Page 11 of Mountain Man's Honeysuckle Darling
I started riding him, slow and deep at first, rolling my hips so I could feel every inch stretching me. My breasts bounced with each movement, and Kyron couldn’t look away, eyes dark and adoring as he watched.
I braced my hands on his shoulders and moved faster, the wet sound of our bodies meeting in the quiet night. Pleasure built again, sharper this time. I reached down and rubbed my clit in tight circles, gasping softly.
Kyron’s hands gripped my ass, helping me ride him harder. His mouth found my ear. “Come again,” he murmured. “I want to feel it.”
The combination of his voice, his cock hitting deep, and my fingers on my clit sent me over. I came hard, clenching around him, my face buried in his neck to muffle my moan. He followed right after, hips jerking up as he spilled inside me with a low,broken groan, holding me tight against him while we pulsed together.
We stayed like that, breathing hard, skin damp, my breasts pressed to his chest as the river whispered below us.
Kyron’s hand was moving slowly through my hair. Finally, I settled onto his lap, his arms around me as I listened to his heartbeat.
“Italy was beautiful,” I said.
His hand stilled for a moment. “Hm.”
“Scotland too.”
“Mm.”
I tipped my head back and looked at him. He was staring out at the river with that quiet expression he had when he was letting himself feel something and didn’t see the need to announce it. I knew that look. I’d been reading it for five years and knew exactly what it meant.
“Not quite the same though,” I said.
He looked down at me. His eyes were warm—open in a way he saved for things that were simply true.
“No,” he said. “Not quite the same.”
I put my head back on his chest and listened to the river and breathed in the honeysuckle on the warm air.
I was always going to end up here. This river, this porch, this man with his hand in my hair and his heart beating under my ear.
