Page 5 of The Mountain
My heart is thundering, a violent staccato, a rushing avalanche that steals my capacity for speech.
You’re it for me.
Antoine shifts at my back, pressing closer against me, letting out a wordless, sleepy murmur against my shoulder. I remember the look of awe on his face, the feel of his fingers buried deep in me, the look of delight when he brought them to his mouth.
Matty wants to give me everything. And I… I want everything.
I swallow, guilt warring with determination as I search for the words to say.
“I am serious,” I say finally, the words shaky. “I don’t want to do casual either. Not with you. But…” I bite my lower lip, then involuntarily tilt my head in Antoine and Liam’s direction.
Matty follows my gaze, his expression softening. “You meant what you said, then? About liking all of us?” To my surprise, there’s no judgment in the question, not even disappointment. If anything, he looks hopeful. “You like me?” His voice lifts on the wordme, as if he can’t quite believe that my earlier declaration included him.
A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it, warmth and relief expanding like a balloon behind my ribs. “Of course I like you,” I tell him with a grin.
I pull him to me, desperate to be close to him again, to feel his body against mine, warm and strong and full of heat. He melts against me, leg slipping back between my thighs as he curls around me, tucking his face into the crook of my neck. “Okay.” He lets out a shuddering breath.
I push against his shoulders, and despite his size, he rolls obediently onto his back, the breath leaving him in a whoosh. I grin, then throw my leg over his waist, until I’m sprawled on top of him, my forehead pressed against his, my sleep-mussed hair curtaining our faces.
He stares up at me in wide-eyed wonderment, large hands sliding down my sides, tentatively gripping my waist, his thumbs brushing the waistband of the boxer shorts I’ve borrowed from Liam. “Does this mean… Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
My body shivers with silent laughter, and I give an enthusiastic nod. “Absolutely.”
He smiles, a full, broad smile that has his cheeks dimpling, and I feel the rumble of relieved laughter vibrate against my core. “Really?”
I nod, then bite my lip, guilt and worry bleeding through my excitement. “But… the other guys…” Because as much as I want Matty, as wonderful as he is, I don’t think I’d be able to choose him over the others. I don’t think I’d be able to choose any one of them.
He shrugs, his smile softening slightly. “They’re good guys. I dunno…” His forehead dips as he considers his words. “I don’t think I mind, if you want to date them too. I mean, like Seth said, who says you have to choose, right?”
I pull back to gape at him, a swell of gratitude and affection rising in my chest with a ferocity that has me completely wordless. The move has my hips shifting back, sliding until my core is pressed against a solid, unmistakable hardness, pinning him between us.
His hands tighten on my waist, expression darkening as his gaze grows heavy-lidded, his pale lashes fluttering. “Lily,” he gasps, his brow constricting as if in pain.
In answer, I bend forward, my core rocking against the straining hardness as I press a gentle kiss to his throat, to the underside of his jaw, my lips trailing hungrily from beneath his earlobe to his Adam’s apple.
He whimpers, a plaintive, desperate sound that has my own need building to a throbbing ache. His hips buck beneath me, slow and stilted movements that seem completely reactive, as if his body is moving of its own accord, chasing a pleasure he hasn’t yet thought of chasing.
I’m a virgin.
His earlier admission echoes through my thoughts, sending a shiver of anticipation through me.How is this gorgeous,kind-hearted man a virgin? What other delights hasn’t he experienced yet? What would it be like to be his first, to be the first to make him come undone?
Teeth and tongue replace my lips, and for a moment I almost get lost in the masculine taste of him, in the sounds he’s making, in the feel of his body quaking beneath my own. I rock against him. At first, it’s an automatic reaction to the desperate need to sate my own desire—though it soon becomes clear that the angle is all wrong, and there’s no way I’ll be able to come like this. But then his fingers tighten, pulling me toward him, his breaths coming in plaintive whimpers, and I find myself rocking against him faster, more intently, just to see what other sounds I can draw out of him.
“Lily. Baby. Oh. Oh my goodness,” he babbles, his head tipping back, exposing more of his throat for me to nip and suck and tease. “I’m… I think I’m going to…” His voice is thready, and when I press my lips to his pulse point, sucking the skin gently, I swear I can feel it fluttering against the flat of my tongue.
I pull back, the racing of my own heart leaving me feeling breathless as I pant against his throat. I reach between our bodies, slowly, giving him time to stop me, trailing my hand down his sweat-damp tee, marveling at the strength shuddering beneath me, at the rounded pectorals and flat, hard stomach. At the muscular dips just above his waistband.
“Let me make you come,” I whisper against his skin, pausing when my fingertips slip beneath the elastic of his boxers. “Let me touch you.”
Because after feeling that hard length beneath me—teasingly grinding, but never satisfying—after tasting the delicious maleness of his skin, and hearing his whimpered cries, I need tofeel him. To hold him. To see if I can wrap my fingers around him, to feel him shuddering under my touch, to watch his face grow pink and sweat slicked. To see those blue eyes fly wide as he spills himself on my hand, in his boxers, against his stomach.
His body quivers beneath mine, and I peel back to look at him. Blue eyes meet my own, wide and open as his heart, lips parted, cheeks pink. His teeth sink into his lower lip, and he gives a vehement nod. “Please. Lily, baby, please.”
Triumph blooms behind my ribs, and I bend to press my lips against his to hide my excitement. He arches toward me, his lips meeting mine with a desperate fervor, nipping and sucking with an almost panicked frenzy. I smile against his lips, the proof of his arousal driving my own need. I dip my tongue into his mouth, making him open for me, taking, making him go pliant beneath me, and then I let my hand slide down.
He groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating against my tongue, in my throat, as his whole body stills beneath me, like he’s been electrocuted. And then the groan turns to a whimper, almost a keen, and he bucks against my hand, driving his thick length against my palm.
For a brief moment, when I first feel the hot, smooth hardness against my fingertips, I question my ability to really make this good for him. Hand jobs are awkward at the best of times, and he’s big. Even without seeing him, I can tell he’s bigger than any guy I’ve been with. No matter how much I try, I can’t wrap my fingers around his girth, and when I slide my palm down his straining length, the head of his cock nudges against the inside of my wrist.
