Page 15 of Mountain Man

He frowned, even as his cheeks colored. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

My pulse raced faster, out of control. “You’ve never been with a woman?”

His cheeks got darker. “Only once, a long time ago.”

Oh God. I searched my mind for the right words. “What do you think about when you’re on your own, when you’re stroking yourself?”

“You,” he said, so rough it was like fine sandpaper abrading my skin, but in an intensely good way. “I never knew her face, not until I lifted you out of the snow, stripped you down, and put you in my bed.” His hot gaze moved over me. “Everything else, everything…it was you.”

Somehow, I managed to speak past my tight throat. “What do you do to me?”

“So many things, Birdie. So many dirty things.”

I pressed against him as he stepped closer. My back met the rough-sawn wall and I lifted a hand, curling my fingers around the side of his thick neck and brushed my thumb over his beard. “I’m here now.”

He growled.

I shivered and licked my suddenly dry lips. “You don’t have to fantasize anymore, Hank.”

Another animalistic sound vibrated through his chest, making my nipples tingle, then one of his huge hands landed on my butt and he hauled me effortlessly up. I instantly wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

“I want to kiss you,” he said.

“Then do it,” I whispered, pulse racing.

He licked his lips, and after a moment’s hesitation, brought his mouth down on mine. He kissed me in a way that was rough and out of control, unschooled. His beard was soft and prickly all at once, and tickled my chin. There was no finesse, no holding back. It was wet and hard and as untamed as the man himself. It was the hottest kiss I’d ever experienced.

His tongue tangled with mine, his growls shooting straight to the aching need between my thighs, and I couldn’t help but rub against him, seeking relief, needing more of him.

His hips slammed forward, and he ground into me. “Birdie,” he said between rough breaths and rougher kisses, a desperation in his voice that had me soaking through my panties.

My fingers slid into his hair at the nape of his neck and I held tighter as his powerful body continued to thrust against mine. The hard, unforgiving length of his cock ground into me through our clothes, hitting my clit just right. I dropped a hand, shoving it under his shirt, and my fingers came into contact with the hot, smooth skin of his back. The muscles bunched under my fingers. I thrust my hand down the back of his pants, digging my nails into his firm-muscled ass cheek.

He tore his mouth from mine, panic crossing his expression, as well as a lust so deep and wild my pussy clamped tight and I started coming.

He gasped. “I can’t stop”—he shook his head—“I have to…”

He grunted, then shoved his face against my throat and groaned low and long, shuddering, hips jerking against me as he came as well.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped against my overheated skin. “Christ, I’m pathetic…I’m…”

I cupped his face, encouraging him to lift his head. “Why would you say that? Hank, you did nothing wrong.” I shook my head. “You did everything right. You made me come so hard. God, I’m still feeling it.” I bit my lip as my pussy pulsed again.

“You did?” he asked, voice pure grit.

I shivered. “Yes.” And moaned when he pressed into me and another wave of pleasure shot through me.

I knew he could see it on my face that I was telling the truth when he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and his gaze dropped to my chest. I watched as his hand lifted to my breast and cupped it. His thumb swiped over my nipple and I shivered again.

“That felt good?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Could you come again?”

I nodded, my hips rolling against him.

“Will you…” he gritted out. “Will you show me what to do?”