Mountain Man Cake (Mountain Men of Linesworth Book 2) Read online

  Our families have been through a lot together. I’ve seen him at some of his lowest points. I understand Charlie

  I long for him to understand me too.

  With that in mind, I press my hands to his chest. He’s so ripped and as I move my fingers down the buttons of his flannel shirt, I see taut muscles and a firm six-pack. His body was made for hard work and fearless mountain heights. He is chiseled and rock solid.

  He helps me by ripping off his shirt and his bare chest nearly takes my breath away.

  The last time I saw him without a shirt was last summer down by the river. A big group of us went inner-tubing, drinking beer and floating all day. But that day, out in the sunshine, I wasn’t imagining pushing down Charlie’s boxers and taking hold of his cock.

  Well, okay. That’s a lie. I was imagining it; I just wasn’t thinking it would actually happen.

  “You’re so muscular,” I say, clenching my pussy tightly as I admire his core.

  “And you’re so slender,” he tells me licking his lips.

  “I don’t think these hips would be considered slender, Charlie.” I shake my head brushing off his compliment. “I’m a baker. Sugar, and spice, and everything nice is good and all, but it’s also an extra hundred calories per bite.”

  “But you’re not just nice are you?” Charlie asks with his hands on the waistband of my panties. His fingers brush against my skin, dizzying me.

  “Actually, I am,” I tell him. “I’m very nice, good girl.”

  “Yet, you’re the one who invited me back to your bakery to taste your frosting,” he says with a smirk.

  I blush, realizing he was onto my innuendo from the get-go.

  “I guess good girls can be naughty sometimes.”

  “I’d say so,” he tells me pushing down my panties. “Girl, you are heaven.” He runs his hand between my thighs, groaning as he feels how wet I am. His hand is so warm, so welcome, that I move instinctually, wanting more of his touch.

  “You like that?” he asks. I whimper a, ‘yes’, leaning against the stainless table top, my hands gripping the edge as he spreads my legs. “Oh, look at your pussy, it’s so fucking lickable.”

  I can’t speak. This is where I lose time and reason. Charlie’s mouth is on my pussy, his beard tickling my thigh, his tongue licking my slit up and down.

  Thank god for Jagermeister. It did something magical back at the bar if it brought me to this moment. Legs spread for Charlie as if this is a regular thing, as opposed to, you know, my ultimate fantasy.

  He moves his mouth up and down me, his tongue fluttering over me, then he sucks my clit, devouring me. I run my hands through his thick hair, pushing him deeper against me. I don’t know where this side of me is even coming from, I just know I need him to keep doing what he’s doing because...

  “Ohh, oh, Charlie, oh... ohhh...” And then I forget to breathe. My body trembles and my legs shake and he doesn’t stop his tongue from fluttering against me. He blows hot air on my cunt and then nuzzles his mouth deeper.

  The orgasm rushes through me. And my knees buckle and Charlie shakes his head, steadying me so he can finish what he started.

  He licks me up and down, tasting all of my release. My throbbing clit is still tender and on fire, and he knows it because he presses hard against it, sending another shock wave of pleasure through my body.

  “That was...” I can’t think of the word I’m looking for.

  “Delicious,” he says with a cocky grin, filling in the blank.

  I smile, satiated and overwhelmed. My senses awake and my desire aroused.

  I’ve never been enjoyed like that by a man, and I certainly can’t do that for myself. Charlie just opened my eyes up to an entirely new world. A world that makes me weak in the knees and leaves me with a goofy grin on my face.

  Charlie runs his hand over my thighs, then stands, looking down at me. I’m leaning back on the table, my elbows propping me up. I can’t speak or think properly. One proper orgasm and I’m a happy camper, apparently.

  But Charlie’s eyes tell me he wants more than my solitary orgasm. He wants one too.

  He doesn’t wait for me to fumble with his belt buckle. He does it for me, quickly stepping out of his jeans, pushing down his boxers. It happens so fast that I try to process what I am seeing.

