Page 20 of Wrapped Up with the Mountain Man
"Not yet." He lifts his head, his beard wet with me. "I want to be inside you when you come. Want to feel your pussy squeeze my cock."
He moves up my body, positioning himself at my entrance. The thick head of his cock slides through my wetness, back and forth until I’m whimpering with need.
"Look at me," he says softly, waiting until my eyes meet his. "I need to see you. Need to watch your face when I make you mine again."
He pushes forward slowly, and the stretch is exquisite after our time apart. He fills me inch by inch, giving me time to adjust to his size.
"Fuck, Dove," he breathes when he's inside me. "Your pussy feels incredible. So tight, so perfect around my cock."
"Then show me I'm yours."
He starts with slow, deep strokes, each thrust deliberate and measured. This isn't fucking—this is worship, claiming, reconnecting on every level.
"You're so beautiful like this," he says, his eyes never leaving my face. "Taking my cock, those perfect tits bouncing with every thrust. I thought about this every night. Touched myself thinking about being inside you again."
The confession makes me clench around him. "I did too. Touched myself wishing it was you."
"Show me," he demands, his hand catching my wrist and guiding it between us. "Touch yourself while I fuck you. I want to feel you come around my cock."
I circle my clit while he continues those perfect, deep strokes. The combination has me climbing fast toward the edge.
"That's it, baby," he groans, watching my hand work. "Such a good girl, touching that pretty clit while I fill your pussy. You're so fucking perfect. Made for me."
His pace increases gradually, each thrust hitting deeper. One of his hands slides up to palm my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple.
"I love you," he says, his voice breaking. "I love you so much. Every day without you was torture. Never again. I'm never letting you go again."
The raw emotion in his words combined with the perfect rhythm of his cock and my fingers on my clit pushes me over. My orgasm crashes through me, my pussy clenching rhythmically around his thick length as pleasure radiates through every nerve.
"Fuck, yes," he groans, his rhythm faltering. "Your pussy feels so good when you come. So tight around my cock. I'm gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna mark you as mine."
He thrusts deep three more times before he's gone, his cock pulsing inside me as he empties himself with a guttural groan. The feeling of his release, hot and claiming, sends another wave of pleasure through me.
He collapses on top of me, and I hold him close, feeling his heart pound against mine. When he lifts his head, there are tears in his eyes.
"I love you," he says again. "And I'm never wasting another day without telling you."
"I love you too," I whisper, threading my fingers through his hair. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Outside, snow falls on Darkmore Mountain. Inside, wrapped together and finally whole, we've found our way home.
9
Tannon
Christmas Eve - Three Years Later
"Daddy, Santa's gonna find us, right?"
I look up at my son perched on my shoulders, his dark hair sticking up exactly like mine always does, and feel that familiar tightness in my chest that comes with loving someone this much. At two and a half, Danny, named for my late brother, has his mother's green eyes and my stubborn streak, plus an unshakeable faith in Christmas magic that would make his uncle proud.
"Santa always finds the good boys," I tell him, adjusting my grip on his little legs as we trudge through the snow toward our cabin. "And you've been very good this year."
"I helped Mama make cookies!"
"You did. You also ate half the dough."
He giggles, the sound bright in the crisp mountain air. Behind us, Dove follows with our arms full of Christmas Eve supplies from town: hot chocolate mix, marshmallows, and the ingredients for the sugar cookies that have become our tradition.
