Page 9 of Bossy Mountain Daddies (Reverse Harem Mountain Daddies #3)

Part of my brain—the rational part that's being drowned out by desire—tries to raise a flag.

This is happening too fast. She's vulnerable.

I'm her boss, technically, even though it’s temporary.

But then her hands slide under my t-shirt, her cool fingers tracing the muscles of my back, and rational thought scatters like leaves in a storm.

"You sure?" I manage to ask.

Her answer is to take my hand and start leading me toward the stairs. The narrow staircase is dark, and she climbs ahead of me, still holding my hand.

At the top, she pushes open the door to her room, and I'm struck by a moment of clarity—of seeing her in the dim light filtering through the curtains, her hair falling loose around her shoulders, eyes bright with desire.

"Skye," I start, not sure what I'm going to say.

She presses a finger to my lips. Then her hand drops to the hem of her cropped shirt, and in one fluid motion, she pulls it over her head.

My breath catches. She's standing there in her cutoffs and a lacy black bra, looking so fucking gorgeous and off-limits. I've imagined this the last couple of days but the reality of her is so much better than any late-night fantasy.

"Your turn," she says, reaching for the buttons of my shirt.

She undresses me, her fingers working quickly until she's pushing the shirt off my shoulders.

When her hands touch my bare chest, I can't help the low moan that escapes my lips.

It's been so long since I've felt someone's touch like this.

I've had hookups, sure, but nothing that felt like this—charged with something more than just physical need.

Suddenly, something inside of me just cracks. I need this woman and I need her right fucking now.

I grab her wrist, tugging her toward the bed.

Her breath hitches, and I fucking love that sound—like she’s already unraveling, and I haven’t even touched her yet.

Her hips sway as she walks, and I can’t stop staring at the curve of her ass in those shorts.

My dick twitches, hard and impatient, against the seam of my jeans.

“Lay down,” I growl, my voice low. She doesn’t hesitate, sliding onto the bed, her eyes wide, her lips parting slightly.

Fuck, she’s beautiful like this—submissive, waiting for me to devour her.

I kneel between her legs, my hands gripping her hips as I peel her shorts down her thighs.

Her panties follow, black lace clinging to her skin for a second before I yank them off too.

She’s bare now, her pussy glistening, fucking dripping for me, and I can’t wait to taste her.

I lean in, my breath hot against her inner thighs, and she shivers.

“Griff,” she whimpers, and it’s all the permission I need.

I press my mouth to her pussy, lapping at her slit like I’m fucking starving.

She tastes sweet and tangy, and I groan against her, the vibration making her legs jerk.

Her hands grab at my hair, pulling, and I love it—her need, her desperation.

I fuck her with my tongue, dragging it over her clit, slow and deliberate, then fast and relentless.

Her hips buck, grinding against my face, and I pin her down with my hands, holding her still so I can work her properly.

Her moans grow louder, and I can feel her tightening, her thighs trembling around my head. She’s close, so fucking close.

“Oh God, Griff—I’m gonna—” Her voice breaks, high-pitched and breathless, but I pull back just as she’s about to come. She whines, frustrated, her eyes flashing with something between anger and desperation. I smirk, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, savoring the taste of her on my lips.

“Not yet,” I say. “You can come when I tell you you can.”

I stand, shoving my jeans down my hips, kicking them off along with my boxers. My cock springs free, thick and throbbing, already leaking pre-cum. She watches me as I roll on a condom, and I can’t wait to fuck her.

I lay down on the bed, pulling her on top of me.

She straddles my hips, her pussy hovering above my dick, and I guide her down, letting her take me inch by fucking inch.

She’s tight, wet, clenching around me, and I groan, gripping her hips hard.

She starts to move, grinding herself against me, and I let her set the pace.

Her head falls back, her tits bouncing with every thrust, and I can’t look away. Jesus Christ, she’s gorgeous.

“Ride me,” I growl, slapping her ass lightly.

She moans, her pace quickening, her pussy tightening around me like a fucking vice.

I can feel her getting close again, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

“That’s it. You can come now,” I murmur, my hands gripping her thighs, forcing her to take me deeper.

Her nails dig into my chest, and I love it—the sting, the pain, the way she loses control.

She comes with a cry, her pussy pulsing around me, and I can’t hold back anymore. I thrust up into her, fucking her through her orgasm until I’m spilling inside her. She collapses on top of me, her body shaking, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.

But I’m not done yet—not even close.

I move my head down to her pussy again and the moment she spreads her legs for me, I’m fucking gone. Her arousal is dripping like honey down her thighs. I can smell her—that heady, intoxicating musk.

I start slowly on her, because I’m a goddamn sadist like that. My tongue drags through her folds, teasing her entrance, tasting her. She jerks, her hips lifting off the bed, a strangled moan slipping past her lips. “Griff?—”

“I got you,” I growl against her, my breath hot on her clit. “Just lay back and let me finish you off.”

Her thighs tremble as I lap at her, savoring every second. I flick my tongue over her clit, slow, deliberate, just enough to make her squirm. She’s already gasping, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her hips bucking against my mouth. I smirk, pulling back just enough to watch her desperation.

“Griff, please?—”

“Please what?” I taunt.

“You know what,” she snaps, her voice breaking.

I chuckle, low and dark, before diving back in. This time, I’m not fucking around. My tongue spears into her, lapping at her slick cunt like I’m starving for it. She groans, her thighs clamping around my head, her fingers tangling in my hair.

I slide a finger inside her, my thumb circling her clit. She’s so fucking tight, her walls clenching around me like she’s trying to pull me deeper. I find that sweet spot, and she lets out a guttural moan.

“Oh fuck—don’t stop!”

“I wasn’t planning to. Not this time,” I mutter against her pussy, adding a second finger.

She’s slick enough now that it slides in easily, her walls stretching to accommodate me.

I pump my fingers in and out, my thumb working her clit in tight circles.

She’s writhing beneath me, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, her body trembling on the edge.

Then I lean down and suck her clit into my mouth, and she fucking explodes.

Her back arches off the bed, her thighs clamping around my head as she comes hard, her pussy pulsing around my fingers.

I pull back, wiping my mouth, and give her a cocky smirk.

“That was to make up for pulling away the first time, right before you were about to come.”

She laughs. “Yea, that was so rude.”

“But I made up for it, right?”

“I suppose so. But you better not do that again.”

The thought of doing all this again has me immediately half-hard. But I’m too tired to do anything about it.

We lie together, her head on my chest, my fingers moving up and down her back. I'm not sure if this was a terrible mistake or the best decision I've made in years.

"Stay," she whispers, already half-asleep herself.

So I do, pulling the sheet over us and tucking her in closer. I lie there listening to the sound of her breathing, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest against my side. The last thought I have before sleep claims me is that I'm in way over my head, and I don't even care.