  A thick, long, cock, at attention.

  “You like what you see?” he asks.

  I nod slowly, loving what I see. I suddenly know why people call him man cake, and it's not just because he is sweet to look at, It’s because he has risen perfectly.

  He is hard and ready.

  There is no pretense here. This moment, this night was made for a quick fuck with the girl next door. A few laughs, a few beers, a few people coming. No harm done.

  That’s okay. That can be enough. Because honestly, it’s more than I ever imagined.

  He bends down and reaches for his jeans pocket and pulls out a condom. I try to think about the fact that he probably always has a condom on the ready. Always ready to sleep with some new woman.

  I’m not going to judge him now. I surely wouldn’t want someone to start judging me. I can be overdramatic and overbearing and over analyzing and overcommitted. I’m in no place to start questioning other people’s motives when they’re not mine.

  “Now what?” I ask, biting my bottom lip. Realizing my lips have still not pressed against his.

  “Now,” he tells me. “We’re gonna have that dessert you talk about.”

  I smile and before I can make a wisecrack, he has his hands on my hips, pulling me toward him, easing my pussy to the edge of the table.

  “Mags, you look fucking delicious,” he tells me.

  He runs his hand back over my pussy. “You’re so tight,” he tells me. “And so fucking wet.”

  Of course, I am I think. I’ve been thinking of this exact moment for a solid decade. I’m not waiting any longer.

  “Fuck me, Charlie,” I tell him. “It’s time.”

  Chapter 5

  Charlie

  I ease my cock inside her, taking it slow, shocked at how tight she is. When I ate her out, I didn’t use my fingers, just licked her up and down, nice and good. But now, as I move inside her, I wonder if maybe I should have.

  I don’t want to hurt her.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She nods. “I’m okay.” Her eyes are closed, and her legs wrap around me, and it’s like her body is asking me to slow down, to enjoy this moment. To really savor it, like it’s something precious--something more sacred than the way I usually have sex.

  Her body demands I take my time.

  And I obey.

  I pull her up, against me, not wanting her back on the cold surface, not wanting her to be uncomfortable in the slightest. I pick her up, her round ass in my hands, and I gently lower her onto my shaft, refusing to let go of her for a moment.

  She wraps her arms around me, as I press her against the fridge, her chest pressed tightly against me as she begins to swivel her hips, sinking lower against me.

  She moans in pleasure, my thickness so full in her tight pussy, and it's clear my cock takes her breath away.

  I look into her eyes, and I see that this girl I’ve known forever, is a woman in my arms. A tender, vulnerable, beautiful woman. And my chest constricts as I take that truth in--she is a treasure and I am holding her. I’m not entirely sure what led us here, tonight, to this place. But I feel choked up as I thrust deep inside her, overwhelmed at the fact she is trusting me with all that she is. I’m a fuck up in a thousand ways, yet she is offering herself to me. It makes me feel like I need to be a better man. I feel willing to do whatever it takes to make sure she knows how I fucking feel right now.

  Like I’d do anything for her.

  “God,” I groan, my manhood seizing up, and I feel so close to coming--which is way too soon for a man like me who knows how to fuck a woman nice and long. I know how to handle my business so the event lasts longer than a few goddamn minu
tes. But I look at her, and it’s like all hell breaks loose. I erupt like a fucking cannon has gone off.

  She grips my shoulders, clawing at my skin. She whimpers against me, as all of me fills all of her. I don’t know where I have been all my fucking life because I know now that Maggie has been here all along. And I haven’t seen her until tonight.

  I’m so fucking glad I did. She isn’t like anyone before and I don’t want anyone after. One fuck is all it took to have this heart signed, sealed and delivered.

  “Charlie,” she pants, gasping for breath as the orgasm rushes through her body. Her tight pussy throbs against my cock, holding me right there as if it knows there isn’t any other place I belong.

  Finally, we breathe and our foreheads touch. My chest is sweaty and her thighs are so damn slick. That was more than a hook-up. That was a hook, line, and sinker.

