Page 13 of Moody Mountain Man
“Already soaked. You want this.”
“Yes.”
I spread her wide and drop to my knees. Her fingers clutch the counter when I bury my mouth in her. One slow lick, then another, until she’s shaking, moaning my name. I suck her clit hard, push two fingers deep, curling them until her breath breaks.
“Look at me,” I rasp.
She drags her head down, eyes locking on mine. The sight of her falling apart on my tongue while she holds my gaze nearly undoes me.
“Cal—I—” Her body tightens.
“Give it to me.”
She comes hard, thighs trembling around my head, voice cracking into a cry. I don’t stop, dragging her through it, then building her again. By the second orgasm, she’s begging, shoving at my head.
I stand, and let her taste herself. She moans into my mouth, tugging at my jeans.
“On your knees,” I order.
She slides down fast, eyes dark, hair messy. She frees me, wraps her lips around me, and I nearly lose it right there. Heat, suction, spit—she takes me deep, gagging, moaning around me like she loves it.
“Eyes.” My fist knots in her hair. She looks up, cheeks hollow, drool on her chin. The sight is lethal.
I fuck her mouth slowly, then harder, hips jerking. She takes it, messy and eager, stroking me at the base while she works her tongue. My groans echo off the tile.
“Enough,” I rasp, pulling her up before I explode. I spin her, bend her over the counter, and yank her panties down.
Her ass is bare, glistening. I smack it once, watch her flinch and moan. “You like that?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I like it. I want it.”
I shove in deep in one stroke. She screams, clutching the steel edge.
“Mine,” I growl, hair fisted in my hand, hips slamming into hers. “Say it.”
“Yours. I’m yours.”
I pound into her, relentless, circling her clit with my fingers. She comes again, shaking, soaking me, but I don’t let up. I spank her again, harder, and she sobs out my name, pushing back against every thrust.
I flip her, haul her onto the counter, spread her wide. Her hair’s a mess, cheeks flushed, lips swollen.
“Open for me.”
She does, shameless, legs falling wide. I thrust into her again, kiss her deep, filthy, wet, while my hand clamps on her throat just enough to make her moan.
“Beg.”
“Don’t stop. Please, Cal. I need it.”
That’s the end of me. I fuck her through it, rough and raw, until I’m groaning her name, spilling into her, holding her hips tight enough to bruise.
We collapse together, breath ragged. I clean her gently with a towel, kiss her temple. She laughs, wrecked and glowing.
“Kitchen sex,” she whispers, “might be my new religion.”
