Page 12 of The Mountain Man's Bride

The words send a jolt of lust straight to my core. Even though he just gave me three delicious orgasms in a row, I want more. Still, I straighten and put a hand on my hip, glaring at him. “Your pussy? What are you now, some caveman?”

“When it comes to getting inside of you, yeah. I’m a caveman. I want to smell your juices all damn day. I want that sweet, pink pussy always in sight. I want you walking around my cabin knowing that I can slide into you at any time.”

My nipples tighten at his filthy words and my chest heaves. “Is there a rule against shirts too?”

He nods. “Tits as perfect as yours shouldn’t be hidden by clothes. They should be displayed proudly for me to see anytime.”

“You’re serious,” I say as a blush heats my face. “You like my curves that much?”

“I’d never joke about your body,” he insists. “It’s a fuckin’ masterpiece. It’s the kind of art that should be in a museum. But it’s a good damn thing it’s not or I’d have a lot of eyes to gouge out, baby.”

I giggle, delighted by his appreciation for my body. I’ve never met a man who likes me and accepts me so easily. “You’re a possessive caveman.”

“Only because of you.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses a kiss to my forehead.

My stomach growls, and he grins. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”

Crew

I’ve never talked to a woman this way in my life. Never been so dirty with anyone. But there’s something about being around Maggie. She makes me a greedy bastard.

I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to fuck her against every available surface in my cabin. Now that I’ve tasted her sweet nectar, seen her glistening pussy, and felt how hot and tight she is, I need to have her again.

But she’s hungry right now and taking care of her physical needs is just as important to me as providing for her carnal ones.

I move to the stove and scramble some eggs while she goes back to baking her cookies. It’s simple and domestic in a way that things never were with my ex. She would have despised a quiet breakfast together.

I hated the way everything had to be a production. If it wasn’t something we could invite twenty of her closest friends to and post about on social media to make everyone else jealous, then it just wasn’t worth her time or effort.

Pushing the thoughts back, I dish up our food and place the plates onto the table. I slide into the chair and pull her down into my lap. She tries to squirm away from me. “I’m too big for this.”

I tighten my hold on her, determined to ignore the way my dick is brushing against her soft folds. The only thing that’s letting me hold onto my self-control is the knowledge that she’s hungry. I take care of my woman first. Always.

“You’re perfect. Now, stay still.” The words come out as a growl, evidence that she’s pushing at my restraint.

To distract myself, I grab a fork and offer her the first bite.

She glances at me then finally accepts the food. She chews slowly, moaning as she swallows. Watching her pretty little throat work leaves me wondering what it would feel like to watch her wrap those lips around my dick and swallow every last drop of my come.

She catches my eye and blushes when she realizes I’m staring at her. “You can cook.”

“And bake,” I say, taking a bite. Since it’s time to get my mind out of the gutter, I explain, “Ma insisted that all of her boys know how to cook, bake, clean, even sew.”

“I take it she wanted to raise her sons to be good husbands someday.” She bites off a piece of toast. Mischief lights up her chocolate gaze.

“I think that was the plan. Kind of backfired though as none of us have married. Too self-sufficient, I suppose.” I’m the only one of the four of us to have made it to the altar and that wasn’t exactly an experience I care to repeat.

“Does she live around here?” She asks after she takes the sip of orange juice I offer her. She licks a stray drop of the sticky beverage from her bottom lip, the simple motion sending another wave of lust through me.

I fight to stay focused on the conversation. Maybe once I’ve had my cock in her a few million times I’ll be able to concentrate around this woman. “My folks are in Richmond, Kentucky where they raised us.”

She frowns. “What brought you to Mount Bliss then?”

I hesitate. This is not a conversation I particularly want to have with anyone, especially the curvy redhead sitting on my lap. As far as I’m concerned, it happened and it’s over. “Just felt like home, I guess.”

She glances around the cabin then back at me. She shakes her head when I offer her another bite of food. “Do you think you’ll ever find someone to share this place with?”

The timer for her next batch of cookies dings, saving me from having to answer the question. She leaves my lap and already I miss the feel of her body.

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