Page 217 of Mountain Grump

His jealousy warms me all the way to my toes.

So, I tell him. “Porn.”

I can feel him slowly lift his head to look at me.

I keep my eyes up, watching the colors from the TV dance across the ceiling.

“Matilda Iris Wright.” He says it so sternly that I snicker.

He rocks his palm against my core.

“Are you telling me that you watch filthy, ball-fondling pornography while you touch this perfect little slit of yours?”

I start to squirm.

His words.

His body beneath mine.

His fingers putting pressure on my entrance.

I lift my heavy arm and reach down to grip his forearm. “Ethan.”

He slides his hand up until his fingers reach the band of my underwear, then he slides them back down. With nothing between us. “Tell me, Starlight. Tell me what you do.”

He starts to work his fingers, our combined releases coating his hand.

And it’s so slippery.

Gods, it’s so freaking slippery.

Ethan groans.

Then we’re sitting up, my body moving with his.

He’s eager now.

Hands moving quickly to pull my pajama shirt off.

“On the floor.” He uses his foot to shove the coffee table forward, making room for us. Then he slides us off the couch.

I kneel on the floor, collapsing forward, elbows on the coffee table.

“Tell me, Bad Girl.” He kneels behind me, dragging my panties down. “Tell me what you do when you’re alone.”

I open my mouth.

But then he shoves inside me.

And all that comes out is a cry as he roughly thrusts into me.

I squeeze around him.

It feels so good.

He digs his fingers into my hips.

So damn good.