Page 82 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

I leaned in, close enough that my lips barely touched him, and exhaled slow and warm across the length of him.

I didn’t move fast. Didn’t give him what he wanted. Not yet.

Asher’s hand fisted in my hair, not to pull, not to guide, only to feel. To anchor himself as I drove him out of his mind.

“Riley.” he warned, voice wrecked already.

I smirked and did it again, another slow puff of hot breath against sensitive skin. Then I dragged my tongue lightly along the base of him, tracing a line upward before pulling back again.

Teasing. Testing. Rewarding myself with the way his thighs tensed and his jaw clenched like he was barely holding on.

Behind me, I could feel Beckett’s breath on my back, one hand smoothing down the curve of my spine like he was proud. As if this was a show, and he was savoring every second of the performance.

Garrett moved around us, circling, his presence dark and electric as he watched me take control.

“You trying to kill him?” Beckett murmured, his voice low and rough as gravel.

“Maybe,” I replied, lips brushing along Asher’s tip as I spoke. “He said we hadall night.”

Asher groaned, the sound ripped from somewhere deep in his chest.

I gave him a long, slow lick, then another, deliberately pausing to blow across the wet trail, watching him twitch in response.

He was cursing now, muttering under his breath, but he didn’t stop me. Didn’t guide me. He was letting me have this. Letting me drive.

And I loved it.

I flattened my tongue and took him in slow, inch by inch, while his hand tightened in my hair. The control was all mine, but the power?

It was theirs, too.

They watched me fall apart and take control in the same breath. Watched as I found some new version of myself, one who knew exactly what she wanted.

When I pulled back again, saliva glistening on my lips, Asher’s head dropped back against the couch, his chest heaving.

“Fuck,” he gritted out. “What are you trying to do to me?”

I didn’t answer him. Not with words, anyway.

Instead, I slid my lips over him again, slow and deep this time, until his breath caught and his fingers tensed in my hair like he was holding on for dear life.

His thighs flexed beneath my hands as I set a rhythm, letting my tongue curl around him with every pass, hollowing my cheeks to hear the way he groaned when I did.

“Fuck, Riley.” He sounded barely human now.

Behind me, Beckett was stroking my spine again, and Garrett let out a low curse from somewhere nearby. I could feel their eyes on me, onus, the room humming with heat and focus.

Asher tried to hold back. I could feel the tension coiling in his body, the way his hips jerked slightly, fighting against the need to thrust.

I wasn’t letting him. Not yet. This was mine. My pace. My game.

I pulled back with a softpop, licking the head with the tip of my tongue, teasing that spot I’d already learned made him twitch.

“Fucking hell, Riley, I regret it, okay? I regret teasing you!”

“Thought you might.”

Then I wrapped my lips around him again—no more teasing, just full commitment. Deeper. Hungrier. Determined to take him apart completely.

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