Page 18 of Moody Mountain Man
Epilogue - Cal - One Year Later
I watch Annie as she moves through the bakery like she owns the world, wiping down counters, humming under her breath, her small belly curved against her apron. Married. Pregnant. Mine.
Jesus Christ, mine.
I lean in the doorway, arms crossed, just watching. I don’t know if she realizes what she does to me when she looks like this. Her hair messy from a long day, flour streaking her cheek, curves soft and rounder now with our baby. She looks like everything I ever thought I’d lost the right to want.
She catches me staring, laughs, shakes her head. “What?”
“Nothing.” My voice is rough. “I just like to look at you, that’s all.”
Her cheeks pinken. Still, after all this time. After I put a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly, she still blushes like I’m getting away with something.
I stalk toward her, slide behind her at the prep table, hands spanning her waist. One slips down to her belly, rubbing the swell. The other drifts higher, cupping her breast, thumb teasing the tight bud beneath cotton.
She gasps, arching into my touch. “Cal…”
“You okay?” I ask against her neck.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Not too much. Don’t stop.”
Christ. My cock’s already hard. The second trimester’s been like pouring gasoline on the fire between us. She’s always been sunshine—now she’s sunshine and wildfire.
“You were restless all night,” I murmur, sliding my hand lower, cupping her through her leggings. “Then today you were walking around, looking at me like you wanted me to bend you over this table. Admit it.”
She nods, voice small and desperate. “I wanted it. Still do.”
“Fuck.” The word rips out of me. I spin her, press her chest down to the oak. Tug her leggings and panties down in one move, baring her ass to me. She’s already slick, glistening in the dim light.
I slide two fingers into her without warning. She moans, clawing the table, rocking back hard on me.
“Greedy little wife,” I growl. “Always so wet for me. Always begging for more.”
“Yours,” she cries. “Always yours.”
Damn right. I pull out, free myself, and press the head of my cock against her. Lean close to her ear. “You want me to ruin this table? The one I built with my hands?”
“Yes,” she whimpers. “Ruin me too.”
That’s it. I slam into her in one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She screams my name, and I nearly lose it.
“Fuck, Annie,” I groan, pulling out slow, slamming back harder. “So tight. This pussy’s mine. Made for me.”
“It’s yours,” she sobs, nails digging grooves into the wood. “Always yours.”
I fuck her harder, the table shuddering under us, her ass bouncing with every thrust. My hand circles her clit, rubbingfast, merciless. “Come on, sweetheart. Milk my cock. Show me how much you need me.”
She shatters, clenching around me, soaking my cock. I ride her through it, pounding harder, until I’m groaning into her shoulder and spilling deep inside.
I’m not done, not with her. I drag her up, flip her onto her back, spread her thighs wide, and sink back into her soaked heat. Kiss her filthy, tasting sweat and sugar.
This time, I go slow. Deep. “I love you,” I whisper against her mouth. “Love this body. Love you, Annie.”
Her eyes shine wet. “I love you too, my moody mountain man.”
The name undoes me. I groan, thrusting deeper, my forehead pressed to hers. “Say it again.”
“My moody mountain man,” she gasps, arching up to kiss me.
