Page 7 of Under The Mountain Man’s Spell

She turned, and I pushed her thighs wide and settled between them, and for a moment I just looked down at her. Her hair spilled dark across the pillow. Her breasts rose and fell. Her mouth was open, her pulse beating hard in her throat. She lifted her arms to me, and I went down into them.

I slid back inside her in one long, deep stroke, and her head went back with a cry. I hooked one of her knees up over my shoulder, then the other, folding her under me, and the new angle let me sink deeper than I had yet. Her eyes flew wide behind the mask.

"Too much?" I rasped.

"No. God. No. More." Her hands clawed at the sheets. "Deeper."

I gave it to her. I braced my hands on either side of her head and drove into her, long and hard, so deep I felt her flutter around me with every stroke. The headboard knocked against the wall. The bed frame creaked. Every thrust pushed a sound out of her, a gasp, a moan, a broken please, and I gave her words in return: that she was beautiful, that she was incredible, that I had never had anyone like her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down until our chests pressed together and her breath hit my ear in ragged gasps.

"I want to feel you tomorrow," she whispered.

"You will." I turned my head and caught her mouth and kissed her until she shook. "You'll feel me every time you sit down."

She came again with her heels digging into my back and her nails raking my shoulders. The clench of her around me was almost too much. I stopped moving and pressed my forehead into the pillow beside her head, panting, to keep from following her over. I wasn't ready. I wasn't anywhere near ready.

"Is the headboard supposed to do that?" she managed, when she could breathe.

"It's going to leave a dent in the wall."

"Good."

I laughed, a rough, shaky sound against her neck, and slid her legs down from my shoulders and kissed her, soft and long, while we both caught our breath. Then I pulled out and knelt back on my heels.

"Up on your knees," I said. My voice was hoarse. "Let me hold you."

She scrambled up, a little unsteady, and I knelt behind her with my thighs on either side of hers and one arm banded across her waist to pull her back against my chest. The glow from the hall picked out the long line of her spine and the dark fall of her hair. I gathered it in my fist and wound it around my hand once, twice, until it pulled just enough to tip her head back against my shoulder. Her throat stretched long and bare under my mouth.

"Tell me if it's too much," I said.

"It's not enough." She was breathless. "Please."

I slid into her from behind, slow, my hand tight in her hair and my other hand spread low on her belly, and she let out a long, shaking cry that I felt in my own chest. In this position she was snug around me, so hot and so deep that I had to grit my teeth. I kissed down the side of her throat, over her pulse, and started to move.

"That's it," I breathed against her skin. "God, look at you. You're taking me so well. Hold on to me."

Her hand reached up and back and hooked around my neck, and she held on. I drove up into her in long, steady thrusts, my fist in her hair and my mouth on her throat and my fingers sliding down to find her clit and rub it in firm, slow circles. She was all over me, trembling and slick and gasping, her ass pressed against my hips and her back arched against my chest, and every sound she made had my balls drawing tight.

"Don't stop," she gasped. "Right there, right there⁠—"

"I've got you. Let go for me." I bit her shoulder, not hard, and pinched her clit between two fingers. "Come for me, sweetheart. Now."

She came with a cry that cracked down the middle, her whole body bowing back against me. I held her through it, my fist still wound in her hair and my mouth at her ear, and I felt every flutter and clench of her around my cock. It took everything I had not to go over with her. I buried my face in her neck and held dead still, shaking.

"Not yet," I told myself, out loud, hoarse. "Not yet."

She let out a breathless, delighted sound. "Are you all right?"

"No." I laughed against her shoulder. "I've never been less all right in my life."

She turned in my arms until she was kneeling in front of me with her hands braced on my shoulders. Her hair was wild, her mouth swollen, her chest flushed. The mask had slid a fraction crooked, and she straightened it with a hand that wasn't steady, and then she looked at me.

"Lie back," she said.

I blinked at her.

"I'd like to be in charge for a minute." Her voice dropped, shy and bold at once. "If that works for you."

Her own words, handed back to me from the stove. "It works," I said, hoarse. "Whatever you say."