Page 20 of Fierce Mountain Man

He didn’t go deep, though. Instead, he stayed at the entrance, moving in and out slightly as his hands began to roam. He slid them over my hips and up my waist, then cupped my breasts as he thrust in and out of me, not going deep.

“Does that feel good?” he asked. “Or does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I said.

It didn’t feel good. Not yet. I wouldn’t expect that, though. I was just glad there wasn’t pain.

“Go a little deeper,” I said.

He couldn’t stay at my entrance forever, but that was exactly what he did. He was afraid to hurt me. So I took matters into my own hands. I pushed backward a little, just as his fingers began running over my nipples. That felt so good, and I tried to focus on it to help take my mind off the sharp pain that had just shot through me.

Yes, I’d gone a little too far. But there was no stopping now.

I gripped the couch hard, telling myself the pain would lessen. It didn’t, though. Seconds passed, then a minute, then two. I gritted my teeth and tried my best to ignore the pain.

But soon, it got easier. And then I felt one of his hands move over my stomach and straight toward that part of me that he already knew so well. Better than I knew it myself, actually.

His finger found my clit and began rubbing it, going in the same motion his tongue had used just minutes earlier. Heat rushed through me at the memory of my two orgasms. And that heat dulled the pain even more. I soon noticed he was holding still, letting me control the movements, and I did just that, backing onto him, then moving forward. Over and over.

I didn’t realize I’d gone even deeper until I heard him let out a groan. He was starting to enjoy this, and no doubt he was holding out.

His fingers began moving faster over my clit, probably hoping I’d come again. Oh shit, was he waiting for me to come again? I didn’t want that kind of pressure. I probably couldn’t do it, not with the pain. This was my first time, after all. I was officially no longer a virgin.

“Oh!” I finally called out.

And that was when I realized the pleasure had definitely overtaken the pain. I was feeling that warm, tingly sensation again. It started at my pussy and made its way through my body, making me breathe a little heavier.

“Oh fuck, that feels good,” I said.

Cussing again. This could become a regular thing with me. Dirty talk in bed. Or on the couch, as the case may be.

“Come for me, baby,” he said. “You’re so wet. You’re so tight. You feel so good.”

“Keep talking,” I said. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“I want to fuck you hard,” he said. “I want to break in that tight pussy and make it mine. All mine.”

“It’s all yours,” I said. “Nobody else’s.”

I didn’t know if that last part made any sense, but it was doing something to me, just knowing that he wanted to make me his. Knowing that he was the only one who’d make love to me for the rest of my life.

“Come for me, baby,” he said. “I can’t wait to fill you with my cum.”

I didn’t know if it was his touch or his words or a combination of both, but what I’d thought was impossible happened. My third orgasm slammed into me, making me cry out as I gripped the couch even tighter, focusing on the feel of his fingers on my nipples and my clit.

I was still in the throes of my orgasm when I heard him call out, and I knew he was doing exactly what he’d said. He was filling me with his cum. Someday, he’d do that, and we’d find out we were pregnant weeks later. We’d start our family right here in this town. In the same town where I would open my bakery.

Finally, too tired to move, we settled onto the couch, him holding me, my legs over his lap. He traced lazy circles over my thigh as we enjoyed just being together.

“You know, there’s still three-fourths of a cheesecake left,” I said.

He chuckled, and the rumble vibrated his chest against my shoulder. “Yeah, I was going to say I could have gone for an even bigger piece. In fact, I might have the whole rest of the thing eaten by the end of the night.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I can make another. With a baker living under your roof, you’ll never have to worry about dessert.”

“And that’s only one of the many things I like about you,” he said.

Soon, “like” would be replaced by “love.” I knew it already. I felt it. But until that time, I’d just enjoy getting to know him.

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