Font Size
Line Height

Page 32 of Beneath the Mountain Sky (McBride Brother Lumberjacks #1)

KILLIAN

W illow twitches under me, her body sagging deep into the mattress as I swallow the last of her release, savoring the taste, relishing getting to experience it with this woman again.

I wasn’t lying.

She’s somehow grown more beautiful in our time apart, and I’m even more desperate for her, my cock aching, pressed against the zipper of my pants, begging to drive home to the place I always felt I belonged.

With her.

So close that nothing could get between us or separate us.

I thought it would always be this way until I said the stupidest thing I ever have in my life. The one thing I thought she could never forgive me for. But somehow, this impossibly strong, stunning woman did.

She’s giving me another chance, and I will spend the rest of my life on my knees for her to prove to her that she made the right decision.

Her eyes flutter open and watch me where I still sit between her legs. I start to dip my head again to savor her one more time. To feel her come apart on my tongue and fingers.

But she threads hers through my hair again, halting my advance. “No. I need you.”

Hell.

Those are the words I always loved to hear from her mouth, but tonight, they mean so much more.

They mean forgiveness.

They mean a second chance at what I lost.

They mean a belief that things will be okay even if it feels like they won’t be.

“Are you sure?”

Her eyes narrow on me. “You won’t hurt me, Killian. You never could.”

That absolute faith and unwavering voice simultaneously shatters me as it puts the broken pieces of my heart back together again.

Something I never thought possible.

I slowly climb up over her, bracing myself on one elbow at the side of her head, hovering above her and staring down at her thick, dark hair spread out around her like a halo.

It’s beautifully poetic because she’s always been an angel to me and everyone else she meets.

“But I did.” I trail my fingers across her flushed cheek. “Badly.”

She turns into my touch. “And you’ve suffered for it long enough.”

“I don’t think I have.”

There isn’t enough time or space or physical pain that could make up for what I said to her and the results of it.

Willow gives me a sad smile. “Well, for tonight, just pretend you have so that you can let it go.” She reaches down between us and wraps her small, soft palm around my cock, cupping me through my pants, eliciting a groan as it jerks against her hold. “Please, Killian.”

Just like when we were in the tent, I can’t deny her.

When this woman wants something, it’s impossible for me to say no. The one time I did, my entire world fell apart, and I won’t risk that again.

I ghost my lips across her forehead. “Okay.”

She grins and starts to reach for my fly, but I catch her hand, squeezing her wrist.

“But I have a few rules.”

Her eyes flare with heat and interest. “What kind of rules?”

I grin at her. “We take things slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She opens her mouth to protest again, and I silence her with a languid kiss. It has her squirming under me almost immediately, but I drag it out. Slowly exploring her mouth and reveling in her taste. Working her up until she can’t take it anymore and tugs on my hair harshly.

God, she needs this almost as badly as I do.

To re-cement our connection. To reaffirm everything we just said to each other. To make up for time lost. To feel like life isn’t spiraling out of our control by taking it in this moment.

I force myself to pull away so I can undo my zipper and slip off my pants and boxer briefs. They hit the floor, followed by my T-shirt, before I climb back onto the bed, settling over her again, my cock pinned between us.

Every fiber of my being aches for her.

Time hasn’t done anything but make me need her more.

I kiss her again, and her hand wraps around my shaft, stroking it gently. Light fingertips glide across the head, slick pre-cum spreading over it. My hips buck as pleasure shoots through me, and I almost come all over her belly before we’ve even started.

“I’m not going to last long, Honeybee. It’s been a year, and I’ve thought of nothing every time I took my cock in my own hand except being with you like this again.”

She shudders, arching into me, her grip tightening. “Did you do that often?”

Her question comes breathy, full of desire and annoyance at how slow I’m taking things.

“Every fucking night. Every time I thought about you, I either snuck out into the woods and chopped down trees until my hands bled or came in here and stroked my cock until I came, wishing it was inside you.” I shift back and cup her breast, flicking my thumb across the nipple.

“Or across these beautiful tits.” I slide my hand down her smooth stomach. “Or over this belly.”

She spasms as my palm cups her pussy.

“But especially right here.”

I slide my other hand around her, then roll onto my back, taking her with me. She yelps slightly at the quick movement, and I shift until I’m settled half-propped against the pillows and she’s draped across me.

