Page 34 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Surprisem
Trying to keep my head on straight, I raise an eyebrow. “But what about your pain? Is Tylenol really?—”
His mouth crashes into mine. “We should make love,” he says, pulling his head back slightly, his turquoise eyes devouring mine.
As he strides down the hallway, anticipation blossoms inside me. So does self-consciousness. I still have my silk headscarf on, my weave wrapped and pinned beneath it to fall straight this morning.
“Why that worried look on your face?” the big man asks, setting me down gently on the bed.
I shake my head. “Shouldn’t I put on some makeup, do my hair?”
He chuckles deep in his chest. “You’re perfect the way you are. So goddamned sexy. It’s time for me to do some of that groveling I promised, which means you seated on my face.”
“But Mateo?—”
“There are no buts. I need you, Shivers, and even more than that, I have to know you need me, too.”
“More than anything,” I confess, finally giving in to the throbbing between my legs.
“I’ll be gentle this time,” the cowboy mountain man promises. “And I want you to be confident about what you want from me. Communicate it to me without fear. There’s nothing I won’t do to make you happy. But I can’t read your mind.”
I nod, convicted by his words.
He adds softly, “Whether or not you’re ready for this declaration, I can’t hold back any longer. I love you, Calliope Lily Marchand. More than anything or anyone on this planet.”
My heart warms at his words as I stroke his bearded cheek. I want to say those three words in return. They sit on the tip of my tongue. But before I can open my mouth, he orders gruffly, lying flat. “Take off your panties and get on your throne, Shivers.”
Despite concerns about suffocating him with my thick thighs, the mountain man makes me climb on his face. The magic his mouth works between my legs is mindblowing, more gratifying than anything I’ve ever experienced. It awakens an ache in me I didn’t know was there. When I come, floating above the bed and the cabin, somewhere out in the ecstatic ether, my orgasm rips through me, flooding my body with a pleasure so profound, there are no words for it.
Collapsing next to Mateo, I struggle to catch my breath, hand over my chest, savoring the way his love-filled eyes wash over me. They communicate so much more than any of Mack’s stupidletters or emails. Because I see Mateo’s soul glimmering in his gaze … a soul entirely devoted to me.
“Are you sure you don’t need stronger pain pills?” I pant as he pulls down his tented gray sweatpants, revealing his thick, massive rod. Using his good hand, he drags me hard against him.
“You’re the only pain relief I need, Calliope.” His hand drops demandingly to my hip, squeezing and pulling me so my knee bends up, and I thrust my hips towards him.
He slides into my swollen, drenched pussy slowly and sensually, taking his time and savoring every moment. I shiver at his touch, melting as he fills me incrementally, growing more insistent as he strokes me from head to base.
“God, your pussy,” he moans as my head lolls to the side, eyes rolling back in my head. Never have I felt closer to someone or more loved.
“Yes, Mateo,” I whisper, sliding my fingers into his hair and leaning forward to cover his mouth with mine. My lower core starts tightening again, greedy and needy as I taste my musky flavor on his lips and tongue. The stroke of his tongue matches the thrust of his cock as he rides me gently and thoroughly, his cock slick with the white cream between my thighs. I wrap my legs around his waist, grabbing his firm ass cheeks and driving him deeper, harder, and faster, begging him to be rough just like he said I would.
And when my pussy shatters around him, spasming and milking his cock as he follows behind me, I force my eyes open, staring at him long and hard. “I love you, Mateo Sebastian McGregor,” I whisper, stroking his bearded cheeks as tears fill my eyes. His swim, too.
“You’re my world,” he whispers. “There’s nothing I won’t do to protect and keep you safe. Now and always.”
Now and always.
Such simple, artless words. No talk of obsession or needing me like air. No flowery phrases recycled en masse to more women than I want to think about. Just eyes pooling with devotion and the feeling that somehow, far more than our bodies have united. Our souls are tangled together, too … for all time.
Chapter
Twelve
MCGREGOR
ONE WEEK LATER
“Come on in,” I say with a sweep of my hand toward the couple standing on my front porch.
Calliope squeals behind me, rushing forward to wrap her best friend, Felicity, in a bear hug. Felicity has long, brown hair with blonde highlights, and her face is open, with big, blue eyes.
