Page 135 of Mountain Grump
He strokes his length. “Give me permission.”
Eye level with his hard cock, I lick my lips.
“Starlight,” he growls.
I lift my gaze to his. “You have my permission.”
Ethan reaches down, grips the front of my flannel, which is still half buttoned, and rips the sides apart.
Rips.
Fabric tears.
A button bounces off the wood floor.
My core throbs.
Ethan places his palms on my shoulders and shoves me back.
I land flat against the mattress.
“Perfect fucking feet.” Ethan lets go of his dick and traces a fingertip down the front of each of my legs, from my knees to my ankles, careful to avoid the painful spots.
Goose bumps erupt across my body.
He drags his fingers back up to my knees, then he flattens his palms and slides his hands up my thighs.
Up. And up.
His forearms push the skirt of my dress up. And I can feel when he reaches my shorts.
They’re pale blue. Practically see-through. Not sexy. And not doing anything tocontrolortuckany part of me. They’re just there to keep my thighs from rubbing. And I’m too turned on to feel weird about them.
Ethan slides his hands higher, fingers finding the top of my shorts.
He starts to pull them down, nails lightly scraping over my skin. “Perfect fucking hips.”
He drags them all the way off and tosses the shorts aside, then places his hands on my inner thighs and shoves my legs apart.
I’m still wearing my thong, which is becoming more and more soaked with every touch.
Ethan kneels on the bed, between my spread legs, and glides his hands up my thighs, stopping when his fingertips are just an inch from the damp material.
“Fuck…” He drags the word out, then I feel him drag his thumb up my seam.
I arch my back. “Ethan.”
He does it again, pressing the material between my lips.
Then he starts to bend forward. And I try to close my legs.
Ethan looks up at me, eyes hooded, as he tugs the material of my thong to the side.
His eyes are on mine, but I can feel the cool cabin air against my bare flesh.
“Why are you trying to stop me?”
I clutch at my skirt, bunched over my stomach. “I’m all sweaty.”
