Page 19 of My Forbidden Mountain Man

Flicking her clit with quick, ruthless strokes, I slide two fingers inside her, crooking them just so, pressing into places she’s the most sensitive.

Her thighs clamp down around my ears, her moan high and broken as she comes undone. Even muffled, it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. My favorite song she’s created. I listen to every note as I drink down her release.

Once I’m pulling back, I can’t think. I’m clawing at my own shorts, easily shoving down my waistband.

She’s as desperate as I am, happily keeping her panties pulled to the side so nothing stands in my way as I free my cock.

Fuck, I’m aching.

My cock throbs in my fist, so hard the veins stand taut under my grip. No amount of friction eases the burn—every stroke justsmears more precum down my length, slick and shameful. And fuck, the way she looks right now?

Violet, sprawled out and breathless, lips swollen from my mouth, skin flushed from the onslaught of my tongue?Jesus.

I pump myself slowly, watching her watch me, the way her thighs spread further apart like she’s already imagining me there. The sound she makes when I thumb over the leaking head—a whimper, greedy and soft—nearly undoes me.

This is torture.

Because I could come just like this, just from the sight of her biting her lip as my hips jerk into my fist. But thinking about sinking into her? Feeling her clench around me, hot and wet and desperate? That’s a paradise my fist can never bring me.

Even if it’s nearly impossible, I’m going to survive long enough to make her come again. This time, it’ll be my cock she’ll be creaming all over.

7

Violet

I made up my mind earlier today. All it took was a turtle-paced conversation between Noah and me. In the middle of it, as if they thought my mind would be changed, a text from Jeremy had popped in,apologizing.

It’s too much effort to get back a guitarist he insisted was easily replaceable. It was also what I needed to realize something that was obvious.

In this whole shitstorm of abandonment, there’s been exactly one person whose eyes never wavered from me. Not my bandmates, who barely lifted a finger when I quit. Not my mother, who still sends my calls to voicemail.

Just him.

The man currently gripping himself like he’s physically restraining his body from sinking deep into my pussy with one solid thrust, his cock as impressive as the rest of him. The veinsin his forearm stand out with the effort of staying still, but his gaze?

Locked on me.

Unwavering.Starving.

Logan won’t throw me away or give up on me once he has gotten his fill. No, he looks like his hunger is endless, an empty chasm that goes on forever. Or, however long the rest of our lives are.

Hips twitching, I part my swollen lips to show him just how wet I am. Not just because of my earlier release, but because he’s the one making me this wound up.

“I’ve imagined you like this every night you’ve stayed here.” His breathing is uneven as he continues to stroke himself. His fingers grow more slick, matching mine. “Before then, too.”

The confession falls past his lips like he doesn’t realize he’s said it. It’s not until my face gives away my surprise that he pauses, cursing under his breath.

“You’ve thought of me before?” The words come out slowly, cautiously.

Over the last few years, I assumed Logan forgot all about me. Hell, he didn’t have a reason to keep a place for me in his mind.

With his free hand, he gives one of my knees a squeeze. “Shit, I wanted to tell you this on a better occasion. Not while you’re spread open for me.”

The air between us thickens as he drags a hand through his hair, grip tightening like he might tear it out.

“When you stopped sending tickets,” he says, voice scraping raw, “I—.”

A harsh laugh escapes him, more pain than humor. It’s almost like he’s ashamed of himself.

---