9. Brooke
Nine
Brooke
I ’ve brought myself off plenty of times in my life, thank you very much. I know how sensations down there feel. Or at least, I thought I did.
Turns out my fingers pale in comparison to Hunter’s hungry mouth and strong hands. To the suction of his lips, the graze of his teeth, and the stroke of his flattened tongue. To his hot breath puffing against my clit.
“Oh!”
I cry up at the cabin ceiling, dazed and writhing from pleasure. Every lick, every nibble, every squeeze of my thighs makes my head spin and breath catch. His beard tickles my sensitive skin, and it’s just one more overloading sensation. One more detail that my last working brain cell is desperately trying to catalog.
“Mm.” Hunter’s satisfied groan vibrates through my nerve endings, and he rubs his whole face against my pussy. It’s like he wants to bathe in me, to saturate his cells with my scent. His nose and cheeks and chin are glossy with my arousal. “Now that’s a meal. God damn.”
There’s no room for self-consciousness in this moment, even though it’s all so alien and exposing. No room for me to feel embarrassed at having my legs splayed and everything on display. Not when Hunter is so loudly, fervently into this, grunting and sucking on my folds.
Propping myself up on wobbly elbows, I watch it all, wide-eyed. Hunter’s eyes are closed, his face taut with pleasure, and everything about him is so familiar that my heart throbs.
This is the same boy I grew up hero-worshiping, the focus of my first and only teenage crush. My older brother’s best friend. And now, with both of us years older, he’s the man who saved me today and made everything alright again.
“Hunter,” I whisper, stroking a trembling hand through his dark hair.
Those blue eyes open, and they hold my gaze as he latches onto my clit and sucks. My toes curl, and my head drops back as pleasure crashes over me like a wave. Every nerve ending in my body is alight.
“Mine.” Hunter’s low voice is muffled against my body, but when I look back up, those eyes are still on me. Piercing through to my core. “You’re mine, Brooke.”
Yes.
I’m his.
Body and soul.
I don’t know how long he’s down there, feasting and groaning and owning me, staking a claim. Working me into a jittery, breathless wreck, until I’m babbling nonsense up at the ceiling. Pleading for more, for more, for sweet relief.
It could be minutes or it could be hours, and I’ll never know because the second Hunter’s tongue swept up my slit, I lost all track of space and time.
All I know is: this is the best thing I’ve ever felt. And when he finally stops toying with me, when he tips me over the edge with two fingers pressed inside me, my body shakes like a leaf in the wind until I collapse, boneless and gasping.
There’s no reprieve. Hunter sits up, wipes his mouth on the back of his forearm, then notches his length to my entrance. He pauses, waits for me to give a wobbly nod, then surges forward to plunge fully inside me.
I howl, but not from pain. No, he’s prepared me too well, stretched my tight channel with his fingers, got me good and wet for him. My yell is pure shocked pleasure, and Hunter laughs darkly then starts thrusting, pounding rhythmically.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”
Yes. It feels good. More than good. With his thick shaft working me, with that delicious stretch of him inside my body, with the sheer possessive ownership in how Hunter leans over me, body sculpted in the starlight—it feels freaking amazing. It’s more than my fantasies could ever come up with.
Reaching up for his shoulders, I cling on for dear life. My legs wrap around his hips and squeeze. Hunters muscles are sheened with sweat, tensing and flexing as he throws his whole body into our shared pleasure. Each thrust makes my breath catch and my nerves sing.
Hunter is a force of nature. Seeing him like this, he’s as wild and rugged as any mountain storm, and okay—I understand now. I get why the popular, charming guy moved up here into this cabin; I get why he’s more at home out here where the wolves howl. This is the real Hunter.
And I can’t get enough of him.
“Keep—keep going.” My nails score the front of his chest, and Hunter’s teeth flash white as he grins. One callused thumb finds my clit, and then I can’t think straight anymore. Can’t form words. Can’t speak. Can’t even feel my bumps and bruises anymore, my whole body overwhelmed with pleasure.
