Page 13 of Mountain Man

I gripped myself harder, stroked faster…

Something touched my arm. I jolted, my eyes shooting up to hers. They were wide, on me.

I started to yank my hand out of my long johns, but her grip tightened around my arm and she shook her head.

Her hand slid over my wrist, down to just above the waistband of my thermals. “Don’t stop, Hank.”

It should be impossible, but having her eyes on me made me even harder.

“Please,” she said.

My fingers spasmed around my cock and I groaned. “No…I—”

“Please,” she said again, moving closer.

Oh God. Another groan rumbled past my lips and there was no way I could stop from dragging my fist down my length and back after hearing her soft plea. My whole body shuddered harder than before with her watching me. My gaze stayed on her face as I stroked myself. Her eyes were still wide and she bit her lip, licking and sucking it. I was helpless to do anything else. Then she slid her hand lower, over mine, inside my long johns.

“Let me?” she rasped in a way that sent tingles across my scalp.

Another shudder moved through me, and without my say-so, my legs spread, giving her more room. My own hand gave way, slipping free to allow for hers.

Her soft, warm fingers wrapped around me and she gasped. “You’re so hard, Hank.”

Her words shot pleasure down my spine and my hips thrust up, forcing my cock deeper into her fist. Her fingers didn’t reach all the way around, but her grip was firm and felt better than anything else I’d ever experienced in my life—until she slipped her other hand in as well and cupped my balls, massaging lightly.

That was all it took—a couple of tugs, her eyes on me—and a shout burst from my throat. I started coming in her hand. Pulsing so hard my spine torqued, my hips working frantically, each pulse of my cock shooting more come into my boxers until I collapsed back on the mattress, sweating and shaking.

Christ. A woman touched me, and I shot my load like a goddamn teenager. I’d come all over her hand like a fool. I waited for it, the laugh, the comment.

No, fuck that. I didn’t want to hear it.

I shoved back the covers and climbed out of bed before she could say anything.

“Hank,” she called after me.

I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t bear to see the look on her face. “That shouldn’t have…that was a mistake.” I quickly dressed. “Go back to sleep.”

I heard her climbing out of bed, but I stomped outside before she reached me.

I spent most of the night shoveling snow away from the cabin. When I went back inside hours later, Birdie was asleep in the chair by the fire.

4

Birdie

Hank was avoiding me. Not easy in this small cabin, which meant he spent most of his time outside. He’d also barely said two words to me since he walked out on me last night.

I’d just thrown a piece of wood on the fire when he walked in early afternoon.

“Just grabbing something to eat them I’m heading back out to check the traps,” he muttered.

I watched him open a can of beans and start eating without even heating it. He was still in his jacket, hat, and boots. That’s how desperate he was to get away from me.

“Hank…”

He put the can down—he’d only eaten half—and started for the door, ignoring me.

“Hank…”