Page 33 of Song Bird Hearts

He doesn’t stop me as I undo his fly with teasing fingers, before dragging his jeans down just enough to free him. I lick my lips at the sight of him, hungry.

“You said I had a mouth on me,” I murmur, eyes gleaming up at him as I guide him up and then back down onto the stump. “Let me show you what I really do with it.”

Then I take him into my mouth, and Gilden damn near collapses.

“Merde, cher. . . that’s it. That’s. . . Christ,” he groans, one hand gripping the stump, the other burying in my hair. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

I hum around him, sucking deeper, my lips tight as my tongue teases under the head of his cock. He shudders, his whole body jerking toward me. His thighs tremble.

“You gon’ make me embarrass myself if you keep that up,cher,” he says, his voice cracking.

But I don’t stop. I hollow my cheeks and moan around him, working him in rhythm, reveling in the way he swears in Cajun French and begs like a man on fire. Just when he’s about to lose it, I pull off him with a wet pop and meet his eyes. I flash him a smirk, my face flushed.

“Still feel like teasing me?” I ask, breath hot against his jaw.

“Only if you promise to punish me for it,” he says before spinning me and lifting me back onto the stump in one fluid motion.

We crash together, mouths hungry, our hands clawing. I can taste myself on his lips as he consumes me. I just knew Gilden would be a good kisser. Everything about this man is pure swagger and sensuality. His cock slides against my wet heat as he lines up, both of us trembling with need.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants against my neck. “Tell me now if you want this slow,cher, ‘cause I’m hangin’ by a fuckin’ thread.”

I grab his face, look him dead in the eyes, and whisper, “I never said I wanted it slow.”

He surges into me with a growl, deep and sudden and perfect. I cry out, my nails digging into his back, clinging to him as he fills me fast and rough. We move like wildfire, no finesse, just raw, burning hunger. My thighs are locked tight around his waist as he fucks me on top of the old stump, his hands gripping my hips tight.

“You feel that?” he grits out. “How good you fit me,mon rossignol? How deep I am?”

I moan, my head thrown back, helpless under the force of it.

“You take it so fuckin’ good,cher. So goddamn tight. . . fuck, I ain’t gon’ last.”

“Don’t,” I gasp, clenching around him. “Come for me.”

That does him in. He drives deep one last time and spills inside me with a groan that tears right out of his chest, holding me tight as his release shoves me over the edge one last time. We come apart together under the open Wyoming sky, the mountains the only witness to our coupling.

And for a moment, it’s all silent.

Steam rises from our skin as the birds in the trees call back and forth to each other. The scent of pine and sex is thick in the air.

I lean in, still breathless, to whisper against his ear. “Next time you’re splittin’ wood, you better warn me first.”

Gilden laughs, long and low, before pressing a kiss against my shoulder. “Next time,cher, maybe I’ll fuck you with the handle of the axe against your neck,” he rasps. My pussy clenches around him and he hums and kisses my neck. “I see we both like the sound of that,mon rossignol. Good to know.” He leans back and meets my eyes, a wicked expression on his lips. “Very good to know.”

Chapter17

Valerie

Immediately, I realize how complicated I’ve just made things. After Gilden helped me adjust my dress and we slipped inside to clean up, the tension in the cabin feels thicker. Knox and Wolf don’t let on that they know anything happened at all or if they witnessed it somehow, but Gilden?

Gilden’s eyes remind me every second that he’d like nothing more than to sweep me away into my room and pick up where we left off. And goddamn it, I want him to. There’s something about the smooth-talking Cajun that wraps me up in knots. My heart throbs every time he’s near, eager for a bit of attention from him. Despite the height difference, he somehow manages to always brush his lips against places he normally wouldn’t reach. Behind my ear, on my shoulder, gently on my lips. The man finds things to stand on so often, things that have no business being stood on, that I can’t help but start looking around to see if I should be prepared for one of his teasing touches or hungry kisses. It’s overwhelming, and also addicting.

And then when Knox comes out and sees the flirting, he seems to have picked up on the tension judging by his look of annoyance, and it ratchets that tension up even more. That’s the reason I stiffen the moment I find him on the edge of the porch after brewing my coffee and coming out to drink it the next morning. He’s standing with his arms tight, his jaw locked, and I can tell he’s in a mood.

I can feel him watching me as I take a seat in the old rocking chair and tuck my legs up underneath me. My breath is still fogging from the cool morning air. It’s my favorite part of the day in the mountains. That and the storms. There’s just something about a mountain storm that feels like it washes all your worries away.

I expect silence from Knox, as usual. Instead, when he turns to look at me, I get venom.

“All you Hollywood types are the same,” he mutters. “Playin’ chess with people’s lives.”

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