by Carly Keene
“Damn, woman,” he whispers. “You’re amazing.”
And then he kisses me.
It’s the same as before—same soft lips, same fierce, heated touch. The same deliciousness when we touch our tongues together, and his tongue traces the inside of my upper lip so delicately before he kisses deeper. His hands are big and firm on my waist. I am so melted that my lower body has gone entirely liquid, and I’m sure that my panties are soaked.
I want to climb him like a tree. As it is, I keep trying to get closer, but the bench is not really cooperating. “Can we go in?” I ask, and nip at the hollow of his throat before kissing him there. I let my hand slide down from his shoulder to his belly button, not quite daring enough to touch his jeans yet.
“Inside? Hell, yeah,” he says, and hauls me up with his strong hands. “You sure, Tia?”
I’m not sure how to answer him without sounding like a slut, but yes. I am sure I want him. I decide to just walk through the back door, pulling him behind me. Inside, I let him lead me to a comfortable-looking sofa. The room is warm, and when I look around, I see a big black woodstove that is clearly the source of warmth. I almost laugh.
Except that he’s damn near started a fire inside of me.
He pulls me down on top of him on the couch, and I can feel how aroused he is. Holy shit, from the size of the item pressing against me through his pants, he must be huge. A shiver goes all the way through me as our mouths meet again, and I adjust myself so that he’s pressed right against my groin. We both make soft noises of satisfaction.
“Do we need some more heat in here?” he asks softly against my mouth.
“No,” I whisper back. “You’re hot enough.” I sit up a little and take off my cardigan, and my nipples peak against my bra and t-shirt in the relative chill.
“Damn, woman,” he says again. “You’re incredible. You’re so beautiful.”
I tell him the truth. “So are you.”
Back in the city, a guy this gorgeous and ripped would never look twice at a girl like me. Maybe I’m deluding myself, but I do not care. I want him. I want this.
“Tia,” Wyatt says, and holds me by my upper arms, “if you don’t want to make love, please tell me now. I mean, we don’t have to—and I’ll take you back any time you want to go. But please don’t make me think you want me if you’re going to change your mind.”
I wonder who’s done that to him in the past. But it doesn’t matter now, because I want him.
“I want you. I want to make love with you, Wyatt. I want your hands on me. Your body on me, your mouth on me. I want all of you.”
SEVEN
Tia
His big body shudders under me, and he tugs off my shirt. Then my bra, and I’m amazed at the ease with which he unbuttons my bra. No fumbling with the hooks, no awkwardness—it’s just suddenly gone, and my heavy breasts are swinging free, my nipples hard with desire. He pulls me closer, gently playing with one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it in a way that makes me moan. I’m probably wet enough to make even my jeans damp at the crotch, I want him so much.
“You have incredible tits,” he says, and the way he’s touching them lets me know he means it. “So beautiful.”
“Take off your shirt,” I beg, and he pulls it loose from his jeans but lets me unbutton it and push it off his shoulders, leaving it under him on the couch.
“I can’t wait to touch all of you,” he says, and reaches for my jeans.
I’m glad I put on navy satin underwear earlier, but the scent of my soaked pussy rises between us and he actually moans. “Fuck, girl, you smell good.” His fingers are immediately diving inside the crotch of my panties, finding all the good spots there, and I cry out. “So wet. Ah, Tia, you’re dripping.”
“You,” I say, gasping as one long finger slides inside me. “You did that to me.”
“You see what you do to me?” His voice is raspy with desire, pitched low to make me quiver. He takes my hand and guides it to his erection. He really is huge. Together we unbutton and unzip him, and his cock springs out, hard and long and thick. The sight of it, along with what he’s still doing to my pussy inside my panties with one hand, is making me crazy with need.
I hate to leave what he’s doing, but I have to have him in my mouth. I slide down and fit my mouth over it, stretching to take as much in as I can. He groans, lifting his hips to push his jeans further down. I move my head on him, stroking and sucking, almost high on anticipation of what he’ll feel like inside me, until he begs me to stop before he comes.
