Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
FELICITY
R eaching out his hand, the big brute of a man pulls me to my feet, pressing my naked body tightly against his. Leaning into me, he’s about to kiss me when I stop him, offering, “I can go rinse out my mouth if you prefer?”
He chuckles, closing the distance until his lips hover an inch over mine. “I’m a fucking savage, Felicity. I thought you would have figured that out when you caught me mud-wrestling my brothers. But for clarification’s sake, I want to taste my cum on your mouth, pussy, tits, ass, and every damn place I put it. Because it means you’re mine. One hundred percent mine.”
Fierce’s hot lips claim me hard this time, his tongue invading my mouth and possessing me with ferocity. His beard tickles my cheeks, and I cling to him, enjoying the warmth and security of his robust torso and legs. His hands roam over my naked body like he’s trying to memorize every inch of me, and my breath catches in my throat as my pussy pulses greedily, begging for more.
Suddenly, the giant straightens, looking towards the front cabin door for a moment. He sweeps me into his arms with one brutish move, carrying me down the hallway to his bedroom. Pushing the door open, he reveals a large room with spare furnishings apart from a rough-hewn wooden bed frame with a California king covered in a fluffy white goose-down comforter and red and green accent blankets and pillows.
Fierce grins, throwing me gently on the bed, and staring at me thirstily until my cheeks glow.
The bed is much higher off the ground than mine at home, and I wonder if he built it specifically for his taller frame. He kneels in front of me again, and I gasp. “I need more honey from you before I let you have my big, thick cock,” he declares. “Your pussy and I have a lot of catching up to do, considering how on fire our FaceTime sessions have been.”
Fierce’s tongue and fingers fervently pleasure me until I’m out of my mind and panting hard. He expertly strokes me, dissolving my willpower as the urgency of my need for him grows, and the room fills with the scent of sex and wet, indecent sounds from his fast, skillful digits and mouth. When I scream his name this time, coming undone on his bed, he stands in one fluid movement.
“Hand me a pillow,” he orders, his eyes nearly black with need, and I comply, my body trembling. Grabbing it, he raises my hips with his other hand, sliding the pillow beneath my ass. “You’re going to like this angle better,” he promises seductively. Fierce may be from a traditional Basque family, but he knows his way around women.
Grabbing my feet, he places them on his chest so that my legs are spread and bent at ninety-degree angles. Seizing me around the waist, he slides me to the edge of the mattress with the pillow still under my ass, lining up the head of his cock with my slippery slit. His dick is massive and angry-looking at attention, and pre-cum oozes from the tip. He mixes it with the honey dripping from my folds, closing his eyes and wrapping his hand around the base for a moment to bring himself under control.
He’s a study in virility, stray light from the edges of the drawn curtains casting their glow on his tanned skin and gorgeous ink. I make a mental note to look more closely at his backpiece later. I remember him getting it on New Year’s Day, telling me he couldn’t wait for me to see it. Why I ever hesitated about meeting this man in person, I don’t know. Why I ever allowed myself to, I may regret for the rest of my life. Because nothing will ever be the same after this.
Fierce slides into me slowly and sensually, melting in front of me as he sinks into my honey-bathed channel. “You feel so silky and slick. And the fit is perfect like your pussy was made to take my cock.”
“Speak for yourself,” I wince as he fills me completely, stuck between ecstasy and discomfort. “You’re huge.”
“Am I hurting you?” he asks, his face flooding with concern.
“A little bit.” I grimace.
He pulls out slightly, sliding, slowing back and forth as he spits on his thumb, rubbing it in circles over my clit. “Do I need to stop?”
“Absolutely not,” I moan, unable to describe the heady mixture of pleasure and pain he brings.
“Then, we’re even,” he grumbles, sliding out to the tip before plunging slowly into me again, watching my face for signs of hurt. “You’ve had me at my edge for weeks now,” he confesses, breathing hard. “Not counting how often I’ve jacked off thinking about this moment.”
