Page 4 of Hayrides with Hank (Mountain Men Fall Harder #7)

HANK

I could seriously get fired for this, and I didn’t give two fucks.

That was what this woman was doing to me. My tree removal business didn’t matter. My reputation here in Maple Ridge didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting this woman naked.

But as our lips met in a kiss that sent heat rushing through me, I knew we couldn’t do this out here in the open. Anyone could pull into the parking area and spot us. I needed a little more privacy than that.

Once I started kissing her, though, it was tough to stop. Just a few more minutes, then a few more. But when her hand settled on my thigh, I quickly pulled back.

We left everything—the blanket, the food, the partly consumed bottles of wine.

If anyone showed up, they’d wonder what interrupted the party.

They might even come investigating. But that just drove me to pull her deeper into the nearby trees, where I could keep an eye on things and at least have a little warning if we were being interrupted.

“Is this safe?” she asked, looking around as we ducked behind a particularly large tree. Her eyebrows arched as I looked down at her.

“Is safe what you want?”

Her eyebrows lifted in what was almost an imitation of my move. Then she was smiling too.

“You’re right,” she said. “But I am safe. I mean, I’m on birth control.”

Shit, that hadn’t even occurred to me. My hands were on her hips and my mouth inches from hers, and I would have plunged headlong into this, probably only considering the condoms in my bedside table after I’d emptied myself inside her.

Normally, that would be followed by weeks of worrying about whether or not I’d be tied down with a kid for the next eighteen years.

But none of that occurred to me this time. It wasn’t just that I didn’t care if I got her pregnant. I wanted to get her pregnant.

All of a sudden, I got it—the reason men settled down and started a family. It wasn’t a trap like I’d always seen it. With the right woman, it was what life was all about.

“We could get caught at any second,” she said, smiling as she reached for the fastening of my jeans.

I opened my mouth to reassure her, but my brain stopped me. I’d just processed what she was doing. The thrill of being caught was part of this—it was why we were doing it here and not in my king-size bed just a few miles away.

We wouldn’t be caught, not here. But we were outside, just feet away from where someone could come upon our nighttime picnic and go investigating, and that thought got me riled up too.

Of course, it could have more to do with the fact that she was shoving down my underwear and jeans, freeing my erection like she couldn’t wait to get her hands on it.

And that was exactly what she did—put her hands on it. One hand, anyway. The other moved up my arm as she rose on tiptoe.

That broke the last of any restraints I might have had.

I crushed her mouth with mine, came down on her mouth so hard I was worried I’d bump her teeth behind her lips. Too rough? She didn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, she continued to stroke me with smooth, deliberate movements that had me moaning against her mouth.

Her touch was far from expert, but somehow that excited me more.

I could easily assume I was the first man she’d ever touched, and the possessiveness that filled me at that thought brought me up short.

In a million years, I never would have imagined being excited by the thought of being a woman’s first.

But it wouldn’t have applied to any other woman. This was all about Maddie.

I pulled back and looked down at her, my face still close to hers. “Turn around. Put your hands on the tree.”

The command in my own voice surprised me, but the raw, answering heat in her eyes told me it was the right one. It was a language we were inventing together, right here, right now.

With a slow, deliberate movement that made my blood pound, she turned, placing her palms flat against the rough, ancient bark of the oak.

The world narrowed to this small, hidden clearing.

I took a deep breath and appreciated all of it—the scent of damp earth and her perfume, the distant chirp of crickets, and the overwhelming, terrifyingly wonderful sight of Maddie offering herself to me.

I stepped into her, my chest against her back, and the feel of her, so small and trusting against me, nearly undid me. I lowered my head, and my lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, tasting salt and sweetness. A low groan escaped me, vibrating against her.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Maddie,” I said.

My left hand slid around her waist, under the soft cotton of her shirt, where I felt the frantic beat of her heart against my forearm. My fingers walked up her ribs, tracing each one until I met the lace edge of her bra.

I didn’t fumble. I was a man possessed, driven by a need so deep, it felt primal. I cupped her breast through the fabric, feeling the hard peak of her nipple press into my palm. A sharp, gasping sigh escaped her, her head falling back against my shoulder.