“Get used to this Brooke.”
Low words float through my haze, burrowing into my brain. They make my insides clench down on his pumping shaft, and my fingernails dig into his shoulders.
“I’m gonna fuck you like this every morning and night. Gonna make you scream my name so loud they hear you all the way down in town. You’re mine, and the next time you step foot in civilization, you’ll be wearing my beard burn under your clothes.”
Yes.
My thighs flex around Hunter’s hips, and when a drop of his sweat lands on my lower lip, I lick it away. Tastes like salt, and I’m greedy for it. Greedy for him , and for the promises he’s making.
Because I desperately want that. The next time I walk through town, I want Hunter’s secret mark on my skin, and the sweet ache of him between my thighs. The indoor girl, claimed by the mountain man. God, I never want to walk straight again.
“Every man in town is gonna be so fucking jealous when I claim you, when I put a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly, but that’s tough shit.” Hunter’s movements get rougher, sloppier, and my breathless moans float up to the ceiling.
Hunter squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back for a second, like he’s regaining control, thumb still stroking between my thighs. Then he looks me dead in the eye, spreads a hand out on my belly to hold me down, and starts pumping into me as deep as he can possibly go.
Every thrust pushes the air from my lungs. He’s so big and thick and long, I can practically taste him in the back of my throat, and it feels so good my eyes almost cross.
“Say it, Brooke.” His muscles look like they’ve been oiled down in the lamplight. Like he’s some kind of ancient Olympian. The strength in his body is a sight to behold. “Say we can have all that. Say we can start right now.”
Holy shit. I’ve never nodded so fast in my life, agreeing eagerly.
“We can. We can start right now.” And maybe this is or isn’t what he meant, but I can’t help begging: “Come inside me, Hunter.”
His eyes flare wide, and he inhales sharply. The rest of his body, though, doesn’t miss a beat. Those hips keep thrusting, his shaft keeps plunging deep, and his hand is steady where it pins my belly down.
“Christ,” he mutters, another spot of his sweat landing on my chest. Wanna lick him all over after this, tasting his sculpted muscles. “Brooke, I can’t hold back.”
I laugh weakly. “Then don’t.”
Hunter’s growl echoes through the cabin, then he’s rubbing my clit with merciless precision, working me higher and higher again. Everything goes fuzzy, my pulse thudding in my ears, then I’m tipping over the edge again, falling into space, and all I can do is writhe and moan as Hunter wrings every drop of pleasure from my body.
As soon as I flop back to the patchwork quilt, sweaty and sated, Hunter hitches my leg up to his ribs and wedges himself as deep as he can possibly go inside me. He leans over me, every line in his body taut as his cock swells and spills.
One, two, three hot bursts. Then another one, and another one, and it’s like Hunter’s been saving all his seed for me, to spill in a hot, desperate bloom of need.
God, why does that feel so good? There’s something primal about it. Something wild and carnal, and Hunter must agree, because he buries his face in my throat and groans with relief. My laugh is shaky, and I loop my arms around his neck.
As we lay there, our breathing slows. Somewhere outside, an owl hoots.
“I’m gonna need another shower,” I point out at last, scritching my fingers through his hair. “And a third set of bandages, most likely. Worst patient ever.”
Hunter snorts and rolls to the side, then reaches out and drags me close.
“Agree to disagree.”
And we should get up and get clean, we should make some dinner at last and discuss the new life that may be winking into existence inside me as we speak—but for now, we lay in each other’s arms, drawing lazy patterns on each other’s skin.
It’s quiet and calm, but if you listen you might hear a whole new reality slotting into place.
One where the curvy bookworm gets the rugged mountain man for good.
* * *
Three years later
We walk side-by-side down the rocky trail, chatting quietly about everything and nothing. It’s mid-afternoon, and the sun is warm and bright. A gentle breeze tousles our hair and pulls at our clothes, and the whole mountainside smells like spring blossom. It’s gorgeous.
