Page 21 of Rugged Mountain Man
Less than a week ago, I was determined to feel nothing. To lock myself away from the world and everyone in it. I was bruised, defeated, broken.
Now, I was safe to feel everything in the security of Cormac’s arms, in the sanctuary of his bed, his home.
His lips at my neck, kissing the sensitive hollow beneath my ear until I shivered with pleasure.
The heavy drag of his cock inside me, with molten sparks of ecstasy pooling low in my belly.
His big, callused hands roaming my body, squeezing my breasts and caressing my thighs while he rumbled noises of approval.
“You’re so close, KitKat,” Cormac said, his voice strained. He wedged his hand between my thighs, rubbing my clit with skilled fingers. He knew how to go after what he wanted and he wouldn't let up until I was a writhing, babbling mess. “Come for me, baby. You can do it.”
I circled my hips, grinding on his cock without a thought in the world except for him and the way he made me feel.
My orgasm hit hard and fast with a strangled cry. I felt the sting of Cormac’s teeth as he sank his teeth into my shoulder, chasing his own orgasm. After a few sloppy thrusts, he buried his cock deep, pulsing and twitching as he came.
As the adrenaline faded from my system, and I fought to catch my breath, Cormac tightened his hold on me even further, if that was humanly possible. His cock was still inside me, growing soft, but neither of us showed any intention of moving to get cleaned up.
“Please tell me we can do that again in the morning,” Cormac mumbled.
I breathed a faint laugh and snuggled deeper into his embrace.
“I certainly hope so.”
Chapter eight
Cormac
When I woke, I reached for Mika’s soft, curvy warmth. But the bed was empty. I grumbled with disappointment. Had she moved away from me in the middle of the night?
I reached further. The sheets were cold. Frowning, I lifted my head and cracked one eye open.
She was gone.
My stomach twisted with an edge of dread.
“Mika?” I called, sitting up.
The house was dead silent.
Had we moved too fast last night? Did she change her mind after having sex and she decided she wasn’t ready for another relationship?
Or maybe she wasn’t in love with me after all.
Swallowing around the lump of sickness in my throat at that thought, I shoved the sheets aside, adjusted my clothes, andsearched the house. My chest felt tight, that familiar ache of hollowness returning.
For the past ten years, I wasn’t interested in anyone else. My ex-wife’s cheating had damaged my trust so deeply that I had resigned myself to never falling in love again.
Mika proved me wrong.
I wanted her in my arms every chance I could get. I wanted her in my home, in my bed. Hell, I wanted her to be my wife one day.
“Oh, baby, please tell me you didn’t bolt…” I muttered, as I checked every room in the house. Twice.
Fighting to keep my head clear, I made my way back into the kitchen. A yellow note pinned to the fridge with a magnet caught my attention. I hadn’t noticed it before, too preoccupied with finding Mika.
The handwriting was rounded and flowing cursive. Definitely not my blocky, unsightly letters. And Raff’s handwriting was nothing more than illegible chicken scratching.
I limped over to the fridge to get a closer look.
