Lost with the Mountain Man

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

JESSAMY

M y entire self freezes beneath Malcolm’s touch.

May I?

So warm. So polite. As if he’s simply asking permission to borrow my phone rather than use my body for his pleasure.

I admire him towering over me, my thighs spread wide, his hips keeping them that way.

May I?

May he fuck me here and now? May he cross the line, my husband in view? May he unravel me and everything I am from the inside out?

I look at Beau. My answer must be written on my face, as he gives me the same look he always gives me when I’ve made up my mind about something. It’s a near invisible smile. It’s shimmering eyes, full of desire. He wants this, wants to watch me whimper with pleasure, even if it’s not his cock I’m coming on.

But he’s letting me choose. He stays quiet, leaving the next path of our marriage up to me.

May I?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

When Malcolm moves impossibly closer, I realize I said one of those out loud. My skin tingles as his body pushes against mine, spreading my legs even further apart.

He pushes his pants down, freeing his cock. My eyes widen, beholding his girth as he rests it along my flesh, his thick tip nudging my clit while Beau’s cum drips out of me. I quiver as Malcolm rubs himself along my lips, his gentle touch turning hard as his rough fingers dig into my thigh. He exhales, holding back, trying not to break as delayed pleasure crosses his dark eyes.

I rest my hand on his. “Yes,” I say again, sharing my strength with him.

Malcolm pauses long enough to peel the sweater off his back. Yanking it over his head, he flings it away, his wild hair flopping to one side. I take in the sight of him over me. His powerful muscles and thick, dark chest hair forming a line all the way down. I burn with anticipation, yearning for his touch, his everything.

With one hand on my thigh and the other on his cock, he looks me in the eye as he guides it inside.

As my husband watches.

We both gasp, the heat between us spiking to unbearable heights already. He watches his cock pushing in, then closes his eyes, voicing a delicious grunt. My toes curl on their own, my pussy stretching around his girth, the shocked pleasure on his face hotter than anything I’ve ever seen.

He’s been alone out here for who knows how long. If I can help soothe his loneliness, even for a few minutes, I will. I owe him that, I think. Beau does, too.

I look at my husband in my rush of sexual insanity, only to find him gripped in his own. He’s stroking himself, his mouth sagging open, his eyes locked on Malcolm as he pushes deep into me.

Buried to the hilt, Malcolm stops, his body shuddering all over. He tightens his grip, holding steady, and I think that maybe he’s come already. Then, he opens his eyes, pulling out and pushing in again.

And again.

And again.

And…

I moan. He’s going so slowly, I feel every thick inch of him. “Malcolm,” I whisper, tasting his name for the first time.

He grunts in response, the sound hot and rough, his movements speeding up. Then, he’s fucking me with the urgency of a much younger man, but with the skills of experience. He grinds us together, rolling his hips in all the right ways. He releases his iron grip on my thighs and glides his hands up my body, riding my curves up toward my breasts.

He holds me down, but I don’t feel trapped. I’ve never felt safer, never felt more desired. My stomach tightens with guilt and I look at Beau, expecting him to look away from me in shame, to reject me for the whore his parents always told him I was.

But he doesn’t. He’s still watching, his eyes full of passion and love and acceptance of me. Like he wants to come closer and fill another one of my holes, but he stays put, letting Malcolm have his turn.

Malcolm’s breath quickens, each one punctuated with a quiet groan, each one timed with a hard thrust that makes me moan, too. My body aches to fuck him back, to roll my hips and take him deeper. I reach out, palms caressing his muscular form, my fingers pushing through the thick hair on his chest. I cradle him between my knees, welcoming him as if he were always meant to be inside of me.

He tilts forward, his hands coming to the bed on either side of me. Harder. Faster. He braces himself, his body pounding into mine, the rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

I purr in delicious agony. His cock so big, his touch so rough. Still, I cling to him. I pull him against me, holding on, feeling the heat of his breath against my skin, his beard against my chest. He moans with me, his voice smothered as I cry out toward the ceiling. I squirm, chasing every sensation, feeling climax building in me. So close. So far. So big…

When the tension breaks, my vision blurs into white. I stare into the storm, daring it to tear me apart, knowing that it can’t. I’m safe here. I’m loved here. I never want to leave.

Malcolm pulls out. He aims his cock at my belly and groans, his hot cum firing onto me. He grunts with each thick spray, catching his breath. Then, finally, there’s silence. There are the storm winds outside and my pounding heart in my chest.

And silence.

I taste Malcolm’s name again, making him open his handsome eyes. He takes me in, takes in our mess and, for a second, he looks… sad. Ashamed.

I guide him toward me again, cupping his face and caressing his bearded cheeks. “Malcolm,” I whisper as I kiss his forehead, tasting the light sweat on his brow. I kiss his cheeks and the tip of his nose. “Sweet Malcolm.”

I kiss his lips. I kiss him so softly, so lovingly, making sure he knows that he’s as desired and appreciated as I feel in this moment.

He recoils, hovering over me for a moment before slowly lowering back down and kissing me back. I smile against his mouth, enthralled in the thrill of taboo. I feel the warm caress of his tongue, imagining it traveling the length of my torso before flicking my pink and swollen bud. Fuck! I want him to do it. How badly I want to come on his face, moaning his name over and over again.

“Malcolm,” I whisper between kisses, between deep breaths and skipping heartbeats.

Beau grunts, the sound familiar to my ears. Malcolm and I look over, witnessing the pinch of his expression as he comes, his cum dripping along his stroking fist.

Then there’s silence once again.

Until Malcolm laughs. Light yet infectious, it touches me first. Then Beau. We laugh together, as if we were all old friends or lovers reunited. Not like the strangers we were before.

Together. No longer lost in the storm.