Page 19 of The Mountain Man's Accidental Bride
There’s no doubt about it. This woman’s got my heart in a vise. Hers. Always hers.
I crush my mouth to hers before she can speak again. Let my hips roll slowly, deliberate, so she feels exactly what she does to me.
The words burn behind my teeth, but soon, she’ll see just how much love I have to give to her.
7
Payton
The moment August pulls back, my breath catches. His hands fist in the hem of his shirt, and with one sharp motion, he yanks it off. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him—all carved muscle and sun-kissed skin, his chest heaving like he’s been running.
Then his hands drop to his waistband, and my pulse stutters.
He doesn’t hesitate. Just shoves his boxers and shorts down in one rough push, and—oh my—there he is. Thick, hard, and already glistening at the tip. My stomach clenches as I watch him stroke himself, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on mine like he’s memorizing every flicker of my reaction.
“Never had a reason to own a condom before,” he admits, voice gravel-rough. His thumb swipes over the head, and my thighs press together instinctively. “So I get it if you wanna wait.”
The intensity in his gaze steals the air from my lungs, and the heat between us doesn’t even flicker.
“But I’m serious about keeping you, Payton. Hell—I’ll sign a certificate the second I can get my hands on one if that’s what it takes to make you believe me.”
A shiver races down my spine.
This man. This wild, reckless, all-in man.
I’m very much the same. I don’t want to wait either.
Parting my thighs once more, my pussy continues to tingle from the aftermath of my orgasm.
“Make me yours.” Whispering the words, he makes my heart skip with another cheeky grin. “Be my first, and my last.”
That’s all I need to say before he’s moving to hover over my body. His fingers thread through mine, pinning them beside my head as he nudges at my entrance, making sure to gather my juices along the way..
“So soft,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along my jaw. “So fucking wet for me.”
I gasp as he pushes in—just the barest stretch, just enough to make my nails bite into his hand. He stills, his breath ragged against my throat. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
But it’s perfect. The slow, aching fullness as he works deeper, inch by inch, until my thighs tremble around his hips.
“Look at me,” he rasps, desperate for our eyes to meet.
When I do, he bottoms out, and our mingled moans fill the air. His forehead drops to mine, his hips flush against me, and for a heartbeat, we’re both perfectly, painfully still. He waits for my tight grip to loosen. When it does, he finally moves again.
The mattress groans beneath us, each creak a rough counterpoint to the slick, desperate sounds of our bodies moving together. His thrusts start slow—agonizingly slow—but the moment another moan pushes past my lips, he takes that like a green light.
The rhythm fractures, and his hips snap forward, leaving us both growing louder.
Wood protests beneath us as he drives into me harder, faster, his grunts hot against my lips. His kiss is messy now, all teeth and shared breath, like he’s trying to consume me whole. One of his hands tears away from mine, sliding down to grip my hip, lifting me just enough to angle himself deeper—
Oh my God.
Pleasure crashes over me like a riptide, violent and inevitable. I choke on his name, my thighs clamping around him as if I could keep him there forever.
“Look at me,” he rasps, raw and demanding. He doesn’t stop. Like he’s ready to go for days, his hips don’t stutter. He hits the right spot over and over, making my vision blurry.
I know I’ve just come, but is it crazy that I can already feel it cresting over again?
It has to be possible. It’s happening.
