Page 22 of Mountain Daddy

I set her on the edge of the bed and she immediately reaches for me. I catch her wrists.

“Lie back.”

She obeys. I position myself between her thighs. She's already wet, slick with arousal, and when I slide just the tip inside her, she arches off the bed.

“Please,” she whispers.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

I push in slowly, watching her face as I stretch her. Her mouth falls open, eyes fluttering closed. When I'm fully seated, we both freeze.

“Look at me,” I command.

Her eyes snap open, dark and dazed.

“How do you want it?”

“Hard,” she whimpers.

Something primal and possessive roars to life in my chest.

I start moving then, slow and deep at first. Building the tension just until her hands fist into the sheets.

And then, she throws her head back like a vixen, her fists clenching sheets and I begin to pound.

She’s wet. Soaking. Warm. My cock feels the softness of her clenching muscles.

I pick up the pace.

She draws me deeper. Her breaths now ragged. Her breasts bounce from how hard I slam into her.

“Harder,” she gasps. “Please, harder.”

God. She wants more. She’s insatiable. A beast. And I’m here to serve.

I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head. I fuck her without mercy. Her breasts bounce, like little clouds and I dip low. Suck hard. Swirl my tongue around the peak.

She cries out my name and it sounds like scandal beckoning. Hoarse. Broken. Sexy.

“Fuck, Lilly, the things you do to me,” I growl and my pace increases, each thrust driving her further up the bed.

“Is this what you wanted?” I growl against her ear. “To be fucked like this? To be claimed?”

“Yes,” she sobs. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Her moans turn to screams, and I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing her sounds. I angle my cock deeper, hitting the inside of her clit.

She tenses, her muscles clenching. My cock hardens, lengthens until there’s no more to give.

She bites my lip. Draws blood. I growl into her mouth. Bite into her lip.

Her nails rake down my back, leaving stinging trails. Good. I want her marks on me.

She’s mine.

And though she won’t say, those marks scream I’m hers.

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