That was all the invitation I needed. My fingers slipped under the lace cup, pushing it roughly aside until I found bare skin.

So soft. So perfectly, impossibly soft. And her nipple was a tight bead against my calloused fingertips.

I rolled it, pinched it gently, and her whole body jerked against me, a broken whimper catching in her throat.

At the same time, my right hand went to work. The button of her skirt gave way with a faint pop. The zipper hissed down. I didn’t push it down. I let it fall, a pool of thin fabric at her feet.

That left her in just her shirt, her bra pushed aside, and a pair of simple cotton panties.

The vulnerability of it, the sheer trust, sent a fresh wave of lust crashing through me.

I slid my hand down the curve of her stomach, feeling her clench under my touch, and dipped my fingers beneath the waistband.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

She was drenched. Soaking wet and hot as hellfire. My fingers slid through her slick folds without any resistance, and a guttural curse was torn from my throat, muffled against her neck.

“Jesus Christ, Maddie,” I growled, my voice ragged. “You’re so fucking wet. So ready for me. God, the feel of you…it’s going to make me come before I’m even inside you.”

I found her clit, a hard, eager pearl amidst all that slick heat, and circled it with my finger. Her hips bucked forward, then pushed back against my hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.

The sounds she made were almost my undoing. Little gasps that hitched into breathy moans. A low, continuous hum of pleasure that vibrated through her and into me. Each one was a spike of pure adrenaline straight to my cock, which was painfully hard, nothing constraining it but the cool night air.

Her movements were becoming more frantic, less controlled.

She was rocking against my hand, her ass grinding against my erection with every forward thrust. The dual sensation—the silken heat of her on my fingers and the friction of her ass against my bare cock—was a sweet, exquisite torture.

I could feel the tension coiling in my gut, a warning I desperately tried to ignore.

This was for her. This first time was all for Maddie.

I focused on her, on the rhythm of my fingers, on the way her body was tightening, singing a song of impending release. I slipped two fingers inside her, and her inner muscles clenched around me in a vice-like grip. Her head rolled back against my shoulder, her eyes squeezed shut.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmured against her ear, my voice thick. “Let go. Come for me. Let me feel you come on my hand.”

A high, keening cry started in her throat, and I covered her mouth with my free hand, swallowing the sound. It was instinct, a need to keep this moment ours and ours alone. Her body went rigid against mine, every muscle taut as a bowstring.

Then she came. A series of violent, beautiful tremors wracked her frame, her inner muscles milking my fingers, her cry a muffled, desperate thing against my palm. I held her through it, my own body trembling with the effort of holding back, of just watching her fly apart because of me.

As the last waves of her orgasm subsided, she went boneless against me, her weight supported by the tree and my body. I slowly withdrew my hand, bringing my glistening fingers to my mouth and tasting her. Sweet. Addictive. Mine.

She started to turn, her movements languid and sated, her eyes hazy with pleasure. Her hand reached for me, for my cock, a clear intent in her drowsy gaze. To reciprocate. To pleasure me.

I stopped her, my hand gentle but firm on her hip. “No,” I said, my voice rough with need. “Stay just like that. Hands on the tree.”

A flicker of surprise, then deeper arousal, crossed her face.

She obeyed, turning back and settling her palms against the rough bark once more, presenting herself to me.

This was it. The point of no return. My heart was hammering against my ribs like it wanted out.

I positioned myself at her entrance, the broad head of my cock nudging against her incredible wetness.

I met her eyes over her shoulder, needing to see her, to know this was okay.

“Your first time,” I breathed, more a reminder to myself than to her. “I’ll go slow. Tell me if it hurts too much.”

She nodded, her breath catching. “Please, Hank. I need you.”

That was all it took. I pushed forward, just an inch—a shallow, careful penetration.

She was so tight. Unbelievably tight. A gasp, sharp and different from her sounds of pleasure, escaped her. In the moonlight, I saw the way her knuckles whitened against the tree.

I froze instantly. “Okay?”

“It…stings,” she whispered, and the vulnerability in her voice cleaved my heart in two.