“You’re going to take the lead tonight, Willow.”

Her eyes flare. “What?”

“You’re going to ride me, Honeybee. You’re going to take what you need at your own pace, so I don’t hurt you.”

It’s a complete one-eighty from what she’s used to with me.

Willow loves to relinquish control. To let me lead and allow her to go to that headspace where she doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to do anything but feel. But tonight, I need her to take.

She seems to consider my demands for a moment before her gaze fills with intent, and she strokes my cock again, harder this time, twisting her wrist around the head and spreading another bead of pre-cum across it.

It throbs in her grip, aching to be inside her, to feel the warm clasp of her cunt.

All I want is to watch her come undone on my cock and know it’s because of me.

When she dips her head and kisses me as she shifts back, settling herself directly over my length, I hold my breath.

Waiting.

Watching the way she catalogs my tattoos and every inch of my body the same way I have done hers. Her eyes linger on my right arm, where the new tattoo of the bleeding heart with the very important words is now inked permanently.

Her fingers trail over it. “What does ‘ Veni, vidi, amavi’ mean?”

I slide my hand to her hip, holding her steady. “I came, I saw, I loved. Only you, Honeybee. Always only you.”

The love reflecting at me momentarily allows all other considerations to float away on a cloud of need, and Willow sinks down slightly, taking just the head inside her.

I swallow a hiss, my eyes closing and my head tipping back at how hot and tight she is.

Good God.

She stills, and my eyes fly open to find hers.

I search for any signs of discomfort. “Are you all right?”

Her mouth opens slightly. She pants and nods. “I’m okay.”

Slowly, she starts to ease herself down onto me, inch by inch. Her tight, wet core cocoons me, and by the time she fully seats herself, my entire body tremors with the effort it takes to hold back.

My hands find her hips and squeeze gently, afraid of hurting her, then I glide my palm up to her ribs and press against the healing bruise there. “If this hurts too much…”

Willow pushes up, allowing me to slide out until only the tip remains in. Squeezing, she sinks down slowly, her mouth falling open on a silent cry. “Oh, God, it doesn’t!”

She’s lying.

I’ve cracked enough ribs in my day to know it has to hurt.

But whether she’s lying or it’s merely the adrenaline and endorphins, all the hormones raging through her that allow her to keep going, it doesn’t seem to matter to her.

She starts a slow rhythm, and I slide my hands lower to help lift her so that it isn’t so much work. Leaning forward, she braces her hands on my bare chest, one directly over my heart, the other over the top peak of McBride Mountain.

Her hips roll as she glides back down, squeezing me so tightly I grit my teeth to keep from coming immediately.

“Fuck, Willow. I’m not going to last. I’m not?—”

She silences me with a kiss, rocking forward, the change of angle allowing me to brace my feet and push up into her even deeper.

A gasp falls from her lips against mine, the sound so heady and filled with so much need and emotion that tears start to pool in my eyes for the time we lost.

For how I hurt her.

For whatever she suffered while she was gone.

For the situation we have found ourselves in.

For all of it.

She lowers her forehead to mine and starts moving again, meeting each of my cautious upward thrusts with a down-slam of her hips, grinding her clit against my pelvis, exactly the way I know she likes it, the way that will build her up and allow her to fly.

Her arms start to shake, and her thighs quiver along my sides.

“You’re close, baby?”

She nods and whimpers, pulling her lip between her teeth and biting down as she continues to roll her hips against mine.

I slide my hand up around her neck, and she whimpers, that needy mewl that I know means she’s about to come tumbling out of her.

Yes.

She’s almost there.

So close.

I squeeze gently, the way I know she likes it, not hard enough to restrict her breathing, just enough to let her know it’s there, and she detonates, her body spasming as I continue to pump into her, her breath catching, her pussy squeezing my cock and finally drawing out my own release.

My breath rushes out of me, along with my orgasm, and I drive into her four more times, releasing deep inside her before she finally comes down and collapses on top of me, both of us finally letting go of all the things that have been holding us back since her return.

Not anymore.

The worst thing I ever did was not be completely honest with her, not give her the opportunity to talk me off the ledge I was balancing on in my own head when it came to our future together.

Ad If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.