Her Rock Hard Mountain Man: Rough & Rugged, Book Two

by Grey, Parker

  There’s a strong hand on my shoulder, and I look back at Mason.

  “Nice work,” he says. “I bet we get a bonus from Director Leafson for this one. He’s wanted the Priests for a while, and we just gave him the leadership of the Diablos on a platter.”

  I hand him the megaphone.

  “Glad I could help,” I say, already moving off.

  “Go get your woman!” he calls after me, and I break into a jog.

  The tree line is only about a hundred feet away, but it feels like a mile. Every nerve in my body is jangling with tension and apprehension.

  What if they hurt her? What if they did something worse, what if it’s all my fault because I couldn’t get to her in time?

  A few more feet and then I enter the trees. There’s a soft light about ten feet off, and I shove aside branches and leaves until break through into a small clearing, a stump at the center.

  Sitting on the stump is Mia, wrapped in a silver blanket, the kind they give marathon runners. The moment she sees me she jumps up and then she’s in my arms, her small frame still shaking.

  I hold her as tightly as I can, so tightly I’m afraid I’ll break her, but I don’t stop and I don’t let go. All I need is to feel her warmth against me, healing me, making me whole.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper into her hair, over and over again. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  She’s quiet for a long time, just breathing. The shaking stops slowly, but I don’t let her go. Not yet.

  Finally, she pulls back a little, just enough to look up at me. There are tears in her eyes, but she smiles.

  “I’m sorry I made you leave last night,” she says.

  I shake my head and put one finger over her lips.

  “You didn’t know,” I tell her. “There’s no way you could have.”

  “But still—"

  I just kiss her. I know that she’ll have to work through this — that we’ll have to work through this — but right now, I just need her lips on mine, reassuring me that everything is going to be okay.

  Because it is.

  She’s here, and I’ve got her, and that’s all I need.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mia

  “What did you do, dig a tunnel to China?” Elias teases me.

  I make a face and stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs.

  “We’re not even across the globe from China,” I point out. “I’d come up somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I think, so of course I wouldn’t go digging a hole. I’d just drown.”

  “After you burned to death on superheated lava,” he says, unwrapping the old bandages from my hands. “You forgot that part.”

  “Well, at least the ocean would put the fire out,” I say.

  It’s been five days since Elias rescued me. Five days since I was nearly kidnapped and made some sort of sex slave to a rival biker gang.

  Five days since the FBI took my father and all his friends into custody, including Gage.

  It’s been… surreal, especially since I’ve been watching and hearing about it from a distance, staying in Elias’s old farmhouse up on the mountain. It’s a beautiful spot: in a small clearing, with a view of the whole valley below. He’s fixed the place up himself, keeping most of the original touches, and it’s gorgeous.

  Neither of us has said anything about me moving out, especially now that the FBI raided my father’s house, turning everything upside down. I went back to grab some clothes and my school supplies but that’s it.

  My brother’s been staying with friends, other low-level Diablos who didn’t get busted. Turns out that only the leadership was in on the big stuff — gun and drug running — that most of the lower-level guys didn’t know about, Isaac included.

  He’s said something about wanting to rebuild the club, wanting it to be a legit organization instead of a bunch of shady outlaws, but we’ll see if it happens.

  “Ready?” Elias asks. He’s got a squirt bottle filled with distilled water, and he’s holding it over my still-healing hands. I make a face.

  “Go,” I say.

  The water stings as he squirts it over my palms, but it’s not that bad. I just wish they would heal already, because I can’t do anything with my hands and it’s driving me crazy.

  I can’t cook. It’s hard to eat. I can’t even do the dishes after Elias cooks.

  Even sex has been tricky, though Elias barely seems to notice. Honestly, he might like that I can’t use my hands as much, because he’s taken it as an excuse to toss me around in bed, doing whatever he wants to me.

  I have to admit I kind of like it too.