  And my heart is what has been caught.

  I set her back on the ground, pulling my cock from her, and reaching for the condom when I realize it’s broken. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?” she asks, completely naked and totally undone.

  “It broke,” I say, actually not surprised. I came so hard and so fucking fast against her––I swear I’ve never experienced anything like it. Thankfully she doesn’t seem to be judging me based on length of my performance.

  “Really?’ she asks, covering her mouth in alarm.

  Before I can ask if she’s on the pill-- which I’m sure she is--and honestly it might be a rude question to even ask, the back door to the bakery swings open.

  And there stand Clive, Hazel, and Greta.

  Staring at us like we have three heads.

  Which, in their defense, we might well have. We’re buck ass naked, and I’m holding a used condom. Not exactly what you want your best friend to walk in on.

  Considering the naked woman beside you is his sister.

  Fuck.

  “What the hell?” Clive asks, at the same time Maggie dives for her clothes. She holds her sweater against her skin, covering the essential bits.

  This is the biggest cock block I’ve ever experienced.

  I reach for my jeans, as Clive starts hooting and hollering about integrity. “Jesus, the last thing she needs is a manwhore like you, Charlie. You know she's a virgin, right? I'm guessing that came up when you were discussing the pros and cons of this...whatever this was?”

  Virgin-what?

  I look over at Maggie, whose face has turned bright red, her face twisted in a scowl. She may have been sweet as honey pie a few minutes ago, but right now she looks like red velvet cake: those demon eyes nearly taking out Clive.

  “You were a virgin?” I ask again.

  “I can’t fucking believe it, Charlie,” Clive continues. “I mean, I know you like to fuck around, but this is Maggie.”

  “I didn’t mean...We were just having fun ...” I stop talking though because I don’t know what to say that will make this better. I fucked your sister before asking those sorts of questions? That would just prove I’m the man everyone already knows me to be.

  But I swear when Maggie and I ... I swear it was more than screwing. I thought it was goddamn love, but now I realize it might have been magical because it was her first time.

  I run my hands through my hair feeling like a fucking ass.

  Maggie isn’t having it. Hands on her hips she hollers, “I didn’t realize you knew so much about me like that, Clive Are you keeping tabs on both your sisters’ private business or just mine?”

  “I’m doing you a favor.”

  “This is not a favor. You think you know best, but you don’t.”

  “We didn’t mean to barge in ...” Hazel says. “We were just hungry and thought we would grab something.”

  I need to diffuse the saturation. “It doesn’t matter. We were just messing around--”

  Maggie scoffs, my words clearly pissing her off. But before I can explain, Clive is up in my face.

  “Just messing around-- with my sister?” Clive clenches his fist. “Dammit, Charlie.” He pulls back his hand and swings a punch my direction. His anger has fucking forced me into slow-motion because I don’t move. Clive’s fist collides with my jaw. I’d say he was an ass--but I’m the one who just slept with his sister.

  And she was a virgin.

  “Stop it, Clive,” Hazels shrieks. Clive paces the kitchen, clearly pissed. I groan at the pain, my jaw fucking wrecked. I run a hand over my jaw, blanching at the pain. I’ve seen Clive mad before, but I’ve never seen him punch a man. We may work on an untamed mountain but we aren’t wild men. We fucking know boundaries.

  Well, at least I thought we did. Then I had sex with my best friend’s sister.

  I’m such a fucking idiot.

  Maggie may have been fueled with anger minutes ago, but after the punch, it’s like she’s gone numb. She crosses her arms, refusing to look at me. I hate that I took her virginity against a fucking fridge. She deserves more than that.

  “I’m sorry,” I try to tell her. “I never should have brought you here. It was stupid. I fucked up.”

  But that just makes her cry even harder. I swear I’ve never known Mags to be tongue-tied, but right now it’s like she can’t say a thing. I’m the one who did this to her.

