Stranded: A Mountain Man Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  He gently rolled down my panties, until I was fully exposed to the night air.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered. I was relieved I had shaved down there recently. It wasn’t full bush, thank God.

  His tongue found my core, licking and pulling, spreading apart my lips for fuller access. My head turned in the dirt. This was insane, so good I could barely breathe.

  I felt it happening, and so did he. He picked up his rhythm, tonguing me to the point of no return. My hips started bucking, and I took his head in my hands, pulling him closer.

  When it came, it was incredible. I started moaning softly, staring up into the stars as the contractions tore through me like a tornado.

  He knew when it had finished, and backed off immediately. I was shaking with the afterglow.

  “Watching you come was the sexiest thing I have ever seen,” he growled, stroking me as I recovered.

  My breathing started to even out. He was watching me, intently.

  “Do you want me to…?” I could barely talk.

  He smiled, gently. “Enough for tonight,” he whispered. “I wanted to give you pleasure, out here in the wilderness. There will be more, my Gemma, much more, but not tonight.”

  He caressed me gently. My breathing started slowing further, and I could feel my heart beat slowing down as well.

  “I want this to be slow,” he grinned. “I want us to savour every goddamn piece of it.”

  He held out his hand, pulling me to my feet.

  We slowly made our way back to the camp. Everyone was in their tents, and the fire was out.

  “See you in the morning,” he whispered.

  “See you,” I whispered back.

  In my sleeping bag, the reality of it hit me like a brick over the head. I had gone where I thought it was never possible to go. Back to Lance, my first love.

  My only love?

  I didn’t want to think too closely about it. I didn’t want Jack to elbow his way back into my head. I just wanted to lie here and remember how good his touch had felt.

  I felt like a woman born all over again.

  Lance

  I crawled into my sleeping sack so pumped I felt like I had just completed the hardest training camp the Special Forces had ever invented.

  The feel of her.

  My hands started tingling at the memory. I could still taste her on my tongue.

  It had taken all my self-control to stop myself from pulling her over and taking her, roughly. I knew I could have. I knew she would have liked it.

  My cock was still so goddamn hard it felt like it was about to burst.

  But every instinct in me was telling me to not rush too much. Tonight had already been a lot. The kiss at the camp fire, and then tasting her underneath the stars.

  Slow it, Starling, I said to myself. Don’t overwhelm her.

  I knew Gemma, knew her as well as I knew my own hand. She was a passionate woman, but she was also a sentimental one. She wanted this as much as I did, I could sense that. But her mind might get in the way. Misguided loyalty to Jack, for one thing.

  I knew women. I knew that guilt could creep into their minds and color everything. Gemma had a code, whether that was right or wrong or misplaced. But it was there.

  And what about my code? The bro code, that you never, ever hit on a woman who belonged or had belonged to your friend.

  I felt it, had felt it for a long time, which was why I had stayed away from here. It was too hard seeing her.

  But Jack was dead. Not just in the physical sense. The Jack I knew had died a long time before he took a bullet in the desert.

  I waited for the guilt to grip me. Imagined Jack’s face, contorted with rage at what I had just done. But it never came.

  A coyote howled in the distance, mournful and slow. Turning over in the sleeping bag, I reflected it was probably because of the way he had treated her. The other women, the neglect.

  You never deserved her Jack, I thought sadly. You had a jewel in your grasp, and you threw her away like a piece of trash.

  Your loss, buddy. I am going to make that woman shine again.

  My claim predates yours.

  I could smell the coffee brewing as I lifted my head off the pillow the next morning. Stepping out into the cold morning air, I spotted her immediately.

  She was busy, preparing breakfast and brewing the coffee. Some of the other men were already up and about. I walked away to relieve myself, then came close to the fire.

  “Chilly morning,” I remarked, just to say something. Just to have her turn her head my way.

  She looked up, startled. She hadn’t seen me coming.

  “That it is,” she said. “You’ll need a coffee, I’m thinking.” She grabbed a mug, pouring the coffee and handing it to me.

  “Much obliged.” I took it from her. Our hands touched.

  Her face had turned a pretty pink. I knew it wasn’t just from the heat of the camp fire.

  “Lance...” She trailed off, biting her lip.

  Before she could say anymore, more men started climbing out of the tents, approaching the fire. She looked at me, as if there was something she needed to say.

  But it was too late. The day had begun. We finished breakfast, packing up quickly. We were on our way again.

  The day had turned hot after the chilly start. My mind was on the task, getting the cattle to Ryan’s Ranch. I started to remember all the things I had loved about life on the land.

  I couldn’t believe I had been away so long.

  Wyoming. The land of my childhood. The vast open spaces. The gorges and mountains.

  It lay before me like a gift, one that I had squandered before. I had travelled all over the world, but there was nothing like this corner of it.

  Home, I guess. It was reeling me back in, big time.

  My eyes sought Gemma. There she was, alongside the wagon.

  Seeing her made me realise maybe I could have it all. The home. The land. The woman.

  It was like she felt my gaze. She turned, staring at me.

