Page 32 of Liberated By the Logger

This giant mountain man has made me come twice in record time and plans on giving me more pleasure?

Shit. I really died on the mountain, didn’t I?

There’s no way this sexcapade with the hottest man I’ve encountered is my reality. I’m not that lucky. Sex has always been a letdown. And the few dudes I’ve been with are an even bigger letdown.

Ambrose is a dream come true. I always figured I end up with someone more studious and way scrawnier, not a weightlifting hunk who could put a firefighter calendar to shame.

If this is real, it makes no sense.

The man could have his pick of any bombshell beauty, a woman who puts waaay more effort into their overall appearance compared to me. Hell, I don’t even know the difference between concealer and foundation. Brose found me looking like a soaked rat, and I can only imagine what I must look like now after having slept on damp hair.

What does he see in me?

Brose cups my face in his calloused hand, capturing my attention. He stares deep into my eyes as he says in a low and gruff voice, “I see raw, unfiltered beauty when I look at you. I see the forest in your eyes, the rich earth in your hair, the sunshine reflecting off your flawless skin⁠—”

“Did I speak out loud?!” I blurt, horrified and swooning all at once.

“No, darlin’. I can read you—I see confusion marring your brow as you try to get a read on me. We may not know each other as well as we’d like—yet. But we’re connected. I don’t know how. Don’t ask me to explain it. It’s this deep sense of being right with us, everything fitting into place. All I need to do is look at you to see my future. You’re it—my woman. And I’m going to show you I’m your man.”

Sweet heavens! Brose is saying all the things I’m feeling, but afraid to say out loud. All of this feels surreal. It’s relieving to know it’s not one sided.

Before I can respond with something profound of my own, Brose sits back on his heels and tugs his shirt over his head. He’s all bulky muscles and a lot of them. His chest heaves like the sight of me excites him. And his sweats rest low on his tapered hips, taunting me with his V crevices.

My ovaries are going to release all my eggs with his strip tease. I swear it. If he says or does anything else to showcase his sexy self, I will pounce on him like a fox in heat.

To get a hold of myself, I breathe in deep through my nose, only to be assaulted with his stimulating cedarwood scent. I wonder if the hidden parts of him smell as enticing.

As if Brose can read me as easily as he claims, he shoves his sweats down his muscular thighs. His dick springs free, slapping him on his washboard abdomen with how stiff it is. My eyes instantly zero in on Brose’s package. When I saw him naked in the bathroom earlier, he was an impressive sight. But seeing his massive shaft up close is stupefying.

If ever a penis was beautiful, Brose’s would be the cover model. It’s long, thick, and standing at attention. Pre-cum beads on the slit of his cock, glistening in the dim light of the living room. Sliding down on him would stretch me in all the right places.

I should be ashamed for vulgarly gawking at Brose, eyeing his manhood like it’s an adult playground. But I can’t seem to help myself—the man’s cock deserves to be admired.

All I can think about is what he must taste like, what it must feel like to run my tongue along his girth, to feel him quivering in my mouth...

My mouth waters. It’s not fair he’s tasted me and I haven’t tasted him. I need him in my mouth—now.

Jackknifing upright, my hands grip his hips. Brose is still for a moment, eyeing me curiously with a raised eyebrow as I lean in to run my nose along his length. I moan. He smells so damn good—all masculine musk mixed with cedarwood, only stronger than the rest of him.

Brose tenderly runs his fingers through my hair before cupping the back of my head. “Darlin’, do you need a taste?”

“Yes,” I murmur before running my tongue along the underside of his shaft, where a thick vein runs to the head of his dick.

Gripping my hair, Brose throws his head back. “Ah, fuck, that feels good.”

His praise spurs me on. I’ve never been big on giving head, probably because it’s never reciprocated in kind. However, Brose stood out amongst the rest. He ate me out like I was his favorite meal, like it was a privilege to cater to my needs, and I want to do the same with him.

Wrapping my hand around his girth, I move my hand up and down.

“Tighter,” Brose says, rolling his head forward to watch me play with him. “I like it tighter, like what I imagine your pussy will feel like when I finally sink into you.”

Sweet heavens! My sex clenches with anticipation at the thought of him entering me. I tighten my grip like he requested, continuing to pump him.

“Perfect, darlin’.” Brose juts his hips forward in my face, his cock an inch from my lips. “Now take me into your mouth.”

Opening wide to accommodate his size, I lower my head over his length. I take as much of him in to my mouth as I can handle—I’m not one of those women able to handle gagging. I want to enjoy this foreplay as much as he does.

The moment his length slides over my tongue and I catch his salty flavor, I moan like a needy slut.