Page 18 of Runaway for the Mountain Man
“No.” I pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as she whines in protest. “Not yet.”
Her eyes fly open, dazed and desperate. “You can’t just stop. Not when I’m so—”
I’m already jerking to my feet, my cock straining against my jeans. One rough yank of my belt, and I’m free, thick and aching.
“Look at you,” I growl, palming myself as I stare down at her—spread out, and flushed. “All that pretty frustration. Bet you’d come just from me pushing inside, wouldn’t you?”
She shivers, her gaze locked on where my hand strokes my length. Her flush darkens just as I expect it to. “Well? Go on then.”
Fuck, I love this woman. No doubt about it.
My grip tightens around the base of my cock, a rough groan tearing from my throat as I force myself to hold back. Fuck. Just the sight of her—spread out beneath me, those puffy lips glistening, swollen from how bad she wants it—is enough to wreck me.
I drag the broad head of my cock through her slick, parting her with a slow, filthy grind that makes her gasp.
“Look at that,” I growl, watching her clench around nothing. “Already dripping. You gonna take me just as easy, sweetheart?”
Then I’m pushing in—no resistance, just heat, swallowing me whole. Her back arches, a broken moan spilling from her lips as I sink deeper, deeper, until my hips meet hers and there’s not an inch of her I don’t own.
“That’s it,” I grit out, fingers biting into her thighs. “Fucking mine.”
She’s tight. So fucking tight. Like she hasn’t done this in as long as I have.
The second I sink into her, my world narrows to this—her heat, her gasp, the way her nails dig into my shoulders like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded. The truck creaks beneath us, the suspension groaning as I drive into her harder, deeper, mine.
“Jesus, Josie—” My voice is wrecked, my hips pistoning. Every thrust punches a moan from her lips, sweet and filthy, and I swallow them down with my kiss. She tastes like desperation, like she’s been waiting for this as long as I have.
Her legs lock around my waist, heels digging into my ass, pulling me in until there’s no space left between us.
“Deeper,” she whimpers, and I obey—burying myself to the hilt, grinding until she sobs.
The air’s thick with us—her sweat, the musk of her pussy clinging to me. The cab fills with the slap of skin, her choked pleas, my ragged growls.
I never want to leave.
Her walls flutter around me, and I know she’s close. I slide a hand between us, thumb circling her clit, and she shatters—back arching, thighs trembling, her cry tearing through the stillness of the mountain.
And then I’m gone—lost in the slick, hot clutch of her, my hips driving forward one last time as I spill into her with a groan, my forehead dropping to hers.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breaths and the distant rustle of the trees.
Slowly, carefully, I pull back, my hands skimming her waist as I help her sit up. Her lips are swollen, her hair a wild tangle, and fuck if she isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I grab her shorts from where they’d landed on the gravel, brushing off the dust before guiding her legs into them. She watches me, her gaze heavy-lidded and warm, as I knot the strings with deliberate fingers.
Once she’s dressed, I cup her face and kiss her—slow this time, deep and lingering, like there’s nothing else in the world worth doing.
Then, with the plan on escaping a little longer away from the mess she’s leaving behind, I hop back into the truck and race home.
Just the ride home is already going to be too much for my patience. I’m going to want her again the moment we reachourbed.
* * *
Epilogue
The limo slows, and through the tinted windows, I can already see the chaos—flashing cameras, screaming voices, a sea of phones held high like a fucking battlefield. My fingers tighten around Josie’s, my other hand tugging at the collar of my dress shirt.
Stupid tie. Too tight. Too much.
