Page 39 of Mountain Man Bad Boy

“I thought you were asleep,” I whispered.

“Nope,” he said.

He pulled his shirt off, throwing it basketball-style into the laundry bin. I eyed his chest, faintly visible in the brushstrokes of streetlight that filtered through the window. I put a hand against him, urging him down on the bed.

“When I first saw you, you looked like this,” I said reverently. “You had taken your shirt off and were lying on the bed.”

“And you wanted to kiss me then,” he guessed, sliding a hand between my knees.

“I did,” I admitted.

“You can kiss me now if you want.” I smirked. He defied my attempt to position him and rose up on his elbow.

I leaned forward, meeting him halfway. His lips were firm and insistent, the kiss slow. I basked in the attention, losing my balance and toppling into him. He wrapped an arm around my back to stabilize me, never breaking the kiss. I could feel heat beginning to rise in all parts of my body, from my shoulders down to my toes.

He reached a hand up to cup my scalp, running his fingers through my hair just as I had hoped he would. I felt the last traces of despair melt away under the intensity of our embrace. I forgot all about my problems as the solid wall of his chest contracted and lengthened with his movements.

As the kiss deepened, the rest of my figure began to itch for some of the same love that my lips were receiving. I slid my feet up onto the bed, straddling him, though we both still wore our jeans. I sat up, letting my hair flow naturally past my shoulders, arching my chest to build the excitement. He looked up at me with longing in his eyes. Even in the dim light, I could see his expression. It was equal parts disbelief and hunger, everything a girl wants in a man she’s about to share her body with.

He slid his palms from my thighs to my buttocks, squeezing me through the denim. Continuing the journey, he fit his thumbs under the hem of my shirt and slid it up, uncovering my bra. I ducked beneath the fabric, aiding him in his quest to remove it. He cupped both breasts in his palms, rubbing gentle thumbs across the curves. I moaned when his exploration reached my nipples, already sensitive and pebbled beneath their casing.

He used his core muscles to sit up, capturing me in an embrace that rocked us both in our seats. I was beginning to feel the pulse of his erection beneath my crotch, a welcome foreshadowing of things to come. He undid the clasp of my bra, sliding the garment down my shoulders and off onto the floor.

Now we were both naked from the waist up, and our skin was free to feel every erotic sensation. He cupped my jaw, reclaiming my mouth as if he wasn’t done with it yet. His fingers raced up and down my spine, growing in their intensity. My breasts were crushed to his shoulders, the movements his arms made driving me crazy.

I slid my fingernails across his scalp, feeling sawdust stir in their wake. He refused to end the kiss, hungry for more. I ground my hips down against his, searching in vain for that release. He lowered his hands to my waist and flipped me over expertly so I was lying on my back. With nimble fingers, he undid the button beneath my navel, pulling my pants and my underwear down in one sudden move.

I lay before him, completely nude, at the mercy of his affections. He took a moment to appreciate me, a moment I felt embarrassed and on display. When he finally moved, it was to suckle at one of my breasts, lavishing the nipple with a gentle tongue. He drew circles around my areola, tighter and tighter until he reached the peak. Drawing back, he blew on the swollen mound, causing a delicious shiver to race across my flesh.

Porter moved on to the remaining breast, cupping it in one hand like an apple ripe for the picking. He drew my hardened nub between his lips, engaging a suction that skyrocketed me to heaven. I wriggled beneath his teasing, aching for more, desperate for a release. He left my chest with a trail of kisses descending from one peak to the valley between them and then on to my navel.

A deep longing settled in my stomach. His lips were fire, burning a trench through my heart as he worked his way down. Bright lights exploded behind my eyes at the first brush of fingers against my intimate skin. He caressed my two outer folds, gently sweeping back and forth. The breath left my body, hanging in the air above me as he dipped first one finger and then two between the lines.

Inside, I felt him probing sweetly, using my own wetness to lubricate my clit. He swirled his finger around, slipping in and out, circling the sensitive flesh and dancing back inside. My eyes flew open, every muscle in my body tensing in unison. I tried to draw my legs up, but he held them fast, playing the piano of my core. I felt him dip further and further inside, alighting a flame of desire.

I cried out his name, urging him on. He obeyed my command, adding a third finger to the mix, rubbing the outer nub with his thumb. I couldn’t see, and I couldn’t think straight. I was dangerously close to the top of the tower, and there was only one thing I needed. I wanted him inside me now. Not his fingers or his tongue, but his cock.

“I need you,” I rasped, painfully suppressing any further pleasure.

He stood up, pulled his pants off, and kicked them away. In the light from the window, I could see him at the side of the bed, all muscle, stroking his tool. I knew how it would feel, like heaven sliding between my thighs. The waiting was torture; my entire body was lit with a thirst that I couldn’t quench alone.

He came down on top of me, one knee between my legs. I slid closer, eager to end the anticipation. I was all want when he filled me up, a trembling ball of desire. The further he sunk, the greater the relief, until his hips met mine and we fused, becoming one. Pleasure washed over me, the sensation of being complete filling my heart with joy. Every inch of my passageway stretched happily, aroused by his movement.

He pressed down first, as low as he could go, spreading my legs wide. Flexing his back, he raised up like an oil drill pumping for crude. He raked his manhood in and out, hitting that sweet spot deep within that I couldn’t touch for myself. I felt the swell of the ocean rising beneath me, pleasure drawing me inexorably forward.

Just as I was about to cry out in relief, he slid out, leaving me vacant. He reached for my arm, leading me gently toward the head of the mattress. I flipped over onto all fours, following his instructions. He drew my hair aside like a curtain, feathering kisses along my neck. I locked my legs around his, pressing my ass against his erection.

I could hear him chuckle and felt a wave of embarrassment. It was gone the moment he delivered on his promise, entering me from behind. His body curved around me, his chest to my back, his cock buried deep inside. He held me close, one hand lovingly caressing my breast and the other stabilizing us on the bed. The world narrowed to just the two of us, just this room, just this bed. I had no way to express the joy I was feeling, no way to capture the moment besides rocking with him as he filled me over and over again.

Each thrust was pure pleasure, every sensation over-the-top. I was so hungry to be touched, I felt like a quivering lioness, conquered by her king. He found my other breast with one hand and lit two flames at once, rubbing and fucking until the dam between us broke. It felt so raw and hot and too good to be true. I felt the orgasm as one explosive triumph took hold of me, draining all the tension and anxiety away.

He ground himself deep, releasing his load into me as he clutched my hips. In that instant, I felt him further along my canal, so deep he almost touched my heart. We luxuriated there in the strain of coupling for a heartbeat, each one fighting to draw closer together. Breath came back to me in gasps. I collapsed against the pillow, my hair falling all over the place. Porter clung to me as aftershocks gripped his torso, his member doing its final internal dance before surrender.

I treasured all of the sensations, those last few minutes we were conjoined. But finally, we had to move. He dragged himself free, leaving me satisfied, tiny little quakes shaking through my stomach. I felt his hand on the base of my spine and a shift in the mattress as he moved.

“Are you hungry?” he said almost immediately, climbing off the bed instead of dropping down beside me.

I realized I was famished. I had been in the middle of lunch when George had called, and his intrusion had soured me to my final taco. I didn’t know what time it was now, but it was late. I hadn’t had anything to eat in what must have been close to twelve hours.

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