Page 10

Nine

Becca

C all me weird, but I’ve never really wondered too much what my first time might be like. Maybe because all the relationships I saw around me were cold and unloving, and picturing those people in the sack together was just off-putting. Did I want that for myself? Hell no.

Didn’t want some cool, distant banker to lay me flat and then use me robotically, all with a bored expression on his face.

And yet this morning, I came so close to that future. So close… until I jumped in that ice-cold river and washed into Jake’s arms.

“Oh. Oh god.”

The mountain man is thick and hot and hard as he pushes inside me, going slowly so he doesn’t hurt me by mistake. His jaw is clenched, and his expression is faintly pained as he stares down at me. As Jake looms above, his shoulders tremble with the effort of holding back.

“Christ,” he grits out, pausing and breathing in sharply through flared nostrils. The lamplight casts a golden glow over his features and makes his dark beard look extra glossy. “I’m only an inch or two in and you feel so fucking good already, Becca. Not gonna survive this.”

I laugh weakly, shifting my hips to get used to the sensation of being stretched open. When I glance down between our bodies, the sight of Jake’s thick shaft pressing inside me makes my head swim with arousal, and a new gush of slickness helps smooth the way.

Yeah, I had no clue. No idea at all what this would be like; how it would turn me inside out and make me feel so exposed and raw. How my chest would ache with love for the man leaning over me.

No clue that it would never, ever be enough.

“Keep going.” My hips rock up eagerly, the faint sting of intrusion already fading away. All that’s left is the tantalizing prickle of arousal. “Keep going. Fuck me. Please.”

Jake groans, his head dropping forward, but his hips do thrust forward another inch. I’m pinned to the mattress now, skewered on his cock, and I claw at his shoulders, trying mindlessly to drag him closer.

It just—

It feels so good. The heat of his body; the sheen of his sweat; the power in all those muscles. Those dark chest hairs beneath my palm when I stroke lower, and the steady thud of his heartbeat against my hand.

Want him to use me like a rag doll. Want him to take out all his frustrations and fears, all the pent up emotions of the day, and pour all that passion into my body. Want him to come so hard and long inside me that he needs a sports drink afterward. Is that too much to ask?

“Jake.” I tug on his shoulders, his arms, his wrists where he’s braced against the mattress. “Stop holding back. You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

The mountain man chokes out a laugh and shakes his head, eyes closed. He’s still vibrating with the effort of going slow, but the thing is, I don’t need that anymore. I’m over the initial sting. Now I want all of him.

“Jake.” Impatient now, I reach up and twist his nipple. The man above me lets out a shocked noise, his hips punching forward and spearing me to the mattress.

Yes.

Accusing brown eyes glare down at me, but Jake’s not fooling anyone. His hips are moving eagerly now, rolling against my body, fucking deeper and deeper, and though his expression is stern, his mouth twitches with humor.

“So impatient,” Jake says.

Ha. Laying back, I toss my arms overhead in triumph and luxuriate in the feeling of his whole shaft plunging into my body. Immediately, Jake’s eyes zip to where my boobs jiggle with every thrust.

“Can you blame me?” My thighs squeeze around his waist, drawing out a rumbly groan. “This feels freaking amazing.”

“Yeah.” His smile is wider, truer, and so disarming in its vulnerability.

For the first time, I realize: Jake is nervous about this too.

About making this good for me; about making me want to stay.

I thought I made myself so obvious, but he really does doubt that I wanted him too.

So crazy. “Yeah, it really does. Christ, Becca.”

For a moment we move together sweetly, both making breathless sounds at how good it feels, both adjusting to all these overwhelming sensations—then I get the devil in me again.

I grab the mountain man’s sturdy wrist, pluck it off the mattress, and place his hand on my boob.

Jake lets out a wounded noise and starts fucking me harder, faster, squeezing my boob in a possessive grip.

I don’t think he realizes that he’s baring his teeth, that his animal side is peeking out, but I love it.

Pleasure skitters down my limbs and pools low in my belly.

So. Good.

And when I lock my ankles together behind Jake’s back, nudging so that he crashes down to his elbows, the deep new angle of his cock makes my eyes flutter.

Yes.

My spine arches off the bed, and I’m completely covered by the mountain man now. Pinned down by his powerful body; caged in by those strong arms. I’m completely at his mercy, getting fucked so hard that my teeth clack together with each thrust, and there’s no place in the world I’d rather be.

“Mine,” Jake grunts, grabbing a fistful of my hair. He doesn’t yank it, just holds it possessively, and every nerve ending in my body lights up in response. I nod feverishly, squeezing down on his shaft so that he grunts again, even rougher, and thrusts so deep inside me that I see stars.

“Yours,” I breathe, giddy with arousal.

As if anyone else could ever measure up to this.

Jake fucks me long and hard before finally taking mercy.

He keeps working me into a sweaty puddle, pounding between my thighs, until I’m babbling nonsense and clawing at his shoulders, begging for him to make me come.

Promising that I’m his, I’m his, always his.

Only then does Jake wedge a hand between our bodies and seek out my clit, his callused fingertip so intense against that bundle of nerves that I cry out to the ceiling.

“There it is.” His voice is darkly satisfied in my ear, and my whole body trembles as he licks the sweat off my throat. “You’re ready, aren’t you, sweetheart? Any longer and it would be cruel.”