“I know, baby. I know.” I didn’t pull out. Instead, I brought my hand back around, my fingers finding her clit again. I circled it, slow and gentle, distracting her, pulling her back from the edge of pain. “Focus on this. Focus on my touch. Just relax for me.”

I began to move, the shallowest of motions, barely withdrawing before sliding back in.

My world narrowed to the feel of her—the incredible heat hugging the tip of my cock, the soft skin of her neck under my lips, the frantic little pulse at her throat, the rapidly returning wetness on my fingers as I worked her.

The initial sting seemed to be fading, replaced by a new, building tension. Her hips gave a tentative little push back against me.

“That’s it,” I encouraged her, my voice a hoarse whisper. “That’s my girl. You feel so good, Maddie. So perfect.”

And she was. It was obvious the pain was forgotten, eclipsed by a gathering storm of a second climax.

I could feel it building in the way her breath hitched, in the way her inner muscles began to flutter around me.

She was going to come. Again. The realization was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known.

I increased the pace of my fingers just slightly, my own shallow thrusts becoming a fraction deeper, but still careful, still holding back the primal need to plunge into her to the hilt.

That’s when I saw them.

Movement. Through the lattice of branches, maybe fifty yards away, at the edge of the clearing where our abandoned picnic remained.

A beam of a flashlight swept over our blanket.

A man’s laugh, followed by a woman’s higher-pitched giggle.

A couple. Probably teenagers looking for a spot. They’d found ours.

A jolt of pure, unadulterated adrenaline shot through me.

They were too far to see us, shrouded as we were by the thick trunk and the deepening shadows.

But they were there. They could, at any moment, decide to venture deeper into the woods.

The risk was immediate, terrifying, and it made my already-thrumming arousal spike into something dangerously intense.

The forbidden nature of it, the sheer audacity of what we were doing with witnesses so close, was a drug.

I leaned forward, my chest plastered to Maddie’s back, my mouth against her ear. My voice was the lowest, most urgent whisper. “Don’t make a sound, baby. There’s someone out there.”

I expected her to freeze. To panic. To clamp down around me and kill the moment stone dead.

I was wrong.

A full-body shudder wracked her frame. But it wasn’t fear.

It was pure, undiluted excitement. The moan she stifled was one of the hottest things I’d ever heard.

The knowledge that we could be discovered, that these strangers were obliviously standing mere yards from where I was buried inside the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, ignited something in her too.

Her back arched, pushing her ass harder against me, taking me that tiny bit deeper. Her hips began to move against my hand with a new, desperate rhythm.

“You like that?” I whispered, awestruck and so turned on I could barely see straight. “You like that they’re so close? Knowing I’m making you come while they’re right there?”

Her answer was a frantic, silent nod, her hair brushing my cheek. She was hurtling toward her peak, driven now by the danger as much as by my touch. I could feel her orgasm gathering, a tsunami about to break.

I focused everything I had on her, on the little bundle of nerves under my fingers, on the shallow, rhythmic push of my hips. My own control was hanging by a thread, frayed by her sounds, her heat, and the illicit thrill of the audience just beyond the trees.

“Come on, Maddie,” I breathed into her ear, my own voice strained to breaking. “Come for me. Now. Quietly. Let me feel you lose control.”

It was the “quietly” that did it. The command, the secrecy. Her body locked up. Her mouth opened in a silent, perfect ‘O’ of shock and ecstasy.

She came. Hard. Her internal muscles clenched around me in a series of rhythmic, pulsing contractions so intense it felt like she was trying to draw my soul out through my cock.

She shook violently, her silent scream a thing of beauty and agony, her nails scraping against the tree bark. It was the most powerful, most erotic thing I had ever witnessed.

And as the last tremors of her orgasm began to subside, she did something that shocked me. Instead of collapsing, she pushed forward, sliding me out of her body with a soft, wet sound that seemed obscenely loud in the quiet woods.

Then, she turned to me.

Her face was flushed, her lips swollen from my kisses, her eyes dark and blazing with a confidence I hadn’t seen there before.

She looked like a woman who had been thoroughly claimed and had loved every second of it.

The moonlight played over her features, highlighting the sweat on her brow, the triumphant, sated smile on her lips.

“I’m going to make you come in my mouth,” she said.