by Hart, Rye
“Are you okay?” Harper asked.
His light brown eyes had darkened with worry and I reached my hand out for him. I pulled him in for a kiss, feeling Chance’s finger hovering painfully close to my clit. I knew what he was asking. He was wanting to make sure this was my decision.
My decision, since I had been drinking.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m perfectly okay.”
And just like that, Harper’s lips were on my neck. Chance’s finger teased my clit, causing my legs to tremble while Ethan massaged and tugged at my nipples. Harper sucked on one side of my neck while Rowan attached himself to the other and, suddenly, I felt someone’s tongue on my asshole while a rough pair of hands parted my ass cheeks.
“Holy shit,” I said breathlessly.
“I’ve always wanted to know how this ass would taste on my tongue,” Blake said.
Blake lapped at my asshole while Chance continued to play with my clit, his finger slipping into my warm, wet pussy while the boys continued to mark my body. Mouths were on my nipples and teeth were grazing my skin. They took turns holding me up while my body was wracked with pleasure and my knees gave out underneath me. I could feel their cocks dripping against my skin as my hips bucked down onto Chance’s hands and, as I threw my head back and came, Rowan caught my lips with his.
Our tongues danced around one another’s while I moaned, leaking my sweet juices onto Chance’s hand before he leaned forward and kissed my trembling thighs.
“So beautiful,” Chance said.
Chance stood up and, immediately, the boys moved for him. He took me into his arms and slid effortlessly into me, my legs dangling helplessly as he settled onto the couch. He helped me ride his cock into oblivion, my orgasm never stopping while his thumb made quick work of my clit.
I had no idea when he rolled the condom he wore onto his cock, but I could hear all the other brothers ripping their’s open as they prepared themselves for me.
One by one, I rode them until they met their release. Chance’s face tensed with pleasure while his thumb pulled another orgasm from my body. Harper picked me up off his cock and sat me down onto his lap, panting as I engulfed his dick with my wetness. His touch was tender and his kisses along my neck and shoulders caused me to shiver in delight as I rode him gently until his hips finally bucked wildly against me.
We came together in a fury of sweat and curses, but I didn’t stay on his lap for long before Blake pulled me from him.
I was passed around the room in a flurry of pleasure, my pussy pulling cum from their cocks as they spilled into their condoms. Their lips peppered kisses along my reddened skin while my body never really recovered from my climaxes and they all fused together as my eyes rolled into the back of my head. Blake pounded into me relentlessly, bouncing my tits while his mouth marked them with his teeth and, just as we came together, Owen pulled me into his lap.
Only this time, I was facing out toward the room while he slid his thick dick into my caverns.
“What a beautiful sight,” Chance said breathlessly.
“Holy hell, you’re beautiful,” Blake said.
“Our Tinkerbell,” Harper said. “Just for us.”
Owen’s fingertips worked my pussy like magic while he stuffed me full of his cock. It didn’t take me long to reach my precipice with him and I pressed my head into his shoulder while my back reveled in the strength of his broad chest. His massive arms held me close while his lips ghosted over my neck and I shivered as his cock twitched inside of me, his body meeting its end while our sweat intermingled together.
Ethan took my arms and stood me up before he picked me up by my ass. He sat down onto the coffee table while I straddled him, his face planted into my tits while I ran my fingers through his dark brown hair. He pressed kiss after kiss into my skin, grunting and groaning while I felt myself being drained of my energy. I could feel his hands drifting along my back and pulling me close and all I could do was hang on while he pounded up into my hips.
And the moment we came together, Rowan picked me up and settled me into his lap.
“How’re you feeling, beautiful?” he asked.
“Wonderful,” I said breathlessly.
“Got room for one more?” he asked.
“Always,” I said, smiling.
Slowly, we moved together while the other brothers caught their breath. The air of the room was tainted with the smell of sweat and cum and it didn’t take long for Rowan’s frustration to bubble to the surface. He came with a fury while his fingertips dug into my skin and the beautiful look of twisted pleasure on his face forced me over the edge for my final orgasm that night.
A sloppy smile crossed my face as my back arched, bowing so deep I thought it would snap while Rowan kept me rooted to his hips. He filled his condom so much it began to leak out, so he pulled out of me quickly and sighed.
I collapsed back down into his thin, strong body, feeling his green eyes looking down at me lovingly while he pressed a kiss into the top of my head.
I remembered nothing else from that night as I passed out against his skin, surrounded by the naked bodies of my Lost Boys who had come to my rescue when I needed them most.
I was never going back.
Not after this.
End of Sneak Peak. Would you like to know how this continues?
Click Here: 6 Mountain Brothers for Christmas
BIG DADDY
The Mountain Man’s Baby Romance
PROLOGUE
He carried me over his shoulder, as his hand expertly worked its way up my skirt and into my panties. His fingers began to work pure magic, as if they were playing an instrument with skill. The pleasure began to build between my legs, becoming more and more unbearable with every second that passed. With growing anticipation, he walked me to the bed and dropped me onto the silk sheets, never once freeing his touch from my folds.
