Page 28 of Rescued By the Mountain Guide

His eyebrow lifts questioningly.

"For trusting me with that part of yourself."

Understanding flickers in his eyes—then deepens, softens. Vulnerability ghosts across his expression, a rare crack in the steel. He doesn’t speak. Just presses his lips to my forehead, reverent, lingering. And something in me splits open.

The moment stretches. Then snaps.

He takes my mouth like he’s starving, hands already sliding under the blanket, yanking me beneath him. No hesitation. No gentleness now. Just hunger. Frenzied. Feral.

The blanket is gone. So are the limits. He shoves me back against the cot, mouth crashing into mine, hands everywhere—ruthless, desperate, claiming.

Outside, the blizzard howls like it wants in.

Inside, he dismantles me piece by piece.

I’m on my knees, arms braced, chest to mattress, hips high. His cock slams into me from behind, deep and merciless, the slap of our bodies drowned only by the wind shrieking through the trees.

Then his hand moves—slow across the curve of my ass. Testing. Teasing.

The first strike lands sharp.

A gasp tears from my throat. My spine arches. My fingers claw the sheets.

He doesn’t stop. Another slap. Harder. Then again.

The sting ripples through me—white-hot, pure and perfect. My muscles lock, then melt.

“You love that,” he growls behind me, voice shredded with hunger. “Smacking your ass while I fuck you raw.”

A fourth strike. Then a fifth. Each one timed between thrusts, brutal percussion that drives me deeper into the mattress. My moans turn shameless—needy, wrecked.

I bite down on a whimper and he laughs—low and wicked.

“That’s right. Let it out.”

He fucks me harder. Spanks me again.

And again.

By the time he slows, my skin burns and my pussy throbs, stretched tight around him, soaked and trembling.

Then—he pulls out.

A shocked sound slips from me, desperate and wrecked, but before I can speak, I’m weightless.

He lifts me like I weigh nothing.

Spins me.

Tosses me onto the cot with a growl that sounds like it’s been waiting years to break free. The mattress groans under the impact, the heat of his body crashing over mine as he shoves my thighs open and covers me with his own.

His mouth claims mine in a brutal kiss—no softness, no mercy. Just teeth, tongue, command.

Then his hand finds my throat. Not choking. Just holding. His fingers tighten.

My breath stutters—and instinctively, my hands fly up to his wrist.

His gaze snaps to mine, wild and blazing.

---