Page 17 of Hitchhiker Mountain Man

"Morning," I reply, my voice gruff with more than just sleep.

She leans forward, pressing her lips to mine in a soft, lingering kiss. "Coffee?"

Before I can answer, she shifts closer, her naked body pressed against mine under the sheets. The contact ignites something primal in me, and all thoughts of coffee evaporate.

My hand slides into her hair, pulling her mouth back to mine. The kiss deepens instantly, her soft moan vibrating against my lips. The sweetness of morning affection transforms into hunger within seconds.

"Thought you wanted coffee," I murmur against her throat as I trail kisses down the slender column.

"This is better than caffeine," she whispers, her hands already exploring my chest, my stomach, moving lower with clear intent.

When her fingers wrap around me, I groan against her skin. She's bold in her desire, confident in a way that drives me wild. Nothing tentative, nothing calculated—just honest want from this beautiful woman thirteen years my junior.

"Need you," I growl, rolling her beneath me.

Her legs part willingly, cradling me between them. She's already slick with desire, ready for me after just a few kisses. The realization sends a surge of masculine satisfaction through me—knowing this sophisticated woman wants me this badly, her young body responding so eagerly to my touch.

"Please," she breathes, arching up against me, the smooth skin of her firm thighs gripping my hips. “I need your cock.”

I push into her in one smooth thrust, both of us groaning at the sensation. The fit is exquisite—tight, hot, welcoming. Like she was made perfectly for me.

"Fuck, Jordyn," I groan, struggling to maintain control as her tight heat envelops me. "You feel incredible around me."

"So do you," she gasps as I begin to move. "So deep. So full. I've never felt anything like this."

I set a rhythm that has her clinging to me, her body rising to meet each thrust. Her soft curves contrast perfectly with my harder frame, her youth and vitality evident in every responsive movement.

The sounds she makes—little gasps and moans that get louder as her pleasure builds—are the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Each time I drive into her welcoming warmth, I'm reminded of how perfectly we fit together despite every difference between us.

Her hands roam my back, feeling the muscles flex as I move above her. There's wonder in her touch, appreciation that feeds my desire to please her, to make this good for her.

"Harder," she demands suddenly, her eyes dark with need. "I won't break. I want to feel all of you."

The request snaps something loose inside me—something primal that's been waiting to claim this beautiful young woman fully. I hook one arm under her knee, changing the angle, driving deeper with each thrust. Her body yields perfectly, impossibly tight yet stretching to accommodate me. Her eyes widen, a cry escaping her lips as I hit that sensitive spot inside her that makes her whole body tremble.

"Like that?" I ask, my voice rough with exertion and restraint, reveling in how her smooth, firm body takes everything I give her.

"Yes," she gasps, her inner muscles clenching around me with each thrust. "God, yes, just like that. No one's ever filled me like you do."

I maintain the pace, watching her face as pleasure builds. She's magnificent like this—hair wild across the pillow, cheeks flushed, lips parted in ecstasy. Nothing like the polished princess I first met, and all the more beautiful for it.

"So close," she whimpers, her inner muscles beginning to flutter around me. "Please, don't stop."

"Never," I promise, though I know it's a lie. Tomorrow I'll be gone, back on the road, and this will be just a memory. But right now, at this moment, she's mine, and I'm hers, and nothing else matters.

I slide a hand between us, finding where we're joined, where her slick flesh welcomes me so perfectly. My rough thumb circles her clit, feeling how she swells under my touch. The additional stimulation is all she needs. She comes apart beneath me, her body arching off the bed, her inner muscles clenching rhythmically around me in waves of pleasure, gripping me tighter and tighter. My name becomes a broken cry on her lips as her release washes through her, her younger body responding with an intensity that makes me feel powerful, needed.

Her tight heat pulsing around me is too much to resist. I bury my face in her neck, hips driving forward one last time, burying myself to the hilt in her perfect warmth as release crashes through me. I pour myself into her deepest core, the intensity staggering, like nothing I've experienced with any woman before her. For a moment, the world narrows to just this—her soft, lush body wrapped around mine, the pulsing connection between us, the sense of rightness that defies all logic.

As I catch my breath, her hand comes up to trace my features—my brow, my cheekbone, the line of my jaw. There's somethingreverent in the touch, something that makes my chest tight with emotions I'm not ready to name.

"That was some wake-up call," she says with a smile that doesn't quite mask the vulnerability in her eyes.

"Better than coffee," I agree, kissing her forehead.

We lie there in comfortable silence, her fingers trailing patterns on my chest, mine stroking the curve of her hip. It's domestic in a way that should terrify me, but somehow doesn't.

My phone buzzes from the floor where my jeans lie discarded. Reality intruding. I ignore it, but a second buzz follows. Then a third.

---