Page 7 of Picked By the Mountain Man
I squeal with surprise as I’m doused.
“Shit!” Keaton exclaims, running toward the pump house.
A moment later the water stops, but the damage is done. A significant amount of water covers the ground around the hole, which is filled to the top. Keaton returns and is dripping as much water as I am.
“Well, if there wasn’t a leak before, there sure as hell is now.” He shakes his head with a smirk.
Giggles overtake me at the situation because if I don’t laugh, I just might cry.
His rough chuckle sobers me up, sending goosebumps over my flesh from the sexy sound. His wet clothes are plastered to his body, leaving little to the imagination. A growl from him drags my gaze from where it’s locked on his mammoth pecs. The heat in his eyes when mine meet his has me inhaling sharply with a whimper.
He reaches out, taking my hand, tugging me from the worst of the mess into his hold. His mouth slams to mine as he devours me. His hands run down my back to my butt where they cup the flesh and pull me into him.
Our tongues entwine as my hands reach up to tangle in the wet strands of his dark shaggy hair. My body heats from head to toe as he works my mouth, seemingly intent on exploring every last inch. My nipples tighten to hard peaks aching to be touched.
Every nerve ending is at attention as Keaton surrounds me with all he is. His earthy, musky scent with each inhale. The rough glide of his hands on my flesh where they’ve worked their way under my shirt. His groans I can just hear above the buzzing in my ears. The faint taste of mint and coffee on his tongue.
His hands leave trails of sparks as they explore my bare skin. Each brush of his lips against my flesh, each slide of his fingers has me climbing higher and higher. We’re both still fully clothed, yet my body is primed for a climax, which I’m positive will leave me reeling.
Chapter Eight
Keaton
I’m harder than granite for this woman, who is melting in my arms. There’s no way I could keep myself from consuming her after seeing her standing there dripping wet, fabric clinging to each and every lush curve.
When she burst into laughter, my heart stuttered at the sight of her with her head thrown back, absolutely overcome with hilarity. I was struck with the urge to do whatever I could to cause such a reaction in her again every day for the rest of my life.
Only the desire to have her in my arms coming apart like she currently is trumps the former. She tastes like heaven with a body made for sin, and sinning is what I’m about to do, because the only thing that could stop me from having her here and now is the woman herself. Given how she is giving as good as she’s getting, I don’t see us stopping anytime soon.
I stumble backwards, blindly finding my way to my side-by-side we drove over here, tugging her along with me. Not once do I lose contact on her skin with my mouth as I do. I’m a starvingman, and she is manna from the heavens. She tastes like the sweetest dessert, and I can’t get enough.
When we make it to the vehicle, I pull away only so I can peel her clothes, heavy with water, awkwardly from her body. Brushing my lips across the delectable curves revealed as I go.
Dropping the tailgate of the bed, I lay my shirt on the surface after shedding the cumbersome fabric. When I look up, I catch Becca chewing on her thumbnail, heat flaring in her eyes as they wander over my chest. It puffs at her appreciation.
“Fuck. C’mere baby.” I tug on her hand, dragging her into me, relishing in the feel of her bare skin against mine.
My hands slide down her back to mold her ass cheeks as I capture her lips once again with mine. Her whimper has my hard cock weeping. Lifting up on her ass, I place her on top of my shirt covering the bed before stepping between those thick thighs.
I work my way down to her tits, swirling and sucking the beaded peaks. My hand moves to the apex of her thighs, my fingers spearing through the wet folds there. Her head falls back as her hands clench the strands of my hair, pulling tight. The sting of pain only ramps me up further.
Slipping a thick digit into her tight heat brings a long moan from her. My thumb circles her swollen clit, and she bucks against my hand. I plunge my finger in and out of her as her whimpers fall on top of one another. My balls draw up tight at the sound.
I’ve never had a woman respond like this, matching my own need. In fact, I’ve never felt such a need for a woman in the past, like if I don’t have her right this very moment, I might cease to exist.
Pulling my fingers from her, I quickly unbuckle my pants, shoving them down, then slam home to the root. She cries out at the intrusion, and my forehead drops to hers, hands gripping her hips as I fight for control.
“Fuck, you’re so tight. I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”
Her head shakes. “No, I’m just so full, but it feels amazing. God, it’s never felt like this.”
My chest puffs at her words, but then my heart skips a beat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”
“We’re good. I’m covered.”
“Thank fuck.”
With that, I begin to rock in and out of her, pulling out to the tip before slamming back inside her. Her walls squeeze me like a vise, and my eyes roll back in my head. My breathing becomes so ragged I sound like an eighty-year-old smoker attempting to sprint. Sweat streams down my back as I fight the urge to blow far too soon.