  But her face didn’t soften. Instead, she looked troubled. She turned quickly to the front.

  I felt a stab of unease.

  Jack was back.

  I could feel him coming between us, like a wind blowing alongside the tumbleweeds.

  Gemma

  I unpacked slowly, stiff from being on horseback for days. We had got back to Starling Ridge in the afternoon. Everyone was tired and sore, kind of sliding off their horses. It had been a successful cattle drive, though. We had got the cattle to Ryan’s Ranch on time with no major setbacks. From what Hank was telling me, a lot of things could go wrong on these drives, cattle stampeding, getting stuck in gorges. It took a lot of skill and effort to do it right. Which this team had in spades, obviously.

  I glanced around. There he was, Lance. Chatting with the men, helping to unload. Just being there and helping, not afraid to get his hands dirty. I could tell the men respected him even more after the drive. He looked up, sensing my eyes on him. I quickly looked away, my face burning.

  We hadn’t really spoken since that night underneath the stars. He had tried, approaching me a few times. But I just couldn’t act normally.

  It wasn’t shame. God knows, I was a big enough girl to admit when I wanted to do something; I would never play the ‘you took advantage of me’ card. I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. I had enjoyed it immensely.

  Maybe it was my conflict over Jack, still lingering like the smoke from a camp fire that had been doused long ago. I knew I was over him, I really did. But knowing it and feeling it were two different things, especially when I had tried to be loyal for so long. To be getting my rocks off with another man felt like betrayal. Stupid, but there it was. Especially when the man I happened to be getting my rocks off with had been his best buddy.

  Another complication. Another layer of history and emotion that was so damn hard to lift. If Lance had been just a man, who had never known Jack, I might have felt lighter w
ith it. Still a bit strange, but okay. As it was, the fact that it was Lance just complicated everything so much more.

  I would have been better off sticking with my trusty vibrator, perhaps. Guaranteed satisfaction, with no awkward after effects.

  I got to my quarters, collapsing across my bed. My backpack was filled with dirty laundry and I smelt like a camp fire, but I just didn’t have the heart to do anything at the moment. Opening the draw on my bedside table, I took out a photograph in a frame.

  It was my favorite, always had been. There he was, slick in his uniform, smiling at the camera. His black hair was short, making his ears stick out a bit. His brown eyes stared through the photo at me, happy and carefree.

  Jack. Looking back, this had been the pinnacle, of him as a person, and of our relationship. I remembered his pride the day this photo had been taken. He had just been told he had been accepted into the Special Forces. He was due to ship out for initial training in the next two weeks. Compounding his joy had been the news that Lance had been accepted as well. He and his best bud were going on the adventure of their lives together.

  After the photo had been taken, the three of us had gone out for a night of celebration at the Old Coyote, the local bar in Clear Creek. I could still see the three of us, flushed with happiness.

  We had walked into that bar like we owned it.

  The locals had all approached the boys, of course, shaking their hands and slapping them on the back. Word had got around that they had been accepted into the SEALs. The community was so proud. Not one, but two, local boys accepted into the SEALs? Well, that didn’t happen every day in a little neck of the woods like Clear Creek.

  Drinks were bought for all of us, beers and shots and God knows what else. The juke box pumped out Shania and The Dixie Chicks, getting louder and louder as the night wore on. I remember Lance and Jack having a game of pool, or trying to. Both were lining up their shots with the exaggerated care of the very drunk trying to look sober, then missing them by a mile. Sinking the black or pocketing the white, to the hilarity of the crowd.

  We boot scooted on the dance floor which was the size of a handkerchief, elbowing and jostling people. Then it switched to a slow song, Willie singing about a girl who was always on his mind. Jack grabbed me, and we stumbled together, slow dancing and grinding into each other. We kissed on that dance floor, and he whispered in my ear that he loved me. I still remember how effervescent I felt, like I was a bunch of balloons.

  I don’t know why I opened my eyes at that moment, with Jack’s arms around me and his words of love still lingering in my ear. But I did. I saw him on the edge of the dance floor, staring at us. Lance. Looking as if he had just been struck in the back with a knife.

  It was a raw moment, totally private, but he didn’t have the thought to cover it up. He was wrecked. Eventually he saw me, and his face changed in an instant. He stumbled away, elbowing his way through the crowd.

  I didn’t see him again that night. He must have gone home. And the next day, he was carefully controlled again. I didn’t catch any lovelorn glances cast in my direction.

  I looked down at the photo in my lap, thinking. It had all changed after that. This photo was the last of the best times.

  Jack and Lance had completed their training, each passing with flying colors. They had always been competitive, and this was the ultimate competition. They had been shipped all over the world on missions after that, Iraq and Afghanistan and God knows where else. Jack’s emails and calls started getting fewer and further between, and the distance between us started to stretch as wide as all those goddamn oceans that he had crossed.

  And now he was dead.

  I stared at the photo for a while longer, trying to be that girl again. The girl who had loved Jack, who thought that he would one day put a ring on my finger. But she was gone.

  Just like he was.

