Page 64 of Grumpy on the Mountain
I press back against him, just a little, enjoying the way his breathing changes even in sleep. The way his arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer like my very own mountain protector.
This is dangerous. Because I know, even as I rock back against him again, I'm just using sex to avoid emotional complexity of our current situation.
But then again, what better way to clear my head than to worship the magnificent man in this bed? To take control and show him exactly what he does to me, even if I can't quite say the words yet?
Before I can second-guess myself, I'm sliding down his muscular body, taking care not to wake him as I settle between his thighs.
Jesus Christ.
Even in the golden morning light, Beau Callahan is a masterpiece.
His cock stands proud and thick, the head flushed dark with need. There's already a bead of moisture at the tip, and my mouth waters as I trace the prominent vein that runs along the underside with just the tip of my finger.
He's so big. Bigger than I remember from last night, when I was too overwhelmed by sensation to fully appreciate the gift I'd been given.
But now, with all the time in the world, I can properly worship every incredible inch.
I start with just my tongue, tracing that vein from base to tip, tasting salt and skin and pure masculine desire. Beau shifts in his sleep, a low groan rumbling from his chest, and I smile against his flesh.
That's it, mountain man. Feel what I'm doing to you.
I take the head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the crown, humming at the delicious taste that washes over me.
And that's when he wakes up.
"Fuck," he growls, his voice rough with sleep and surprise. His hand immediately tangles in my hair, not forcing, just... gripping. Holding on. "Molly, what are you—Christ."
The sheets flick up and I look up at him through my lashes, his cock still between my smiling lips. The expression on his face makes me clench with need. His eyes are dark and wild, his jaw tight with the effort of staying in control.
I release my lips from around his cock with a hard 'pop' that makes him groan.
"Good morning to you too," I murmur against his skin, then take him back in my mouth, deeper now.
His hips buck involuntarily. "Fuck, baby. Your mouth..."
I love this. The power I have over this strong, capable man. The way his breathing becomes ragged as I work him with my tongue and lips. He's so thick I can barely fit him in my mouth, but I'm determined to take as much as I can.
"That's it," he breathes, his fingers guiding me gently. He curses to himself, like he can't believe he's waking up like this. I just continue swallowing him down, making him groan as he looks back down his hard abdomen to watch me. "Yes. Just like that. Take what you can handle."
But I want to handle all of him.
I relax my throat and push forward, taking him deeper until I can feel him hitting the back of my throat. The sensation makes my eyes water, but the broken sound he makes is worth every second of discomfort.
"Jesus, Molly. So fucking perfect."
His praise spurs me on.
I establish a rhythm, taking him deep then pulling back to lavish attention on the sensitive head with a roll of my wrist. My hand works what my mouth can't reach, and I can feel him getting closer with every pass of my tongue.
"I'm not going to last," he warns, his voice strained. "Not with those sexy eyes looking at me."
I hum around him, the vibration making him curse creatively, and that's when I feel his cock tense in my mouth. His grip in my hair tightens, his hips thrust up, and then he's coming with a shout that probably echoes across the entire mountain.
I swallow every drop, savoring the taste of him like it's the elixir of life itself.
Because maybe it is.
Maybe this is exactly what I've been missing all these years.
