Page 17 of Mountain Man's City Girl
Her legs wrap tighter around my waist, heels digging into my lower back. I brace myself on my forearms, changing the angle again, watching her face for reaction. When her eyes flutter closed and her mouth forms a perfect O, I know I've found the right spot.
"Don't stop," she gasps, hands now gripping my shoulders, nails leaving half-moon impressions I'll wear with pride tomorrow.
I maintain the pace, the depth, the angle—fighting my own climbing pleasure to focus on hers. Sweat drips from my forehead onto her chest, sliding between her breasts.
We shift positions, a fluid, instinctual movement. I sit back on my heels, drawing her with me so she's straddling my lap, still joined. This new angle makes us both gasp. She's somehow deeper this way, and I can feel every pulse, every subtle clench of her muscles.
Her hands brace on my shoulders as she begins to move, rising and falling in a rhythm that makes my vision blur at the edges. I grip her hips, not guiding, just holding on as she takes what she needs. Her breasts bounce with each movement, and I lean forward to capture one nipple in my mouth, sucking gently at first, then with more pressure as she moans her approval.
"Victor," she breathes, my name sounding like something sacred on her lips.
I slide one hand between us, finding her clit, circling with just enough pressure to make her movements falter. Her inner muscles tighten around my cock, a preview of what's to come. I'm fighting my own orgasm now, determined to feel her come apart around me first.
She meets my eyes, vulnerability and trust written plainly on her face. It nearly undoes me—this moment of perfect connection, of seeing and being seen. I increase the pressure on her clit, timing the circles with her increasingly erratic movements.
"I'm close," she warns, voice tight. "So close."
We shift again, an unspoken communication leading us back to our original position. Her legs over my shoulders now, opening her completely to me. I drive into her, deeper than before, the new angle making her cry out with each thrust.
I can feel my own release building, a pressure at the base of my spine, in my balls, in every nerve ending where our bodies connect. But I'm determined to hold back, to watch her fall apart first.
"Come for me," I urge, reaching between us to circle her clit with my thumb. "Let me feel you."
She shatters around me, inner muscles clenching rhythmically, pulling me deeper. Her back arches off the bed, a cry that might be my name torn from her throat. The sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, completely abandoned to pleasure—combined with the pulsing grip of her body around mine, is enough to push me over the edge.
My orgasm hits with unexpected force, vision blurring at the edges as I empty myself inside her.
For a moment, we're both still, connected, breathing hard. Then I carefully withdraw and collapse beside her, one arm draped over her waist. She turns to face me, her expression soft, vulnerable.
"I knocked over your lamp," she says suddenly, and I follow her gaze to where my bedside lamp lies on the floor, shade askew.
"Worth it," I reply, and she laughs again, the vibration of it against my chest like a balm.
Chapter 7 – Jade
I wake slowly, swimming up through layers of contentment like a diver rising from deep water. The first thing I register is warmth—Victor's body curved protectively around mine, one heavy arm draped over my waist, his breath steady against my neck. The second is light—golden afternoon sun slanting through the cabin windows, painting everything in amber and honey tones.
I don't move. I can't bear to break this spell, this perfect moment where time feels suspended. Outside, the forest whispers as a soft breeze stirs the pines. Inside, there's just our breathing, synchronized now after hours in each other's arms.
Victor stirs behind me, his arm tightening slightly around my waist. "You're thinking too loud," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
I smile, though he can't see it. "Sorry. Occupational hazard."
"Mmm." His lips brush the nape of my neck. "What time is it?"
I glance at the window, gauging the angle of light. "Late afternoon, maybe six-thirty?"
"We should eat something." But he doesn't move, just nuzzles closer, his beard tickling my shoulder.
"Probably." I turn in his arms to face him, drinking in the sight of him—hair mussed, eyes soft with sleep, the usual hard lines of his face relaxed. "Hi."
His mouth curves in a small smile. "Hi."
For a moment, we just look at each other, the air between us charged with something new and fragile. Then his stomach growls loudly, breaking the spell, and I burst out laughing.
"Dinner it is," I say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before sitting up.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, suddenly aware of my nakedness. Not embarrassed—just aware of his eyes on me as I stand and stretch. I spot his flannel shirt draped over a chair and pull it on.