“Is it everything you thought it would be?” I ask, feeling myself freefalling with every intimate act, every whispered confession, every overheated look.
“More, so much more.” He changes the angle of his hips as my pussy adjusts to his girth, penetrating more deeply and stroking me into blissful submission. Fierce puts his hand over my lower abdomen, pressing down as the head of his cock stimulates my G-spot with every thrust. My hips buck and writhe beneath him, and unadulterated passion transforms me into something more animal than human.
I scream, feeling my core tighten around his cock. It’s uncustomary for me to come even once during sex, let alone three times. But as I feel my body slipping over the edge again, I realize this man is my kryptonite. I will never be the same or have the same standards for pleasure after this primal experience.
“I’m about to come,” he pants, wrapping his big, rough hands tightly around my hips and driving home, pounding me into the bed until I see stars, screaming his name as my pussy spasms and milks him with my orgasm. He follows behind, extending into me and filling me with powerful waves of cum. His body trembles over me, his muscles tighter than I’ve ever seen them. He’s a rural Adonis, buried to the hilt inside me. I can’t believe what we’ve done or how much I’ve savored every second.
Silence seizes the room as our breathing slows, and we look at each other. So much love and tenderness swirls in his eyes—better and more sure than any verbal declaration.
Running his hand over his beard, he observes, his eyes welling with still more emotion, “You look like you love me, Felicity.”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I could say the same to you.”
He leans forward, kissing my lips and whispering, “Because I do, and I’ve been telling you as much for weeks now. Je t’aime.” I love you .
I open my mouth to speak, but guilt stops my tongue. How can I choose between love and the career I’ve worked towards for years? Thankfully, he looks away, not pressuring me to respond. Perhaps this is the finest testament to his love of all.
“I should clean up in the bathroom,” I whisper as Fierce’s blue eyes regard me with a somber tenderness.
“Let me do that for you,” he says in a soft voice, transformed from a burly, beastly bringer of pleasure into a thoughtful, devoted lover. He returns with a washcloth moistened with warm water and carefully cleans me. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He eyes me with concern.
“I’m not going to lie. You’re big for me,” I confess. “But a big I can get used to.”
He chuckles, throwing the washcloth on top of the dirty clothes hamper, before climbing onto the bed next to me and pulling me into his steel-strong arms, the big spoon to my little. “Good, because I’m the only dick you get from now on. So get used to taking me, all of me.”
“You sure are possessive,” I say, a little annoyed by his over-the-top declarations.
“And I hope you’ll be as possessive of me.” His chest rumbles against my back as he speaks in tender tones. “It is love speaking, nothing else.” Every speck of annoyance vanishes with his words, and I snuggle back against his hard frame.
After a long pause, he says, “That towel move was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve seen in my entire life. I’ll never forget it.” Nuzzling and kissing my neck, he adds, “I’ll do whatever I must to keep you. Even if it means kidnapping you.”
“Fierce!” I exclaim, raising my head to look over my shoulder at him as he wraps me tightly in his arms. The feel of his warm flesh on mine is heavenly. I could lie here forever, yet my mind wobbles and sputters, trying to claim a last modicum of independence. “You can’t talk like that. I’m a modern woman in control of myself and my destiny.”
“What did you expect when you signed up for Mountain Mates? A civilized guy? Besides, by the time I’m done learning your body and all the many ways of pleasing you, you’ll want to kidnap me back.” Stroking my hair, he wraps his leg possessively over my hip and leg. We’re both still too hot for the blankets beneath us.
“I already do.”
“See,” he says in dark, dangerous tones, kissing the shell of my ear and tracing his tongue over it before sucking my earlobe into his mouth. The move twists my lower core, and I’m ready to jump him again as his cock grows rock-hard against my hip. He whispers against my ear, “I have a confession.”
“Shouldn’t you save that for your priest?” I ask sassily, and he kisses my neck with mock ferocity, growling against my ear.
