Page 28 of Mountain Daddy (Broken Boss Daddies #1)

LILLY

H e slams the cabin door shut behind us, and I don’t even get a chance to look around before he’s on me.

Mouth to mine.

Teeth, tongue, hands everywhere.

The drive here had been hell. His hand on my thigh, my lips on his neck, his protests through his moans. Telling me I was the distraction.

I kiss him like he’s oxygen and I’ve been drowning. Like this is my final fuck before the world burns.

His tongue dives into my mouth like he owns it.

His mouth crashes into mine, hungry and fucking desperate. I claw at his shirt like it’s the only thing standing between me and salvation—because it is.

I need skin. Need him. Need to feel every hard, ruthless inch of him wrecking me into a state of disorientation.

We’ve been circling each other all night like two animals in heat. And now? We’re finally alone.

And the hunger between us doesn’t simmer.

It detonates.

Gasoline on fire. That’s what this is. Instant combustion. I bite his lower lip just to make him groan.

He slams me into the wall so fast the air leaves my lungs—but I don’t care. I wrap my legs around him, grind up against his hard cock, shameless and soaking for it.

“I want you,” I breathe, dragging my nails down his back. “No, I need you to fuck me into ruin.”

He growls like a man on the edge. Good—because I’m not here for sweet.

I’m here to burn.

My body presses up against his, all heat and greed, and I feel everything—every rigid inch of him pressing against my core. I’m soaked through my panties, and we’ve barely started.

His hands slide under my ass and he pulls up, squeezes like I’m his little plaything. And that’s exactly what I want to be.

I want him to fucking play with me.

I wrap my arms around his neck and he lifts me straight off the floor.

My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, grinding into him with a shameless whimper. I want to feel it tomorrow when I sit down. I want to be marked.

“Fuck, baby, you’re wet already,” he mutters, voice thick with hunger.

“Keep talking and you’re gonna find out how wet when you’re licking it off your chin,” I pant into his mouth, drunk on the way his cock bucks at that.

He slams me back against the nearest wall, and I gasp.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, sweetheart,” he growls, grinding against my soaked heat. “Now you’re gonna pay for it.”

“Take me to the bedroom then,” I gasp against his mouth.

“Too far,” he growls.

His hips grind into mine, cock thick and hard, right where I need it. Despite the clothes, the friction is enough to make me whimper like a little slut. And god, for him? I’ll be anything.

I roll my hips up into him, chasing the pressure like a girl who knows what she wants.

Because I do.

I want him inside me.

Now. Fast. Filthy.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he trails kisses down my neck. “Watching you in that dress. Wanting to tear it off you.”

“So do it.”

His eyes lock with mine.

Dark.

Dangerous.

Hungry.

“Don't rush me,” he says, setting me down. His fingers find the top button of my dress. “I've been waiting all day.”

One button. Then another.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Torturous.

“You're fucking killing me,” I hiss, hands sliding up under his shirt, greedy for skin, for heat, for him. “Hurry up.”

His smirk is cocky. “Patience, baby. I want to unwrap you slow—like the sweet little gift you are.”

The third button slips free. Then the fourth. At this pace, I’m going to combust. Right here. Against this damn wall.

“Nikolai,” I growl, grabbing his wrist. “Stop playing and fuck me.”

He chuckles, but his eyes are molten now. Lava. “So needy. You want me to rip it all off and take you like an animal?”

“Yes.” My voice is breathless, filthy. “I want your cock, Nikolai. Now.”

Something cracks inside him—restraint, reason, whatever. It’s gone.

And thank fuck for that.

His hands fist the sides of my half-open dress. Rip . The sound sends a jolt straight to my core.

Buttons scatter across the floor like a warning shot. Too late.

“Better?” he rasps, voice like gravel.

“God, yes.” My voice is breathy, desperate. I kick off my heels. I need nothing between me and him.

He pushes the torn dress off my shoulders, slow just to tease me, and it drops to the floor in a soft whisper. I’m left standing there in nothing but my lacy black bra and barely-there panties.

Damp, clinging, aching.

His eyes crawl over me like a goddamn firestorm. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, but it’s not sweet. It’s feral. It’s hungry.

Then he drops to his knees.

My breath catches.

His big hands glide up my calves, slow and claiming, then higher—dragging his mouth after them. Hot, wet kisses. Rough little nips. Teeth grazing skin like he’s leaving a fucking roadmap of where he’s been.

“Mine,” he mutters against my thigh. “You feel that, baby? That pulse under my tongue? That’s how bad I want you.”

I thread my fingers into his hair, already wrecked for him. “Then take it.”