He pumped his hands, scissoring his fingers to stroke my walls and I moaned in pleasure as he growled and proceeded to bury his face between my legs.
He worked his tongue with skill as I steadily ascended my way over the edge of bliss. I gripped his hair gently, holding him against me, rubbing my slit against his tongue as he licked and lapped at my tender, wet flesh.
“I could devour you, baby. You taste so fucking good.” He slipped his fingers down and against my ass, pushing against the back entrance as he tongued the front.
The pleasure was more than I could stand and yet I had this burning emptiness and a need to have something fill it up.
“I need you inside of me, please.”
I wanted… no needed to feel his bulging cock inside; throbbing my channel and taking me to the edge of passion and beyond.
I knew he wouldn’t disappoint.
He stood, leaving me with my panties pushed to the side, and my skirt hiked up over my hips. He waited for me to strip off his pants, which I did with great pleasure. His cock fell forward, jutting from his hips and begging for attention.
It was the most beautiful sight I’d laid my eyes on.
I was one lucky girl.
CHAPTER ONE - CHANCE
Here’s a scenario for you: Let’s assume you want to remove all traces of masculinity from a man. So, how do you do it?
Pluck his ass down in the middle of a big city; domesticate him with a pretty little wife and a pretty little house with a white picket fence, then just sit back and watch. Pretty soon he’ll think that getting a callus on his hand is as bad as leprosy. There you have it. Modern day pussification at its finest.
Fuck that.
This is exactly the opposite of the world I created for myself in the mountain town of Buffalo, Wyoming. Out there, in my cabin, I could see more sky than I ever knew existed. It was both exhilarating and desolate in a way that one can’t appreciate until they’ve seen it first-hand.
Solitude was almost everything to me.
Unfortunately, what I considered solitude, most people considered isolation. It took me six months to
realize that I didn’t own a mirror. When I finally saw myself again, I was pretty much the same: six-foot-four, buzzed brown hair, blue eyes, broad as a barn door, and sporting a beard that was headed for Grizzly Adams territory.
I relished in the isolation for years. It was a welcomed sanctuary after experiencing hell on a silver platter.
After I was medically discharged from combat and lost my leg to an IED, I returned to my hometown, Boston, and my welcome-home present was the discovery of my wife’s pregnancy with another man’s baby. The fucktard happened to be a man I’d considered a friend. Needless to say, it led to a nasty divorce and my eventual move thousands of miles away to no man’s land.
The way I saw it, I had two options: murder the dick who knocked up my wife, or leave town and shut myself off from everyone.
I chose the latter.
Isolating myself in the foothills of the Bighorn Mountains in Buffalo, Wyoming was just what I needed. That’s where I belonged, and where I started my new life. It was a stark contrast from my life in Boston, but it was exactly what I needed.
Little did I know, it would be the future home for my niece and I. Life had a way of kicking us both while we were down. Even so, we sure as hell weren’t going to give it the satisfaction of taking our dignity. Not on my damn watch.
***
As I walked into the elementary school Star attended, I glared over to the playground hoping to catch the five-year-old doing something resembling fun.
Crap, am I even cut out for this?
I asked myself the same damn question that filled my mind for months.
Since Star moved into my cabin, we’d experienced roadblock after roadblock. To say she’d been having trouble adjusting to her new environment would be putting it lightly.
In truth, it’d been a complete shit show, and I couldn’t blame her one damn bit. Star had every right to hate the world. The poor kid went through years of hell, and three months of living with an uncle who practically cut himself off from everyone he knew wasn’t going to give her the warm and fuzzies.
Before walking inside, I finally caught a glimpse of the cute little cotton-top girl whose blond hair was a mess of curls, pulled back into a confused ponytail. Like most mornings, I tried to do her hair and failed royally. I couldn’t figure out how many times to loop the damn hair band. It was either too loose or so tight it would give her a facelift. And those baby hairs—what the hell was I supposed to do with those little hairs?
Star was sitting on a swing, slowly moving back and forth and seemed to be watching a crowd of kids who were playing Red Rover. I could tell she wanted to play, but it was as if she was afraid of some invisible force lurking in the darkness.
Star was afraid to get close to anyone. If only she could open up and learn to trust others enough to be happy. I’d give anything to see a smile on my niece’s face again. There was just one problem: her sole caretaker was just about the worst example for any kid to mirror a life after. We both found comfort in locking the whole damn world out.
I walked inside, angry that I couldn’t do more for her. She deserved the best, and as far as I could tell, I was failing miserably at giving her that. Whereas most kids her age couldn’t be paid to shut-up, Star barely spoke a few words in a day. It was a stark contrast to the chatty two-year-old I remembered my brother gushing about.
“I’m here to see Counselor Durdin.” I rattled the keys in my pocket, playing it cool, but not fooling myself.
The woman behind the counter pushed up her glasses. She was a pretty girl, with bright blue eyes and a soft complexion, but she had a severe red slash across her mouth that had been done up with too much lipstick. The woman didn’t need that much makeup, but noticing the scar marring her lip, I could understand.
