Page 6 of Autumn Feud With The Mountain Man (Ozark Mountain Men Falling For Love #1)

Shelby

I didn’t know what the hell had just happened. I only knew I wanted it to happen again.

What had caused me to lose my sanity and fuck this man? No clue, other than the fact that I’d instinctively known he would scratch my itch and good .

And I’d definitely picked the right man for the job.

He was staring at me with a shell-shocked look on his face, like I’d just rocked his world instead of it being the other way around.

Had he wanted me as badly as I’d wanted him? It seemed like it.

No man had ever done things like that to my pussy before.

I’d had sex. Some good. Some bad. Some meh.

But I’d never had my pussy hammered by a mountain beast before.

Maybe this is a reason to stay here.

On the spot, I instantly stopped making plans to find a new position elsewhere. Staying in Deer Springs for sex seemed like a ridiculous decision to make. But that didn’t matter. When would I ever get fucked like this again?

Looking at his face, I realized the answer was right now .

I carried his gin and my wine to the bedroom and put both glasses down on the dresser. “Ground rules. Whatever you just did to me? You have to do that again. Preferably right away. And it would be even better if you did it multiple times. Can you abide by that?”

He didn’t bother to answer. Thatcher picked up his shot of gin and downed it in one fluid movement. Then followed me straight onto the bed.

Clothes were already coming off.

My borrowed dress was a heap on the nightstand, and Thatcher had stripped out of his jeans and t-shirt in under thirty seconds.

It was then that I caught the first glimpse of his cock.

“Oh… my. That’s what you’re working with? No wonder it felt so good.”

A rare treat stood before me.

The man had a cock worthy of worship.

It throbbed in front of me, a glistening drop of pre-come already dripping down from his tip.

This man was going to ruin me. Tonight, he was going to permanently alter my view of sex. No mere mortal cock would do after having this well-built beast inside me. It was thick, long and beautifully erect.

I could see people immortalizing it, painting it on canvas, or better yet, casting it in clay.

I sunk down on all fours, incapable of doing anything but suck the drop of come right off his tip. He was still on his knees, and he groaned as my lips made contact with his cock.

Since I was already there, I might as well give him a once-over.

Settling in to the task, I was rewarded by the man’s legs buckling, as though he could hardly handle what I was doing to him. I ran my tongue down the side of his shaft.

Thatcher repositioned himself against the headboard, groaning in ecstasy as I worked my magic on him.

Whatever that display of dominance from earlier had been, he was a different man for round two. More pliant, considerate of my needs.

I had to say I liked both versions of the man.

After five minutes, he gently nudged me away. “You’re going to make me come.”

Leveling him with a stare, I asked, “And that’s a problem?”

His voice went husky on me as he snuck his hand up to tease my breast. “I want to come inside you.”

Something about the way he said it made me struggle to breathe. It was as though it meant something to him. Something bigger than a one-night stand.

He made me feel vulnerable and safe all at the same time, and I found myself lying flat on my back like a good little girl, while my big, strong alpha beast gently took me for the second time tonight.

This time was different. More focused. More intent.

His body shuddered against mine as he lay down on top of me. I spread my knees, letting him know I was okay with this intimacy between us. That I welcomed it. Welcomed him .

Thatcher didn’t wait, hungrily parting my slit, slipping inside me. My body embraced him as he filled me. And somehow I felt this connection deeper than usual.

This was no fast, casual rut.

Thatcher was focused, all of his attention fixed on me. His eyes never left mine the entire time we were joined.

There was an undercurrent of wonder in him, as though this was a sacred act shared between the two of us.

Despite this, he still took me hard. His strength turned him into a machine solely designed to pleasure me.

I couldn’t hold back, my hips meeting him with every thrust. My entire body quivered with need.

And the whole time his eyes were riveted on me as we discovered the intricacies of each other.

I was filled with need, hungry and desperate for satiation. Only one thing could give it to me.

Him.

It was when he kissed me that I lost myself completely.

His mouth on mine was an exploration, and I found myself moaning as his arms wrapped around me.

We were a sweaty, tangled mess, even in the chill crisp of the autumn air. I hadn’t turned on my heat yet, since I was accustomed to the cold weather of New York.

And it was a good thing, because if I had, we’d probably get heat stroke.

After a few minutes, I felt myself building, building, building. Thatcher was going to make me come again.

And then I was floating over the edge, lost in the bliss of release.

He kissed me as I came, my body surrendering to him yet again.

A light laugh escaped his lips as he took me to heights so high I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover.

Afterwards, I lay there gasping while he somehow found more stamina. His thrusts got wild and reckless until a loud groaning sound erupted out of him.

Thatcher buried himself inside me as he came, his groan turning into a growl.

And then he collapsed on me, and I felt his heart racing against mine.

Could there have been anything more perfect than this?

Maybe. If I didn’t hate the man. Or was it love-hate? I couldn’t quite tell. And what was the difference between the two? Right now they melded together into one man.

A feeling grew in me so strong it threatened to break out from my rib cage. It was a need that went beyond the physical.

In that moment, I wasn’t sure I could live without the man. And that gave him power over me. I was lost, every cell in my body attuned to Thatcher.

When I could finally speak again, I asked something flippant, trying to hide the emotions racing inside me. “Do you always fuck like that?”

He buried his head in my hair, inhaling deeply. Then he surprised me with his honesty. “No. There’s something different about you. You bring it out in me, Shelby. Tell me this isn’t a one-night thing. Tell me I get more time.”

More time.

What did that mean?

An hour? A day? A week? A year?

A lifetime?

I couldn’t ponder what it meant, so I just whispered back. “You get more time.”

That would be good enough for tonight. Tomorrow I could sort out what this all meant.

Sara had been right. She’d be happy to know that Thatcher’s reputation had lived up to itself. The man knew how to fuck.