Page 48 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

He was big—bigger than I realized, definitely bigger than any previous boyfriend—but he hilted himself in one long, slow stroke, and it felt fucking perfect. Sizzling heat coursed through my whole body as I felt full to bursting.

“Oh, fuck,” Warrick groaned, buried to the hilt, and I coaxed his mouth to mine, kissing him slow and sensual.

Flexing my hips, I gasped; he was touching somewhere deep inside me that had never been touched before, stroking a live wire and rubbing raw nerve. The kiss got harder. Faster. His tongue plunged into my mouth the way I wanted his cock inside my body.

“Hey, cowboy,” I mouthed against his prickly jaw. “Fuck me first, make love to me after.”

“Music to my ears,” he groaned, his thrusts growing from tentative and testing to deeper and deeper still until the square of his hips was smashing into mine. “Christ, you were made to take my cock. Pussy so wet and tight.”

I slid my hand down his neck, to his shoulder, and then he caught it with his fingers encircling my wrist, pushing it down onto the bed, his weight on me. Gripping my hips, he pulled me into his pounding thrusts, his jaw taut with control or restraint; I didn’t know which.

With a growl, he slammed into me deeper and harder than before. Twisting my legs, I clung to the notches of his hips, feeling his muscular buttocks clench and release beneath my heels. I felt the slap of his balls against my perineum and tightened my legs—but he pulled out.

“I want you like this,” he sat on his haunches and pulled me back on his lap. The new angle of his cock hit me like a spear.

My hands flew up to grab the back of his neck while one of his arms came around my middle and the other hand strummed my breast. I bounced on his lap and in counterpoint, he plowed up into me.

I swear his cock was hitting every nerve I had, including some I’d never found before. My eyes slid shut, and I whimpered with pleasure.

We fucked harder and harder, the whole world obliterated except for the pure physical movement of our bodies, raw and hard and rough and like nothing I’d ever even imagined.

I climbed sky-high—and then I was shattering, splintering in half, unravelling, my whole body going tight as a fist around Warrick.

Even while I was coming harder than a fucking supernova, Warrick was relentlessly chasing his own end, holding me tight as he slammed into me. With a roar, he buried his face in the back of my neck, rough grunts on my skin as we rocked together.

Finally, he pulled away and gently let me down to the bed while he left for the bathroom. Did I imagine a little wobble to his walk? My head hit the pillows, my chest heaving, my body feeling lighter than air.

Minutes later, Warrick joined me, his hand sliding up mine until our fingers interlocked and then he closed it, intertwining our hands. I wrapped my other arm around his back, holding him close. I felt his eyes were on me.

“What?” I murmured, sleepily.

He smiled. It was teasing, taunting, a promise of something wicked glinting in his eye. “I think I underestimated you.”

I nuzzled into his chest. “A lot of people do.”

“A mistake I will not be making again,” Warrick said.

“Good.”

“Especially since we’re going fishing tomorrow.”

I woke to the smell of coffee waving near my nose, and even though I was half asleep, I smiled. Looking up, I found him shirtless.

“Your coffee, Sunshine.” He nudged the cup on the nightstand. “I doctored it up best I could for you, a mountain of sugar and a river of milk—I know you like it sweet.”

“I do.”

“Are you sore?” he asked.

I snickered into the pillow. “After the first one when you tore me apart and set me back into my skin, or when you woke after midnight to put me on my hands and knees and fuck me that way… Or what about a couple of hours before when you had me ride you?”

I turned on my back. “I thought you were getting me a defibrillator, not a cup of coffee.”

“You’re going to need it,” he grinned. “We're going fishing, and those fish will put up a fight.”

Sitting up, I risked a fast kiss. It wasn’t just the coffee that was sweet. Warrick Donovan was a far nicer person than most people gave him credit for. “So where are we headed?”

“Get dressed in shorts or something. I have spare waders and a pole for you.”

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