Page 34 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

For a second, everything in the world felt quiet. No snow. No scandal. Just her. Just me. Just this.

But I knew it couldn’t stay that way.

Riley Brooks was the definition of temporary. Of too bright and too much and not for keeps.

And still, I wanted more.

She kissed me again, like she wanted to punish me for every second we’d spent pretending we didn’t want this.

This wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t soft.

It was heat and hunger and teeth.

Her hands were already under my shirt, nails dragging up my stomach as she tugged it over my head, tossing it somewhere neither of us cared about.

I caught her wrists, pinning them gently to the wall behind her head as I pressed her against it.

Her breath hitched.

“You like that,” I murmured.

She didn’t answer, just leaned up and bit my lower lip, hard enough to make me groan.

I let her wrists go and gripped her waist, lifting her. She wrapped her legs around my hips without hesitation, grinding against the bulge in my jeans with shameless friction.

Fuck, she was already soaked through her leggings; I could feel the heat of her even through two layers.

I carried her to the bed, dropping her onto the mattress like I owned her, and she stared up at me with that look, the one that dared me to take it further.

Challenge accepted.

I stripped her shirt slowly, just to watch her squirm. The bra underneath was black lace, delicate and sheer, barely covering anything.

My cock twitched hard against my zipper.

“You wore this up here?” I asked, eyes raking over her.

“It’s called hope,” she said, smirking.

I bent down and sucked one nipple through the lace until she gasped, fingers in my hair, legs parting automatically. I dragged my teeth over the peak, then slipped the strap off her shoulder with my mouth.

Every sound she made went straight to my dick.

“Off,” she said, already reaching for my belt. “Now.”

“You first,” I growled, hooking my fingers in the waistband of her leggings and yanking them down her thighs. No teasing now. No restraint.

She was bare underneath, nothing between me and the slick, aching heat of her pussy.

And fuck, she was dripping.

I pushed her knees apart and dropped to the floor like I was worshiping her, because maybe I was. Her thighs trembled when I kissed the crease between her hip and groin, then lower, letting my tongue trace the wet seam of her until she bucked.

“Asher. Fuck.”

I devoured her.

Tongue deep, lips wrapped around her clit, fingers curling inside her until her back left the bed. She grabbed the headboard for something to hold onto while I licked her like it was the only thing I’d ever wanted.

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