  “Almost done,” he says, patting my hands dry with a clean paper towel, then putting gauze pads over each palm. One by one he wraps the gauze with bandages, then secures them carefully.

  I sigh.

  “I feel like Frankenstein,” I say, holding my hands up in front of me. “Or the mummy, or something.”

  Elias leans over me, his head hooking over my shoulder. In the bathroom mirror, his eyes burn into mine, and my heart skips a beat.

  Also, my pussy tingles. I know that look.

  Then he palms both my breasts at once, giving them a good squeeze. I’m not wearing a bra, and the sensation of his fingers on my nipples makes them instantly stiff.

  “Nah, you feel like Mia,” he teases me. “Though I could check again if you need me to.”

  It’s been a crazy five days for other reasons, too. Such as the fact that I can’t help myself around him, so every second not dedicated to untangling the many crimes of the Iron Diablos, we’ve been fucking like rabbits, despite my hands.

  The kitchen counter. The shower. The table. The couch. The rug in front of the fireplace. The back porch. The back yard.

  The bed, several times. Also the floor next to the bed once when we didn’t make it all the way to the bed.

  I’m more than willing to add the bathroom sink to that list.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, reaching behind myself and running my fingers through his hair as best I can, despite the bandages. “Can you just try one more time?”

  Lust flashes in his eyes, still locked onto mine in the mirror, and he lowers his lips to my neck, both his palms dragging slowly over my nipples, the friction of the t-shirt fabric absolutely delicious.

  “Feels like you,” he says, softly pinching my nipples as I gasp, rising up onto my tiptoes.

  He kisses my neck, licking and sucking softly.

  “Tastes like you, too,” he says.

  I push my hips backward, already craving the bulge that I know is there as Elias pushes me forward, his hard cock between the globes of my ass, the fronts of my thighs right against the sink cabinet.

  I’m trapped, and he’s in control.

  And I’m very, very wet.

  He kisses me again, and now his hands are under my shirt, his fingers rolling and pinching my nipples, sending shivers through my body. I bite my lip, trying to stay quiet, but it feels so good that I can barely bite back a moan.

  Elias grinds against me, and even though we’re both still clothed — I’m wearing pajama shorts, he’s wearing sweatpants that hang tantalizingly off his hips — I can feel the thick ridge at the head of his cock as it slides back and forth.

  Heat pounds through my entire body and I arch my back, bending over a little more. I’m desperate for his touch, need to feel him against me, even though we just did this a few hours ago.

  It would be embarrassing if it weren’t so good.

  He yanks my shirt off, pulls me upright, both hands back on my nipples. I relax back into him, a small moan escaping my lips as he pinches and rolls them, the soft pink buds responding instantly to his touch.

  “You know something we haven’t done yet?” he asks, his voice a low growl.

  “I’m sure there’s plenty,” I say, breathless.

  “We’ve never watched ourselves fuck,” he says, his eyes glued to mine in the mirror as he plants his lips on the back of my neck, his fing
ers still teasing my nipples.

  A jolt of heat passes through me when he says that. God, I love it when he talks dirty.

  “Not yet, you mean,” I say.

  “But I think,” he says, his words punctuated by kisses, one by one, down my spine. “You should start by watching yourself come.”

  Then he’s on his knees, his hands pulling down my already-skimpy pajama shorts.

  “Bend over,” he commands, his hands already between my thighs.

  I do it, no questions asked, my forehead resting on the cool marble surface of the bathroom countertop.

  His fingers part me, teasing, just barely dipping inside my entrance as all the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. It’s followed moments later by his tongue on my clit, the tip hardly even touching my sensitive nub as he nudges it back and forth.

  My hands balls into fists around my bandages, and I moan, forcing myself to hold still instead of pushing my hips back and begging him. His fingers move deeper, and his tongue moves faster, harder, and as he finally penetrates me fully I gasp in pleasure, toes curling against the tile floor.

