Owned By The Mountain Man (Montana Mountain Men Book 2)

by Gemma Weir

  Holding me tight he leaves the bedroom, strides into the living room and lowers me to sit on the kitchen counter. Ripping the towel from around me, he throws it in the direction of the bathroom, then cages me in, his hands resting on the counter on either side of me.

  “Listen up, Peaches. You are mine. There’s no negotiating, no bullshit boyfriend and girlfriend crap, I’m too old for that shit. We’re together, so you don’t touch other guys, you don’t date, flirt, or encourage anyone and I do the same. I like sex and I won’t fucking use condoms, so don’t bother asking ‘cause I plan to fill your cunt, your mouth and your ass with my cum as often as I can.”

  I shake my head, denying his words, but he just smirks in response.

  “There’s no fighting it, this is happening because if you think Beau was bull headed, you haven’t seen anything yet. I won’t take no for an answer, because you told me you wanted me to own you and now I do.”

  Dumbstruck, I just stare at him. “No, bullshit. That’s not how relationships work, you don’t just get to decide I’m yours.”

  “Yes, I do,” he replies, silencing me with a kiss. “Stop trying to fight this or I’ll get you so cum drunk you’ll do whatever I want you to, then I’ll fly you to Vegas and tie you to me legally. I’m not afraid to put a ring on it, Peaches. Ring on your finger, my baby in your belly, sounds fucking good to me.”

  My lips part and I stare at him, thinking a thousand outraged things in my head that I don’t seem to be able to get my brain to communicate to my mouth. Laughing, Huck leans forward and kisses me, tweaking my nipple with his fingers. “Don’t overthink it, baby.”

  Then he releases me, turns to the coffee machine and fills the two cups he already had laid out. He makes it just the way I like it, then hands one of the cups to me.

  “How do you know how I take it?”

  “I text Bonnie,” he shrugs.

  God this guy is extreme, one minute he’s full-blown caveman, the next he’s texting my friend so he knows how to make my coffee how I like it. I literally have no idea how to deal with him. I want him physically. I mean he gave me orgasms, all the orgasms. But do I want to be in a relationship with him? Because that’s what he’s telling me is happening, and I’m not sure I’m down with that.

  “Can we just stick with the amazing sex?” I blurt after several sips of my coffee.

  His smile is wide and full of dirty promise. “We can have all the dirty sex you can imagine, Peaches, you’re just gonna be mine while we’re doing it. You’ll be mine when we start, mine when my dick is buried deep inside of you and mine after we’re done and my cum is dripping out of you.”

  Sighing, I shake my head. “I’m not on board for that. How about fuck buddies?”

  “I’m not negotiating, Cora.” His voice drops an octave lower, his eyes darkening as he uses my name, instead of Peaches or baby.

  “Maybe a date?”

  “I’ll take you on a date, but it won’t make a difference. You’ll still belong to me.”

  His cell phone rings, and scowling he turns towards the bedroom where he obviously took his clothes at some point. He returns sighing, before he lifts me off the counter, backing me up into it as soon as my feet touch the ground. “I have to go to work.”

  “Okay,” I say, eager for him to leave. Now the orgasm bliss has faded, everything he’s saying is just a little too real for me to deal with.

  “Kiss me,” he demands.

  Unable to resist, I lift up onto my tiptoes and press a kiss against his cheek, smiling to myself as I wait for his reaction.

  Laughing, he shakes his head lightly, before turning and walking back into my bedroom, his firm naked ass swaying enticingly with each step.

  It’s like his ass mesmerized me, and it takes me a moment to remember I’m naked too. Rushing over, I scoop the towel up from off the floor and wrap it back around myself, tucking the top tightly into place and then running my fingers through my soaking wet and tangled hair.

  Huck forcing his way into my life and bed has thrown me for a loop and I feel harried, which isn’t an emotion I’m used to experiencing. Normally I’m pretty chill, living my life in an orderly routine, only now there’s him barging his way in and demanding things that he doesn’t have any right to demand.