He looks up at me with those dark, stormy eyes. Unblinking.

Then does the cardinal sin.

He stands.

Leaves me panting.

He towers over me. Lowers his face. Without breaking eye contact, he bites down the strap of my bra.

Rips.

The sound is obscene. So is the way his teeth scrape against my skin as the lace gives. Then he does the same to the other side, tearing it apart like he’s claiming the fucking ruins.

The bra hits the floor.

I’m bare.

Exposed.

His.

“Did you just destroy my favorite bra?” I ask, voice ragged, pulse racing like I’ve already come.

He grins up at me, cocky and wild. His hands are already on me, rough palms cupping my breasts, thumbs circling slow over my nipples until they tighten painfully. “I’ll buy you a hundred. All lace. All disposable.”

I arch into his touch, greedy for it. “You better. Or I’ll make you pay by tying you to my bed.”

He groans. “God, I fucking love your mouth.”

I no longer feel his hands. Lips hot and wet around my nipple. He sucks, bites, tongues me like he’s starving, and every nerve in my body lights up. My knees buckle.

His other hand slides down my stomach, fingers dragging slow like he’s testing every inch of me with touch. He dips beneath the waistband of my panties, growling against my breast.

“These…” he mutters, voice gravel and heat, “…are in my fucking way.”

His fingers hook into the sides of my panties and drag them down slow—too slow. Like he’s dragging the tension out just to watch me squirm.

I step out of them, completely naked. Nothing between us now but his self-control.

Because fuck, mine’s hanging by a thread.

I should feel vulnerable. Naked and trembling in the middle of the room while he’s still dressed like a goddamn Bratva King.

But instead?

I feel powerful. Dripping with it. Wanted in a way that makes my skin buzz and my core clench.

He’s devouring me with his eyes like I’m his last meal—and he’s starving.

“Your turn,” I say, my voice a dare, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt.

He doesn’t wait. Rips it off. His belt hits the floor with a snap that shoots straight between my legs. His shoes are gone before I can blink. But just when I think he’ll strip the rest off?—

He sinks to his knees.

Right in front of my wet, aching pussy.

Like he’s meant to be there.

I lean back against the wall, legs already trembling.

His hands grip my thighs, thumbs brushing so close to where I need him that my knees almost give out. His mouth is hot against my skin, breath ragged.

“I need to taste you,” he rasps. “Need to bury my tongue in this sweet fucking pussy and drink every drop.”

Jesus.

My fingers tighten in his hair as his lips hover—so fucking close.

“Been dreaming about this,” he growls. “Jerking off to the thought of you moaning my name, riding my face. Gonna make it real now, baby. Gonna ruin you with my mouth.”

And when his tongue finally drags over me—slow, possessive, fucking filthy—I swear I feel like I’ve met heaven.

His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider. His mouth finds me again—hot, wet, hungry. His tongue slides through my folds, and my head falls back against the wall with a thunk.

“Fuck,” I gasp. “Oh, fuck.”

His tongue circles my clit. Teasing. Testing. Finding the rhythm that makes my hips buck against his face.

One finger slides inside me, then two. Curling. Hitting that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.

“That's it,” he murmurs against me. “Let me hear you.”

I'm beyond holding back. Beyond caring how I sound. Beyond anything but the sensation of his mouth, his fingers, his breath hot against my pussy.

My hands fist in his hair, holding him closer. My hips roll against his face, shameless in my need. Every lick, every curl of his fingers inside me, pushes me closer to the edge.

“I'm close,” I warn him, voice high and tight. “So close.”

He doubles down, sucking my clit into his mouth, fingers working faster, harder. The dual sensation is too much. Yet not enough.

Then it hits me. Hard.

Like a fucking lightning strike starting from my core. I shatter. My thighs tremble. My spine bows. My head slams back against the wall.

White-hot pleasure rips through me—violent, ruthless. So sharp it feels like pain.

I cry out. Can’t stop it. Don’t want to.

My body jerks in his grip, but he holds me down. Hands digging into my ass, keeping me right where he wants me. Where I want to be.

Held.

Owned.

Unraveled.

And I fucking come all over his face. Again. And again. Until there’s nothing left of me but shaking legs and a heartbeat going wild in my chest.

My legs give out, but Nikolai's there, holding me up. His hands gripping my ass, keeping me pressed against his mouth as he works me through the aftershocks.

Just when I think I can't take anymore, when the sensitivity is almost too much, he stands. Lifts me over his shoulder like air.

“Nikolai!” I laugh, breathless and dizzy from the sudden change in position.

His hand comes down on my bare ass for a smack that echoes through the cabin. The sting spreads across my skin, melting into pleasure.