  Greta takes her sister’s hand and pulls her from the back room. Hazel follows silently. They’re in the front of the bakery for a few minutes before the bells on the front door jangle, declaring their departure.

  I pull on my clothes, unable to look at Clive. When I’m finally dressed, he meets my eyes.

  “I love you, man, but you better not fucking touch my sister again, understood?”

  I swallow.

  “Loud and clear.”

  We leave the bakery then, and I know that Clive and I have been through thick and thin, but hell, what just went down was neither of those things. I came here looking for dessert and am leaving with a stomach in knots, a punched face, and my heart a goddamn mess.

  Chapter 6

  Maggie

  When I leave the restaurant, I am honestly more than shaken up. I am confused and sorta buzzed and still pretty strung-out from whatever Charlie’s tongue and cock did to me.

  Let’s just say it was more than orgasmic. It rocked my world. And I swear he felt something too, but then Clive barged in and ruined everything.

  Charlie said, ‘I didn’t mean... We were just having fun...’

  And to him, that was all that this was. So when I leave the bakery and walk to my house, I tell myself that I need to erase any hope of something more happening between the two of us out of my little head.

  “Slow down, Mags,” Greta says, as I jam my key in my front door. I don’t answer her, I just push open my door and storm inside, knowing she and Hazel are following me. I throw my purse on the couch and beeline to my kitchen. I need hot tea and a warm bath. The last few minutes have chilled me to the bone.

  It was so hot in the backroom with Charlie... his hands on my ass... his cock buried inside me...

  Dammit. I squeeze my eyes shut. I will not cry. Not now. Not with Greta and Hazel watching. I fill the kettle with water and then slam it down on the burner.

  “Sweetie, you’re kinda flipping out right now,” Greta says. “And we know you must be really--”

  I cut her off. “You don’t know.” I spin around from the range and look at Hazel and Greta, who have already found seats around my kitchen table, apparently not planning on leaving me alone anytime soon. “You’ve both experienced love before. So don’t tell me you understand how I must be feeling.”

  “I wish we had never come in the bakery...”

  I shake my head at Hazel, reaching for mugs on the open shelving. “I’m glad you came in. Because now I know how Charlie really feels. This was just a hook-up. Now I can move on.” I speak shortly. I never get like this. Detached.

  “Of course, it matters,” Hazel presses. “You had sex for the first time tonight and your brother walked in on you. This is
like, a big deal.”

  I reach for three tea bags and plop them into the mugs. I turn so I’m not facing them, knowing that they’re having a silent conversation behind my back but not caring at all.

  I’m embarrassed, more than anything else.

  Charlie never even kissed me.

  I waited forever for a man who jumped away from me when we got caught. Like we were doing something wrong.

  Thank God, I didn’t say something stupid to Charlie. Something about how this was the best night of my life, or that I’d been waiting for his hands to hold me since I was a little girl.

  I’m glad I left right away because, in the end, he didn’t chase after me.

  I’m a fool for thinking he would.

  It’s high time I move on.

  When the kettle whistles, I pour the water over the teabags and carry the mugs to the table. I am not going to shed any more tears over my brother’s best friend.

  No.

  “Say something, Maggie,” Hazel says. “You’re freaking us out.”

  I wrap my hands around the warm mug, shaking my head. “Why? Because I always have lots to say?”

  Greta snorts. “Um, yeah, pretty much. You’re the one who always wants to talk things out. It’s never pulling teeth with you.”

  “Do you ever wonder why I’m like that?”

  Greta frowns, shakes her head.

  “I’m the one who’s always overly invested, ready to concoct something to make my boring, lame life exciting.”

  “You’re not the boring one,” Greta disagrees. “You’re the life of the party. I should know. I have two kids under five. I win if we’re competing over who’s the lame one.”

  “Hardly.” I think how I’m the one who always plans the backyard barbecues and hosts book club and coordinates river floats. I do it because I have nothing else going for me. “Greta, you have mommy friends and play dates and preschool pickup and people to make dinner for and a business.”