Chapter 5: Against the Glass
The cold glass shocked her overheated skin as Calder pressed her against it, the endless drop of the mountain valley yawning behind her. “Look,” he growled, his mouth at her ear, one hand cupping her breast while the other hooked under her knee, hiking her leg high against his hip. Their reflection was a stark portrait of abandon: her cheek flattened against the window, her mouth open in a silent gasp, his muscular frame driving into her from behind. He entered her with a single, deep stroke, the heat of her clenching around him a sharp contrast to the chilled surface seeping into her belly. “Let the whole fucking valley hear you,” he panted, his thrusts settling into a brutal, possessive rhythm that rocked her body against the unyielding pane.
She cried out, a sharp echo swallowed by the vastness, her breath fogging the glass in ragged bursts. “You like that, baby? You like being my filthy little view?” His words, crude and hot, unraveled her. Each slam of his hips drove her nipple against the cold, a twin sensation of shock and pleasure that coiled tight in her core. “Calder, I’m—”, but her warning was cut off as his hand slid from her breast to her throat, not squeezing, just holding, a dominant claim that sent her over the edge. Her climax ripped through her, a raw, guttural moan tearing free as her inner muscles fluttered wildly around his driving cock.
He fucked her through it, his own release building with a few ragged, deepening thrusts before he buried himself to the hilt with a shattered groan, heat flooding her depths. They stayed there, pinned between the wilderness and the warm room, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades. Slowly, he lowered her leg, his softened cock slipping from her as he turned her gently to face him. Her eyes were wide, glazed. “Welcome to the mountains, Mrs. Vaughn,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.
Vaughn,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. Her legs were gelatin, barely holding her as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her the few steps to the massive bed where he laid her out on the rumpled duvet. He stood back for a moment, his gaze traveling the length of her—the flush on her skin, the come leaking from her, the absolute wreck he’d made of his bride. “Jesus, Whit,” he breathed, his hand already stroking his cock back to a daunting hardness. He rolled her onto her stomach with a gentle firmness, yanking her hips up into the air. He mounted her from behind, his cock splitting her swollen, slippery pussy with one brutal, unforgiving thrust that buried him to the root.
Her scream was swallowed by the down filling as he started to pound, each drive a promise carved into her flesh. “This cunt was made for me,” he growled, his palm cracking down on the jiggling flesh of her ass, leaving a stinging bloom. She was overstimulated, raw, every nerve alight, and she loved it. This orgasm felt different, a relentless building pressure without a clear peak, a continuous tectonic shift deep inside her until it fractured. She saw white, a searing blankness behind her eyes, and a hot gush of liquid erupted from her with a choking sob, soaking the duvet beneath them.
Calder fucked her harder, deeper, spurred on by the feel of her squirting around him. “Fuck, yes, just like that,” he snarled, his rhythm turning punishing. “I’m never wearing a condom again,” he vowed, slamming into her dripping heat. “I’m gonna keep you pregnant all the fucking time, Whitney.” His words painted a visceral future inside her, each thrust a seal on the pact as his own climax tore through him with a guttural roar, filling her once more.