  Emerging from my room fully dressed, I have to swallow back a groan of approval, I don’t think I noticed how sexy he was in a button-down last night, but today with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the thin cotton stretched enticingly over his biceps, I’m starting to remember why I lose my mind when I’m around him.

  “I gotta go, Peaches,” he says, immediately closing the distance between us and ripping the towel from me, before he grabs my ass with one hand and holds me close while he devours my mouth in the kiss to end all kisses. How is it possible that every experience with him outshines the one before? I know how to kiss, I’ve had years’ worth of them, yet when he kisses me it’s like I’m experiencing it all for the very first time.

  “See you later,” he whispers against my mouth, pulling back and cupping my cheek with his palm, looking down at me like I’m the center of his universe.

  “Bye,” I whisper, stunned to silence yet again.

  10

  Huck

  Leaving her is harder than I expected. I’ve never claimed a woman before, never felt this sense of ownership the way I do with Cora. She’s mine and I hate the fact that I’m not confident that she gets that. Before last night, I wouldn’t have considered myself the jealous or possessive type, but maybe us Barnett’s are only laidback until we meet the right woman, then we become paranoid, over the top cavemen nightmares.

  If Cora was any other woman I met, I’d have thought I’d died and gone to heaven that such a sexy and sensual woman was only interested in a sexual relationship with me. Hell, it’s what I’ve been searching for most of my adult life. But all I’ve ever found are a rotating circle of women who pretend to not want commitment, then reveal their true colors after a month or two, and suddenly expect you to settle down and start working on the picket fence and the two point four children.

  It’s fucking ironic that, that’s exactly what I want with my peaches, when all she wants is someone to make her come. When we got home from the bar last night and she bent over her couch, I thought about using a condom. Hell in normal circumstances it’s second nature, I don’t even have to consider it, my dick’s wrapped before I’ve even gotten her underwear off. But with Cora I just couldn’t stand the thought of not being flesh to flesh with her. I wanted her to know how it felt to be fucked by me, my hard cock in her wet pussy. I wanted to fill her with my cum and watch it drip out of her cunt. I wanted to own her in the most basic way, by branding her from the inside with my seed.

  I should be ashamed, but I’m not. Not even slightly. I don’t give a fuck what she says, I’ll never put anything between us again. She said she was worried about getting pregnant, but I saw the birth control pills in her bathroom, as much as I’d love to think my seed was taking root in her right now, I know the chances are slim.

  Closing the front door behind me, I make my way down onto the street almost on autopilot and Beau is waiting for me at the curb, a grin etched onto his smug face. Climbing into the car, I buckle my seatbelt, not saying anything as he pulls away from the curb and starts back up the mountain road towards our logging company’s headquarters where we’ll start our day.

  “So…” he prompts.

  “So?” I question.

  “Bonnie’s pissed at you.”

  “Figured she might be, I’ll talk to her later, straighten things out, it’s not what she thinks.”

  “So, you’re not fucking her best friend?” Beau asks, laughter obvious in his tone.

  “Watch your mouth, big brother,” I warn.

  “Oh fuck,” he shouts, laughing so hard, he’s wiping tears from his eyes. “I saw the way you were looking at her, but I wasn’t sure. She yours?”

  “Yep, all mine.”
/>   “How does Cora feel about this?”

  “We’re working things out,” I snarl, hating that I can’t say she’s mine one hundred percent and that she’s moving in just yet.

  “Well brother, welcome to the mad house. Cora’s more of a firecracker than Bonnie, she’s gonna keep you on your toes, that’s for sure.” He chuckles. “You bringing her up to the house tonight? It’s mine and Bonnie’s turn to cook.”

  “No, I’m gonna stay at her place again.”

  “Does she know that?” he asks amusedly.

  “Not yet.”

  “What’s going on with her and that Mitchell guy? Is he gonna be a problem?”

  “He’s the ex that won’t take the hint. I’m hoping seeing her with me last night might have made him understand it’s time to move on, if not I’ll have a word, make sure he understands she belongs to me now,” I growl, forcing my fists to unclench.

