’t asked since. She is a great mom. I didn’t need more. Now, she’s happy with John. That’s what really matters.”
“What about you. Do you want kids?”
“I have six. I don’t want more until they grow up.”
“Funny girl. Children, not goats.” She’s quiet so long I don’t think she’s going to answer.
