Page 10 of Channeling the Flannel with the Mountain Man

“I have no idea. Donaldson said to channel my anger. You make me want to channel everything.”

I reach for his waistband. “Then take these off and demonstrate.”

Desire erases his smile, and he comes to the bed, all warmth, muscle, and gentle strength removing the last of our clothing. His hands move over me with care, and his mouth leaves me speechless as his tongue finds my clit, licking it in delicious circles, stroke after stroke. His fingers join in as he slides two of them inside, pumping them with long, firm strokes. The pleasure builds slowly, then crashes over me so strongly that I call out his name into the quiet cabin.

He holds me through every tremor. “Are you sure?”

I cup his face. “Yes. I’m sure about tonight. We can figure out tomorrow when it comes. But I need to tell you something first—I’m a virgin. I’ve never done this before.”

“Neither have I, Paisley. I’m a virgin, too. I never wanted to do this until I met you.”

He enters me slowly, watching every change in my expression. The fullness steals my breath. He waits until I move beneath him, then finds a rhythm that is deep and steady and devastatingly intimate.

“Look at me,” he says. “You’re mine, Paisley. I’m never letting you go.”

I squirm beneath him, my body seeking release. “John,” I moan, and his control finally snaps. I wrap my legs around him and welcome the rougher pace. The low sounds he tries to bury against my neck are my undoing; knowing I’m the one making him feel that way is empowering. We come apart together, our bodies shaking.

Afterward, he tucks me against his chest beneath a heavy quilt.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Better than okay, thanks to you channeling the flannel.”

Epilogue – John

Ten Years Later

My quiet mountain life has gotten a whole lot noisier over the past ten years. Paisley and I got married the summer after that first yoga class. Now my cabin has been expanded to hold all six of our children. Tonight we're all headed to the annual fall festival to meet Jade and her family.

“Do we all have to wear matching flannel shirts?” Orion, our oldest, holds up his purple flannel shirt like it’s the worst thing he's ever seen.

“Yes, we do.” Nikki and Rain dance around him. Our six-year-old twins love teasing their nine-year-old brother.

“You know it’s tradition.” Paisley walks into the living room, cradling little Dove. She just finished feeding our six-month-old.

“But Mom,” Orion pouts, his face turning red.

“Son,” I lean down and whisper in his ear, making sure Paisley can’t hear. He smiles and puts on the flannel.

“What did you say to him?” Paisley asks.

“I told him that his mother is always right, and when she’s not, to channel the flannel.”

“You’re such a dork.” She hits my shoulder, and I pull her into my arms, careful not to squish Dove.

“But I’m your dork.” I kiss her on the lips. “I love you, Paisley.”

“And I love you, John.”

-The End-