Page 10 of Mountain Man's Corn Maze Cutie
And then she did. Her body tensed, a gasp tearing from her throat as pleasure overtook her. I held her through it, my own arousal spiking as she shuddered in my arms.
When she turned to face me, her eyes were dazed, her lips swollen from biting them. Without a word, she sank to her knees in front of me.
My pulse roared in my ears. “Cecelia?—”
Her hand wrapped around me, her tongue flicking out to taste the tip. I nearly lost it right there.
But I caught her shoulders, stopping her. “Wait.”
She looked up, confused.
“I want to be inside you,” I said. “If you’re sure.”
Her answer was to turn around, bracing her hands on her thighs, presenting herself to me. I groaned, my fingers digging into her hips as I positioned myself.
“Tell me if it hurts,” I said, my voice rough with restraint.
She nodded, her breath hitching as I pushed inside, inch by torturous inch. Her body gripped me like a vise, slick and tight, the heat of her almost unbearable. I had to grit my teeth, my muscles trembling with the effort to go slow.
Christ, she was perfect. Every slight shift of her hips, every stifled whimper, sent sparks of pleasure up my spine.
Once I was fully sheathed, I stilled, letting her adjust. My fingers dug into her hips, my own breathing ragged.
“Okay?” I asked.
She arched back against me, a shudder running through her. “More than okay.”
I began to move—slow at first, shallow thrusts that made her gasp. But as her body relaxed, welcoming me, I sank deeper, harder. The wet, silken drag of her around me was maddening. I groaned, my control fraying with every desperate clench of her inner muscles.
“Touch yourself,” I ordered, my voice dark with need. “I want to feel you come again.”
She obeyed, her hand slipping between her legs, and the moment her fingers found her clit, her whole body tightened around me. Fuck. The sensation was overwhelming—her warmth, her soft cries, the way her hips rocked to meet my thrusts. I could feel her pleasure coiling tighter, her sighs and moans making their way to my ears.
Then she let out a gasp as her orgasm hit hard. Her walls fluttered around me in rhythmic pulses, her moan muffled against her arm. The sheer intensity of it—the way she milked me, hot and desperate—was too much. My restraint snapped.
With a growl, I drove into her one last time, burying myself to the hilt as my own release tore through me. Pleasure burned white-hot, my hips jerking helplessly as I spilled inside her, my groan raw and unfiltered against her skin. For a dizzyingmoment, there was nothing but her—her scent, her warmth, the feel of her body releasing mine as she stepped away from me.
And then reality crashed back in.
Shit.
I pulled out slowly, turning her to face me. “Cecelia—protection. I didn’t?—”
She stepped toward me and touched my lips, stopping me. “I’m on birth control.”
Relief warred with guilt. “Still, I should’ve?—”
A rustling sound cut me off. We froze. Then—footsteps. Heavy, deliberate.
Shit, shit, shit.
We scrambled for our clothes, dressing in frantic silence. The sound was getting closer, twigs snapping underfoot.
“Who the hell is out here?” a deep voice growled.
Luca. The owner of the farm.
Cecelia’s eyes widened in panic. I grabbed her hand, pulling her through the maze, our breaths ragged as we dodged stalks, desperate to escape. But then a flashlight beam cut through the darkness, pinning us in its glare.