“Your turn,” he says, breathing hard, and he flips me to my back on the sofa, then strips my jeans and panties all the way off. Then he crouches on the floor, his cock bobbing and his big shoulders pressing my thighs wide, before he brings his mouth to me.
I cry out with the sensation of his tongue pressed deep into my vagina, his fingers rubbing rhythmically over my little nub. The heat rises so high and so fast that it seems like no time before I’m reaching a peak of pleasure, my orgasm much harder than the one I gave myself thinking about him in the shower last night. He pets me gently until the contractions resolve and I can breathe again.
“Another one?” he asks, his eyes dark and wicked on me, and I nod. This time his tongue flicks incessantly over my clit, two of his fingers thrusting inside my pussy. As my pleasure builds again, he adds another finger, and I moan at the fullness. “You like that, don’t you,” he says, raising his head and kissing my mound. “You want to come. Play with your nipples, girl. God, you’ve got the most gorgeous tits, Tia.”
I’ve never done that with a guy before; I’ve never felt like I had permission to touch myself while a guy was doing things to me. It’s completely erotic, and the combined sensations bring me over the edge again before long.
“Please,” I gasp, as he moves away from my sensitive crotch, “please, Wyatt, fuck me.” I see him shiver in the dim light, and he leans to pick up his jeans. “I’m clean,” I tell him. “I’m on the pill. Can we just—”
“Go bare?” His voice is hoarse. “Fuck. Yes, Tia. I’m clean too. Haven’t been with anybody in a couple of years.”
“I need you.” I reach my arms up to him, and he comes to me, kissing me with the taste of my own juices on his tongue.
“I need you too,” he says, and reaches down to slide the head of his cock up and down through my folds, teasing my clit with it. Dipping it just a little inside my pussy, up over the clit, then down over the clit. I start making noises of frustration, wriggling under him, and he laughs. “No, no. Enjoy this, baby. I know you like this.”
It feels good, but I need him in me. I grab his hair. “Fuck me,” I growl. “Now.”
He laughs again one time, and then all laughter is forgotten as his shaft—so long, so thick, so fucking hard—slides inside my cunt and he begins to thrust. Stars burst behind my eyelids, and I’m crying out again, my whole body feeling like fireworks going off, everything going higher and harder and tighter, until the biggest fireworks of all explode, and I scream out my relief and delight as my pussy contracts, clenching and releasing his cock. I feel it when his back stiffens under my hands, and his cock gets impossibly bigger for a few seconds before jets of heat spurt inside me and he releases a long groan.
We stay locked together for several minutes, his head on my shoulder, my hands in his hair. Then he sighs. “That was so good.”
“It was so good,” I echo, because it was.
He kisses me. “Will you stay tonight?”
“I will.”
He gathers me up from the couch and staggers down the hall with me. “Put me down, I’m too heavy,” I protest.
“You’re perfect.” He laughs a little. “You took a lot out of me just now, but I’m not sorry.”
He puts me on a big bed in a big masculine room. I shiver, because it’s not as warm as the den where we were, but he tucks me under the covers and snuggles me with his big manly body. I relax, feeling so saf
e and so wanted.
EIGHT
Wyatt
I have this dreamgirl in my bed, and I don’t ever want to let her go.
She’s everything I ever wanted. Smart, beautiful, won’t take any bullshit . . . She’s perfect.
We doze a little, and then we talk. If you’d asked me last week would I want to spend hours talking to a woman, I’d have said no. But here I am doing it. And liking it. Reminds me of my brother Weston and his wife Cassie; they never shut up talking to each other, either.
Maybe that’s why they’re happy.
Tia says she’s interviewing for a job at the resort. The minute she says it, my heart leaps with hope.
“I’m not promising to take the job,” she warns me, rising up on one elbow. “Just interviewing. And I’m not really prepared. I didn’t know they were going to ask me. And I like my current job.”
“You like Chicago?” I can’t imagine it. The noise, the traffic, the smells, the sheer number of people in one place.
She shrugs. “I’ve never lived anywhere else. Visited, yes. And I like other places too, I don’t have to be in a city.”
