Page 52 of Wrecked on the Mountain
I smirk, just a little, teeth catching my bottom lip. Because yes, I fucking did wear these panties to tease him. I wore the panties, the matching bra, the clingy tank top that hugs my chest because a part of mewantedhim to look. Wanted him tolose it.
"Answer me, Brooke."
God. His voice has changed. It's deeper, more commanding. Absolutelyfilthy.
It scrapes against something deep in me, and I glance back over my shoulder to find his eyes dark, nearly feral with need.
"Maybe." I let the word hang in the air, daring him. "What are you going to do about it?"
He growls low in his throat, a sound more animal than man. The rumble of it hits me straight between the legs, making my clit throb with need.
Then—
Smack.
His hand lands on my ass with a sharp smack that makes me yelp, the sting delicious and immediate. My body jerks forward, but his other hand catches my hip, steadying me on my legs.
“That,” he murmurs at my ear, beard grazing my neck, “was for teasing me on the mountain. And sweetheart, it’s just the beginning.”
Crack.
His hand lands hard on my ass again, the sting blooming into heat beneath the lace, and I gasp, the sound sharp and breathy as my knees wobble.
His hands roam boldly—over the swell of my ass, the dip of my waist, the arch of my back. I feelworshipped. Owned. Teetering between powerful and completely at his mercy.
This is everything I've craved since that first day—watching him through the fence, axe swinging, muscles rippling under sweat-slicked skin.
I didn't even know his name then, just knew I wanted those powerful hands on me.
Now he's here, sinfully hungry, turning me molten with just his touch.
He strikes my ass again and his palm stings against my flesh. I arch into it, silently begging for more.
I've spent years being in control. Now all I want is to surrender.
His palm smooths over the sting, and my entire body arches into the touch like I’ve been starved for it. He drags his hands slowly up my sides, under my top, until calloused fingers skim over my ribs and up, teasing just beneath my bra.
“Every time you’ve looked at me like you were sizing me up…” His voice is close now. “You think I didn’t notice?”
I moan as his hands reach my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples through the lace. My knees almost give out from the sharp, aching pleasure that makes me grind back against him, seeking more.
He groans, low and filthy, as I roll my hips against the unmistakable hardness straining his jeans.
“Fuck, Brooke.” He pinches lightly, then soothes the sting of my nipple with his thumbs. “You like this, don’t you? Being teased. Touched all over. Completely owned.”
I can only nod, unable to form words when his mouth finds my neck, sucking and kissing just beneath my jawline until I’m trembling.
Then his hand trails down, over my belly, down the front of my jeans. The other slips lower, tracing along the waistband at my back. A slow, taunting sweep until he tugs at the button with a flick of his fingers, popping it open.
I whimper, feeling my jeans slide down my thighs, and the cool air licks at my exposed skin.
"God, look at you," he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Bent over my desk like a good girl, wearing the panties youknewwould drive me crazy. Did you think I wouldn’t do something about it?”
His fingers trace the curve of my lace-covered cheeks, then slip between them, pressing the fabric against my soaking heat.
“You’re soaked,” he growls, nose pressed against my skin, inhaling my scent deeply.
I gasp as his fingers press harder between my legs, rubbing slow circles through the lace. My legs shake as I whimper at his touch.
