Page 51 of Ghost of Talon Mountain
"So wet for me," I murmur against her breast.
"Your fault." She rocks against my hand, seeking more pressure. "Chris, please."
I work her with steady pressure, circling and teasing her swollen center, watching her face as pleasure builds. Her eyes flutter closed, lips parted, breath coming in short bursts. Stunning and undone. The sight of her losing control sends a surge of possessive need through my veins. Mine. At least for tonight, she's mine.
When I slide two fingers inside her, she cries out, inner muscles clenching around me. Hot and tight, her body gripping me. I pump slowly, curling my fingers to stroke that spot deep inside that makes her writhe. Her hips lift off the sleeping bag, grinding against my palm.
"There," she gasps. "Right there, don't stop."
I don't. I work her higher, adding my thumb to circle her swollen bud while my fingers drive deeper, faster. Her hands scramble for purchase on my shoulders, nails digging crescents into my skin. The sting only feeds my hunger. I want her marks on me. Want proof this happened, that she wanted me as desperately as I want her.
Her walls start to flutter around my fingers, tightening in warning. "Chris, I'm?—"
"Not yet." I slow my movements, keeping her on the edge. "Want you to come on my cock, not my fingers."
She whimpers in frustration, vulnerable and needy. "Then get inside me."
"I want inside you." My voice comes out rough, barely controlled. "Want to feel you come around me. Want to watch your face when you fall apart."
"Yes." She pulls me up, kissing me hard, tasting herself on my lips. "Now. Need you now."
I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock sliding through her wetness. The sensation makes my vision swim. So hot. So ready for me. "Tell me if I hurt you."
"You won't." Her legs wrap around my hips, heels pressing into my lower back, opening herself completely. The movement tilts her pelvis, making penetration deeper. "Stop being careful and just?—"
I slide into her in one smooth thrust, cutting off her words with a cry that echoes through the cave. She's slick and welcoming, her body yielding to mine. Every nerve ending inmy cock fires at once, pleasure so intense it steals my breath. I freeze, giving her time to adjust, fighting the primal urge to move.
Nothing but pleasure on her face—pupils blown wide, lips swollen from my kisses, a flush spreading down her throat to her breasts. Her inner muscles ripple around me, adjusting to my size.
Sierra's nails rake down my back, leaving burning trails. "Move."
I do. Slow at first, controlled strokes that let me feel every inch of her wrapped around me. The drag of her tight channel along my shaft sends electricity racing up my spine. She's so damn wet, easing my way, her body yielding and welcoming. The sounds are obscene—wet flesh meeting flesh, her gasps, my rough breathing.
She meets me thrust for thrust, hips rolling in a rhythm that threatens my control. The sleeping bag rustles beneath us, the scent of sex thick in the enclosed space. Each withdrawal leaves me aching for the next plunge. Each thrust seats me deeper, her heat surrounding me completely, gripping me from base to tip.
"Harder," Sierra demands, and I lose the last threads of restraint.
I drive into her with focused intensity, angling to hit that spot deep inside that makes her gasp my name. The new angle lets me go deeper, hitting places that make her whole body jerk. Her nails score my shoulders as she clings to me, legs locked around my waist, heels digging into my ass to pull me deeper still.
"That's it." I drop my head to her neck, tasting salt and heat, the wild flutter of her pulse. My teeth graze her throat, not quite biting. "Let me hear you."
She does. Moans and gasps and broken syllables that might be my name. The sounds shoot straight through my control, making me thrust harder, faster. I watch her face, memorizingthe way pleasure transforms her features—lips parted, eyes half-closed, that fierce expression softened into something raw. Her responses feed my hunger, drive me harder.
Sweat slicks our bodies despite the cold air. The cave amplifies every sound—the slap of flesh, her cries, my grunts. Primal and raw.
"Chris." Her walls start to pulse around me, tightening in waves that grip my cock. "I'm close."
"Come for me." I shift the angle slightly, grinding against her swollen center with each stroke, hitting deeper. My pelvis rubs against her with every thrust, adding friction where she needs it most. "Let go, Sierra. I've got you."
She shatters with a cry that fills the cave, her body arching under mine as the orgasm crashes through her. Her sex clamps down on me in rhythmic pulses, milking my cock, drawing me so deep I see stars. The sensation of her coming around me is exquisite—hot pulsing contractions that squeeze me.
The sight of her face transfixed in pleasure, body trembling beneath mine, her sex convulsing around me—it drags me over the edge with her. I bury myself to the hilt as my own climax hits, her name torn from my throat, body shaking with the force of it. My cock jerks inside her, spilling deep, marking her from the inside.
Nothing exists beyond this moment—her body wrapped around mine, our hearts hammering together, pleasure so intense it borders on pain. I thrust through the aftershocks, shallow movements that prolong our mutual release, unwilling to let it end.
Finally, I still, buried deep inside her, both of us trembling and panting. The cave's cold air creeps back in, cooling the sweat on our skin, but the heat between us doesn't fade. I pull out carefully and she whimpers at the loss. I roll to my side, gathering her against me so her injured shoulder staysprotected. The bandage shows a fresh spot of crimson—we'll need to change it again—but her expression holds no regret.
Sierra's hand traces lazy patterns on my chest, fingertips following old scars. "I'm not sorry."
