Page 13 of My Obsessive Mountain Man

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, dipping his head to capture my mouth in another kiss. "Taking me so perfectly. Like you were made for me."

His praise washes over me, stoking the fire rebuilding in my core. One of his hands slides beneath me, angling my hips slightly upward, and suddenly he's hitting a spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.

"There," he says with satisfaction, feeling my reaction. "Right there."

He maintains the angle, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more deliberate. The headboard knocks rhythmically against the wall, a counterpoint to our shared breaths and increasingly urgent sounds. Sweat glistens on his chest, catching the late afternoon light that streams through the windows.

I feel myself climbing toward another peak, faster this time, the pleasure sharper and more focused. Paul seems to sense it, his movements becoming more targeted, one hand sliding between our bodies to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves at my center.

"Come for me again," he urges, his voice strained with his own approaching release. "I want to feel you come around me, Violet. Need to feel you grip me when you let go."

The combination of his words, the perfect pressure of his fingers, and the relentless rhythm of his thrusts sends me hurtling over the edge again. This orgasm is more intense than the first, radiating outward from deep within my core.

My body clenches around his length, my nails digging into the hard muscle of his back as wave after wave of pleasure washes through me.

Paul follows immediately, his rhythm faltering as he drives deep one final time. I feel the hot pulse of his release, hear my name torn from his throat in a sound that's half growl, half reverence. His arms shake with the effort of holding himself above me, not wanting to crush me with his weight.

After a moment, he rolls to the side, taking me with him so I'm sprawled across his chest, our bodies still joined. His heartbeat thunders beneath my ear, gradually slowing to a steadier rhythm. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, raising goosebumps in their wake.

Outside, birds call to each other, the world continuing its ordinary rhythms while something extraordinary has happened in this bed.

I feel him stirring beneath me again, impossibly ready for more. I lift my head to meet his gaze, finding heat rekindling in his blue eyes.

"Already?" I ask with a smile, shifting my hips to feel him hardening inside me.

His hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with tender reverence. "I told you," he says softly. "I've been waiting for you for years. We have a lot of lost time to make up for."

He rolls us again, this time with me on top, straddling his hips. The new position seats him even deeper within me, drawing gasps from us both. His hands find my waist, supporting me as I begin to move.

"Show me how you like it," he encourages, his eyes drinking in the sight of me above him, my hair falling around my shoulders, my breasts swaying with each movement.

I experiment, finding an angle and rhythm that sends pleasure spiraling through me. His hands roam my body, cupping my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples, before sliding down to grip my hips, helping me maintain the pace.

"You're so beautiful like this," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Taking your pleasure. Using me."

His words embolden me. I move faster, chasing the building sensation. Paul watches me with hooded eyes, his jaw tight with restraint as he lets me set the pace.

When his thumb finds my clit again, circling in perfect counterpoint to my movements, I feel myself approaching the edge once more.

This orgasm builds slower than the others, but crashes over me with even greater force. I cry out, my body bowing backward, trembling with the intensity of it. Paul sits up suddenly, wrapping one arm around my waist to hold me in place while his other hand tangles in my hair, pulling my mouth to his.

He kisses me deeply as he takes control, thrusting up into me with powerful movements that prolong my pleasure. His release follows soon after, his body shuddering beneath mine, my name a hoarse cry against my lips.

We collapse together, a tangle of limbs and damp skin, breathing hard. Paul's arms encircle me, holding me close as if afraid I might disappear. I press my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

"Stay," he whispers against my hair, echoing his earlier plea. "Stay with me."

In this moment, sated and warm in his arms, I can't imagine being anywhere else. Chicago seems like a distant dream, a life that belongs to someone else. This—his body against mine, the cabin around us, the mountains beyond the windows—this feels real in a way nothing has before.

I lift my head to look at him, finding his eyes soft with something that looks dangerously like love. It should terrify me, this intensity, this certainty after so little time. Instead, it feels like coming home after a long journey I didn't even know I was on.

"I'm here," I whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

He tucks me closer against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my ear. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare shoulder as the late afternoon sun paints the room in amber and gold.

"You're home now," he murmurs, and the rightness of those words settles in my bones.

Chapter 6 – Paul

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