Page 13 of Mountain Man's Christmas Star
The quiet stretched between us, broken only by the dripping faucet and my heartbeat hammering in my ears. His handsmoved from where they’d been resting on my stomach. Those work-roughened fingers should have felt harsh against my skin, but they were gentle in a way that always caught me off guard.
He cupped my breasts first, his palms rough against my sensitive skin, his thumbs circling my nipples until they peaked into tight, aching buds. A low sigh escaped me as my head lolled back against his shoulder. I could feel the rumble of his approval in his chest, a sound that vibrated through my very bones.
Then one hand began a slow, deliberate journey south, sliding over the curve of my belly, through the water that was still blissfully warm. His fingertips traced my hip bone, dipped into the hollow of my navel, and…finally, he found me.
He didn’t hesitate. One thick finger slid inside me with an exquisite pressure that made me gasp, my inner muscles clenching around him instantly.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he said, his voice a husky rasp against my ear. “Let me feel you.”
He began a slow, torturous rhythm, his finger pumping in and out while the heel of his hand pressed against me in the most delicious way. Just as a coil of pleasure began to tighten deep in my core, he shifted. His thumb found my clit, circling it with a perfect, practiced pressure that stole the air from my lungs.
“Oh, God…yes,” I moaned, my body arching, pushing against his hand, seeking more.
The water lapped at my skin, a silken caress in counterpoint to his rougher, more demanding touch. He knew my body better than I did, reading every hitch of my breath, every tremble of my thigh.
The world narrowed to the point where his thumb met my flesh, to the slick, hot glide of his finger inside me. Pleasure built, a cresting wave of sensation that left me blind and deaf toanything but him. My moans grew louder, echoing in the tiled room, a raw and desperate song for him alone.
The coil snapped, and my climax ripped through me, a silent scream on my lips as my body convulsed around his hand, shuddering and shaking in the warm, churning water. I went boneless against him, spent and trembling, my breath coming in ragged pants. He held me through it, his touch gentling to soft, soothing strokes as I floated back to myself.
After a long moment, I turned in the cradle of his arms, the water sloshing loudly at the movement. His eyes, dark with hunger and pride, met mine.
It was a tight squeeze in the tub, his large, muscular frame taking up most of the space, but I managed to swing a leg over his hips and settle myself astride him, our bodies sliding together in the water. I leaned down and captured his mouth in a deep kiss, tasting the faint hint of whiskey and the pure, essential taste of him.
“My turn,” I whispered against his lips.
I reached between us, guiding him to my entrance. I sank down onto him in one slow slide, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as I took him all in. He filled me completely, stretching me, completing me. I began to move—a slow, rolling rhythm that made the water surge around us.
His hands came to my hips, gripping me, helping me find the pace. But then one hand slid up my body, cupping my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple before he lowered his head and took it into his mouth. The hot, wet suction, the flick of his tongue, sent another shock of pure need straight to my core. I cried out, my movements becoming more frantic, less controlled.
“Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with awe as he leaned back, his eyes fixed on my breasts swaying above thewater with every lift and fall of my hips. “So damn beautiful. Ride me, sweetheart. Take what you need.”
He slid his hand between our slick bodies, his fingers finding my clit again, and the dual sensation of him inside me and his thumb working that sensitive nub was too much. I was hurtling toward another peak, my cries mingling with the sound of sloshing water and his ragged breaths.
“I’m close,” I panted, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “So close.”
“Come for me,” he commanded, his own control fraying, his hips bucking up to meet my frantic pace. “Let me feel you come around me.”
His words were the final push. My second orgasm exploded, sharper and brighter than the first, seizing me in a violent, breathtaking wave. I clenched around him, my scream echoing off the walls, and that was all it took. With a roar of my name, he found his own release, pulsing deep inside me as his arms locked around me, holding me impossibly close as we shuddered through the aftershocks together.
We stayed like that for long minutes, foreheads pressed together, our breath slowly returning to normal. The water stilled around us, now scented with us, with the clean smell of his skin and the faint, floral note of my bath oil. I finally shifted, wincing slightly at the sensitivity, and settled back into his arms, my head on his chest.
I held up a hand, examining my water-wrinkled fingertips. “If we stay in much longer, we’re going to turn into prunes.”
He chuckled, the sound a warm vibration beneath my ear. Then he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
“Just a few more minutes.” His arms tightened around me. “I’m not ready to let go of this yet.”
I smiled, nuzzling into his chest, perfectly content. The deep quiet of the mountain night settled around our cabin.
“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” I asked. “All of it. The kids, this place…you.”
“It is,” he agreed, his voice soft and sure. “It’s everything I ever wanted and never knew how to ask for. It’s you and me. And it’s absolutely perfect.”