  “You need backup, you let me know.”

  I nod, then pull my cell out and type out a message to her.

  Me - What time are you working till today?

  I wait for her reply, but the dots to say she’s typing don’t appear and I reluctantly click out of the message app, knowing that her lack of reply will drive me nuts if I keep staring at it. She hasn’t replied by the time we get to work, nor after I’ve gotten changed into the work stuff Beau bought me from home.

  By the time we’re hitting our first break of the day, I’m pissed that she’s ignoring me so I pull out my cell and hit call on her number.

  “Hello?” her sleepy voice answers.

  “Hey baby, I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

  “Uh huh,” she agrees, her voice soft. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing, I just wasn’t sure what time you had to be at work, I didn’t want you to be late,” I tell her, not mentioning that I was actually calling to bitch her out for ignoring my text.

  “I’m not in till one, my alarm is set.”

  “Okay, Peaches, go back to sleep, sweet dreams.”

  “Bye,” she says, then ends the call, leaving me staring down at my cell and feeling like an asshole for assuming the worst.

  Sliding my cell back into my pants pocket, my fingers hit the thin foil wrapped plastic packet and I pull out the birth control pills I took from Cora’s bathroom before I left this morning. My head knows it’s fucked up that I took them, but this instinctive part of me knows that if my baby’s growing inside of her, she won’t be able to deny what’s happening between us.

  It’s by far the most manipulative thing I’ve ever done, but with her I just don’t fucking care.

  “Break’s over, back to work,” someone shouts.

  Stuffing the packet of pills back into my pocket I get back to work, only slightly ashamed of myself.

  It’s a little after six when I let myself into her apartment, that code lock was a fucking great idea, especially since I took the instructions on how to change the code with me the other day so she can’t change it and keep me out. Kicking off my shoes, I pad over to the small kitchen area and drop the bags of groceries I’ve bought onto the counter, then I take the small overnight bag I’ve packed and drop it into the bottom of her closet.

  I considered bringing all of my stuff and just moving in, but honestly as weird as I know it is, I’d miss living with my brothers. We were raised being taught that family is everything and even though I’m more than old enough and financially secure enough to buy myself a nice house, I enjoy being with my family.

  I lived alone when I was at college, but I missed my brothers and as soon as I graduated, I moved home and right back into the house I grew up in. Maybe it’s odd that none of us have ever flown the nest permanently, but my brothers are my closest friends and I’m happy living surrounded by the people I love.

  Now Beau has Bonnie, I think we all expected him to move out, for them to need their own space, and they do. But instead of leaving, Cody’s been working with them to design an addition, so they’ll have their own home, but it’ll still be connected to the main house.

  Closing the closet behind me, I step out of the bedroom and back into the main area of the small, open plan apartment. It’s not a bad space, light and airy, but nothing about it screams Cora to me. The furniture is all fairly neutral, creams and beiges, but it lacks the personal touches that would make it a home rather than just a place to stay.

  This is the first time I’ve had a chance to really take in her space without her being here to distract me, and now that I’m paying attention, it’s obvious to me that she hasn’t made this place her own. I’m not sure how long she’s lived here, she’s still young, so maybe not too long, but for someone like Cora, who wants everyone and everything to be the most beautiful they can, I’m shocked that her personal space isn’t more… personal.

  I have a hunting cabin about an hour from Rockhead Point, and the first thing I did after I bought it was to redecorate and make it feel like home away from home. The cabin is my refuge for when I’m stressed or pissed at my brothers, or just need some time away, and I knew I’d need it to feel relaxing instead of like a rental. I have pictures and rugs, and a quilt my mama and her sewing group made for me. That tiny one bedroom log house is filled to the rafters with things that make it mine and I only go there a handful of times a year, and yet Cora’s space that she lives in full time feels surprisingly empty.

  Sighing, I head back to the kitchen and refill and switch on the coffee machine. Unpacking the groceries I bought, I keep the things I need for dinner to one side, then load the rest into the refrigerator and cupboards.

