Page 13 of Healing with the Mountain Man
Why would I? I’ve been crushing on this man since his first response. I was too busy refreshing my email and checking my mailbox to worry about any guy.
Dean has owned my heart from the very beginning.
He leans in close, his breath tickling my clit. “Did you save yourself for me, sweetness?”
The purr of his voice is like a physical touch. Throw in the pet name, and I’m melting into putty. He might as well be pressing firmly against my clit, a rotation with every word that leaves his lips.
“Y-Yes.” I stutter, the word catching. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”
The words feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. Too much time has passed without saying it out loud.
“I want you—” My thighs tremble as I spread them wider apart, “—to take care of me.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, it’s like a switch has been flipped within him. His mouth is on me before I can consume another breath of air, hot and relentless, his tongue dragging slowly and teasingly through my slick.
I arch off the couch, fingers twisting in the cushions, but he pins my hips down with firm hands, refusing to let me squirm away from the pleasure.
A low groan vibrates against my clit, and I whimper, legs shaking. Then—the sound of his zipper. The rough shift of denim. My breath hitches as I realize what he’s doing, even though I can’t see.
But I feel it. The wet, open-mouthed kisses against my entrance slow just enough for me to catch the soft, choked sound he makes—the way his breath stutters against my skin as he strokes himself.
I imagine his fist working his cock, the way his hips must be rocking slightly, desperate for friction. Is he imagining it’s me wrapped around him instead of his fingers?
Another wave of heat comes crashing over me. My walls flutter around his tongue in both jealousy and anticipation. I don’t even know how far we plan on taking this, but I know where I want it to end.
I’m so freaking greedy, it’s not even funny. I don’t just want his mouth. I want it all.
Suddenly, he pulls back. Like he’s a mind reader, he stares up at me with pupils blown wide.
My vision swims as I blink down at him, dazed. His lips glisten, slick with my arousal. His mouth is still curved, morphing the fluttering butterflies in my stomach into burning embers.
And there—his cock, hard and flushed in his grip, precum beading at the tip.
He swipes his thumb over it, gathering the slickness, and my stomach clenches when he brings his hand between my legs. The pad of his finger brushes against my entrance, teasing, testing, the damp heat of his touch mingling with mine.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Do you want my cock?”
I whine, hips lifting, but he doesn’t give me what I crave—not yet. He’s so demanding to hear me say the words, but he doesn’t get it.
I don’t trust my voice. If I open my mouth, a confession stands a better chance of rolling off my tongue than the answer to his question.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t rush to move until he gets what he wants.
“I do.” Breathless, I nod quickly enough to make my head spin. Or, maybe it’s the way he grins that makes the world tilt.
My pussy clenches when he presses his thumb inside, mixing his slick with mine.
His grin turns wicked, and I feel the shift in his energy—the slow drag of his thumb as he leaves my pussy empty and wanting.
“You do?” he repeats, voice dark with amusement. “Say it properly.”
My breath hitches as he flicks his tongue over my sensitized nub, continuing her tease.
I gasp, nails digging into his shoulder. “Yes, I want it. I want your cock.”
He hums in satisfaction and pulls back. “Need you ready, first. After that, it’s all yours, Alani. Always has been.”
I have no idea what he has planned, but I know he’ll take his sweet time doing it.
