Page 42 of Broken on the Mountain
“I was thinking about your mouth.” The word is a strangled groan. “Fuck, Piper. Your perfect mouth wrapped around me like that first night. Sucking me like you couldn’t get enough.”
I lean in, breathing him in… delicious musky male heat.
My tongue flicks out, tracing the swollen head, tasting the bead of moisture there. Salty. Utterly addictive.
A guttural sound escapes him and his hand fists harder in my hair.
“God, yes. Just like that. Take me, sweetheart. Show me how much you missed me.”
I open wide, taking him deep, relishing the deep, guttural groan that roars through his apartment.
I take it slow at first, savoring the weight, the heat, the way he fills my mouth and then my throat. His breath hitches, sharp and ragged above me. His thighs tense.
“Piper… Christ… so good… fuck…”
My hands grip his hips, holding him steady as I work him. Up and down, hollowing my cheeks, swirling my tongue around the sensitive ridge beneath the head.
This is power. This is connection. This is wiping away the sterile detachment of my hospital shifts, the coldness of my parent’s world.
All that exists now is his cock stretching my lips, his groans filling my ears, his fingers tightening possessively in my hair.
Then, just as I find my rhythm, he tries to pull back, hips trembling. “Piper… baby… I’m close. Too close. Wanna be inside you when I…”
But I suck harder, humming around him and bobbing my head, feeling him swell against my cheeks. A broken shout rips from his chest and his hips snap forward, pushing deeper.
"Fuuuck!"
I take it. Takehim. All of him.
His release floods my mouth, hot and thick down my throat.
I swallow every drop, milking him gently until he shudders, collapsing back against the wall with a groan that sounds utterly wrecked.
He slides down the wall, pulling me with him, our bodies collapsing onto the rug in a tangle of limbs. He’s breathing hard, eyes dazed, a sheen of sweat on his brow.
He looks gloriously undone.
“Holy shit.” He stares at me, wonder and lust warring in his eyes. His thumb brushes my swollen lower lip. “Welcome back, Whitman. Goddamn.”
I kiss him, deeply, letting him taste himself on my tongue. “Missed you.”
He growls, rolling me beneath him in one smooth, powerful motion. My back hits the rug and he looms over me, all hard muscle and possessive heat. “Your turn.”
The words are a dark promise and his hands make short work of my bra, his mouth latching onto my nipple with a hungry groan. Electric pleasure arcs through me as I arch into his mouth, crying out.
His hands peel away my jeans, my panties, leaving me bare and wanting beneath him. The cool air on my overheated skin makes me shiver.
Or maybe it’s the look in his eyes.
“Chase…”
He kisses a blazing trail down my stomach. Over the jut of my hipbone. Lower. His stubble scrapes the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
“Spread for me, sweetheart,” he commands, his voice rough velvet against my skin. "Let me taste this sweet pussy again."
I obey, helpless against the need thrumming through every nerve ending. His breath ghosts over my core.
“Fuck, you smell good,” he groans, burying his face against me. “Like heaven. Likemine.”
