Page 11 of Snowed in with the Mountain Man

I increase the pressure, the pace, driving her toward the edge until I feel her tighten around my fingers, her thighs clamping around my head as she comes with a cry that echoes in the small loft. I work her through it, relentless, until she's pushing at my shoulders, too sensitive to take more.

I move back up her body, kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on my tongue. Her hands roam my back, my ass, pulling me against her. I settle between her thighs again, the head of my cock sliding against her slickness..

I push inside slowly, giving her time to adjust to the intrusion. The sensation is exquisite—tight, wet heat enveloping me inch by inch.

"Fuck," she breathes. "You feel incredible."

I press my forehead to hers, fighting for control. "Give me a second," I grind out. "Or this'll be over embarrassingly fast."

She laughs, the sound turning to a moan as the movement shifts me inside her. "I'll take that as a compliment."

When I trust myself again, I begin to move, setting a steady rhythm. She meets me thrust for thrust, her legs wrapping around my waist, changing the angle until I'm hitting deeper.

"Yes," she gasps. "Right there. Harder."

I comply, driving into her with increasing force, the sleeping bag slipping away as our bodies move together. The cold air hits our sweat-slicked skin, but neither of us notices, too lost in the building pleasure.

"You feel so good," I tell her, my voice rough with exertion and need. "So fucking perfect."

Her nails score my back, urging me on. "Don't stop," she pleads. "I'm going to come again."

I reach between us, finding her clit with my thumb, circling in time with my thrusts. Her inner walls flutter around me, tightening as she approaches her peak.

"Come for me," I urge. "Let me feel you."

She shatters with a cry, pulsing around me, pulling me deeper. The sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, eyes closed in pleasure—pushes me over the edge. My rhythm falters as my release builds, urgent and unstoppable.

"I should pull out," I manage to say, though it's the last thing I want to do.

"No," she says, tightening her legs around me. "I want you. All of you."

That's all it takes. With a final thrust, I bury myself deep and let go, pleasure crashing through me as I empty myself inside her, filling her warm pussy with my seed.

Once I’m empty, I roll to the side, bringing her with me so we're facing each other.

The reality of what we've just done settles over me. Not the act itself—nothing wrong with two consenting adults finding pleasure together—but the complication it adds to an already complicated situation. Because I know, with absolute certainty, that what just happened meant more to me than it probably did to her.

She's watching me, a small smile playing on her lips. "What are you thinking?" she asks, tracing patterns on my chest.

"That you're trouble," I answer honestly.

She laughs softly. "The good kind or the bad kind?"

"The kind that makes a man forget himself." The kind that makes a man want impossible things. Like a city girl deciding to stay in a mountain town. Like a second chance at not being alone.

I don't say these things aloud. Instead, I pull the sleeping bag back over us, tucking her against my side. She comes willingly, draping a leg over mine, her head resting on my chest.

I don’t regret it. Even knowing she'll leave when the roads clear. Even knowing she belongs to a different world than mine. Even knowing this is probably just a storm-induced aberration, a vacation fling for her to tell her city friends about later.

For now, she's in my arms, warm and sated, her breathing slowing as sleep reclaims her. The storm still rages outside, but here, we've created our own shelter against the cold. Temporary, but no less real for it.

I tighten my hold on her slightly, allowing myself this moment of pretending it could last. Tomorrow will come with its own complications. But for tonight, she's mine.

And I'll take what I can get.

five

Phoebe

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