Page 15 of A Mountain Man Walks into a Library

Remy

Sam is a powerful guy. I hadn’t noticed before. But now he scoops an arm under my ass and lifts me to him like I’m nothing. Instinctively, my legs wrap tight around his waist.

It’s ridiculous. We’re both too big for this, but we’re making it work. He grinds up against me, and I press myself to him. Everything about him burns. I want him to make good on his promise to fuck me everywhere in this cabin.

To finally make it feel like home.

For the first time since I moved here, I feel anchored in this place, anchored with this man’s arms around me, with his mouth descending the length of my throat. He pauses at the knob of it to suck and bite, and my hips kick up.

I can feel his smile against my neck. “All right, little star. How do you want me?”

My brain goes to static.

Sam pulls back to regard me, his dark, heated eyes dragging over my face, his lips parted on frantic breath. How do I want him?Everywhere.

“I’m getting the feeling,” he says slowly, that calculating expression in his eyes unbearably hot, “that you’re usually a bed guy. But I think you want something else today.”

Before I realize I’m doing it, I’m nodding. The possibilities race through my mind.On the floor in front of the woodstove. Pressed against a bookshelf. Right here on the fucking kitchen counter.

And then Sam leans in close and drags his nose along the edge of my jaw. I can smell him, the mint of his toothpaste, the sun-warmed soil scent of him, sunshine, sunshine, and it drives me crazy. His big hands are cupping my ass. His strong thighs are holding me up. And now those dark, dark eyes are level with mine.

“Can I fuck you in the shower?” he asks.

My soul leaves my body on a ragged exhalation. “God,” I breathe out, “yes.Please.”

Sam kisses me again, and then he carries me out of the kitchen. Through the living room. To the bathroom.

He doesn’t set me down as he reaches into the shower and turns the knobs. He doesn’t set me down when the water hisses out and batters against the tile. He doesn’t set me down until he’s done kissing me and ready to drag my shirt over my head. It lands in a heap on the floor.

It’s a scramble after that. My hands on his clothes, his fingers pressing into my skin, and we knock into each other in our hurry. I didn’t even know I wanted this. But two days ago, when I looked at Sam standing in my driveway and charming my mom, everything came rushing in. Months of curiosity, months of warmth, months ofwant, and now it feels like I’ve been wanting Samuel Bark for as long as I can remember.

We stand in front of each other, naked, the shower steam writhing around us, fogging up the mirror, the window, the glass shower door. Sam’s body is muscular, not bulky but not lean either. His shoulders are broad, his legs long and defined, his abs clearly strong and covered with a soft protective layer. Dark haireverywhere, and I want to bury my face in it, taste it, breathe it in because I know it will smell like the rest of him: clean and masculine and intoxicating.

My eyes drift down the length of his body to where his cock juts out from another dark nest of hair. Sam is long and thick, so hard, so full of electric blood that his dick pulses with every heartbeat, the swollen head kissing his belly with each throb. My mouth waters.

He reaches out to drag his fingers down my cheek. I let my eyes slide closed.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he whispers, and my skin turns to goosebumps again. “Every fucking inch of you, Jesus, Remy. How are you letting me touch you?”

I laugh, a startled sound that’s almost musical as it bounces around the bathroom. I’m standing in front of a literal lumberjack wet dream, and he’s muttering sweet nothings to me, caressing my face, his huge dick hard for me, andhe’sthe one wondering how he got here? That kind of innocence deserves a reward.

Without warning, I shove him into the shower, follow him under the hot stream, and sink to my knees against the tile.

“Oh,fuck,” he hisses out. He’s staring down at me like I’m a miracle, like I’m a revelation, and he’s powerless to do anything but watch.

I don’t break eye contact as I slide my tongue out from between my lips and touch the firm, pointed tip of it to the underside of his balls.

Sam yelps. His hand slaps backward against the tile wall, and when he breathes out my name, I flatten my tongue against his skin. Words fall out in a litany as I lick him, as I lap at his balls, delving behind them just a little, just a tease, and I have him whimpering above me before I’ve even touched his cock.

When I finally do drag my tongue upward, Sam’s heartbeat pulses him against my lips, and I open my mouth to let him in. He hisses. His length fills my mouth, stretching my lips, anointing my tongue with heat and weight and salt, and I suck on him.

My mind reels at the sensations. I’m currently fuzzy on how we went from sweet flirtations at the library, from cupcakes and handwritten notes to...this. To Sam’s gorgeous body, naked and plastered against my shower wall, the water streaming over my face as I take his dick deep into my mouth. I don’t remember all the steps in between, and I don’t care.

Because Sam is digging his hands into my hair and gripping me tight. He doesn’t exactly move my head, doesn’t guide my movements, but he’s not a passive participant either. His hips are giving little jerks into my mouth. He’s muttering my name and nonsense, and with water glistening as it runs over his delicious muscles, I’m convinced he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, tightening his grip on my hair and pulling me off him, “star, baby, you’ve got to stop.”

I pout, and he laughs. The sound echoes in the shower.

---