Page 19 of S'more Mountain Man

He answered by kissing me with a hunger that stole my breath. His hands slid down to my hips, then lower, lifting me again and carrying me into the tent. The sleeping bag was soft beneath my back as he laid me down, his body a delicious weight above mine.

In the dim light, I could just make out his features as he looked down at me, his expression a mix of desire and something tender and almost wondering.

"What?" I whispered, suddenly self-conscious.

"You're beautiful," he said simply, as if stating an obvious fact.

Before I could respond—before I could crack a joke to deflect the compliment like I usually would—he was kissing me again, and thinking became secondary to feeling.

His hands were everywhere, sliding beneath my tank top, tracing the curve of my waist, the underside of my breast. I arched into his touch, my own hands exploring the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt.

"Off," I demanded, tugging at the fabric. "Need this off."

He obliged, sitting back on his heels to pull his shirt over his head. The sight of him—all defined muscle and smooth skin in the dim light—made my mouth go dry. A thin scar ran along his left side, pale against his tanned skin, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

"Your turn," he said, voice rough with desire.

I sat up, crossing my arms to grab the hem of my tank top, but he stopped me with a gentle hand.

"Let me."

His soft touch as he slowly lifted my top made my heart stutter. This wasn't the frantic undressing I'd experienced with previous partners—the race to get naked and get off. This was deliberate, almost worshipful, his fingers tracing each newly exposed inch of skin as if memorizing a map.

When the tank top finally joined his shirt somewhere in the corner of the tent, his gaze dropped to my simple cotton bra,nothing fancy or meant to seduce—just plain blue with a tiny silver star between the cups.

"You're staring," I whispered, echoing his words from this morning.

"Can't help it." His hands skimmed up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. "You're something else, Skye Dawson."

"You too, Leif Brannick." I reached for the button of his jeans. "And you're still wearing too many clothes."

We undressed each other slowly, between kisses that grew increasingly desperate. When we were finally skin to skin, his body covering mine, I felt a sense of rightness that I'd never experienced before—like puzzle pieces clicking into place.

"Skye," he breathed against my neck, his hand sliding between us. "Tell me what you want."

"You," I answered honestly. "Just you."

His fingers found me then, exploring with the same deliberate attention he'd shown to every other part of me. I gasped as he parted my folds, finding me already wet and eager for more. He circled my sensitive bud with agonizing precision, then slipped one thick finger inside me.

"Like this?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

"Yes," I managed, clutching at his shoulders as he added a second finger, stretching me deliciously. "God, yes."

His fingers moved rhythmically, curling inside me until I was writhing beneath him, my hips chasing each stroke. His thumb pressed into my clit in maddening circles, dragging me closer to the edge until I could barely breathe, let alone think. My body felt like it was vibrating—like a star ready to collapse in on itself.

His cock was even bigger than I'd expected, thick and hard, and the thought of him filling me made my inner walls clench with anticipation.

"Leif, please," I begged, feeling the pressure building low in my belly. "I want you. Now."

He positioned himself between my spread thighs, the blunt head of his cock nudging against my slick entrance, teasing me with shallow thrusts that made my entire body arch toward him. I needed him deeper—all of him. The stretch as he pushed in was almost too much and yet not enough. My breath caught as he bottomed out, the sensation overwhelming, exquisite, primal.

"Fuck," he groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. "You feel incredible."

I could only whimper in response, overwhelmed by the fullness, the slight burn giving way to pure pleasure as my body adjusted to his size.

"Okay?" he asked, holding perfectly still despite the tension evident in every line of his body.

In answer, I wrapped my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his firm ass, pulling him deeper until he was fully seated within me. "More than okay. Move, Leif. Please."

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