Page 21 of Owned By the Mountain Man

He swats my ass through the thin material of my yoga pants, just hard enough to sting. He instantly smooths it away with a soft squeeze. That’s exactly what I love about these games. He always senses what I need and gives me just enough of it. “I said now.”

I swallow hard and the sound is loud in the quiet shop. The streets outside are dark, illuminated only by the streetlamps.

Nash had these windows replaced not long after we were married. I can see out of the panes when I’m inside the shop, but if I’m on the sidewalk or even across the street, I can’t see in. He said he had it done to add to the mystique of the place. I think he just didn’t want any of the men in town seeing me as I wander between my art studio and his watch shop.

“Do you trust me, honey?” Nash’s quiet question pulls me out of my head. I can tell from his tone that he’s not asking it as part of the game. He’s asking it as my husband.

I reach for my clothes, removing them quickly. They pool at my feet as cool air rushes over my wet pussy. I’m aching so badly, and I haven’t even been touched yet.

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Step closer to the window. Cram that sweet little body all up against it.”

The glass is cold against my skin and my nipples pebble even more. No one can see me like this. Nash would lose his shit if he thought another man could see me in any state of undress. But the naughtiness of doing this and the feeling of exposure only add to the arousal dripping down my thighs.

“Good girl,” he croons and I hear the sound of his zipper. Knowing that he’s freeing that impossibly thick cock has me whimpering and shifting my weight.

He steps closer, pinning me between the glass and his big body. His cock is nestled against my back. His breath is hot in my ear, “I’m going to fuck you against this glass.”

He wastes no time cramming his huge cock deep into my channel.

A couple walks by outside the window. They’re having a normal, everyday conversation about their dinner plans, completely oblivious to the fact that my husband has pushed me up against the window and stuffed my pussy full. Just the thought that we could be caught sends another gush of moisture between my legs. “You’ll want to scream when I make you come, but you are to be quiet.”

I press my lips together to silence my moan. He always says the filthiest things to me during these games, and it only sends me higher. Already, I’m tingling all over, the orgasm so close.

He grinds the heel of his palm against my clit and lets out a string of swear words under his breath. “Your pussy feels amazing. You always squeeze your man so good.”

I tighten my muscles around him, and he makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. The noise is enough to push me over the edge and the deep, pulsing pleasure explodes between my legs.

He puts a hand over my mouth before I can call out, and it’s a good thing too because I’d already forgotten his earlier instructions to be quiet.

I buck against him, sinking my teeth into his fingers. Just enough to nip and it drives him crazy. Suddenly, he’s thrusting harder and faster, his hot seed shooting deep into my pussy. I love the feeling of being drenched in his essence, of knowing that I made him lose control.

For a long moment, there’s only the loud sound of our harsh gasps in the watch shop as we both float down to earth again. He’s still holding me prisoner against the window, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

He presses a soft kiss to my neck, nibbling along the skin. It doesn’t matter how often we have sex, Nash is always so affectionate. “Are you good?”

I hum, my whole body alive and buzzing with pleasure. “Definitely. Did I hurt you?”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through my back. “Just a love bite.”

“I liked this one. It felt so naughty,” I tell him as he pulls me away from the window. He cleans me up with the heated wipes. He started keeping them nearby after I set up my art studio in the back room. It seems that working near each other all day long only made us hornier, and we often stop for a lunch break that includes a quickie.

As soon as I’m clean, he dresses me in my comfy yoga pants again. He always takes care of me first. It doesn’t matter if it’s giving me the first orgasm during sex or making sure I have my breakfast before he has his, Nash sacrifices everything for me.

I reach for the wipes. I tease him with them, slowly wiping his shaft.

He growls in warning. I know I’m about to find myself on my knees for my husband with his cock down my throat as he demands I swallow.

Except the baby monitor finally crackles to life with the cries of little Ellie echoing from the next room. The back room isn’t just my art studio. It’s also part nursery for our little three-month-old girl.

Shortly after we got married, I discovered I was pregnant. I’d read that it could take up to a year of trying to conceive so I hadn’t been expecting that. But I should have. After all, I often joke with Nash that he willed our daughter into existence.

I hand him the wipe with a wave of disappointment that we won’t get to keep playing. I love our little girl, and I wouldn’t trade her for the world. Besides, the interruptions only make our moments together more special. Every encounter feels stolen and that much sexier.

“I got her. I’m already dressed,” I tell him.

I wash my hands then go to our precious baby girl. She’s crying in her bassinet, but she stops the moment she sees my face. I think she’s starting to recognize us. I could even swear she almost smiled at me yesterday.

“Mama is here,” I reassure her before I change her diaper and settle her with a bottle in my arms.

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