Page 22 of Trapped with the Mountain Man

“Put your mouth on me.”

“Where?”

Too embarrassed to say it out loud, I move my hand between my legs, but Hunter captures it before I make contact with my aching clit. He gives me a playfully disapproving look. His finger lightly grazes the neediest part of me, sending a shutter of both relief and longing through me. He applies more pressure with the next stroke, letting his fingers linger at my entrance.

My ‘yes’ is indistinguishable from a moan.

Hunter disappears from view, kneeling between my legs while planting his hands behind the bend of my knees to urge my legs to stay spread widely for him. Even after one of his hands disappears, I do my best to hold my legs in place. When his lips brush against my wetness, my needy ache is relieved and replaced by something else. His tongue glides expertly over me, lapping at my clit with building pressure.

He may have lost some social graces out here in the woods, but his sexual aptitude certainly hasn’t faltered.

Lost in the pleasure building inside me, I inadvertently squeeze my legs together and feel the stubble of Hunter’s jaw against the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh. His hands return to the spot behind my knee and push my legs apart. He holds them there for a minute but eventually relinquishes his grip on one side. I feel two fingers at my entrance, teasing me gently and then stretching me open.

Hunter’s fingers curl inside me in slow, steady strokes that match his tongue. It doesn’t take long before I’m right there at the peak, ready to come crashing down. It sneaks up on me. I arch my back and let the waves crash over me. Hunter pushes his fingers as deep as they can reach and holds them there as my walls contract around him. His mouth stays firmly planted on my clit the entire time.

When he stands, the evidence of my orgasm glistens on his lips.

Hunter smiles and swipes the back of his hand across his mouth before crawling back over me and planting a soft kiss on my lips. I can still taste myself on him.

“Sorry,” I whisper, embarrassed that I came with his lips on me. It’s a first for me. Guys have gone down on me before, but never for more than a few lackluster minutes at a time.

“Why?” he asks, “I loved that.”

Before I can say anything else, his lips are on mine, erasing any doubt from my mind about the truth in his statement. He’s harder than ever between my thighs, with nothing more than his boxers separating us now. I roll my hips again. This time, I hook my legs around him to pull him in closer. His muscles tighten under my palms.

When he stands again, he takes off his boxers. His generous length springs free.

Hunter reaches over and opens the drawer beside the bed. I hear the crinkle of the wrapper and watch as he slides the condom over himself.

It’s my turn to admire him now.

I was wrong. He isn’t a grizzly bear at all. He is manliness personified.

I scoot back to the center of the bed so we can spread out and devour each other properly. Hunter moves over me, hand at my jaw and tangled in my hair as he kisses me.

All his touches up until this point have walked the fine line between gentle and rough, but when he enters me, it makes me forget that this man even knows the meaning of the word gentle. His entire length fills me at once, pushing me to the limit. I gasp, hanging on a delicate thread and knowing that I would come again right now if he were to pull out and repeat the motion.

Instead, he holds us both there. The gentleness returns as his thumb rubs gently over my cheekbone then down across my lips and watching as I quake below him. He’s memorizing me as much with his hands as with his eyes. We stay suspended like that for a long moment before he withdraws himself slightly and finds a rhythm inside me. Every stroke nudges me closer. When I feel him getting closer as well, he pulls out completely and we pull apart. A frustrated groan forms behind my teeth and I stare up at the wooden rafters while I catch my breath and mourn the empty feeling inside me.

“Abby,” he says softly, urging my attention back to him.

Our eyes connect as he rubs his tip across my slippery folds. When he enters again, it’s as rough as the first time. The next few strokes are just as punishing. I feel myself contracting around him. His hands are at my hips, pulling them tightly down on him. With his length buried to the hilt inside of me, I feel every ripple of his release.

We are both coming down, breathing hard, becoming cognizant once again of the world around us. Greedily, I still crave all of his attention on me, so I lean forward and press my lips to his. The hands at my hips move to my face, gently caressing my jaw as his lips melt into mine. He slowly slides out of me while we kiss then walks across the room to the bathroom.

Without Hunter, the fire isn’t enough to keep me warm so I crawl beneath the sheets. When he returns, he joins me there. He stretches out on his back and pulls me tight against his side. My head rests on his shoulder and my hand settles on his chest. Behind me, his fingers dance along my back and play with the ends of my hair.

“Well, your chastity pillow didn’t work,” he says.

A joke? From Hunter?

I laugh a little too loud, caught off guard by him.

“Maybe I just need to try a different one,” I dead-pan as I reach for the pillow beneath my head and try to drag it down between us.

Hunter swats it away and laughs. “Oh no, you fucking don’t.”

I settle back into him. A week of sleepless nights catches up with me all at once. Between the anticipation of my big trip, the storm that confined me to that leaky shelter, and the idea of sharing a bed with a grumpy stranger, I haven’t slept well in a week. Finally, I felt myself dowsing off with ease.

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