It’s fucking amazing.
MOUNTAIN
Christ.
Her cunt feels like goddamn heaven, like it was sculpted and formed just for my cock and only mine.
Breathing heavily, I slam my hips against hers, making sure to graze my pelvis against her clit each time I bury myself inside of her. She’s panting heavily, the sound of the water not even loud enough to drown out her breaths.
Sucking her neck in deeper, I’m sure that I’m going to leave an even bigger mark against her skin and honest to fuck, I couldn’t give a shit less. Her pussy flutters around me, I feel every ripple as I pump in and out of her.
She gasps as she clamps down around me, then lets out a long moan before her entire body shudders. I don’t stop my movements, I don’t slow down or even attempt to control myself. Leighton likes rough, she fucking gets off on it and swear to Christ, that is sexier than anything else I’ve ever experienced.
When I come, I don’t bother pulling out of her, I can’t stop myself. Burying myself balls deep inside of her, I let my head drop back and let out a roar with my release. My legs tremble, I’m tempted to fall down to my ass and bring her along with me, but we got shit to do and holding her after that epic orgasm feels far to intimate a move.
“Mountain,” she sighs.
Lifting my head, I look into her eyes. Her lids are lowered, her lips parted, her cheeks pink and her face flushed. Fuck, she’s beautiful. She’s a rich bitch, but she’s nothing like the others I’ve had, like the ones that I thought I wanted—she’s different, damaged.
“Let’s get ready. Need to get some food before I starve to fuckin’ death,” I grumble against her lips. “Also need to get you in to see a doctor.”
Her eyes widen, her nails dig into my shoulders farther. “Why?” she says, her breath hitching. “I haven’t been with anyone for a long time, for years,” she admits.
“Years?” I ask, arching a brow.
She nods her head slowly. “Years, Mountain.”
“How long is years, mi reina?”
Her lips pout, then she presses them together and I think that she’s going to deny me the answer, the truth. Her gaze flicks to mine, her blue eyes watching me before she whispers.
“Three.”
I don’t respond to her confession. The idea that nobody has touched her body in three years fills me with an animalistic pride. She’s mine, claimed by me and now owned by me for as long as I desire her.
“Let’s get ready,” I murmur, pulling out of her and helping her stand to her feet.
We don’t say anything else as we clean up. I hand her a scratchy, threadbare towel before I take one for myself. I let out a grunt as I attempt to dry my body off.
“Add towels to your shopping list, babe,” I instruct. “These fuckin’ suck.”
Leighton lets out a soft laugh before she slips past me and makes her way back into the master bedroom. I watch her hips sway in the short towel that’s wrapped around her body.
Sexy as fuck.
That’s what she is, and that’s why I grabbed her instead of killed her. That’s why I fuck her instead of asking her questions. That’s why I haven’t let her go—that’s why I probably won’t.
With a grunt, I walk into my old bedroom and grab a clean pair of jeans, a t-shirt, boxers, and socks. It takes me all of five minutes to get dressed, including running my fingers through my hair.
Sliding my cut back on, I make my way into the master bedroom to see what’s keeping Leighton. She’s standing with her back to me, the towel still wrapped around her body as she stares at the clothes in the closet.
“Babe, we gotta fuckin’ go,” I say with urgency.
She turns to look over her shoulder at me, arching a brow as her lips twitch into a small smile. “Mountain, this is my first outing into your town. What if we see someone you know?” she asks.
I blink.
No doubt she’ll see someone I know, someone I’ve probably fucked, too. “You don’t got much of a choice of clothes, babe. Shorts, tanks, tees, and that’s about all she wrote, all from Walmart.”
She wrinkles her nose and turns away from me again to face the closet. I took her in, my eyes focusing on the small spiral curled tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck. It was cute as fuck and made me wonder if her hair is naturally curly, instead of the straight that I’ve seen it in all of the two fucking days I’ve known her.
Instead of asking her, of getting to know her, I turn around and let her know that I’ll be in the living room waiting for her. Asking her questions like that, learning even more about her, it seems really fucking intimate and we are not there yet, doubt I personally ever will be.
Chapter Nine
MOUNTAIN
I ignore Leighton. I know that I shouldn’t, but fuck, she’s working her way beneath my skin too fucking fast. Pushing the cart, I don’t say much as she reads labels and puts things in the basket.
Every now and then, I grab something that I want, knowing that I’ll have to keep a close eye on her until I figure out what I need to about her and know that I can somewhat trust her to stay alone for long periods of time at the house. Especially when I’m out on a run, no way in fuck can I just leave her there. Not yet at least.
“Mountain?” she asks.
Lifting my head, I look up at her. She’s holding two boxes of pasta and looking at me as if she’s expecting an answer to whatever asinine question she’s decided to ask me about dry pasta. Instead of ignoring her, I jerk my chin up, I clear my throat.
“I didn’t hear you,” I admit.
Her lips turn down into a frown for just a second before they curve up into a smile. “Veggie pasta or whole wheat?”
I blink. My eyes widen as I stare at her, unsure why she’s just offered me the choice between two non-choices.
“Regular,” I grunt.
She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t care to eat white pasta, Mountain.”
My brows knit together as I tilt my head to the side and wonder what the fuck that has to do with anything. I’m not sure I give a fuck, because I refuse to eat that shit. Then I remind myself that I probably won’t ever have to eat it anyway. I’ll just leave and go to the clubhouse, order a pizza, or have a whore make me some white goddamn pasta.
“Get whatever you want,” I mumble.
She presses her lips together, her gaze lowering to her hands and I watch as her shoulders deflate before she places both boxes of pasta on the shelf. She turns away from them and makes her way over to my side, without getting either of them.
“Babe, you didn’t get anything,” I needlessly point out.
She doesn’t look at me, instead she lifts her head and keeps her gaze straight ahead. “I don’t need it, doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t need it?”
She shrugs a shoulder, still not looking at me. “I don’t. I don’t really need anything down these aisles. I have fresh fruit and veggies, that’s all I really need.”
“You plannin’ on cooking for me? I ain’t a rabbit, babe.”
Slowly, her head turns to the side and she finds my eyes with her own sparkling blue ones. “Will you be eating with me?” she asks.