Page 20 of Christmas With The Broken Mountain Man
"You do matter." I run my hands up the backs of her legs, cupping her bottom. "More than I can say."
I guide her to sit on the edge of the bed, then kneel between her thighs. Her eyes widen as she realizes my intent.
"You don't have to?—"
"I want to." I press kisses to her inner thighs, working my way inward. "I want to taste you, feel you come apart on my tongue. But only if you want that too."
She bites her lip, then nods, lying back and allowing her thighs to fall open. It's an act of tremendous trust—allowing herself to be so vulnerable, so exposed. I don't take it lightly.
I start slow, gentle kisses along her inner thighs, gradually working closer to her center. When I finally taste her with a long, deliberate stroke of my tongue, she gasps, hips lifting off the bed. I place a steadying hand on her stomach, holding her in place asI explore, learning what makes her tremble, what draws those sweet, broken sounds from her throat.
"Mason," she breathes, one hand fisting in my hair. "That's... I've never..."
I look up, momentarily pausing. "Never?"
She shakes her head, cheeks flushed with both arousal and what looks like embarrassment. "He never... he’s the only man I’ve ever been with, and he said he didn't like it."
Anger flares hot in my gut, but I push it down. This isn't about him. It's about her, about us, about replacing bad memories with good ones.
"His loss," I say, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. "Because you taste incredible."
I return to my task with renewed determination, circling her clit with my tongue before drawing it between my lips. Her thighs begin to tremble as I slide one finger inside her, then two, curving them forward to find the spot that makes her cry out.
"Oh God," she gasps, her back arching. "Mason, I'm going to?—"
"Let go," I encourage her, increasing the pressure and speed of both my tongue and fingers. "I've got you."
And she does, coming apart with a cry that might be my name, her inner walls pulsing around my fingers, thighs clamping around my head. I work her through it gently, easing back as the tremors subside, pressing soft kisses to her sensitized flesh.
When I finally raise my head, she's staring at me with something like wonder, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat on her skin making her glow in the moonlight.
"Come here," she says, voice raspy with spent desire.
I stand, quickly shedding the rest of my clothes before joining her on the bed. She surprises me by pushing me onto myback, straddling my thighs. Her confidence is a beautiful thing to witness.
"My turn," she says, tracing her fingers down my chest to my stomach, following the trail of hair that leads lower.
When she wraps her hand around me, I nearly lose control then and there. It's been so long, and the sight of her—flushed with pleasure, eyes dark with desire, her small hand working me with growing confidence—is almost too much.
"Destiny," I warn, my voice strained. "If you keep that up, this will be over embarrassingly fast."
She smiles, a flash of feminine power in her expression. "Next time I want to taste you too," she says, and the promise of "next time" makes my heart swell. "But right now, I need to feel you inside me."
She positions herself over me, then pauses, uncertainty flickering across her face. "I'm on the pill," she says. "And I'm clean. But if you want to use something?—"
"I'm clean too," I assure her. "Had my physical three months ago. But we can use protection if you'd prefer."
She shakes her head. "I want to feel you. All of you."
The significance of this trust isn't lost on me. She lowers herself slowly, taking me in inch by inch, both of us groaning at the exquisite sensation. When she's fully seated, she stills, adjusting to the feeling of me inside her.
"You feel incredible," I tell her, hands on her hips, resisting the urge to thrust upward.
"So do you." She begins to move, finding a rhythm that has us both gasping. "So full. So good."
I let her set the pace, watching in awe as she takes her pleasure. Her head falls back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, her breasts bouncing gently with each movement. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
But I can tell she's holding back, still not fully letting go. I sit up, changing the angle, wrapping one arm around her back while my other hand finds where we're joined.
