Page 11 of Comforted By The Mountain Man (Eden Ridge: Hunter Brothers #1)

His mouth savagely takes mine and I don’t hold back either. The mix of our tastes drives me wild. His mouth then travels down my neck, my chest, until he’s taking my breast into his mouth.

“Asher,” I breathe out, pulling his hair.

Groaning against my nipple, his fingers drag down my stomach until he’s where I desperately need attention. Two of his fingers slide between my drenched lips, upward till he’s driving my nerves insane, finding my clit.

My hips jerk up into his fingers as he switches to give my other breast attention. I run my nails down his back.

“So fucking perfect,” he says against my skin as he licks down my body, my stomach, and replaces his fingers with his tongue.

“Oh, my God,” I cry out. “That’s so good,” I chant.

I’ve never had oral before. I never understood the big whoop.

Yup. I get it now.

His fingers explore my outer and inner lips, teasing, heightening the sensations. That’s when he finds my entrance, and oh, Lord, his fingers are thick and long. Two of them ease slowly into me and I see stars.

Noises I didn’t know I was capable of are boldly coming out of me, spurring Asher on. The deep groans of satisfaction he’s getting from pleasuring me is addictive.

“Asher,” I cry. “Please. So close. So good.”

His fingers curl inside me, and he touches something that makes everything below the waist contract almost to the point of breathless pain but a pain you’d die to feel time and time again. Just as the world stills, my ears pop and sparks of light explode behind my eyes.

I’m free-falling.

My locked-up body lets go like never before. I feel tears stream down the sides of my face, into my hair. Asher doesn’t let up. He takes me higher, for longer. I want to push him away. I want to pull him closer. I don’t know what to do with myself other than let go and be.

Sound slowly filters back and awareness of my surroundings bleeds back in. Asher’s above me and my lungs race to calm my breathing.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, panting.

His eyes are still dark, on the brink of something, but his smile brings a light to his face I have yet to see.

“I need a condom,” he goes to move but I wrap my arms and legs around him.

“No,” I get out, shaking my head. The skin between his brows pinch. “Ever since Ryder was born,” I say quietly, “I’ve gotten the shot. Every twelve weeks. Never missed one. I didn’t…”

I didn’t want Oscar parenting another kid.

I don’t have to finish that statement out loud. Asher’s expression softens.

“I just got another shot five weeks ago,” I tell him. “I haven’t slept with anyone since the first year after Asher’s birth.” My jaw locks, suppressing the emotion. “I couldn’t anymore,” I whisper.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a couple of years,” he says, brushing hair and tears off my face. “I’m clean. I would never put you in danger. Ever”

“I want to feel everything,” I request again and that seems to be all he needs to hear.

Asher slides his hard shaft, wet with both of us, and tucks the tip inside before holding still. Both his arms slide under my body, leaving every inch of me touching him until he slides deeper inside me.

Gasping, I squeeze him closer as Asher growls in his chest, his face burrowing into my neck. I dig my head back into the pillow, overwhelmed by how deep he keeps venturing inside me. My inner walls clench around hot steel, causing a flutter of nerves to send waves of pleasure.

Groaning, Asher lifts his head as one hand travels down my back, taking a handful of my ass. Slow and deep turns into powerful thrusts that have me barking out cries of bliss every time. I tilt my hips to meet him at every pounding upthrust.

“Asher,” I moan. “More,” I cry out.

Deep, thundering noises come from this hulking man as he brings his knees up for leverage and holding my ass up in the air, leaving only my back on the mattress, he drives his hips deeper, faster.

My arms shoot above me to push against the headboard so my head doesn’t bang into it but also to push into his thrusts more powerfully.

We’re both mad with this euphoric craving.

“You want my come?” he growls and holy hell, my pussy squeezes so hard he curses into the ceiling.

“I’m close,” I whimper, chasing air.

“I want you leaking for hours,” he bends down and bites into my mouth. “I want to smell my come deep in your pussy when I eat you out again later tonight.”

“Oh God,” I moan, frantically pushing my body down onto his swelling cock.

“I’m coming so deep inside you, Brown Eyes. All this pussy will know is my cock from now on.” He’s becoming more feral, fingers digging deeper into my skin, hot come leaking into me already, I can feel it.

“Wet my dick, baby. Give me your sweet juices. I want another one. Now,” he demands, and my body listens.

I scream, body jerking, my mind floating as fireworks blind me behind closed lids.

“Pull my come from me,” he shouts, and I manage to somehow get my lower half to listen, milking him as he cries out my name.

Asher’s body flattens me onto the mattress, his pelvis spasming, pounding deeper as a flood of thick, wet heat fills me up. So much so, it leaks out between his cock inside me. I’m still convulsing from aftershocks. His release triggers mini ones of my own.

My body eventually falls dead onto the bed. Asher’s body collapses half on top of me and I find that it’s not suffocating. I love it. The connection.

Feeling starts to rush back into my limbs in a cold wave and my heart beats wildly in my chest. Asher tucks his face into my neck again as we both work to catch our breaths.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, Asher is a dirty talker in bed.

Laughter bubbles out of me without permission. I cover my mouth but I can’t control it. It’s liberating. Once it starts, it won’t stop. And it’s pure, unfiltered laughter.

Mock glaring, Asher lifts his head and stares.

“Should I be worried about my performance?” he asks playfully and that just sends me into a giggle fit.

He smiles, watching the whole crazy moment until I settle down with a happy sigh, turning to stare at his beautiful features. They’ve taken on a lightness. I study his long, dark, curled eyelashes, his thick brows, that tempting mouth.

I run a finger down his bearded cheek, mapping out a memory.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“I should be thanking you,” he says, keeping his voice quiet, intimate.

“You gave me a lot of firsts. And they were perfect,” I confess, tracing his lips. I can feel the confusion rolling off him. Without looking at his eyes, I give him honesty. “I have never, nor has anyone else on me, used their mouths on intimate places.” It’s the most delicate way of putting it.

I trace that same finger now at his jaw, hoping he doesn’t need me to spell it out.

“Fuck, Sierra. Good luck getting rid of me now,” he whispers, bending over and kissing me.

Another first. Rounds two, three, and hell, I lose count.

We utilize every ounce of the three hours before Ryder gets dropped off at Asher’s.

Watching my boy, after Asher and I showered—a second time; the first ended up in another round—as he eyes this cabin with wonder, running to explore every room for zero-point-two seconds before jumping to the next, creates an ache in my chest.

Worry and joy in equal measure.

We could get used to this. And that scares the hell out of me.