Page 125 of Mountain Daddy

Jesus.

My fingers tighten in his hair as his lips hover—so fucking close.

“Been dreaming about this,” he growls. “Jerking off to the thought of you moaning my name, riding my face. Gonna make it real now, baby. Gonna ruin you with my mouth.”

And when his tongue finally drags over me—slow, possessive, fucking filthy—I swear I feel like I’ve met heaven.

His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider. His mouth finds me again—hot, wet, hungry. His tongue slides through my folds, and my head falls back against the wall with a thunk.

“Fuck,” I gasp. “Oh, fuck.”

His tongue circles my clit. Teasing. Testing. Finding the rhythm that makes my hips buck against his face.

One finger slides inside me, then two. Curling. Hitting that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.

“That's it,” he murmurs against me. “Let me hear you.”

I'm beyond holding back. Beyond caring how I sound. Beyond anything but the sensation of his mouth, his fingers, his breath hot against my pussy.

My hands fist in his hair, holding him closer. My hips roll against his face, shameless in my need. Every lick, every curl of his fingers inside me, pushes me closer to the edge.

“I'm close,” I warn him, voice high and tight. “So close.”

He doubles down, sucking my clit into his mouth, fingers working faster, harder. The dual sensation is too much. Yet not enough.

Then it hits me. Hard.

Like a fucking lightning strike starting from my core. I shatter. My thighs tremble. My spine bows. My head slams back against the wall.

White-hot pleasure rips through me—violent, ruthless. So sharp it feels like pain.

I cry out. Can’t stop it. Don’t want to.

My body jerks in his grip, but he holds me down. Hands digging into my ass, keeping me right where he wants me. Where I want to be.

Held.

Owned.

Unraveled.

And I fucking come all over his face. Again. And again. Until there’s nothing left of me but shaking legs and a heartbeat going wild in my chest.

My legs give out, but Nikolai's there, holding me up. His hands gripping my ass, keeping me pressed against his mouth as he works me through the aftershocks.

Just when I think I can't take anymore, when the sensitivity is almost too much, he stands. Lifts me over his shoulder like air.

“Nikolai!” I laugh, breathless and dizzy from the sudden change in position.

His hand comes down on my bare ass for a smack that echoes through the cabin. The sting spreads across my skin, melting into pleasure.

“Been wanting to do that all night to that juicy fucking ass,” he says, carrying me toward the dining table.

He sets me down, spins me around, bends me over the table. My hands splay against the cold wood. It’s jagged crannies bites into my skin, makes me gasp.

Behind me, I hear the rustle of clothing. The sound of his pants hitting the floor. His boxers following.

I don’t dare look back.

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