Page 2 of Gifting the Mountain Man
two
Nash
There’s nothing more dangerousthan women and a winter snowstorm in the mountains. Luckily, I’ve been burned by both before, so I’m always ready for the worst.
Dressed in heavy flannel, fleece-lined jeans, a stocking cap, gloves, and sturdy work boots with thick wool socks, the sudden burst of cold wind and snow doesn’t bother me. I grew up in the mountains and now work for the Mountain Rescue Patrol, so I’m always ready for whatever the elements throw at me.
I quicken my pace, just a few feet from my cabin when I notice something on the front porch. I can only see a blurry shapethrough the heavy snow falling. It’s probably an animal seeking shelter.
As I approach my house, I realize it’s not an animal on my porch but a woman—a curvy woman with long auburn hair.
I lean down and roll her body toward me—her long auburn hair shifts from her face and fans around her head like a halo. She’s breathtaking, and she’s mine. I’d recognize that face anywhere. It’s the face I’ve been jerking off to for the last six weeks.
I almost backed out of the arranged marriage until her picture arrived. Sure, there was another woman in the photo, but as soon as I saw Sara, I knew she was the one for me, and I would do anything to have her. I even lied to her, threatening to sue if she backed out of our marriage contract—I was that desperate to be with her.
There was just something about her picture that spoke to me like a siren’s call. Her eyes were a deep, mossy green, like the forest after a hard rain. I can’t wait to see those eyes up close. My cock responds by painfully pressing against my zipper, trying to reach our bride.
I adjust my cock, reminding myself that I need to get her inside and warmed up by the fire. Even though I’ve never had to do this myself, after all my years with the Mountain Rescue Team, I know the best way to warm her up is with skin-to-skin contact.
I bend down and pick her up into my arms. Her sweet curves press against my body, and I groan. My arousal intensifies at the contact of our bodies. I begin counting backward from onehundred as I carry her into my cabin, hoping my body will relax long enough to take off our clothes and warm her by the fire.
I put her on the couch so I can take off our clothes, and she groans. I slip off my jacket and look down at her. Her ruby-red lips, begging to be kissed, pucker slightly against her smooth white skin. She reminds me of one of those porcelain dolls my mom collects — so beautiful but fragile.
I remove the rest of my clothes and start on hers. I unzip her boots, taking each one off. I slide her tights down her legs. My heart skips a beat as each inch of her skin is exposed to my hungry gaze. Her dress is next, leaving her in only her red bra and panties.
With a deep breath, I try to concentrate on helping her get warm instead of what I want to do to her luscious body once she recovers from the cold. Her breasts are so huge they’re spilling out of her bra, making me imagine fucking them as she holds them together. How she would lick the tip of my shaft when I thrust it between them. I take another deep breath, willing those dangerous thoughts away, and continue to remove the rest of her clothes.
I run my hand up her leg to her panties, then slide them over her hips and down her legs. I lift her panties to my nose and take a deep breath—damn, she smells amazing. I can't help but smile, knowing she's mine.
Her bra is the last piece of clothing I take off, making her breasts bounce and her nipples pucker, taunting me. I grab a blanket and lift her again. A shock runs through my body when our bareskin makes contact. I will need the patience of a saint to get through this.
I settle us in front of the fire, cradling her on my lap, and tuck the blanket tightly around us. She moans and snuggles deeper into my embrace. I hold her close and drift off to sleep with visions of our life together dancing in my head, or should I say sugarplums, since Christmas is right around the corner, and Sara is the best gift I could ever ask for.
three
Cora
My body feels likeit’s on fire. I feel hot and restless—my mind still dull from sleep. I can feel his hot breath on my cheek while something hard pokes my backside, making me wiggle against it as I try to figure out what it is.
Warm hands turn me onto my side, as even warmer lips kiss along the side of my neck and across my breasts. The lips pause to suckle each one. I sigh into the touch and run my fingers through his hair.
His mouth moves lower until his head is between my thighs. His beard rubbing against my skin is better than I imagined. Histongue runs up and down my slit, causing my legs to drop to the sides, giving him more room to explore my core.
My body stiffens, and my toes curl, “Nash.” I moan.
“Fuck, Sara, you taste amazing.”
Sara? Why would my dream Nash call me Sara?
“No.” I jerk awake and scramble away from Nash.
"I know we were planning on waiting until our wedding night, but after tasting you, I don't think I can wait." He smiles, and I notice my juices glistening on his beard.
No, this can’t be happening. Nash deserves the truth. I’m not Sara, and they are not getting married.
I bite my lip. But what about me? How long has it been since I’ve done something for myself? I’m a twenty-five-year-old virgin who missed out on being a teenager and sowing my wild oats in college. It’s time I did something for myself.
Sara doesn’t want to marry Nash, and he'll be mad once he finds out. But maybe for a few hours, I can steal some happiness with him.