  I remembered Lance’s pained face that night in the Old Coyote, as he stared at us entwined on the dance floor. I knew in my heart that it had never gone away, that connection between us. But I had tried to ignore it.

  Now it was rearing up like a force of nature, like a tsunami that was going to wipe everything out in its wake. What did I want? Did I want that tsunami to consume me? Or did I want to retreat to higher ground, staying safe and dry locked in the prison of my memories?

  I slowly opened that draw and put that photo away.

  I wouldn’t be looking at it again for a long, long time.

  Lance

  Bag unpacked and showered, I walked into my room. I had been so close. So close to getting her. That night underneath the stars had been everything that I had hoped. She had been so hot and passionate in my arms. She had felt so goddamn good, just like I had pictured for so long.

  I took out the list that I had made, picking up my pen and crossing out that first number. We had camped out underneath the stars, big time.

  Yet, she had retreated, back into her shell and her goddamn memories like a snail.

  Hell, yeah, I was disappointed. It had been so good. I still ached to take her; it was like an itch that I just had to scratch. I looked at the next item on the list, thinking.

  Could I do it? Bring her out of her shell again?

  I had to try. I knew that. I felt like I didn’t have a choice, any more. This thing between us had the trajectory of an express train that wasn’t stopping for anyone.

  Number Two: Dinner at a fancy restaurant in a city

  This one would be more difficult. We were as far away from a city as it was possible to be.

  How could I do it?

  I closed my eyes, hatching a plan.

  She was already serving dinner by the time I left my room.

  Tonight, it was ribeye steaks, grilled outside. She was preparing a potato salad and corn on the cob to go with it. I could smell the steaks sizzling, making my stomach flip over. She sure was a goddamn great cook.

  I walked past her, trying to gauge her mood. Would she look up at me, or would she pretend that she hadn’t seen me, like it had been for the past few days since our night together.

  She looked up. So far, so good.

  I smiled. She smiled back, blushing slightly. Even better.

  “Steaks sure smell good.” I indicated the grill with a flick of my head.

  Her smile widened. “The best there is,” she said. “Hank and the boys sure know how to get a good cut.”

  “That they do,” I agreed. “Our Wyoming cattle are the best there is. You can keep your fancy wagyu and angus. These steaks are out of this world.”

  “I have to agree with you there,” she said, pouring mayonnaise over potatoes in a bowl.

  “Although.” I stopped, clearing my throat. How was I going to bring this up?

  “Some of those fancy restaurants in New York sure know a thing or two about cooking.” I continued. She glanced up, questioning.

  “I have to go there for a few days. Some business I gotta take care of, that I had forgotten about. “

  She nodded, still looking at me with a question in her eyes.

  “I was thinking. As a cook, it would be good for you to experience different styles of cooking. Would you like to come with me, and we could go to a fancy restaurant? You could choose. I don’t know much about them, myself.” I let out my breath.

  She looked amazed. “You want me to come to New York with you? To eat at a fancy restaurant?”

  “Sure,” I said, trying not to seem over keen. “Why not? Like I said, I have to go there anyway, and I have to eat. We could do it together.”

  She continued mixing the bowl, but slower. I could see her mind churning it over.

  “If you want to come, I’m leaving next week,” I said. “Jessie can take over the cooking again here. Looks like she did a fine old job while we were away camping.”

  At the mention of camping, she blushed again. Our eyes locked.

  We were both remembering the same thing, I’d wager. And the memory was getting me hotter tha
n a goddamn chilli pepper left to dry in the sun. She broke the gaze, staring back down at the bowl. Then she looked up at me, with what looked like a challenge in her eyes.

  “Okay,” she said. “I will. How long will we be gone for?”

  “Just two nights,” I answered, in a neutral voice. Inside, I felt like jumping and fist pumping the air.

  “I’ve never been to New York before,” she said.

  “It’s great,” I said. I turned and started walking outside to the tables. Then I stopped and looked back, as if I had forgotten something.

  “Just bring some comfortable clothes. We can go shopping for something fancy to wear out when we’re there.”

  Her mouth dropped open, her arm suspended with the wooden spoon above the bowl.

  I grinned.

  This was going better than I ever thought possible. Tick, tick, tick. That list was growing smaller by the minute.

  New York, look out.

  On the day of our flight, she came out of her quarters with her suitcase packed and looking a million dollars. I had told her to just bring comfortable clothes, but she had obviously decided that wouldn’t cut the mustard in old New York town.

  She was wearing a black halter neck dress, which emphasised her large bosom and clung to her hour glass frame like a piece of cling wrap. She was taller, too, in a pair of strappy heels. She had put her golden curls up, in a bun on the top of her head. She looked stunning. I could feel excitement start to churn in my stomach, and lower.

  We had been friendly to each other in the week since my offer to take her away, but I hadn’t tried to push anything further. Slowly, slowly, was my mantra. It seemed to be working. She had relaxed further, and we had some great conversations. The sexual connection between us was still sparking, though. Sometimes, I had to forcibly restrain myself from just picking her up and carrying her to my bedroom. I could tell she was antsy, too. She would stare at my hands as if she was willing me to lay them on her.