Page 8 of Mountain Man's Christmas Gift
Relief slammed into me so hard it damn near knocked me over. She wasn’t saying no. She was giving me everything. Her trust, her body, her first time.
“Thank you for telling me,” I murmured against her fingertips, kissing them before I moved her hand away and finally, finally captured her mouth with mine.
This kiss was different. The last vestiges of hesitation burned away in the heat of that new, profound trust. It was deeper,wetter, more desperate—a claiming and a surrender all at once. I poured everything I felt into that kiss—my awe, my desire, my fierce, burning need to be worthy of this woman in front of me.
My hands slid from her waist down to the firm muscles of her thighs, still locked around me, holding me to her as if I were her anchor. I could feel the frantic, bird-like flutter of her heart against my chest. Or maybe it was my own—a drumbeat I was sure might burst from my chest.
Driven by a need I could no longer contain, I fisted my hands in the heavy fabric of her skirt and shoved it up her legs, baring her to the warm, lavender-scented air. I slid my palms over the smooth, warm skin of her inner thighs, higher and higher, until my fingers met the damp silk of her underwear. A guttural, raw groan was torn from my throat at the feel of it. At the stunning, ego-shattering realization that I had made her this wet, this ready.
“God, Camilla,” I breathed, my voice ragged against her lips. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”
I didn’t wait. I slid my hand under the elastic and into the incredible, blazing heat of her. She was soaked—slick and perfect and all mine. I tested her with one finger, sliding inside her tight, clutching warmth, and she gasped into my mouth, a sharp, broken sound. Her hips arched off the table, meeting my hand, begging for more.
“That’s it, baby,” I growled, my mouth trailing to her ear, nipping at her earlobe. “Let me feel you.”
I added a second finger, stretching her gently, and her whole body jolted. “Oh, Keaton… please…”
“Please what, sweetheart? Tell me.”
“Don’t stop,” she begged, her voice a breathy moan. “Right there…oh, God, right there.”
I moved my thumb to her clit, rubbing it in slow, firm circles, the way I’d dreamed of doing since the moment I first saw her.Her breaths grew frantic—little pants and moans that were the most beautiful music I’d ever heard. Her fingers clawed at my shoulders, her nails biting through the fabric of my shirt. She was trembling in my arms, a bowstring pulled taut.
She broke the kiss, her head falling back as a raw cry escaped her throat. “Keaton! I’m—I’m going to?—”
“Come for me, Camilla,” I commanded, my voice dark and rough. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
And she did. Her entire body seized around my hand, her inner muscles fluttering and clenching around my fingers in a rhythmic, pulsing wave that seemed to go on forever. I watched, mesmerized, as pleasure wrecked her, her back arching beautifully, her mouth open in a silent scream.
Finally, she went limp against me, her breath coming in ragged, hot puffs against my neck. I gently withdrew my hand, holding her close as she floated back down, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to her damp forehead.
When her eyes fluttered open, they were dark, dazed, and full of wonder. I brushed a strand of sweat-dampened hair from her cheek.
“Are you ready for me?” I asked, my voice husky with a need that was a physical ache in my veins.
She shook her head, a slow, sensual, utterly wicked smile spreading across her kiss-swollen lips. “Not yet.”
Before I could process her words, she was sliding off the table, her legs slightly unsteady. She dropped to her knees on the industrial tile floor, her hands going to the buckle of my belt.
My brain short-circuited. “Camilla, baby, you don’t have to—” I choked out, even as my entire body screamed in anticipation.
She looked up at me through her lashes, her gaze blazing with newfound confidence. “I want to,” she said, her voice firm, her eyes locked on mine as she worked the leather free.
The look of pure, wicked intent on her face was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. The click of my belt opening echoed in the quiet room.
Then her warm, soft mouth was on me, and the world exploded into white-hot sensation. Heat, wetness, and the most devastatingly clever tongue I could ever imagine surrounded me, pulling a ragged, guttural shout from the depths of my soul.
My head slammed back against a shelf of linens with a dull thud, my hands fisting in the stacks of towels. She was an innocent, but she was a natural, driven by instinct and a desire to please that was utterly destroying me. She explored me with her tongue, learning what made me groan, what made my stomach muscles clench, what made me curse her name to the humming ceiling.
“Oh, fuck, Camilla…just like that,” I rasped, my hips bucking involuntarily. “Your mouth…God, your mouth is heaven.”
She hummed in response, the vibration nearly finishing me right there. I was seconds away from losing all control when I knew I had to stop her. This wasn’t how her first time was going to be. I needed to be inside her, to feel her come around me.
With a Herculean effort, I tangled my hands in her hair, not to push her away, but to still her. My voice was a raw, desperate command, stripped bare of everything but need.
“That’s enough,” I rasped, forcing my voice to steady even though I was seconds from losing control. “Stand up for me, baby. Right now.”
She pulled away, her lips glistening, her eyes questioning and dark with passion.
I looked down at her, my chest heaving. “I need to be inside you. I need to feel that tight little pussy wrapped around my cock when you come again. Now, Camilla. Up.”
