Page 30 of Rescued By the Mountain Guide

“You want to come?” His breath scorches my cheek, hips never losing their brutal rhythm. “Then you’ll fucking earn it.”

My mouth parts on a silent cry, body arching, frantic.

He growls—low and lethal—and shifts, angling deeper. His cock slams into a spot that detonates fireworks behind my eyes. My thighs quake. My nails dig into the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto.

But there’s nothing but him.

Nothing but the endless assault of pleasure and pain and dominance I can’t escape.

He leans down, lips dragging over the shell of my ear.

“Open your eyes.”

I try—I do—but they flutter closed again when his thrusts go even harder.

A warning rumble escapes his throat.

“Open. Your. Fucking. Eyes.”

I force them wide, vision blurred with tears, every nerve ending lit like a fuse.

“That’s it,” he snarls. “Watch me. While I break every fucking part of you.”

Then, his hand slips between my legs again.

Two fingers. Ruthless pressure. Fast, rough circles that rip a scream from my throat.

I try to twist. Try to hold back.

I can’t.

It’s too much. Too fast. Too him.

I break.

The orgasm crashes through me, savage and raw, a violent unraveling that shreds me from the inside out. I scream his name, body seizing beneath his, back arching off the bed as wave after wave rolls through me.

Jackson doesn’t slow.

Doesn’t soften.

He fucks me through it, into it, past it—until I’m sobbing, twitching, clinging to the last thread of reality while he wrings every last ounce of pleasure from my ruined body.

When he comes, it’s a growl torn from his chest, hips jerking hard as he empties into me. He holds me down—pressed, pinned, possessed—every inch of his body screaming ownership.

And then he stills.

The silence crashes in like an aftershock.

I’m limp beneath him. Shattered. Marked.

His.

He doesn’t let go. Doesn’t speak. Just breathes against my skin, like maybe I broke him, too.

Chapter8

Until The Fire Dies

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