“Playing hide and seek,” Hunter suggests.
“Hm. Maybe.”
“Or reading books together.”
I shake my head, dried twigs and old pine needles crunching under my boots. My well worn boots, that over the last few years have walked over nearly every inch of this mountain range. How’s that for a former indoor girl?
“No, I bet they’re baking sugar cookies. Jake always pretends that it’s for Ellie, but we all know the truth.”
Hunter snorts. “You might be right.”
It’s a beautiful spring day, and we’ve spent the last few hours of it hiking up to the peak together, sneaking some alone time while my older brother watches his niece. The fresh air and exercise has been good for the soul, and I always crave alone time with Hunter, but to be honest… even after just a few hours, I miss my little girl. Every step we take back toward our cabin, my heart flutters with excitement.
“Do you think they’ve had a good time together?” I ask for the millionth time.
Hunter laughs, never annoyed by my silly anxieties or the way I repeat myself sometimes. He’s always patient, steady. Reassuring.
“Of course they’ve had a good time. They always do. They’re partners in crime, you know that.”
It’s true. To the untrained eye, my brother Jake looks like any of the other rugged mountain types around here: bearded, tanned, always dressed in flannel shirts, jeans and leather boots. Often found chopping logs for firewood or pulling shifts for Mountain Rescue.
But put our toddler Ellie in his arms, and you can watch his grizzled heart melt in real time. Whenever he babysits, he gets this misty, far-away look in his eyes, and he gets kinda quiet and broody once it’s just the adults again.
“I give it a year,” Hunter says, cupping my elbow to guide me around a tree stump. I’d love to say that I don’t need him fussing over me anymore, that I’m like an agile mountain goat, but nope. I’ve tripped over that specific tree stump at least four times. You can put the bookworm in hiking boots, but you can’t rewrite her DNA. “A year until he has one of his own.”
Um, what?
My startled laugh spooks a nearby bird from its tree branch. It flaps past overhead, squawking and clattering.
“A year? That’s insane. Jake doesn’t even date. How’s he gonna get someone pregnant in a year when he’s even more of a loner these days than you used to be?”
Hunter shrugs, smiling a knowing smile. “Maybe he’ll meet someone. Maybe the universe has just been waiting until he’s ready.”
“Meet who , though?”
Hunter laughs. “How should I know?”
God, sometimes I want to shove my beloved husband into a tree.
Vivid memories of pressing this man up against the nearest trunk flood my body, and my skin flushes hot under my clothes. My steps quicken, the shadows of tree branches striping across my body, and suddenly the friction between my thighs as I walk is extra maddening.
At my side, Hunter’s stride lengthens too.
“Jake could take her out for a walk,” he says under his breath. “Give us some alone time in the cabin.”
“Uh-huh.”
God, I can practically taste his cock already. My mouth waters. And sure, we already made out a bunch behind a boulder halfway up the trail, and that included slipping hands into clothes and bringing each other off. We should be less desperate to leap at each other, and yet… we’re never truly done. Both of us always want more, more, more.
The trail snakes around a bend, and there through the trees is our cabin in its clearing. The lake sparkles in the sunlight, and peals of giddy toddler laughter float up from the deck. My heart throbs with joy, and now I’m not sure what I want more: some alone time with Hunter, or to heft my sticky little munchkin into my arms.
There’s so much love in my life, I’m tugged in all directions. As we stride down the trail toward the cabin, I smile wide and my arms swing.
It’s a pretty great problem to have.
* * *
Thanks for reading Wild Peak! I hope you liked it. :)
For Jake’s story, check out Wild River . He fishes me out of the river in a wedding dress. But the grumpy mountain man has no idea how much trouble he’s caught…
And for a bonus instalove story, grab your copy of Something Sweet . I spend every Valentine’s Day baking cookies for my friends and neighbors. But the bad boy who just moved to town? He’s hungry for something else…
Happy reading!
xxx