Page 16 of Hitchhiker Mountain Man

"You're so wet for me," he says, voice filled with wonder as he strokes through my folds.

"Only for you," I whisper, the truth of it surprising me. I've never responded to anyone the way I'm responding to him.

His fingers work magic, finding a rhythm that has me clutching his shoulders, head falling back as pleasure builds. When he slides one thick finger inside me, I cry out, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"That's it," he encourages, adding a second finger, stretching me deliciously. "Let me hear you."

His thumb circles where I need him most while his fingers curl inside me, finding a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. It’s too much, too good.

"Slate, I'm going to—"

"Come for me, princess," he commands, and somehow the nickname that once annoyed me now pushes me over the edge.

I shatter around his fingers, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me. He works me through it gently, murmuring praise against my neck, easing only when I collapse against his chest, trembling with aftershocks.

Instead of letting me recover, he stands, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me to the bedroom, the display of strength making desire pool anew between my thighs. The weight of him above me as he lowers me to the bed feels like exactly what I've been missing all my life.

Slate pulls down his jeans, revealing the long trail of dark hair the leads to his impressive cock. It’s long and thick, and all I can think about is how much I want him inside of me.

The first push of him inside me draws a long moan from me. He's bigger than anyone I've been with before, stretching me in the most delicious way. He moves slowly at first, giving me time to adjust, his control evident in the tension of his arms on either side of my head.

"You feel incredible," he groans, fully seated within me now. "So tight, so perfect."

He begins a steady rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through my body. He's powerful but controlled, passionate but attentive, reading my body's responses and adjusting to give me maximum pleasure.

When he hooks one of my legs over his arm, changing the angle to hit a spot that makes me cry out, I know I'm already close again. The coil of tension winds tighter with each thrust, his pace increasing as we both chase release.

"You're going to come again," he says, more statement than question. "I can feel you getting tighter."

"Yes," I gasp, hands clutching at his back, feeling the play of muscles as he moves above me.

His hand slides between us, finding where we're joined, his thumb circling in time with his thrusts. The dual sensationpushes me over the edge, pleasure exploding through me with an intensity that tears a scream from my throat.

My orgasm makes him lose control. His thrusts become harder, deeper, his rhythm faltering as his control finally breaks. His powerful body tenses above me, muscles rigid, jaw clenched as he growls my name through gritted teeth. The veins in his neck stand out, his face a beautiful mask of pleasure and strain. He shudders violently, hips jerking against mine as he pours himself into me, each pulse accompanied by a deep, guttural sound that's the most primal, masculine thing I've ever heard.

We stay together for a few minutes, not waiting to withdraw. He's careful not to crush me with his weight, but keeps me close against his side when he eventually moves.

Rain begins to patter against the roof again, a gentle rhythm that seems to underscore the peace I feel in this moment. Tomorrow he leaves. Tomorrow I might never see him again. But tonight, in this cabin, with the storm returning outside, I've found something I didn't even know I was seeking.

"Stay," I whisper into the darkness, not sure if I mean for the night or for something more.

His arm tightens around me, pulling me closer against his chest. "I'm not going anywhere tonight," he promises, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my ear.

eight

Slate

Morninglightfiltersthroughthe cabin windows, falling across Jordyn's sleeping face. She's curled on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, hair spilling across the pillow in golden waves. I've been awake for an hour, just watching her breathe.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Two days ago, I was stuck in a storm with a spoiled city girl I'd written off as just another tourist passing through. Now I'm in her bed, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the flutter of her eyelashes, the small sigh she makes when she shifts in her sleep.

I should be halfway to to my next client by now. The roads cleared yesterday, and my delivery's already late. The client's gonna have my ass for the delay, but somehow I can't summon the urgency I normally would. All I can think about is the woman beside me and how leaving this cabin feels like walking away from something I didn't know I was looking for.

Jordyn stirs, her eyes blinking open slowly. When she sees me watching her, a smile spreads across her face—unguarded, genuine, still heavy with sleep.

"Morning," she murmurs, stretching like a cat. The movement pulls the sheet down slightly, revealing the curve of her breast, and my cock responds immediately.

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