  Elias chuckles, plunging his fingers deeper, flicking his tongue harder. It doesn’t matter how many times he does this — and he does it a lot — it always feels so good that I’m afraid I’m going to melt straight into whatever’s under me.

  “Fuck, Elias,” I moan, my voice bouncing off the tile.

  “Is that a request?” he says in between licks, his voice raspy.

  “Yes,” I whimper.

  A third finger joins the first two and I exhale hard, my hips rocking back and forth despite my best efforts to keep still. My breath is coming in short, ragged gasps, the pleasure rocketing through my body nonstop as I get closer and closer to the edge, Elias teasing it out of me expertly.

  Then, suddenly, he pulls his fingers out of my pussy, his tongue still moving nonstop on my clit. Moments later I feel something on my other hole — something warm and slick.

  It feels good. It feels dirty, but it feels so, so good that all I can do is moan again. His tongue picks up speed and I gasp, one finger sliding into my back hole millimeter by millimeter.

  “That feels so good,” I whisper.

  Then there’s another finger there, slowly, carefully moving inside, slick with my own juices. I swallow hard at the feeling of being invaded and stretched, my whole body alive and humming with sensation.

  Slowly, he starts fucking me with his fingers. He’s careful and gentle and rough all at once, not hurting me but taking me right up to that dangerous edge, his tongue working pure magic on my clit as he licks and sucks me.

  I teeter on the brink for what feels like forever, as Elias goes harder and harder. I can see my own face in the mirror, cheeks flushed, eyes half-open with pleasure.

  “Don’t stop,” I can hear myself chant. “Don’t stop, Elias, please don’t stop…”

  He works me closer and closer, playing my body like an instrument, until suddenly I’m over the edge and coming hard, the wave breaking over me again and again. My toes curl against the tile floor and I realize I’ve got one hand behind me, holding onto Elias’s hair, the other arm braced on the top of the counter.

  He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down until my whole body is jolting back and forth, shuddering with the remnants of pleasure.

  “Don’t move an inch,” is the first thing he says as he stands.

  I don’t. I watch him in the mirror, still bent in half, as he rises to his full height. He gives me a long, slow, burning look: my upturned ass, my dripping pussy, my heaving breasts pressed into the marble countertop.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispers. “How did I get lucky enough to call you mine?”

  “I’m the lucky one,” I say.

  Elias pulls his shirt over his head in one swift movement, and even though I’ve seen him shirtless plenty, I still get a thrill at his sculpted, powerful chest and arms, at his washboard abs worthy of a romance novel cover.

  Then he pulls his sweatpants off, his enormous cock springing out. I bite my lip at the sight of it, instantly getting wetter, my core throbbing with anticipation.

  I force myself to obey his command and not move, because what I want to do is turn around, get on my knees, and worship at the altar of his perfect cock with my mouth. I want him to come with both his hands in my hair, holding me there as he comes down my throat in thick spurts.

  Instead he steps up behind me, cock in hand. I’m watching in the mirror, breathless, as he strokes himself a few times, his other hand caressing my back, my ass, his thumb skimming over my soaking wet lips.

  Without saying anything, he guides the tip of his cock to my entrance and then enters me fully with a single thrust. My eyes close and an explosive moan tears itself from my throat as his cock hits every last pleasure nerve inside me and I feel like electricity is crackling through my veins.

  Elias just growls, grabs my hips, and pushes himself as deep as he can. I whimper with pleasure, my pussy already fluttering around him, around the perfect invasion. I’m stretched, filled to the max, completely claimed by this man.

  And I love it. Good God, do I ever love it.

  Still fully inside me, Elias reaches forward until his hand is in my hair. Gently, he gathers it up into his fist, and then he pulls.

  Just hard enough that it almost hurts, but not quite. My back arches and I push back into him, moaning and shuddering again with the sheer pleasure as he leans over to whisper into my ear.

  “I’m never gonna get enough of this, Mia,” he whispers roughly in my ear. “Never.”

