Page 11 of Silent Mountain Man
A growl rumbles from his chest as he covers my body with his again, his weight pressing me into the blankets. His hand slides between us, fingers finding me slick and ready, exploring with devastating precision. When he pushes two thick fingers inside me, curling them just right, I cry out, hips bucking against his hand.
"Yes," I gasp as his thumb circles my clit, his fingers working me open. "Right there."
He watches my face with fierce concentration, reading my reactions, learning my body with the same intensity he applies to everything. When he adds a third finger, stretching me in preparation, I'm trembling, right on the edge.
"Now," I demand, pulling him closer. "I need you inside me."
He positions himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. For a moment, he hesitates, his eyes searching mine one last time.
"Please," I whisper, wrapping my legs around his hips, digging my heels into his firm ass to draw him closer.
"Dawn." My name in his deep voice sends a shiver through me, more powerful than any touch.
Then he pushes forward, entering me in one long, deliberate stroke that has me crying out, my body stretching to accommodate his size. He stills when he's fully seated, allowing me to adjust, his forehead pressed against mine, our breath mingling.
The moment he begins to move, I'm lost. Each thrust is perfectly angled, hitting spots inside me I didn't know existed. I cling to him, nails raking down his back, leaving marks I hope will still be there tomorrow.
"Harder," I beg, and he complies, his control slipping as he drives into me with increasing force. The tribal tattoos on his chest seem to dance in the firelight, muscles flexing with each powerful thrust. I trace them with my tongue, tasting the salt of his skin, biting at the juncture where neck meets shoulder.
My bite breaks something in him—his measured pace falters, becoming rougher, more primal. He hooks one arm under my knee, lifting my leg higher, changing the angle until I'm seeing stars with each thrust. His other hand slides between us, finding my clit, circling it in time with his movements.
"Don't stop," I plead, feeling my orgasm building. "I'm so close."
He doesn't stop. Instead, he drives into me harder, deeper, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that's almost unbearable. When he speaks again, "Come for me", the unexpectedness of his command pushes me over the edge. His voice is so raw, so deep, better than anything I’ve ever heard.
My orgasm hits like a tidal wave, my entire body convulsing around him as pleasure crashes through me in relentless pulses.I cry out his name, over and over, as waves of ecstasy leave me trembling, gasping.
“Dawn,” he groans. He follows seconds later, his rhythm faltering as he thrusts once, twice more before burying himself to the hilt. I feel him pulsing inside me, his powerful body shuddering as he finds his release with a guttural groan.
We collapse together, sweat-slicked and panting, his weight a delicious pressure pinning me to the floor. As our breathing slows, he rolls to the side, pulling me against him, my head on his chest, his heartbeat thundering under my ear.
We lie tangled together for long minutes, neither wanting to break the spell. Eventually, he shifts, looking down at me with an expression that makes my heart stutter.
"Again," he says, his voice stronger now, more confident. His throat bobs as he talks. It's not a question. “Please.”
I smile, sliding my hand down his chest, feeling him already hardening against my thigh. “As much as you like, my quiet mountain man.”
six
Gunnar
Dawnissleepinginmy arms when the radio crackles to life.
"Road crews expect to have Silver Ridge Mountain Pass cleared by noon today. Residents are advised..."
I turn it off before the voice can wake her. Noon. Four hours from now.
Four hours before the real world intrudes on whatever this is between us.
Her body is warm against mine, her head tucked under my chin, breath soft against my chest. Last night was... I don't have words for what last night was, even in my own mind. Connection. Truth. Everything my silence has been protecting me from.
Dawn stirs, her eyes blinking open, finding mine immediately. Her smile is soft, private.
"Morning," she murmurs.
I nod, brushing hair from her face. The intimacy of the gesture surprises me, how natural it feels.
"Did I hear the radio?" she asks, more alert now.
