I’ve seen him for weeks now. Each time, I think this will be the day the mysterious mountain man speaks to me.

Each day I am wrong.

Except now, he has his hand on mine, steadying me and those dark brown eyes of his seem to bore into my very soul.

He sees something in me I don’t even see in myself.

“I don’t think I’d mind,” I tell him brazenly. “If you run off with me.” A thrill courses through my body as I say those words. I’ve never spoken anything like them in my life.

God knows I would never have uttered words like that at the cult where I was raised... and never on this miracle mountain, either. Especially, since every single man is taken, save for Jonah.

But I don’t want a man like Jonah. He may be handsome and well-liked, but he grew up in a conservative church like I did. We’re similar in ways that make me feel small. I want a man who has seen life through a different lens than me, whose view can expand my own horizons.

A man like this one before me.

I may have saved my virginity for twenty-two years, but for weeks I’ve been dreaming about the moment this stranger in these woods might speak to me... might do unspeakable things to me.

I want him to throw me over his shoulder and have his way with me, knowing full well it would be my way too.

“You mean those words?” he asks gruffly. He towers over me in a way that makes my cheeks hot. His eyes are so deep and dark I could get lost in them. And for a moment I do. Instead of answering, I notice my nipples are piqued at the thought of being with him. Last night, in my empty cottage, I pressed my fingers against myself, imagining him with me, ripping off my clothes and crashing his lips against mine.

“I do,” I manage, daring to look at him. And it’s a good thing I do, otherwise, I’d have been caught entirely off guard.

He cups my face in his hands, lowering his mouth to mine. Then he presses his lips against mine, stealing my breath and my thoughts and all my ideas about what is appropriate. About what is honorable.

Suddenly my focus changes, because how can something that feels so good be wrong?

It’s impossible.

He kisses me hotly, and the passionate kisses are the first I’ve ever had. I’d been promised to a man in my old life but ran before taking my vows. It feels like a lifetime ago, though it’s only been two years.

I always dreamed that when I finally kissed a man, it would be with a man like this. His hands are rough and weathered, but his lips are so soft and tender. My chest rises as he threads his fingers through my wild tangle of hair and he pulls me closer as our lips part, as his tongue finds mine.

This is insane, yet I find myself whispering in his ear. “I want this. I want you.”

And I know he wants me too. His hands move to my hips, grinding his own against mine and my thin dress is hardly a barrier. I feel all of him against my belly.

Oh, I want more.

I want everything.

“Here?” he asks, huskily.

I nod. “Right here. Right now.”

He holds my face in his hands, searching my eyes, but I’m not hiding a thing.

“Please,” I ask.

He hears the cry of my heart, though, because he can’t seem to hold back any longer. He tugs down the straps of my dress, and my breasts are bared to him. I don’t look around; don’t wonder who might be watching. I know there is no one else here.

I can’t afford much, but I managed to rent a small cottage on the mountain, and one benefit of this place is that the property is massive, edged by only one other cabin, which I’ve only heard about. It must be his.

“Damn, woman,” he groans, his hands on my breasts, his thumbs rolling over my hard nipples. The sun filters through the tree branches, heavy and green, casting a warm glow on my skin, on his face--on this moment.

He lowers his mouth to my neck, kissing me fiercely, and I shiver in anticipation. His frame dominates me and reminds me that he is in control, that right now I am submitting myself to him.

But ever since I first saw him, I’ve been fantasizing about just that. Him taking control of my body.

I’ve been waiting so, so long.

My hands run over his solid chest and I feel that he’s even more strongly-built than I anticipated. Then again, I have never run my hands over a man. Or, let my fingers lift the hem of his shirt so I can feel his hot skin against my small hands.

“Oh,” I whimper as he lowers to my breast, as he pulls it into his mouth, causing a ripple of desire to wash over me. I’m lost in the moment and so is he. He hitches up my dress, his hand running between my legs. I’m so wet for him and my thin cotton panties are making that quite clear.

He seems to like it, to feel my growing need for him. “God, woman, you’re so damn ready.”

I whimper as his fingers run over my pussy, my tender core that has never been touched. His hand runs up and down me, over my panties. He moves his hand faster and faster, but I want more, I want that which every woman I’m friends with here, experiences with their mountain men every day.

I want him to fuck me, to take me, to teach me all about my body. I want this stranger to press his mouth to my mound and lick me until I scream, while I have my hands wrapped in his hair.

Everything is so clear in my mind. And now, as he looks into my eyes, I know he is going to make it more vivid than I ever imagined.

“You want this? You’re sure?” he growls in my ear, sending tiny prickles of pleasure up and down my spine.

“More than anything,” I say, breathlessly. I know I’m acting recklessly but choosing to let my inhibitions take flight. I know the world is a cruel and broken place with zero guarantees, and that there are worse things than giving your body over to what it craves.

Maybe that makes me trashy, makes me a tramp—or maybe it just makes me brave. Taking what I want when it is right in front of me. This man is certainly not judging me.

Besides, I don’t think I could stop myself if I wanted to.

And when he presses my hand to his cock, I know he couldn’t stop either. He’s so thick and hard and makes me dizzy with desire just rubbing my hand over his jeans.

Pulling me to himself, he pushes down my panties, and I step out of them as he undoes his jeans. I can’t help but run my hand over his big cock, the first I’ve ever seen, ever felt. The velvety smoothness surprises me and also excites me. He’s so massive, I can’t make a circle with my thumb and forefinger as I touch him.

“God, that feels so fucking good.” His fingers move against my entrance, I’m so slick as his finger runs over my tiny bud, making me whimper. I can touch myself until I’m moaning but it is an entirely different sensation when a man does it.

My eyes close and my nipples harden as he lifts one of my legs, slipping a finger into my pussy, his forehead lowering against my own.

His kisses make me weak at the knees, and his hand against my most intimate place makes me delirious, but resting his forehead against mine causes me to melt in an entirely different way.

It feels more real. Like this is more than wish fulfillment. This is my actual life, my body, my skin. His heartbeat and his eyes reaching into my soul.

Maybe that’s dramatic, but this moment is larger than life, just like his presence.

He lifts me up from the ground and I wrap my arms around his neck, my bare chest pressed against his ladder of abs. He smells like fresh air and pine trees with the musk of a real man.

There is no need for him to back me against a wall as he takes me-- he is strong enough to hold me in his arms.

“You okay?” he asks, his hand under my butt, another on my face, looking deep into my eyes, taking my breath away.

“Yeah,” I tell him, biting down on my lip as the tip of his cock begins to press inside of me. The sensation is overwhelming and my fingers dig into his skin as I hold back a whimper. “You?”

He doesn’t just smile, he gives me a grin. “I’d say so.”

Then I sink down against him, his cock filling me up, my virginity his.