Page 4 of Mountain Man’s Corn Maze Cutie (Wildwood Valley Harvest #3)

MARC

S he was a virgin. A freaking virgin. How was that even possible? The woman was gorgeous. More beautiful than anything I’d ever seen. She had to have been fighting off advances for years.

I dropped my arms to my sides and took a step back. Whatever was going to happen here, it was now officially called off. A woman like Cecelia needed a warm, soft bed surrounded by candles and romantic music and all the things that women dreamed about.

“I scared you off,” she said.

Her crestfallen expression went straight to my heart. Oh crap, the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint her.

She saw this as rejection, and it was far from that. I rubbed the back of my neck, looking around. How did I explain this?

“A woman’s first time is a big thing.” I gestured to indicate our surroundings. “We’re in the middle of a corn maze. This is hardly the right?—”

“This is where I want to lose my virginity. Tonight. With you.”

Those words snapped my gaze back to her face. She was serious. Dead serious. And my erection was almost out of control.

If kissing her hadn’t been enough, this conversation might do me in. But then she reached for the hem of her shirt, tugging it upward and threatening to make me come in my pants. I just stood, completely dumbfounded as it whipped over her head, then fell to the ground next to her.

She wore a plain black bra, and it was the sexiest sight I’d ever seen. Her breasts threatened to spill out of the cups, they were so big. But before I could even wonder what lay beneath, she reached behind her and unclasped her bra, shimmying it down her arms, like she undressed for men every day.

But as she stared at me, I saw an innocence in her expression that told me she’d never done any of this before—not even shown her naked body to a man. And that just reminded me that I was the luckiest bastard on earth.

Her nipples were already hard, pebbled in the cool night air, and I had to fist my hands at my sides to keep from reaching for her.

She hesitated only a second before unbuttoning her jeans, sliding them down her hips and stepping out of them with a grace that made my mouth water.

Then she stood before me, completely bare, bathed in moonlight.

“Your turn,” she whispered.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. My fingers fumbled with my belt, my jeans, my boxers. Everything came off in a rush, my cock springing free, already leaking for her.

She didn’t look away. Instead, her gaze traveled down my body, lingering where I ached for her.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” I asked, my voice rough.

Her cheeks flushed, but she shook her head. “No.”

I stepped closer, my body humming with need. “Do you want to?”

Her breath hitched. “Only if you do.”

A challenge. A dare.

I wrapped my hand around my cock, stroking slowly, watching her eyes darken with fascination. She didn’t take her gaze off me as her fingers moved tentatively between her thighs, her lips parting as she explored.

“Like this?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Let me show you.” I moved around to stand behind her, my chest pressed to her back, my hand covering hers. “Slow circles, just like that…”

Her breath came faster as I guided her, her body arching into the touch. A soft whimper escaped her lips, and I kissed her shoulder, her neck, whispering encouragement as she found her rhythm.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

Her thighs trembled, her back pressing harder against me. “I—I think?—”

“Let go,” I said. “I’ve got you.”

And then she did. Her body tensed, a gasp tearing from her throat as pleasure overtook her. I held her through it, my own arousal spiking as she shuddered in my arms.

When she turned to face me, her eyes were dazed, her lips swollen from biting them. Without a word, she sank to her knees in front of me.

My pulse roared in my ears. “Cecelia?—”

Her hand wrapped around me, her tongue flicking out to taste the tip. I nearly lost it right there.

But I caught her shoulders, stopping her. “Wait.”

She looked up, confused.

“I want to be inside you,” I said. “If you’re sure.”

Her answer was to turn around, bracing her hands on her thighs, presenting herself to me. I groaned, my fingers digging into her hips as I positioned myself.

“Tell me if it hurts,” I said, my voice rough with restraint.

She nodded, her breath hitching as I pushed inside, inch by torturous inch. Her body gripped me like a vise, slick and tight, the heat of her almost unbearable. I had to grit my teeth, my muscles trembling with the effort to go slow.

Christ, she was perfect. Every slight shift of her hips, every stifled whimper, sent sparks of pleasure up my spine.

Once I was fully sheathed, I stilled, letting her adjust. My fingers dug into her hips, my own breathing ragged.

“Okay?” I asked.

She arched back against me, a shudder running through her. “More than okay.”

I began to move—slow at first, shallow thrusts that made her gasp. But as her body relaxed, welcoming me, I sank deeper, harder. The wet, silken drag of her around me was maddening. I groaned, my control fraying with every desperate clench of her inner muscles.

“Touch yourself,” I ordered, my voice dark with need. “I want to feel you come again.”

She obeyed, her hand slipping between her legs, and the moment her fingers found her clit, her whole body tightened around me.

Fuck. The sensation was overwhelming—her warmth, her soft cries, the way her hips rocked to meet my thrusts.

I could feel her pleasure coiling tighter, her sighs and moans making their way to my ears.

Then she let out a gasp as her orgasm hit hard. Her walls fluttered around me in rhythmic pulses, her moan muffled against her arm. The sheer intensity of it—the way she milked me, hot and desperate—was too much. My restraint snapped.

With a growl, I drove into her one last time, burying myself to the hilt as my own release tore through me.

Pleasure burned white-hot, my hips jerking helplessly as I spilled inside her, my groan raw and unfiltered against her skin.

For a dizzying moment, there was nothing but her—her scent, her warmth, the feel of her body releasing mine as she stepped away from me.

And then reality crashed back in.

Shit.

I pulled out slowly, turning her to face me. “Cecelia—protection. I didn’t?—”

She stepped toward me and touched my lips, stopping me. “I’m on birth control.”

Relief warred with guilt. “Still, I should’ve?—”

A rustling sound cut me off. We froze. Then—footsteps. Heavy, deliberate.

Shit, shit, shit.

We scrambled for our clothes, dressing in frantic silence. The sound was getting closer, twigs snapping underfoot.

“Who the hell is out here?” a deep voice growled.

Luca. The owner of the farm.

Cecelia’s eyes widened in panic. I grabbed her hand, pulling her through the maze, our breaths ragged as we dodged stalks, desperate to escape. But then a flashlight beam cut through the darkness, pinning us in its glare.

Luca stood there, arms crossed, scowling. “You two got a death wish? Trespassing after hours—and this?”

Cecelia’s grip on my hand tightened.

We were so busted.