Page 184 of Mountain Grump

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I hold out the gift bag. “I got you something.”

She takes it with both hands. “I love it.”

Andfuck me. She’s perfect.

Dressed up like a damn birthday cake, she looks like a princess. Like a fucking Mountain Fairy.

Tilda crouches down in front of me.

Before I can ask what she’s doing, she sets the bag on the floor, then starts to untie my boots.

My heart thuds as she finishes one, then moves on to the other.

When she’s done, I reach down, grip her under her arms, and help her up.

But I can’t let her go.

So I don’t.

I keep lifting her.

Tilda wraps her arms around my shoulders and her legs around my waist. And when our mouths meet, I hug her body to mine.

She tastes like chocolate.

Like decadence.

Sweet as fucking sugar.

And I’m a starved man.

I step out of my boots and carry her across the living room. Into the bedroom. To the bed.

She never stops kissing me.

Never stops touching me.

And I never break our contact as I kneel on the mattress, then lower us both to the bed.

I’m so hard. So fucking ready for her.

And she’s so warm. So pliant under my touch.

But I don’t feel frantic. Just… needy.

I need her.

I need to be inside her.

So when her hands lower from around my neck.

When they move between us.

When they undo my jeans and pull down my zipper.

I exhale.

And when she wraps her fingers around my dick.

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