“I’m in shock, like serious shock, about how readily my family accepted you today. Especially my parents. I must admit, it feels too easy, and it’s got me on edge like the other shoe’s about to drop.”
I shrug, “All parents want their children to be happy when it comes down to it.”
“All American parents. It’s not like that in my family. It has never been, especially for me, the eldest. Do you think I would be a sheepherder if it weren’t for family pressure? I had no other career options. It was decided before I was born.” His voice has a bitterness at the end.
“And if you could do anything you want, what would it be?” I ask.
He sighs. “A cheesemaker. I know it sounds silly to an American, but I’m quite good at it. I’ll have you sample some sheep’s milk cheese later, which recently finished aging. It is good enough for gourmet restaurants and shops. Everyone agrees.”
“I don’t think there’s anything silly about that career choice at all. Not after living in France.”
He snuggles closer to me, burying his face in my hair. “And would you be the wife of a cheesemaker?”
Give this man an inch, and he’ll take a mile. “You realize we’re still technically on what would be considered our first date, right? Talk of marriage is kinda frowned on this early in the game.”
“You haven’t answered my question. If it makes you feel better, assume I mean it in a general sense.”
“Well, then I can answer without hesitation,” I flirt, turning my head towards him, my lips inches from his. “One hundred percent, wholeheartedly, yes. I love cheese, so why not love the cheesemaker, too?”
He grins. “Really? Are you being serious?”
“Of course,” I laugh, my cheeks flushing. “Is it any weirder than marrying a shepherd in this day and age? In the United States, to boot?”
“Next thing I know, you’ll have a ring on my finger. Are you trying to trap me, ma luciole?” he teases.
“I already told you. I’m ready to kidnap you.”
“Good,” he grumbles in rich tones, feathering his fingertips over my neck, décolletage, and breasts until I shiver.
“You like that?” he asks, noting how my body reacts to his every touch.
“I like everything you do to me. The way you spoil and caress me. Your big, rough hands. Your hot, tender lips. Your hard, huge cock.”
“And I like all of your silky, soft parts that you let me play with and invade.” He stops, warmth pooling in his eyes as he says, “You know, with you by my side, I have the courage to stand up to my parents and forge my own way, professionally and privately. Because you make me feel stronger, smarter, and better than I am. And you make me want to become my best self.”
“Stronger, smarter, better than the rest. You are already all those things to me,” I say softly, palming his bearded cheek. I need to tell him about the article. It gnaws at the back of my mind. But nothing could make me mess up this moment or the new intimacy I’ve found with Fierce.
He props himself up on one arm, bringing his other hand to my cleft chin and stroking it gently before covering it in tender kisses and tracing it with his tongue. “I’ve dreamed about doing this for awhile now,” he says bashfully.
“And I want to look more closely at the back tattoo you told me about.”
He grins, flashing his adorable dimples at me before rolling over onto his stomach. “What do you think?” He asks, eyeing me over his shoulder.
I lean forward, lightly tracing the ink on his back with my fingers. The hyperrealistic tattoo covers his entire back, a mural swirling with skulls, roses, bullets, and mist. “Why this design? It has very little to do with being a sheepherder.”
He gazes at me warmly over his shoulder. “It draws on the three things that hem in our lives: death as represented by the skulls, love by the roses, and violence by the bullets. As a shepherd, I live constantly with life and death among the herd. I am their guardian against violence from predators. And without a certain amount of love and tenderness, the herd would not thrive.”
I draw closer, kissing the muscles of his back and tracing their angular lines with my tongue until he purrs with pleasure like a well-loved cat. Turning suddenly, he seizes me, wrapping his arms around me. “Admit that you love me, Firefly, or I cannot make love to you.”
He kisses me, his eyes sparkling with the happy assurance of what he already knows. Something I’ve felt for weeks if only I would let myself admit it. Palming his cheek, I gaze intently into his eyes. “I love you, Fierce.”