Epilogue
CHARISMA
The uniform still fit.
I couldn’t believe it. Giving birth to two beautiful boys—now three and one—had pushed my already generous curves to new heights. I seemed to have gone up a size in everything else, but this uniform from The Naughty Fork looked great on me. And I couldn’t wait to show my husband.
Tonight was rare alone time for the two of us. T.J. had gone to play pool with my brother, so he was getting home late. The kids were long asleep, but I had a baby monitor in each room to alert me if one of them made even the slightest noise.
Keys in the door. The click of the doorknob. And then it was open, revealing my husband—the love of my life.
I was seated on the table where I’d lost my virginity that night.
I smiled every time I looked at that table, but the thought of the “scandal” that had driven me here had always made me a little sad.
Sure, it had died down after a couple of days—the internet moving on to the next outrage—but something had always bugged me about it.
Tonight, wearing this uniform, I was reclaiming my story. And T.J. was going to help with that.
My husband froze in the doorway, jaw dropping as he stared at me. Chilly February air blew in, but no snow like we’d had that first February night. That wasn’t very common in Wildwood Valley, I’d since learned.
“Holy fuck,” he said as he kicked the door closed behind him. It made a little too much noise and I winced, but the baby monitors remained silent. “What’s the special occasion?”
“Our four-year anniversary,” I said. “Of the night we met, anyway.”
We’d married in the summer, so our wedding anniversary was months away.
Our wedding had been in this very cabin, and in just that short time, T.J.
had become part of the community where he’d lived alone for three years.
He’d joined a local construction crew and made friends.
It seemed meeting me had brought him out of his shell.
I’d worked at the roadhouse for a while, waiting tables, but when I got pregnant with Chase, my focus shifted.
Now I was mainly a mom, but I also sometimes helped out at the daycare in town.
That let me socialize the kids while also fulfilling my need to give back to the community that had brought me so much.
T.J. shrugged off his coat and hung it on the hook by the door. “The kids?”
“Asleep,” I said, pointing to the baby monitors on the table behind me. “We’ll know right away if that changes.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away as T.J. crossed the room, yanking his flannel shirt over his head as he went.
It landed somewhere near the sofa. His boots came off next—kicked aside without him ever breaking that heated stare—then the belt, the jeans, and the black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide how hard he was for me.
By the time he reached the table, he was completely naked, every muscled inch of him gilded by the soft blue glow from the baby monitors. My thighs clenched at the sight.
I was already so wet that the thin cotton of my shorts felt obscene, clinging to every swollen fold. Seeing him like this—raw, hungry, mine—only made the ache between my legs sharper.
I tilted my head, sliding right into the fantasy we’d been teasing each other with for weeks.
“Evening, sir,” I purred, keeping my voice low and sweet.
“Welcome to The Naughty Fork. I’m your server tonight.
” I let my gaze travel down his body and back up, slow and shameless.
“And you, handsome, are definitely my favorite customer. I’ve been watching you cross the room from behind the counter…
wondering how it would feel to touch those muscles. ”
T.J.’s mouth curved into that slow, dangerous smile I loved so much. He braced his hands on either side of my hips, caging me against the edge of the table.
“That so?” His voice was rough. “You allowed to kiss the customers, sweetheart?”
I bit my lower lip, playing along. “No. Strictly against policy.” Then I leaned in until our mouths were barely a breath apart. “But nobody’s here to tell.”
Our lips crashed together—hot, messy, desperate.
Tongues sliding, teeth catching. I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his cock.
He was steel-hard, velvet-smooth, throbbing in my grip.
I moaned at how thick he felt, stroking slowly from base to tip, letting my thumb swirl over the slick bead of pre-cum at the head.
T.J. groaned against my lips, hips jerking forward into my fist. His hands found the straps of the tight white tank top and yanked them down in one rough tug.
My breasts spilled free—no bra underneath, just like I’d planned.
Full, heavy, nipples already tight and aching.
I slid my arms out of the straps and sighed as he cupped my breasts, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks in slow, firm circles that sent sparks straight to my core.
I broke the kiss and leaned down to run my tongue over his cock.
One long, slow lick from root to tip—tasting salt and heat—then I took him deep, lips stretching around his thickness.