I understand probably more than most people.
To this day, I could still feel the presence of all ten toes from my left leg, even though it had been torn from my body in combat. It was easier to mask the injury, than give others the opportunity to ask me about it, or even worse, pretend like it didn’t exist. I hated the moment others would stare, the way their postures would change ever so slightly, the way they’d avert their eyes like they’d been caught staring at something they shouldn’t be seeing. It was easier to avoid the whole damn experience all together. I’d rather stick needles in my eye.
“Have a seat, and she’ll call you back in a moment.” She pressed a button on her phone and then as I took a seat in a black plastic chair, which had been molded for much smaller people, I heard her relaying the message that I was there.
I stared at the Bison mascot mural for what seemed like ten minutes, before I heard my name called. “Mr. Owens?”
I looked up to see a professionally-dressed older woman, with long black hair down to her waist. I stood as she held out her hand and took it, surprised when she gave it a firm shake.
“I’m Hattie Durdin, the school’s counselor. I’m so glad you were able to make it today.” She turned and led me into her office, shutting the door behind her. She offered me a seat across from her desk and I sank my large frame down into it before speaking.
“I’ve been wondering how Star has been progressing in school. Thank you for arranging this meeting.”
“Mr. Owens, Star’s adjustment at this school is important to both of us. I was assigned to follow up with her by her case-worker in Boston. The case-worker called me earlier this week to ask how Star has been holding up.”
“Case-worker? I hadn’t been aware one was assigned to Star.” I said, slightly annoyed that no one from the state of Massachusetts cared to inform me of such a pressing matter.
“I’m sorry you were not made aware. I’ll be working with you to keep you abreast of everything going forward. I learned the move for Star has been quite a change for her. The poor girl has been showing signs of it too. Are you aware that she doesn’t speak here at school? That’s a sign of a child that’s been through severe trauma much like Star.”
“Yes, I’ve had conversations with Star’s teacher about it. We are doing our best to help Star adjust. It hasn’t been easy.”
“I see.” She paused to write something down in her legal pad. “Mr. Owens, normally we would use discipline in such matters, but Star’s situation is unique.”
“Discipline? Why would you discipline her?” I asked, getting more annoyed. This wasn’t going very smoothly so far.
“Well, my concern is that this may be more of a defiance issue—” she started.
“Hold on a second,” I said, cutting her off. “Didn’t the teacher tell you that she doesn’t talk at all? It has nothing to do with defiance. She doesn’t talk to me but a few words here and there.”
“Oh, I see. So this isn’t simply a school issue.”
“No, ma’am. Not at all. She has a trust issue. Rightfully so. If you’d been through what she has in the past few years, you’d be leery of the world too,” I said sternly.
I’d be damned if anyone was going to overlook Star’s traumatic past, and use defense mechanisms against her.
Star’s father, my brother Luke, passed away in battle when she was two. Her mother spent her time drowning her sorrows in alcohol, to the point she became neglectful and frankly a poor excuse for a mother. I didn’t care how depressed she was after my brother’s death. It was no reason for her to abandon Star.
Star was thrown into the foster care system when she was three. Most of the homes had only been temporary, so she’d been moved around seven times in the past two years until I’d taken her in only months ago. I’d only had custody of Star for the last three months. It would have been sooner had I been made aware of the matter, but I’d shut off communication from friends and family for some time following my move to Wyoming. I still felt damn guilty about not getting involved sooner, but I was there for her now. Nothing was going to change that now.
“You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry for coming across as inconsiderate. It’s just that Star’s situation is con
cerning and we all want the best for her. What are your thoughts about exposing her to some outside support? She seems to be struggling with reading, but that’s inconclusive. Since she won’t talk, it’s been a challenge to come to this judgement. We feel if she were to have a tutor, someone who could help her build a bit of confidence using her voice in private, then maybe she’d open up a bit here in the classroom and participate.”
“I see your point. I’ll make it work. I haven’t really read her any books, but I’ll start.”
I had just recently gotten the bedtime routine down, and it didn’t include storybooks. I told her tales about me and her dad when we were kids. She seemed to like those stories a lot, so maybe she’d enjoy a fairy tale or fable book as well.
“That would certainly help, but I’d still look for someone to tutor her. We don’t want her to fall behind.”
The idea of Star struggling through school had me worried. What she learned could take her through life, and I couldn’t let her be shortchanged. More importantly, she needed to feel confident that she was just as smart and capable as other students - if not more. That type of thinking would be a trap, leading to low self-esteem onto her adult life.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Is there anyone you can recommend?” I asked.
She reached into her desk and handed me a paper with a list of names. “These are a list of older students and teachers who don’t mind helping with tutoring. You can call and set something up if you like, just let us know when you do. We want to mark her progress. And don’t worry, Mrs. Marsh will be doing everything she can on her end to see that she keeps her levels up. She is a bit younger than the other kids, too, so that makes a difference.”
