Page 8 of Fighting for the Mountain Man

That moan was what took my arousal to the next level. I never realized how good it could feel to give a man pleasure, especially a man as strong and smart and hot as Bryce. It urged me forward with the goal of eliciting more signs that I was turning this guy on.

His hands, meanwhile, were under my blouse. His right hand had made its way to my left breast. I’d worn a sports bra earlier that day, but when I showered, I changed into the cream-colored, lacy one I’d bought a while back for when I wanted to feel sexy. My hope was one way or another, Bryce would see my bra before the night was over.

When he pulled my hand away from his erection, I worried I was doing something wrong. Maybe I’d grasped it a little too hard—just how sensitive was it? But he immediately communicated his plans by lifting my blouse over my head and tossing it to the floor, then putting a hand on each hip and easily lifting me up to set me on the table—the same table he’d been eating on just minutes earlier.

My earlier fantasies of slow, passionate lovemaking in a bed seemed boring now. I was on a table in a trailer that had people in and out of it throughout the day. It was unlikely we’d be discovered this time of night, but just knowing it was possible sent a fresh wave of heat to my pussy.

Without taking his intense stare off my face, he unfastened my pants, then lowered the zipper. They were a little snug, but he managed to easily slide them off me. I just had to lift my butt off the table so I wasn’t trapping the fabric underneath me.

And then I wore only my bra and panties, having kicked off my shoes to make it easier to remove my pants. I leaned back, propping my hands on the table, and he moved between my legs, parting them with his own, leaning over to kiss me.

I wanted to touch him. All of him. So I tugged at his T-shirt until he pulled it up over his head and tossed it off to the side too. My hungry gaze took in the hard muscles there. He was beautiful. Perfect. Straight out of my fantasies. And he wanted me.

He leaned over to kiss me again, letting me explore his chest as his tongue probed my mouth. But then his fingers slid beneath the elastic waistband of my panties and I lost track of my own hand movements.

He moaned against my mouth as his fingers slid inside me, and then he pulled away and murmured, “You’re so fucking wet, Sloane.”

This time I did sigh, the sound seeping out of lips that were no longer covered by his. He’d pulled back a little and was looking down at me, his heated stare only making me wetter. When he withdrew his finger, I whimpered a little. I wanted him to keep doing that—especially the part where he rubbed the little nub that sent sparks shooting through me with every brush of his finger.

But he wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot. He looped his fingers under each side of my panties and tugged, sliding them off me and discarding them with the rest of the clothes. As he knelt in front of me, my overriding thought was that this was the first man to ever see that part of my body. I felt safe with him.

Tonight, I was crossing an important threshold. I was going from an innocent twenty-three-year-old to a woman who’d been naked in front of a man. And touched his penis. And no telling what else we were going to do.

The first of those things was him sliding a finger back inside me as his gaze connected with mine. When I closed my eyes and threw my head back, he seemed to take that as his cue to go further. His tongue connected with the part of me that had responded so well to his touch seconds earlier.

But he kept his finger inside me too, sliding in and out as his tongue flicked back and forth, back and forth. I cried out, hand going to my lace-covered breast. When I realized lace covered the nipple, I moved to the other one and slid my fingers beneath the cup.

I was shocked at how sensitive my nipples were. I’d gone for years not knowing what one little touch could do. When combined with the feel of his tongue and finger, my entire body was filled with sensations I’d never experienced. Sensations I wanted to last forever.

Those sensations only intensified in the seconds to follow. I cried out as my body seemed to vibrate—starting as a low hum, then growing. I gripped the edge of the table with the hand that had touched my breast seconds earlier and rode out my first-ever orgasm. Bryce didn’t stop until I sat up and looked down at him.

“That was…wow,” I gasped.

He pushed himself to a standing position and moved between my legs. As before, he leaned over and we shared a long, slow kiss. It was a kiss that told me just how much all of this meant to him.

Yes, this was definitely more than a one-time thing. This was the man I’d be with for the rest of my life. As we kissed, my hands were already moving. They slid across his hips and pushed both his underwear and pants down.

I broke the kiss to see what I’d been touching earlier. My eyes widened. I never imagined a penis could be so…substantial. He was a big guy, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but I was a virgin.

Would that hurt? I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to remind him just how much of an amateur I was. So instead, I looked up at him as I wrapped my hand around it, sliding all the way from the tip to the base.

“Can I taste you?” I asked.

His eyes slid closed, and he sucked in a deep breath. Then, slowly, he began nodding.

“You can do anything you want, darling,” he said.

The low rumble of his voice went straight to my pussy. I found myself once again getting aroused. Did this guy have any idea what he could do to me with just a few words? With just one look?

I kept my hand at the base while I leaned forward and slid my lips around the tip. No way could I fit the entire thing in my mouth, but I went as far as I could, using my hand to make up the rest. And then I moved them together, both hand and mouth, sliding as deep as I could go, then pulling out again and repeating the process.

I was so caught up in what I was doing, I barely noticed the noises he was making. But then I felt his fingers slide across the nape of my neck, eventually tangling in my hair.

He stepped back a little, pulling out, and when I looked up at him, I saw why. The heat in his stare had doubled, maybe tripled. I didn’t even think his stare could get more intense. I was testing the last bits of his restraint.

“I want to come inside you,” he said. “But I don’t have protection.”

“I’m on birth control,” I said. “But…”

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