Page 28 of Harvested By The Mountain Man
There’s no slow drift here, no learning curve. He commits, tongue and lips and the suction of his mouth, every movement rough-edged and deliberate. My vision blurs, my knees tremble, and I’m close to coming undone.
He holds me in place with both hands, palms spread wide, thumbs digging deliciously into the tops of my thighs. I tilt and he groans into me, and when my hips start bucking, he says my name, “Hannah.”
I lose myself. The pressure inside me coils and then snaps, sweet and volcanic. I cry out … can’t help it and his grip tightens, holding me through every aftershock.
He stands, lifting me with a grunt and stumbling backwards across the room. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror behind him — hair wild, lips swollen, eyes glazed and greedy for more.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, another feat of strength to add to the ever-growing list of Levi’s attributes. He doesn’t break contact, not even as he walks. I cling, arms around his neck, thighs locked around his hips, his hands under my ass and hismouth devouring mine. Every step jostles me, every shift of his body sends a bolt through my still-shaking core.
We crash onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and laughter. The second our weight settles, he flips me. His hands on me are gentle but insistent. Lying on my stomach now, I feel him rise from the bed. Next, I hear him unzipping his pants.
I want to look at him. I want to see what Levi is all about from the waist down. I want to see those perfectly sculpted abs and run my fingers over him. But, he’s moved into another mode now. He wants me like this. I don’t ask why.
He nudges my legs apart, palms spanning my buttocks, running his knuckles over the heat of me. I’m still slick and swollen from his mouth, sensitive to the point that every touch is like an electric shock. I bury my face in the comforter and nearly choke on a moan when I feel the blunt head of him, thick and shockingly hot, sliding up between my cheeks. My whole body braces, wanting him, ready for a stretch I know will be just this side of overwhelming.
He slides in slow at first, like he wants to feel every millimeter. I gasp into the mattress, pressing back against him. My thighs tremble, the muscles in my calves starting to seize in the best possible way. Levi pushes deeper, until I’m stretched obscenely wide, the ache blooming into something I want to beg for. He’s big. How could he not be? This man is my dream and I will let him have me any way he wants, any time he wants.
Levi grips my hips, holds me steady as he starts to move. He rocks in slow, careful at first, but the sound I make — raw and needy — spurs him on. The rhythm builds, a push-pull that’s equal parts torment and bliss. I arch my spine and he slides deeper.
Levi groans, a ragged sound, and I know he’s fighting to hold back, to do this slow, to make it last. But I don’t want slow, not right now. I want him to give in.
“Harder,” I whisper. My voice is hoarse, half-muffled in the comforter, but it’s as if he’s been dying for permission. His hands tighten, pinning me in place, and his cock spears deeper, until I can feel him in places I’ve only imagined. I moan loudly, “That’s it, Levi. I want all of you … like this will never end.”
He does. He pounds me like he’s trying to break me open and pour me full of himself, and I want it. The slap of his hips and the animal sound he makes when I squeeze down on him makes me crazy. I feel his fingers on my clit, pressing and probing for the right amount of pressure. My senses are on high alert, my nipples taut with each sensation sending a hot jolt straight to my center.
He rubs my clit rough and fast and I’m already teetering, the edge so sharp I can’t believe I’m going to come again. But he knows what he’s doing, reading every twitch of my hips. He keeps going, relentless, until I shatter a second time, vision whiting out and every nerve ending screaming with pleasure. I bite the comforter so I don’t scream loud enough to wake Ivy.
I collapse, face smushed into the bedding, shaking all over. Levi pulls out slow. He then flips me onto my back, covering my body with his.
His mouth is on mine again, desperate, and I taste the salt of sweat on his upper lip. He tangles his fingers in my hair, then drags them down the length of my body, rough palms skimming the raw, oversensitive places he’s just worked over.
He’s still hard, hot, leaking against my thigh, and the sight of him like that -- jaw clenched, blue eyes dark with need -- makes my whole body tense all over again. He nudges my legs apart, settles between them, and pushes in slow, so achingly gentle after the way he just ruined me.
I clutch his shoulders, nails digging in. We look at each other, faces inches apart, breathing the same humid air, and he slides in and out with a slowness that’s almost a dare. I see thetension in his neck, the cords in his arms, the way he’s holding back with everything he’s got, fighting not to break apart.
My hips cradle his, and I wrap my legs around his waist, digging my heels into the small of his back, hauling him closer, deeper, until every inch of him is inside me and I’m drunk on the way he fills me up. I want to burn this into my memory, every bit of sensation. I’ve never felt wanted like this before. Not by anyone, not even close.
He starts shaking too, biceps flexing where they cage my ribs, and I know he’s close. But he slows, holds back, just watching me with his hair falling over his eyes. “You’re perfect,” he says, voice shredded up by want.
He thrusts deep, the motion rolling through my whole body. Every time he pulls out I try to keep him inside, clench and drag him back, greedy. The more I take, the more he gives. His jaw clenches and he groans into my neck, his breath hot and frantic. I clamp my thighs tighter, possessive, wanting to draw every last ounce out of him.
Sweat beads on his forehead and I lick it away, which seems to short-circuit something deep in him. He slams into me, hips stuttering, and his whole body locks up. He makes a sound I’ve never heard from a man whose completely himself.
I feel him pulsing inside me, hot and wet. It’s pure feral bliss, and I hold him there, greedy for every last twitch of his body shuddering against mine. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this feeling.
He slumps on top of me, heavy and beautiful, breath whistling in my ear. For a long time, neither of us move. There’s a faint, silly smile on my lips, and I realize my eyes are burning, not from tears but from how hard I’m trying to memorize the world exactly as it is in this moment. Levi’s big arms still bracket my head, his body blanketing me, skin stuck to mine, and I’m full -- body, mind, soul.
Finally, he rolls us onto our sides, my back pressed to his front, one arm slung over my waist. He burrows his nose into my hair and breathes there for a long time, just holding on. I can feel his heartbeat like a bass drum against my spine, strong and fast. He presses little kisses to the slope of my shoulder and up the side of my neck, not ready to let me drift off, not yet.
“Hannah, I want you to marry me. We’re perfect together. I love you. I love Ivy. I’ll take care of both of you for as long as God will give me breath,” he whispers.
It punches the air right out of my lungs. I freeze, his words looping in my head, trying to parse the difference between “marry me” and “I want you naked in my bed forever.” I
“Levi, we haven’t known each other …. but a week, maybe?”
“Hannah, I’m sure about you. The question is whether you’re sure about me.”
He says it like he’s talking about the weather, or crop futures, or something else inevitable and rooted, and I have to laugh, because beneath the heat and the haze of oxytocin, my brain is still my brain. Cautious, practical, always circling the perimeter for a trap. “You don’t even know if Ivy will eat your pancakes, let alone if I’ll say yes.”