  We all take it in turns to make meals at home, so I’m an okay cook, but not knowing Cora’s tastes has left me a little unsure about what to cook. She doesn’t strike me as a vegetarian or god forbid a fucking vegan, but who knows, so I’ve played it safe and bought the ingredients to make baked salmon with loaded baked potatoes and a fresh garden salad. I’m screwed if she doesn’t eat fish, but I’ll figure something out.

  Checking my watch, I put the potatoes in the microwave to start them off and then set about prepping the salmon. Once the potatoes are mostly cooked, I wrap them in foil and put them in the oven with the salmon and start the salad.

  I’m just cleaning up, when the front door opens and Cora walks in. Her lips part when she spots me and she stares at me like I’m a complete stranger. “Hey Peaches, good day at work?” I ask, grabbing two beers from the refrigerator and moving towards her.

  “Huck, what are you doing?”

  “Making dinner,” I shrug, handing her a beer. She takes it almost on autopilot and I take advantage of her distraction, curling my arm around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss. Her lips part the moment I stroke my tongue across her mouth and a tiny moan comes from her as she relaxes into me, pressing her tongue in rhythm with mine as I devour her.

  Her body is perfection, she’s tiny, curvy with a full ass and round perky tits, her hair is long and this insane red color that seems to glow in the sunlight. Her lips are full and pink, and the freckles that are dotted across her nose and cheeks make me want to kiss and count them all. She’s the perfect woman I had no idea I was searching for.

  The oven dings, and she pulls her lips from mine separating us, but I’m ready to abandon dinner and eat her instead. Sighing, I allow her to step back, taking a drink from my beer as I step move to the oven and open it, checking on the food while she watches.

  “You really are making dinner, aren’t you?” she asks, with an edge of incredulity.

  “You don’t eat dinner?”

  “Of course I eat dinner,” she snaps. “I’m just not sure why you’re cooking dinner in my apartment. What did you make by the way?”

  “Baked salmon with baked potato and a green salad,” I say, grabbing a cloth, pulling the pan out and placing it on a pot holder on the counter.

  “It smells amazing,” she admits, stepping closer, watching as I cut open the pouch I cooked the fish in, lemon and dill scented
steam filling the air. “How did you know I’d be home in time?”

  “Googled the store, found out what time you closed.”

  “What if I had dinner plans?” she asks, crossing her arms across her chest.

  “You do. With me.” Grabbing the plates I was warming, I place the salmon, potato and salad onto each of them, then grab butter, sour cream, cheese and chopped scallions, and lift my gaze to hers. “What do you want on your baked potato?”

  “Just sour cream please,” she says, moving around me towards the silverware.

  “I’ve got it, you go sit,” I tell her, finishing the food and placing a plate in each place setting at her small breakfast bar. Grabbing the silverware, I hold out the stool for her and wait until she sits before I take the seat beside her.

  Her back stiffens as I sit next to her. Lifting my beer up, I motion for her to follow suit, which she does after a moment’s pause. I tap my beer against hers, then turn back to my food and start to eat. For some reason she wants to make this awkward, but I’m not gonna play that game. Nothing between us has to be strained and if it is, then it’s all her, because wherever she is, that’s where I’m gonna be too.

  A pleased hum comes from her and I turn, smiling at her reaction. Her fork is empty a few inches from her mouth and she’s chewing with earnest as she wiggles a little in her seat. “So good,” she hums, turning to look at me with surprise in her eyes. “Who taught you to cook?”

  “My mom, she said every man should know how to cook, so he could take care of himself, his wife and kids. She was an amazing cook, but she made sure dad cooked too, they had a surprisingly modern marriage considering the time when they got together.”

  “My dad can’t cook, my mom’s been trying to teach him for years, she’s convinced he gets everything so wrong on purpose so she’ll eventually stop trying,” she laughs, scooping some of the soft fluffy potato out and lifting it to her mouth.

  “I enjoy cooking, we take it in turns at home so it’s a little odd to cook for just two instead of seven,” I shrug.