“This is why you asked me about living here cut off from things,” I realize out loud.
“I don’t think you’re cut off, exactly.” She lies back down. “But yes, that’s why I asked. I mostly shop for clothes for my job, so I don’t really care about shopping. I rarely get time to go do stuff you do in a city, either. And I think this is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. I just . . . I don’t know. That’s all.”
I take a shaky breath. “Stay.”
“I can’t promise that, Wyatt,” she says. Her voice is stern, but it’s not entirely steady, either.
“It was an invitation.”
“I will consider it,” she says. “Really. And this matters, you know. That you’re here.”
“Well, good.”
She runs her hands up and down my chest, almost dreamily. “If you lived in the city, you wouldn’t bother with a girl like me.”
I sit up. “What do you mean?”
“A big girl like me.”
I reach over to turn on the lamp. “Are you saying you’re fat?”
She looks away, pulling the sheet up to her chin. “Well. If the shoe fits.”
“That shoe does not fucking fit,” I tell her, annoyed. “Voluptuous, yeah. Lush. A girl and a half in all the good ways. Delicious. Juicy. Meat on your bones.”
“That’s so romantic,” she says sarcastically toward the door, not looking at me.
“Hey. Look at me.”
She exhales through her nose, but she looks at me. I pull the sheet down to expose her breasts, and my half-hard prick goes stiff as a girder. “You see that? That’s how I feel about your body.”
She bites her lip.
“I got a damn hard-on the minute you walked into my clearing yelling at me yesterday afternoon,” I admit. “And that’s not a regular thing for me, okay? It was you.” I point at my erection. “That is all for you.”
“I’m scared,” she says, very simply. “I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never felt so sexy. Or so safe with a guy.”
“You’re both.” It’s true. She’s safe, because I’ll never hurt her. And she is damn fucking sexy. To show her that, I lean over and kiss her, pulling the covers down to her feet. I kneel between her thighs, spreading them open and looking at her beautiful puffy pink folds, still wet from our earlier episode. “You are safe. And you are the sexiest woman I have ever met. Just thinking about licking your pussy has me about to bust a nut.”
She laughs, startled, and the next second I’m tongue-deep in her again, feeling the pleasure and the tension in her thighs and hips, tasting my own jizz in combination with her juices. I rub across her clit with my nose once or twice, and then I lick it so furiously that it brings her off within seconds, her hands tightening in my hair. “See?” I say, raising my head to gaze up across the beautiful mountains and valleys of her body. “You make me so horny. And the more we talk, the more I want you. You better believe me.”
She sighs. “It would be nice if it were true.”
“It’s true.” I can’t hold back anymore. I grab my dick and slip just the head of it into Tia’s slick opening. I’m big enough that I can see my cock stretch her a little, and that’s fucking sexy too. “Does it feel good?”
She nods. “Don’t stop.”
“It feels good to me. You’re so tight, baby. So alive.” I kiss her nipples, gathering her incredible tits in my hands, and then I concentrate on fucking her, strong and hard, in a rhythm that has her pumping her hips to meet my thrusts. She’s amazing. In moments, she’s pulling me into her with her hands on my ass, her legs wide, her tits jiggling under me, and I’m fighting to keep my cool and let her finish before I lose it. We make noise together, and in the back of my head I hear Maybelline and Jerry start howling out in the kennel, and I almost laugh, and it keeps my excitement just far down enough that she reaches her orgasm. And then, then, I can really plow into her while her cunt grips me in climax, and I let my own orgasm loose.
When I can breathe again, I pull her close and kiss her deeply. “Stay,” I say again, and this time it’s a plea, just before I go to sleep.
I need her with me. In my life. I need this woman.
NINE
Tia
I need you.
Wyatt said that to me last night. Several times, I think, but the last time he said it was this morning, after the fourth time we made love. That time, the dawn light was creeping in through the windows, and I could look at the way his eyes glowed in that light.
I need you in my life.
He said that this morning. I want to believe it.
