Page 6 of Bewitched By the Mountain Man
Her breath hitches, but she lowers her arms. She stands there, bare and trembling, but she doesn’t hide.
"Now get on the bed. On your back. Legs spread for me."
She obeys, climbing onto the mattress, her movements shaky but sure. She lays back, opens for me, and it’s the most gorgeous fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
I crawl over her, my body settling between her thighs as I pin her wrists above her head with one hand. She squirms but she doesn’t look away.
With my free hand, I unbutton my pants, never taking my eyes off her. I free myself, the thick length of me pressing against her thigh. Her breath stutters.
"Look at me," I growl, nudging her entrance with the head of my cock. "Feel how hard you make me?"
She nods.
I thrust in, burying halfway before her body clamps down around me. She cries out, and there's something raw in it. Something that makes me pause.
"This isn’t your first time, is it?"
"No," she breathes.
Grinding deeper, I give her time to adjust and take me fully.
"You’re doing so fucking good," I say. "Take me. All of me."
"Harder…. now... please," she whimpers.
I give her exactly what she asks for. My hips snap forward, driving deeper, harder, each thrust sending a jolt through both of us. She cries out, fingers digging into the sheets, her body arching to meet mine.
Somewhere in the motion, her mask slips. It tilts, then slides off entirely, falling to the mattress beside her.
She reaches for it, but I catch her wrist.
“No," I say. "Don’t hide from me."
I stare down at her, every inch of her flushed and undone beneath me. She’s fucking breathtaking. Not just sexy, not just gorgeous… fucking angelic. I forget everything except the way she’s looking at me, trusting me, giving herself to me without armor.
“The mask stays off. You’re too beautiful to cover up.”
Suddenly, her hands come up to my mask, fingers brushing the edge.
“Let me see you too,” she whispers. “I want to see your face.”
The words hit like a strike to the ribs. No one here sees me. Not the real me. Not the man under the mask. I shove her hands away. “No.”
Before she can speak again, I flip her onto her stomach, dragging her beneath me. I grip her wrists, pinning them at the small of her back with one hand.
She’s face-down now, ass arched high, and I drive into her again. My strokes are hard, fast, punishing. Not because I wantto hurt her. Because I need to hold on to something before I break apart.
The angle is brutal and deep, and she cries out, pleasure and shock tangled together. I slap her ass, just once.
“This,” I grunt, fucking her harder, “this is what you get. My cock. Not my face. Understand? Now come again for me. I want to feel you soak my cock. Show me how this perfect pussy comes for me.”
And she does, screaming into the sheets. Her legs tremble as her pussy clenches hard around me. I keep going, thrusting through it, until I break too—filling her with deep, hot pulses.
But it’s not enough.
I pull out and flip her onto her back. She’s gasping, eyes glassy, still trying to catch her breath. I don’t wait, sliding back into her in one hard thrust.
“I’m not done with you yet. Not even close.”
