Page 42 of Challenged By the Mountain Man

"Yes," I manage. "Just give me a second."

He holds still, letting me adjust, his forehead pressed against mine. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, can feel the tension in every line of his body as he waits for me to be ready.

Slowly, the discomfort fades, replaced by something else. Need. Want. The overwhelming urge to feel him move.

"Okay," I say. "You can move."

He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in. The bed creaks under us, a sound that matches the pace he sets—steady, giving me time to feel every inch of him.

It's incredible. The stretch and fullness, the way his body covers mine completely. I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle, and we both groan at the sensation.

"Fuck, Hannah," he grits out. "You feel so good. So fucking tight."

I don't have words. Can't form coherent thoughts beyond *more* and *yes* and *please don't stop*. My nails drag across his back, leaving marks I'm sure, but I can't help it. I need something to hold onto, some way to ground myself in the overwhelming sensation of being fucked by this massive, scarred man who's somehow become the most important person in my world in less than forty-eight hours.

He's right on top of me, water and sweat dripping from his hair onto my chest and cheeks, his breath hot against my neck. The firelight plays across his skin, highlighting every muscle, every scar, every perfect imperfection.

"More," I gasp. "Griffin, please more!"

He growls and his pace increases. Harder now, faster, the bed protesting loudly with every thrust. The headboard slams against the wall, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if the whole structure is going to collapse under us, but I don't care. All I care about is the feeling of him inside me, the pressure building again low in my belly, the way he's looking at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters.

"Like this?" he asks, punctuating the question with a particularly hard thrust that makes me cry out.

"Yes—fuck—yes—"

The bed is creaking so loudly now it sounds like it's seconds away from breaking, and Griffin must think the same thing because suddenly he's stopping, pulling out, and I make a sound of protest.

"Don't worry," he says, his hands gripping my hips. "Just changing positions."

He pulls me up off the bed and then, oh God, he's lifting me completely off the mattress, his hands under my ass, supporting me like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around his waist, and then he's lowering me onto his cock, gravity and his strength driving him deeper than before.

I cry out, clinging to his shoulders, and he starts moving. Lifting me up and down on his cock, using me, fucking me in the air, and it's the most intense thing I've ever experienced. Every thrust hits deeper, harder, the angle perfect, and I can do nothing but hold on and take it.

"Griffin—oh my God—I can't—"

"You can," he says roughly. "You're doing perfect. Taking my cock so well. Look at you."

I bury my face against his neck, overwhelmed by sensation, by the feeling of being completely at his mercy, completely filled, completely his in this moment. His muscles flex under my hands with every movement, his breathing harsh and ragged in my ear, and I can feel myself climbing toward another orgasm, faster and harder than the first.

"I'm going to—" I gasp. "Griffin, I'm—"

"Come for me," he commands.

I scream, my whole body convulsing in his arms, clenching around his cock in waves of pleasure. He keeps moving, keeps fucking me through it, prolonging every second until I'm sobbing against his shoulder, completely undone.

"Fuck," he groans, his pace becoming erratic. "Hannah… I'm close. I need to—"

"Inside," I gasp without thinking. "Come inside me."

He makes a sound that's almost pained, and then he's coming, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me with his white sticky liquid. His whole body goes rigid, muscles locked, and he buries his face against my neck as he empties himself inside me with a groan that I feel in my bones.

We stay like that for a long moment, both of us trembling, breathing hard, his cock still inside me as we come down from the high. Then, slowly, he lowers us both back onto the bed, settling me on the mattress without pulling out.

He hovers over me, his weight braced on his forearms and looks down at me with a smile.

"You okay?" he asks.

I nod, unable to form words yet.