Searching for the Mountain Man - Page 9

“I plan to take all this off here in a minute,” he said. “But first, I could use a little cheering up.”

“Cheering up?” I asked.

I kind of knew where he was going with this, but I wanted him to say the words. I had to hear what he had planned.

“That’s what cheerleaders are for, right?” he asked. “You boost team morale, both when we’re winning and losing.”

“That is the definition of a cheerleader.” I looked down. “But I don’t have my uniform.”

When I lifted my gaze to his, I saw it again. The intensity. The desire. He wanted me. Me, the person who didn’t even make first cut for my high school cheerleading squad, let alone get the attention of the guys on the team. This football player saw me as beautiful, though, and that meant more than anything I could have imagined.

He pushed himself to his feet and lowered the pants, taking his underwear with it. His cock sprang out, pointing toward me and making me gasp like the high school kid I was pretending to be.

Only I wasn’t a high schooler, so the sight shouldn’t have brought that kind of reaction. But he was big—not just long, but thick.

I hadn’t imagined a penis being something I craved touching, but that was exactly how I felt as I looked at him. I licked my lips and started toward him, putting a hand on each of my breasts as I did. It felt like the right thing to do, even though my hands barely covered each boob.

Rob wasn’t the only one who was big. I might be thicker all over than most of my friends, but my tits and ass were bigger too, and men seemed to like that.

I lowered myself to my knees in front of him, moving my right hand from my own breast to his cock. I wrapped my hand around the shaft and looked up at him as I parted my lips just inches from his tip.

“I’ve never done this before,” I said. “Do I just lick it like it’s a fudgesicle?”

His eyes widened briefly, then returned to normal. For a second there, he probably thought I was speaking as the twenty-three-year-old woman I was, not the teenager I was pretending to be. But I was speaking as a twenty-three-year-old virgin. He just didn’t know it yet.

“Oh shit,” he said as he looked down at me. “Treat it like a fudgesicle. But no biting.”

I held back a smile at that. Of course, I knew not to bite.

“Fudgesicles are always better when you lick and suck them,” I said. “You have to draw it out.”

With that, I returned my gaze to his penis. I snaked out my tongue and ran it around the tip. A bead of moisture had positioned itself there. I licked it, finding it salty, then continued to move my tongue over him. When I finally opened my mouth a little more and took him in, he moaned.

No fudgesicle I’d ever had was this hard to get in my mouth. I took in as much of him as I could, then sucked in my cheeks and slid off him. His sharp intake of breath pushed me forward, and I suddenly knew why some women liked doing this. The fact that I could bring him so much pleasure made me feel powerful. In charge.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he said.

I went as far as I could go a third time. By the fourth, he was breathing heavily.

“Get up here and let me kiss you,” he said.

I pulled out and looked up at him. “Am I doing it wrong?”

Rob laughed and shook his head. “No, you’re doing it perfectly. Too well, in fact. But I want to be inside you.”

I released my hand and moved it immediately back to my right breast. I was covering myself. This was where I should tell him I was a virgin for real. I hated to shatter the fantasy, but I had to tell him. He needed to know. In fact, he probably should have known before we got this far.

“I have to—” I started.

“Get up here before the coach comes in,” he interrupted, glancing at the door.

I clumsily scrambled to my feet, which required dropping my arms to my sides. I was completely bare to him now. My body, my heart, my soul. Great. I was supposed to be keeping my emotional distance, and here I was, falling for the guy.

“You have to—” I said.

But before I could get the sentence out, he interrupted again, this time by pulling me toward him and kissing me. It was the most intense, passionate kiss I’d ever had. I might be a virgin, but I’d been kissed before, and this was the difference between a man’s kiss and a boy’s. Sure, I’d kissed as an adult too, but none of those guys had the experience in the bedroom that this guy clearly did.

And that was why I wanted him to be my first time, even if it broke my heart. I’d at least know what it was like to be touched by a man who knew what he was doing.