He made me breakfast this morning. And over the coffee and biscuits and country ham, he asked me again to stay at Moonlight Ridge. I said I was considering it. Which is true, because I am. Every minute, I keep asking myself if I’m rushing things. The resort job might be my dream job, but it’s irresponsible to add a brand-new relationship with a man I literally just met two days ago to the equation of leaving a job I like, with a boss who is manic and maybe a little crazy but generally a good boss, in a place where my family is, where I’ve always lived, to take a job in an isolated area, where I know almost nobody and where life would be very different.
I mean, is that sensible?
Of course it’s not. I’m going to have to judge this job on its own merits. Without regard to any gorgeous, ripped, considerate, skilled-in-bed, thoughtful mountain man who might or might not love me.
Even though I might already be in love with him.
I’ve just done an exhaustive tour of the ski resort with Jeff the Activities Director and Lisa the Assistant Manager. I’ve already met Louanne the Head Housecleaner, Mindy the Head Chef at the hotel restaurant, George the Head Chef at the on-slopes restaurant, Deon the Head Chef at the casual bar/restaurant, as well as Tamsin the Spa Manager and Martin the Facilities Manager. If none of these people are lying to me, this really would be a dream job.
Stay.
Wyatt said that a number of times, too. I keep hearing his voice in my head, feeling his touch on my body. I have to keep shaking myself out of waking dreams of last night, and I’m sure I’ve gotten a few odd looks from people today.
And when I met with Linda the Resort Manager, who only reports to Mr. Whitehall the Owner, everything she told me made it sound like this would be absolutely perfect for me. Working hours, health insurance, the ability to set my own agenda, the resort’s capabilities and drive to feature their wedding facilities more, vacation policy, it all sounds excellent. The salary’s not quite what I make in Chicago, but Linda pointed out that my cost of living would be considerably less here, and that I could actually be putting a lot more in the bank than I am now.
And then she gave me a formal offer, all printed up with salary and pension and terms and everything. Moonlight Ridge is serious. They want me.
I need
you.
I shake Wyatt’s voice out of my head yet again, and ask Linda the Resort Manager for a week to make my decision.
“We’d really prefer to get an events coordinator on board as soon as possible,” Linda says, frowning a little. “Is there any point of the contract that you’re less than enthusiastic about? I can maybe get Mr. Whitehall to nudge up the salary as much as a thousand dollars annually, but I’m afraid that’s pretty well set. But—vacation? Living quarters here at the resort?”
“I wouldn’t say no to an extra thousand,” I admit. “But what I really need is time to consider. I need a week.”
I need you in my life.
“I really need that week,” I repeat. “It’s a terrific offer, and I can’t think of a better situation. It’s great. I can’t just dump my current boss without notice, and I need to consider whether I can be happy this far away from family.”
Stay.
Linda finally nods, resigned, and shakes my hand firmly. “I hope you’ll decide to come to us. We’re willing to wait a little while because we feel you’re the right person.”
“I understand,” I tell her, “and I really appreciate your willingness. That makes a difference to my decision. Thank you.”
We shake hands. I go up to my room and pack, brain still whirling. Every time I look out the window, my heart soars. It’s so beautiful here. It’s just so—different from home. I change my Florida flight to a Chicago flight that leaves later this evening.
And then I make the phone call. The tough one.
I get the answering machine, and only then do I remember that cell phones don’t work outside the resort area. I hadn’t wanted to leave a message, but I’ll have to.
“Wyatt, it’s me. Tia. I wanted to let you know that I—” I sniff back tears. “I am seriously considering this job offer. I’m really thinking about it. But I feel like I can’t make this decision based on us, if there is an us. It has to be worth it without an us. Does that make sense? I have to go home for a little while, but if I decide to move here and take this job, you will be the first person to know. I have to tell you that it was an incredible weekend, the best I’ve ever had, and I really care about you. I think there could be an us, and I’m sorry to just leave without seeing you, but I have to have a clear mind to make this decision. I hope that makes sense. I hope—” I sniffed again. “Wyatt. Thank you. And . . . I’ll call. I promise.”
