Page 11 of Mountain Beast

Briggs stiffens beneath my touch. First, his tree-trunk thighs, then his rapidly growing erection.

Holy fuck! I keep my widened eyes focused away from his, so he can’t see my shock.

My ex-husband never looked like that.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” he rasps. One huge hand lands on the top of my head, but he doesn’t guide me either forward or back. It just rests there. Like I’ve stunned him into submission.

Ha! Not so confident, now, huh?

The slow glide of my breath along the thick ridge of his cock beneath black boxer briefs is the only way I answer his question. The flushed head peeks out the top of the band, allowing me one quick lick before I pull the thin fabric down to reveal his hard length.

Damn!

Maybe I bit off more than I could chew—or, er… swallow—but I'm no quitter.

Do you think you’re taking this being bad nonsense a little too far?

Nope, I argue with myself. This may not fit with my good girl image, but it’s about more than that. It’s about freedom.

To do what I want with who I want.

And for some unexplainable reason, I really want Briggs.

He’s infiltrated my dreams—from bickering at his salvage yard to ending up in my bed. Frustrating dreams. Sexy dreams. Briggs has been in them all.

Maybe if I finally do something, I’ll exorcise him from my mind.

Or become more addicted.

Staring at Briggs’s dick, I gulp past the ball of nerves in my throat and get to work swallowing something else. Something much larger and a hell of a lot more pleasurable.

Briggs growls in appreciation as I suck the bulbous head between my lips. His grip in my curls tightens, but otherwise, he lets me set the pace.

Guess he’s not a complete asshole.

My lashes flutter closed while I suck him deeper. Music drifts down the alley from the party happening mere feet from us, but I’m content floating in this little bubble.

It’s just me and Briggs. No expectations. No judgments.

Just a man and a woman in a tale as old as time.

His tip bumps the back of my throat, triggering a coughing fit, and I retreat for a second in embarrassment.

Shit, it’s been awhile if I’m gagging like a fucking amateur.

I expect some snarky comment from Briggs, but there’s only a soft caress down my cheek from his other hand. The backs of his rough knuckles scrape over my skin with a gentleness I wouldn’t have expected from a guy like him.

“Sorry,” I murmur before diving back in to redeem myself.

This is my game. I can’t lose in the final seconds.

Putting every ounce of energy into giving Briggs the best damn blowjob of his life, I lick and suck and squeeze with my mouth and hands until Briggs taps my shoulder in warning.

Jason never did that.

Maybe it’s the reminder of my ex-husband’s inconsideration juxtaposed against Briggs’s thoughtfulness, but a primal instinct takes over, and instead of retreating, I go harder. Swallow him deeper.

Until a hot rush of cum fills my mouth as Briggs hunches over me with a muted groan.