“Uh-huh.” It would be cruel and unusual punishment. “Please. Please. ”

Propping himself up on one elbow, Jake stares down at me, intense and hungry, as he fucks me rhythmically, my boobs jiggling against his chest. And it’s so much, so good, that steady friction making me flash hot all over, but then he starts pinching my clit too.

My breath catches.

My muscles tense.

I tip my head back and wail.

And as I come so hard that I feel it all the way from the roots of my hair to my toes, as my ears ring and my vision wavers, the mountain man wedges deep inside me and spills his wet warmth. On and on, he swells and spurts, letting out a wounded animal noise.

It’s messy. It’s primal.

It’s perfect.

Then we lie together in a sweaty pile, breathing hard. Jake is face down on the mattress, and his cock is still hard inside me. My ears are ringing. I’m so sticky.

“So.” Eventually, I wet my lips. “When can we go again?”

* * *

Two years later

It’s busy at the river’s edge today, with half the town turning out for this spring picnic. We’re not at Jake’s super-secret fishing spot where he rescued me from the river all those years ago, but closer to town on a stretch of the bank where the local kids love swimming.

It’s hot and sunny, with a pine-fresh breeze rustling everyone’s hair.

Kids are whooping and splashing, and a barking golden retriever keeps jumping into the water to play.

Dozens of picnic blankets are spread out on the grassy bank, all laden with boxes of sandwiches, brownies, pretzels and other treats.

One optimistic parent brought a canvas bag full of apples, and now one little boy is using them to learn to juggle.

The scent of sizzling meat drifts over from a grill.

“Look at them.” Brooke—Jake’s sister and one of my closest friends—tips her sunglasses down at squints at the river. “They’re maniacs, the lot of them. Do you have any idea how cold that water is?”

“Oh, I have an idea.”

Brooke snorts at my wry tone. “Right, sorry. Well, I don’t blame you for keeping dry today.”

We’re both sitting on a picnic blanket on the grass, snacking idly on grapes and sipping on bottled seltzer.

Meanwhile, our husbands are waist deep in the river—with Brooke’s husband Hunter dangling his squealing daughter by the ankle, while Jake holds our baby son protectively against his chest. Honestly, I don’t think even a single drop of river water has touched our son’s skin.

“Someone needs to explain to my brother what ‘swimming’ means.”

I laugh, fumbling for another grape. Don’t want to take my eyes off the sight of Jake and our baby in the river, because it is too freaking cute to be believed. “He’s a little overprotective. Any time I go swimming, he still insists on coming with me.”

Guess I can’t blame my husband for worrying. He’s the one who pulled my half-drowned body from the river three years ago; he’s the one who gave me CPR. It makes sense that he’s a little paranoid about the icy-cold water—although one day, our baby is gonna want to get his pudgy little feet wet.

Adjusting my sunglasses, I finally tear my eyes away from Jake cuddling our son to scan the crowd on the riverbank.

This used to be a compulsive thing for me: scanning for signs of the Pritchards, or anyone else from my past. Even after we tossed my ruined bridal gown back into the river for them to find, even after they gave up and went back to the east coast, I kept scanning the faces in the town.

Always on edge. Paranoid that they’d find me and drag me away from my perfect new life.

As if Jake would ever let that happen.

These days, the anxiety has faded. When I glance around, I’m just curious, because it’s a small community in the mountains, and new people stick out like a sore thumb. People like…

“Damn. Who the hell is that ?”

Brooke glances over at where I’m looking, sliding her sunglasses back up her nose. When she sees the guy I’ve noticed, she hums appreciatively. What? We’re happily married, not blind.

“It’s that professor.” Brooke pops another grape in her mouth, glancing at the group of students trailing behind the man.

He’s obviously a decade or two older than them, but still handsome and strong, and they’re hustling to keep up with his long legs.

Honestly, he looks like a sexy professor from a film: dark hair, clean shaven, with broad shoulders pressing against a button-down shirt.

“The one who studies astronomy. No, astrology? Astronomy. Shoot, I can never remember which is which.”

“Astrology is horoscopes,” I say idly, glancing from the professor to his group of students as they all go to greet some people from town. There’s one girl in particular who can’t keep her eyes off her professor, and she flushes bright red when he looks back at her too. Oh, boy.

“Well, the stars around here are awesome,” Brooke says as I turn back to the river, rummaging for another grape.

Other people’s romantic dramas are fun and all, but really, I only have eyes for Jake and our baby.

He’s grinning at me too, rolling his eyes at how overprotective he’s being, holding our son out of the water. I poke my tongue out to make him laugh.

Damn, he looks good without a shirt. Obviously I’m biased, but my mountain man is the sexiest guy on the planet.

Though from the moon-eyes Brooke is giving her husband Hunter, she’d probably disagree.

“Want another seltzer?” I flip the lid on the cooler by my side, cold air wafting against my hip.

Brooke hums. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Kids shriek as they play in the river, and the sun is hot and bright. After the first refreshing sip of seltzer, I sigh happily and reach over to clink our bottles together.

Life is good.

* * *

Thanks for reading Wild River! I hope you loved it. :)

For the handsome professor’s story, check out Wild Skies . I’ve longed for my handsome professor all semester. He’s stared at me too. And up high on this mountain, the college rules seem far, far away…

And for a bonus instalove story, grab your copy of Something Sweet . I spend every Valentine’s Day baking cookies for my friends and neighbors. But the bad boy who just moved to town? He’s hungry for something else…

Happy reading!

xxx