Page 70 of Mountain Grump
I’m sure I’m crushing her.
But I can’t move yet.
Tilda strokes a hand down my side as she releases her hold of my hair. Then she goes limp beneath me. Her knees fall open, and her arms drop to the mattress.
“Wow,” she breathes.
“Fuck,” I exhale.
Tilda lets out a sound that might be a laugh, but my weight is probably preventing her lungs from properly filling.
With great effort, I push up onto my elbows and my knees so I’m hovering over her.
She blinks up at me with those almost golden eyes, and I’m at a complete loss for words.
Do I thank her?
Do I apologize for making us both come so quickly?
Do I ask if she wants to do it again?
The loudest duck I’ve ever heard quacks from somewhere outside the house, pulling my attention over my shoulder.
When I look back down at Tilda, she’s biting her lip.
And she’s… cute.
So cute and pretty and sexy and…
I just dry humped Jack’s granddaughter on his bed.
The duck quacks again.
I start to mildly panic about how to proceed before I decide to keep it simple.
I drop my head, press a kiss to Tilda’s lips, then push up and away.
Standing at the foot of the bed, I get a fantastic view of the damp spot on Tilda’s panties before she presses her knees together.
I lift my gaze to meet hers. “Good night, Bad Girl.”
Her mouth starts to pull into a smile, and I have to go.
Have to leave before she offers to let me stay.
Because if I stay, I’m going to fuck her. And Matilda Wright isn’t the kind of girl you casually have sex with. She’s someone you get serious with.
Striding out of the bedroom, I pause as I pass the cardboard boxes.
I pull something out of my back pocket and trade that item for the ratchet straps.
I glance back at the bedroom door as I step into my boots, then, without lacing them, I exit the house.
Where a female mallard squawks at me.
Chapter 47
Tilda