  Then he fucks me.

  He fucks me hard and fast and rough, his hips smacking my ass every time he fills me as deep as he can, each stroke hitting my pleasure spots and making tendrils of heat writhe through my body.

  He fucks me like he owns me, like I’m his, like I exist only for his pleasure. He fucks me like he’s going to drag my orgasm out of me, hitting my buttons again and again until I lose control.

  I come, moaning and shouting, while I look at him in the mirror, watching hungrily over my shoulder. I come again, and then again until I feel like I’m being wrung out, like he’s demanding this of my body.

  “One more,” he growls, panting for breath in my ear. “Do you know how fucking good it feels to be inside you when you come?”

  He changes rhythm, each deep thrust punctuated by a pause where he’s fully inside me, hard as a rock and so deep that it feels like he’s short-circuiting my brain.

  “Come on, Mia,” he says. “You’re about to. I can tell. Just come for me one last time.”

  He thrusts again and again, hard and deep and then I’m coming again like the world is crashing down around me. I come so hard I forget how to breathe for a second, and then when I remember, Elias is holding me to his chest as tightly as he can, his cock throbbing and jolting inside me as he empties himself, buried deep.

  “Perfect,” he growls, his voice deep and husky. “You’re completely fucking perfect.”

  Epilogue One

  Mia

  One Year Later

  The sound of metal tapping a champagne glass cuts through the chatter around the table.

  “Again?” Elias laughs.

  Calder just grins and shrugs, lowering his knife.

  “Come on!” Ruby says, laughing as she leans forward over the table. “Kiss!”

  I turn to Elias, and he’s already leaning in. When his lips touch mine, the same electric sizzle as always rockets through my veins, his arm encircling my waist.

  Everyone at the table cheers. The cheers die down, but we’re still kissing because I’m lost in this dizzying, beautiful moment.

  “Okay,” Kellan says, a smirk in his voice. “Save some for later.”

  Our lips part at last, and then I’m gazing up into Elias’s beautiful eyes, the rest of the reception drowned out.

  “I love you,” he whispers.

  “I love you too,” I whisper back.

&nb
sp; “All right, that’s enough, you two,” Jax teases, even as he refills his own champagne glass from the bottle on the table. “Don’t worry, dessert’s going to be out soon, then you can leave.”

  I notice that he’s not refilling Ruby’s champagne glass, which is still full. I don’t think she’s touched it all night.

  Actually, I don’t think I’ve seen Ruby have a drink since—

  “When do you leave on your honeymoon?” Isaac asks, sitting to my left. As my Man of Honor, he’s wearing a suit. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him wear one, and it looks good on my older brother. Somehow, it matches the dark hair that always seems to be obscuring his light green eyes, making him look properly serious.

  “Monday morning,” I say, taking another sip of my own champagne. “I’ve got a day to pack, at least.”

  “Pack light and bring back plenty of whisky,” he says, with a smile that just barely reaches his eyes. “That’s why you guys are going to Scotland, right?”

  “It’s also beautiful there,” I say, a little defensively. “There are mountains and lakes, plus some of the—”

  “Yes,” Elias cuts in.

  “We’re also going for non-alcohol-related reasons,” I say, nudging him in the side. “We’re spending a couple of nights in a castle!”

  “Is it haunted?” Isaac asks.

  “Probably,” Elias says. “It’s a castle, I’m sure that plenty of people have died there one way or another. Probably chock-full of ghosts.”

  That part of staying in a castle hadn’t occurred to me. Not that I believe in ghosts.

  Not really.

  But still.

  “Sounds fun,” Isaac says, still just-barely smiling. “You two deserve some time away.”

  The minute he says that, I feel kind of guilty for leaving Isaac here to deal with everything on his own for two weeks, with the trial and the media circus surrounding it. I know that the press has been hounding him for a while already, and with the trial due to wrap up sometime soon, it’s not going to let up.