Page 15 of Mountain Man's Naughty List
Laying me out on the bed, he stands upright, gazing down at me with hungry eyes as he slides off his swim shorts. My fingers idly slide of my exposed skin, basking in the glow that is his attention. I feel like a woman who is about to have her first meal in weeks. Then again, the way he’s looking at me, maybe I’m the meal he’s about to devour.
Either way… I can’t wait.
The trunks fall to the ground giving me a chance to view him in his all his glory.
“It’s just as I expected,” I say, my eyes focused squarely on his cock.
“Oh? And what was that,” he asks, reaching for his jeans on the ground and removing a foil wrapper.
“Oh, just that you’re going to ruin me for all men.”
“You think so?” he asks, crawling up the bed toward me, liking a hunter stalking his prey.
“I do.” I slide the straps of my swimsuit down my arms and lift my hips to pull it off my body.
Thatcher pauses between my thighs, leaning back on his heals.
“I don’t know about that.” He licks his lips. “If anyone’s going to be ruined, I think it’s going to be me.”
Before I can argue back, he lowers his head between my thighs, bringing my pussy to his lips. I cry out, the pleasure reigniting within me so quickly, I lose all power of thought.
Once more, he guides me over the edge into pure ecstasy. Praising me as I buck and cry. Seemingly gaining pleasure from giving me mine.
When I come back to my senses, he’s ripping the foil wrapper of the condom. I reach for him and pull him close, tangling my tongue with his as I slide latex down his thick cock.
I don’t wait for any more teasing. This man has already driven me senseless twice. I’m wild, ravenous, until he finally thrusts into me, making our bodies one.
I cry out, and he stills, leaning up to eye me worriedly. “Are you okay?”
“Only if you don’t stop.” I pull his head back down to mine and kiss him as we move against each other. Two bodies, two souls, making a kind of magic you only dream about.
The fire has burned down to embers by the time I slide from the bed, tugging on the first shirt I find—his. It’s soft and warm. It smells like pine and him.
The cabin is still except for the wind pressing gently against the windows.
I look around for my socks. Instead, when I lean down to search, something slips from the pocket of his shirt and flutters open at my feet.
The list.
The paper is creased and smudged, the ink bled a little from damp fingers. I start to fold it back up, but a line catches my eye before I can stop myself.
Get laid.
The words hit like a splash of cold water. My stomach twists.
Of course. The list. His list of naughty things to do while suspended.
And I—apparently—am one more box checked.
I press my lips together, telling myself not to overreact, not to feel foolish for thinking last night meant something deeper. But the ache in my chest argues otherwise.
“Looking for something?”
His voice is low, rough with sleep, from behind me. When I turn, he’s leaning against the doorframe, jeans slung low on his hips, hair mussed, eyes soft with the kind of satisfaction that had felt mutual only hours ago.
“I wasn’t snooping,” I say quickly. “It just fell out.”
He sees the page in my hand, takes one look at my face, and the easy smile fades. “Liz?—”