His head fell back on a ragged moan. I hollowed my cheeks, tongue swirling, then pulled off just enough to lap at the fresh bead of pre-cum before plunging down again, taking him to the back of my throat.
“Fuck—baby—if you don’t stop—” His voice cracked. “I’m gonna come right down your throat.”
I hummed around him, loving the way the vibration made his hips snap forward. But then his hands were in my hair—gentle but firm—and he nudged me off.
“Not yet,” he rasped. “Not like this.”
He dropped to his knees between my spread thighs. Rough fingers shoved the seat of my shorts aside, baring me completely. I was drenched—glistening, swollen, aching. T.J. groaned at the sight, dragged one thick finger through my folds, then pushed inside. I was so wet, he slid in easily.
“Jesus, you’re soaked,” he muttered, voice thick with reverence. He pumped once, twice, curling his finger against that perfect spot that made me gasp, then leaned in and put his mouth on me.
The first swipe of his tongue over my clit was electric—hot, wet pressure that shot straight up my spine.
I cried out softly, then bit my lip hard to muffle it.
He licked in slow, deliberate circles, then flattened his tongue and dragged it up in one long stroke before sucking the swollen bud between his lips.
Gentle suction, then flicking, then suction again.
The rhythm was relentless, filthy, perfect.
I leaned back on one braced hand, the other sliding up to cup my own breast. I pinched my nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it in time with the strokes of his tongue.
Pleasure stacked on pleasure—sharp sparks from my breast, liquid heat blooming low in my belly.
My hips rocked against his mouth, chasing more, thighs trembling.
He added a second finger, stretching me, curling them deep while his tongue worked my clit in tight, fast circles. The pressure built fast—too fast. My breath came in shallow pants. I could feel it cresting, unstoppable.
“T.J.—” I whimpered, voice breaking. “I’m—oh God—”
The orgasm crashed over me like a wave. My inner walls clamped down on his fingers, pulsing hard as pleasure ripped through every nerve.
I threw my head back, free hand flying to my mouth to smother the cry that wanted to tear out.
My whole body shook, thighs clamping around his head, hips jerking against his relentless mouth until the aftershocks finally ebbed.
He kissed my inner thigh once, soft and tender, then stood.
Together, we stripped the shorts down my legs, leaving the tank top bunched beneath my breasts like an obscene frame. My nipples were hard from my own touch, and my pussy still fluttered with little aftershocks.
T.J. stepped between my thighs, gripped my hips, and thrust inside with one long, deep stroke.
We both moaned—low, broken sounds. He bottomed out, hips flush to mine, filling me so completely I could barely breathe. Then he started moving—slow at first, dragging out, then slamming back in. Each thrust made my breasts bounce, the tank top doing nothing to contain them.
His thumb found my clit, rubbing firm circles while he fucked me harder, deeper. His eyes stayed locked on my chest, watching the way my breasts jolted with every snap of his hips.
“So fucking beautiful,” he growled. “Look at you—taking me like this—fuck—”
I wrapped my legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, urging him faster. The table creaked beneath us. Heat coiled tight again, impossibly fast after the first one.
“T.J.—together—please—” I managed to force out.
He drove into me once, twice more, then froze, buried to the hilt.
His eyes slammed shut, jaw clenched, and a deep, guttural grunt tore from his throat—the sound that would have been a roar if the kids weren’t sleeping down the hall.
I felt him pulse inside me, hot and thick, triggering my own release.
I clenched around him, milking every shudder, biting my lip to keep quiet as wave after wave rolled through me.
When it was over, he stayed inside me for a long moment, both of us panting. Finally, he pulled out slowly and smiled—that lazy, satisfied smile I adored.
“Bed?” he asked, brushing sweat-damp hair from my cheek. “We could do this all over again…slower this time.”
I grinned, already reaching for the hem of the tank top. I peeled it off, letting it drop to the floor with the rest of our clothes, then leaned over to switch off both baby monitors.
“Lead the way,” I whispered.
I gathered the little pile of uniform pieces in my arms as I followed him down the hall. I caught myself smiling at them—a small, private smile. I wouldn’t toss them in the trash like I thought of doing. After all, we might want a repeat of tonight on our next anniversary.
The uniform still fit—and thank God for that.
Thank you so much for reading Hidden Away with the Mountain Man.