Page 10 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

“Maybe,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure I believed it.

Then he kissed me again, and the thought slipped from my mind like steam off glass.

He helped me out of the rest of my clothes, peeling my leggings down my hips while his eyes stayed locked on mine. There was heat in that stare, pure and molten, like he wanted to memorize every inch of me.

“Lie back,” he said, voice low and rough.

I obeyed, spreading across the cheap hotel bed with my legs parted, heart pounding like I was about to do something holy.

He dropped to his knees between them and dragged his mouth along the inside of my thigh, beard scraping just enough to make me squirm.

Then his tongue was on me, hot and wet and devastating. I cried out, hips jerking, and he gripped them hard enough to keep me still, like he wanted to watch me fall apart.

And god, I did. He licked and sucked and fucked me with his mouth until I was trembling, begging, one hand fisted in his hair and the other pressed over my mouth to keep from screaming.

“You taste like sin,” he muttered, pulling back enough to slide two fingers inside me. I clenched around him, soaking, desperate. “So fucking wet, Riley.”

“Please,” I gasped. “I need you.Now.”

He stood, eyes blazing, and stripped out of his jeans. When he rolled the condom on, I couldn’t stop staring.

Every inch of him was unreal, cut from steel and ink and heat. My eyes drifted again to the ink on his ribs, where a quote curved just beneath his chest.

Sometimes the fire is the cure.

I didn’t know what it meant, but it felt like I should.

He crawled over me, settling between my thighs again, his cock brushing against my slick entrance.

“Tell me you want this,” he said, voice a warning and a promise.

“I want this,” I whispered, clawing at his back. “I wantyou.”

He thrust into me in one slow, thick push, and I shattered. My back arched, a cry ripped from my throat as he filled me to the hilt, grinding deeper until our hips aligned.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, starting to move… deep, hard strokes that left me panting, clawing, moaning his name like a prayer.

We moved together in a rhythm that felt primal, like my body had been waiting for his all along. Every thrust sent sparks up my spine, my nails dragging down his back as he fucked me harder, rougher, deeper.

“Damn, you feel good,” he muttered against my ear. “Like you were made for this.”

I met every thrust with one of my own, desperate and unrestrained. “Don’t stop. Please, Asher. Don’tfuckingstop.”

His hand slid between us, thumb circling my clit as he slammed into me harder, faster. My orgasm built fast, tight and blinding, and when it hit, I screamed his name, back bowing as I came all over his cock.

He followed with a grunt, hips jerking as he buried himself deep and let go with a raw, broken sound against my neck.

We stayed tangled like that, bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding all crazy, as if we had survived something insane together.

And maybe we had.

CHAPTER TWO

Asher

I wasn’tthe type to linger.

Not after sex, not after drinks, not after anything that evenhintedat strings. I knew the drill: a night of fun, a smile, maybe breakfast if she looked like the type who’d cry if I didn’t stay.

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