Page 17 of Runaway for the Mountain Man
This isn’t some kind of hunger that can be sated by a peck or two. No, this is the physical form of starvation.
“You wanna know how badly I want you?” A nip at my lower lip, just shy of pain. “I’ll show you exactly what kind of husband I’d be.”
The first kiss is a lightning strike. The second, a wildfire.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, hot and demanding, and I melt into him with a whimper. His grip tightens in my hair, tilting my head back as his other hand slides higher up my thigh, fingers digging in like he’s memorizing the shape of me.
“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” he growls against my lips, teeth scraping. “Stealing my clothes like you don’t know what it does to me.”
I gasp as his palm slides under my shirt, rough skin dragging over my ribs.
“Once I get you up that mountain,” he murmurs, biting down on my earlobe, “I’m giving you my whole damn wardrobe. Want to see you in my shirts, nothing else. Want to watch you walk around in them, all soft and sleepy, before I strip them off you.”
A shiver races down my spine as I try to picture it all going down.
He lets out a raspy laugh, and suddenly, I’m being rotated, my back hitting the truck seat as he crowds over me. His knee nudges my legs apart, and the hard press of him against my thigh makes me moan.
He has yet to even introduce me to his cock, but by the outline staring back at me, I know he wants to. Hell, at this rate, it’ll happen before we make it back to the cabin.
Like we’re thinking the same thing, he looks around just to make sure. I don’t want to know how he’d react if someone stumbled upon us just as things start getting heated.
Or, if it means I’ll get to see him get a little jealous, maybe I will.
6
Bentley
Fuck.
I know I shouldn’t do this. Not here. Not out in the open where anyone could stumble upon us. But the way she’s looking at me—cheeks flushed, lips parted, those damn eyes begging me to make her mine finally—I can’t help myself.
My fingers find the knot of her shorts, tugging it loose with a growl. The fabric falls open, and…
No underwear. Just her beautiful pussy, the sweetest fucking curve of her hips, and her, glistening wet forme.
Why in the hell didn’t I get a good look last night? Power going out ruined one hell of a sight for sore eyes.
Josie sputters, squirming under my stare. “I couldn’t put them back on,” she breathes, voice shaking. “Not after how wet you made me last night.
That’s it. That’s all it takes for me to lose my mind.
I rip the shorts down her legs, tossing them somewhere behind me. She gasps, but I’m already shoving her thighs apart, my hands rough, needy.
There she is. Pink and swollen, that little patch of red curls I want to fucking worship. My mouth waters. I lean in, dragging in a deep breath—her scent, all musk and salt and mine—and I’m done.
Fuck waiting.
I bury my face between her legs and finally discover just how sweet she is at the source.
She tastes like honey, and I devour her like a man starved.
Her thighs clamp around my ears as my tongue licks a slow, filthy stripe up her slit.
“Fuck! Bentley—” Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging hard, but I don’t let up. I suck her clit between my lips, flicking with just the right amount of pressure to make her back arch off the seat.
She’s close. So close.
I can feel it in the way her muscles tense, hear it in the broken little whimpers spilling from her lips. Her hips jerk, chasing her release—then I stop before she spills over.
