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Not pushing, not forcing his way to a place she hadn’t allowed even though his hand cupped her breast and began to massage. Her clit twitched as she inhaled the smell of him as his lips burned their way up and down the column of her neck. Branding her skin with a scorching sting of heat.
“I want to build my own place, our own place,” he said as his hand cupped her sex fully. Fingers rubbing through the fabric as the zipper of her jeans nearly split.
“I don’t even know your real name,” she purred as her hips pressed back against the rock hard erection behind her. Her body began moving, riding the thickness behind her and hand between her thighs.
“Björn,” he growled as his fingers quickened their pace and slipped the now wet fabric to the side. “Jensen.”
“Born?” she replied hoping she’d caught the name right.
“B-yourn,” he phonetically strained the name before capturing her lips with his in a kiss bending her neck back and heavy in need. Fingers toyed with her clit sending her into a frenzy and when they finally broke she gasped.
“Fuck me,” she commanded feeling the man needed permission, verbalized as his fingers plunged into her core. Stretching the long ago abandoned part of her body and causing her to spread her legs the best she could to give him full access.
His other hand came from beneath her shirt and fumbled to free the erection straining behind his own pants.
Before she knew what had happened, her jeans were around her ankles and a condom was being applied to his cock. Amber’s eyes widened, unsure the sight over her shoulder was real. Latex rolled along the thickly veined member she now feared was uncircumcised by the sheer bluntness of the head. A small part of her worried about her ability to handle the man and Callum had weighed over nine pounds.
When his hand cupped her cheek and lips claimed her worry disappeared, or was lost in hormones blocking important things. Like the morning after, life on a ranch or the fact the man had hands splayed across the plywood base of the countertop as his knees bent and bit before pushing inside her. The cry from being impaled and stretched as his hands gripped her hips burned along her throat.
Thrusting, she pushed up on her tiptoes as his thighs slapped hers. Pulling out, yet still somehow still inside enough when his stroke returned her head fell forward.
“That’s my baby,” he groaned. “You pussy is so damn tight.”
“I’m pretty sure a fucking Goodyear tire would be tight on you,” she moaned in response as his cocked glided along her g-spot making her cry out again.
“You like that.”
“Yes,” she replied, her hands fisting and knees weakening the point she feared collapse.
“Sing, my sweet Nightingale,” he cooed in her ear. “Let me know what I’m doing to you.”
The walls of her core convulsed around him. Coming so hard when he pressed himself flush to her she wondered if he’d be able to pull out.
Instead, he chose to grind, deepening himself inside her and sending her over an abyss that widened when he pulled her away from the edge of the counter so his other hand could play with her clit. She was done, spent and unable to control herself as she cried out his name. His real name, “Björn,” she gasped as the third orgasm had her legs going numb and he came deep inside her. Teasing her clit with his fingers as his cock pulsed against unforgiving walls constricting around it from their own release. “Oh my God, it’s been so long.”
He nipped her neck, sending a wave of hormones washing down her back making her clenching tight to the slowly softening member.
“Yeah, we’re gonna need to buy that ranch,” he said, his head resting on her shoulder as he panted. “Because our neighbors are gonna complain about us.”
* * *
“A ranch huh?”Amber questioned as she laid next to him, her body curled around his on a tarp they’d found. Placed where probably a bed would be put in the room. For now, they were lying on a hard subfloor.
Well, he was lying on a hard subfloor staring up the studs above him in the unfinished ceiling. Amber on the other hand, had him as a mattress and he had to say she was better than Spot any day of the week. His hand cupped her cheek and brought her lips to his for the hundredth time in the last hour or so. Cold wind was blocked by the walls in place and any chill from the night hadn’t touched the lovers’ bodies, still warmed from the want and need finally being sated.
“Guess there’s an older guy, kids have left the area or don’t want to be ranchers,” Mountain said. “He’s thinking of staying in his home and either renting his pasture or selling it outright.”
“That’s a lot of acres then,” Amber said. “You sure as a single guy, you want to take that on?”
“A single guy?” Mountain questioned, thinking he’d been more than clear when he said we. Us, the kids. Maybe it was too fast. Lord knows he’d been a bachelor so long the idea of having a woman past coffee in the morning was a stretch to the imagination, but Amber, Callum and Maisie were the ready-made family that felt right. “No, I’d end up going all Grey Gardens if I built the house I’m envisioning and lived there by myself.”
“You know Grey Gardens?” she questioned.
“I’m from Connecticut,” he explained. “We’re all suburbs of New York in a way, gotta know the cautionary tales.”
“Of being a home body?” she questioned her forearm resting on his chest as she pushed up, her fingers playing with his beard. “Or smothering your children?”
“Both I guess,” he replied not ready to out himself, family and what would be a sizable trust fund to a woman whose first thought wasn’t being a part of his purchase.
