Page 16 of Curves for the Mountain Man

With my palm pressed to his rock-hard chest, I roll my hips over his cock to the boom of his heartbeat. Everything else dies away. Nothing exists except for us, a searing union born of pain and death, desperation and hope, and the refusal to give up even when life looks impossible.

His breathing increases as my confidence grows, and I slide up and down his shaft, experimenting with the angle and depth, my heart fluttering in my chest. He closes his eyes, his face flooded with pleasure. Deep groans of approval resonate from his chest. His heartbeat urges my hips faster, and their thrusts deeper, booming powerfully and resonantly beneath my palm as I take more and more of him, falling in love with his thick, powerful rod. My pussy tightens, so slick I’m certain I’ll drench his balls.

“Fuck, yes,” he whispers in reverent tones. “The way you ride me … the way you grip my cock is every-fucking-thing.”

Our eyes lock, a soul-deep connection palpably forged. I long to put it in words, confess my love for him. Yet, as I stare raptly into his eyes, his soul tells me things no language could express.

His body tenses as my gushing channel flutters and grips him more tightly, and our fast-paced pants dominate the cave. Suddenly, pressing his big, rough hand over mine where it rests on his chest, he says, “I need you to let me lead now, Ginger. Do you trust me to do that?”

“Yes,” I answer breathily, so in love with him, I can’t utter another word.

“I want to show you how good you make me feel. How good you ride my cock. I want to make you come.”

“So, I’m doing okay?”

Rubbing my cheek, he says so softly I strain to hear him, “Everything you do, everything you are is fucking perfection.”

His hands slide up my back, gripping my shoulders as he changes the angle of his penetration, hitting the bundle of nerves near the front of my pussy that always gets me off when I masturbate. The thrust of his head over my G-spot sends me floating, enveloped in blissful clouds of desire. My unrestrained moans fill the cave.

His breath comes in frantic gulps, and his flesh dampens with beads of sweat as he spits on his thumb, sinking his hand between our bodies and finding my clit. He circles it expertly, the pressure and speed melting me from the inside out as I scream against his shoulder, riding thick waves of pleasure.

“Come for me, Sweetness.”

The cave fills with the musky scents and harried sounds of rutting—fast-paced breaths, naughty wet noises, and flesh smacking flesh, as Roscoe claims me wantonly. My body flies upward, absorbed in overwrought ecstasy, and I climax hard, trembling and riding his cock as I launch his name lustily into the towering silence of the forest.

He pounds me with his thick rod before burying his head in my hair and sinking his teeth roughly into my shoulder to muffle his scream. Thrusting his hips upwards, he floods my pussy with warm waves of cum as he bruises my hips with his grip. I love the dizzy mixture of desperation and devotion, marked by my mountain man in the most primitive ways.

Chapter

Seven

GINGER

“Well?” Roscoe asks dazedly as our breathing slows. “Are you ready to punch me yet?”

I laugh, feeling the angry spot on my shoulder where he bit me. “I’m not bleeding, but you are.” My eyes round as I look at the fingertips I raise from his clawed back, guilt seizing me.

“It’s all good, Sweetness,” he intones. “I want you to leave your mark on me. Besides, I made a mess of your pussy.”

I exhale sharply, staring at the cave floor until he commands, “Look at me, Sweetness. We need to talk about what happened.”

Worrying my bottom lip, my eyes meet his.

His face twitches, too many emotions washing over his expression for me to read. His voice comes out like a desperate sigh, throbbing and raw, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew it would make you stop, and I didn’t want you to. I needed this experience with you in a way I can’t explain. Like I’m trying to capture a piece of you to keep with me forever.”

He rubs his hand over his face, sighing loudly. “I would have stopped,” he confesses throatily. “How badly did it hurt?” His voice caresses me, tender and soulful.

I shake my head. “I’m fine,” I answer, only half lying. I still straddle him, the pressure from the stretch of his thick cock numbing my pussy.

“I’m guessing you weren’t on birth control?” he asks, an odd edge to his voice. He clenches his jaw, making his beard twitch.

My cheeks flush as I shake my head. His face grows unreadable and impenetrable. “I’m sorry. I should have been more forthright. But the way you make me feel... My brain quits working, and need takes over.”

“Are you ready to pay for this for the next eighteen years?”

“I would pay for it with the rest of my life,” my voice squeaks.

---