Page 32 of Comforted By The Mountain Man
It takes seconds for me to detonate. My fingers claw into the headboard as I push my hips back, meeting Asher’s powerful entry.
“You’re making me come, Brown Eyes,” Asher chokes out before his guttural cry into my neck releases a domino effect of mini orgasms following the big one I’m still in the throes of.
There’s something primal about the way I love, no, need to feel his release flooding me. It’s more of a claim. Every. Time. Asher’s hold is so tight, I feel his need to never let go. I’m greedy for his craving of my body because I feel the same for his.
Two weeks of heaven on earth.Literally.
Stubbornly, I tried sleeping in my room every night. That lasted all of three nights before I was too exhausted to move my body after Asher took our bodies so high, well into the nights.Once we crossed that line, we became insatiable which, with a curious four-year-old boy, it’s miraculous we’ve made it work.
Asher leans against my back, his beating heart slowing. Soft kisses of devotion sprinkle my shoulder. You’d never think Asher before he comes is the same man he is after he comes. I smile, turning my neck, giving him more access.
“Morning,” he rasps.
Giggling, I turn and find his lips. The way he kisses me makes me feel like the most precious thing in his world.
Oh God. I think…I’m falling in love with him.
Against my mouth, he whispers, “We should shower before he thunders downstairs, demanding Hulk-shaped pancakes.”
Softly chuckling, I kiss him again before Asher slowly pulls out of me. Never fails, the mess we make. Asher’s hand cups my sensitive core, somehow picking me up. Squealing, I try to keep my voice down. Asher carries us into his master bath and we proceed to carry out what has become our morning routine.
Asher leaves before me to start breakfast as I get ready for the day. I pick out one of the new outfits Grace encouraged me to buy when I got my first paycheck a few days ago. Summer is slowly fading to the first hints of Fall. The Pacific Northwest starts getting cooler than California does this time of year. I throw on a slouchy cardigan over my blouse and jeans.
Just as I enter the kitchen, Ryder jumps from the counter onto Asher’s back. “Hulk Smash!”
“Ryder Antonio,” I call. “What have I told you about jumping off the counter?”
“Mama, Daddy Asher catches me. He never lets me fall.”
The air becomes solid as Asher turns and looks at me. Ryder slides down as Asher hooks his arm around my son, helping him safely down, never taking his eyes off me.
Since Ryder brought up wanting Asher to be his dad, he still called him Mr. Asher. This is a new name we hadn’t heard himsay before. At least, not out loud. He had me help him draw it on a picture featuring all the Hunter brothers as Avengers.
“I’m hungry,” Ryder says, completely oblivious to the tension.
“Sit on the stool, bud. I’ll have your plate ready any minute.” Asher kisses the top of my son’s unruly curls before finishing the omelets.
After feeding my son, I catch Asher staring at Ryder with love. My food feels stuck in my throat, witnessing what real love looks like. And to see it aimed at Ryder is everything I’ve wanted for him.
Asher has to work at the distillery today but I actually have the day off. Ryder has been pestering to have cupcakes he saw in the window at Sweet Pines Bakery that Princess Gracie raved about. Now my son is obsessed with tasting one himself.
I drive us and drop Asher off. Ezra quietly chats with Ryder, who’s kicking his legs in his car seat. Asher takes advantage and steals a kiss when no one’s watching. It’s not that we’re hiding our affection from Ryder. That’s impossible at this point. But even though this already feels permanent, we haven’t actually made anything official. I think Asher’s being patient, wanting me to be sure first.
If he only knew I was more than halfway in love with him already.
Ryder and I drive into town down the mountain. It’s still surreal every time I visit. We park outside Sweet Pine.
“Wait for me,” I call out as Ryder runs into the bakery.
Shaking my head, a bell dings when I open the door. The smells are like a cloud of cinnamon, sugar, vanilla, and chocolate. Okay. Maybe Grace was onto something with her recommendation. If I’m not careful, I’ll gain twenty pounds on this stuff. I shrug, looking at the decadent pastries and desserts.
Worth it.
I smile at the older woman behind the counter.
“Is this precious one yours?” she asks, smiling down at Ryder, who has his face plastered on the glass.
“Baby,” I whisper, gently pulling his face away. “Yes. This is Ryder. I’m Sierra.”
